Chapter 1
The Wolfriders had lived at the Father Holt for three eight-eights times eight. During that time elves had been born and died. They lived their lives according to The Now, rich and full. They discovered magic as well as love. Seasons passed. Time changed. But always, they had lived, hunted, loved, and died in the forest that they called home.
And now it was gone forever.
It had been three eight-eights times eight since the Wolfriders had come to live in the forest. It had been almost three eights since the humans had left the forest and just over an eight since they had come back. It had been six turns since Madcoil attacked, killing Longbranch, Foxfur, Brownberry, Joyleaf, and Bearclaw, Blood of Nine Chiefs. Six turns since Cutter had become the Chief of the Wolfriders. And it had been five days since the humans had burned down the forest. Five horrible day since the trolls had betrayed the Wolfriders to a slow death in the burning-waste.
Cutter, Blood of Ten Chiefs and leader of the Wolfriders, looked at his tribe. They had been wondering for days, headed for the distant hope he had called "Sorrow's End" and the journey was taking its toll. Already three wolves had died, and several elves, including the wounded Redlance, had been strapped to their wolves as the no longer had the strength to walk. And always the cruel sun beat down on them, sapping their strength, burning their flesh and eyes, and pressing at them like the very fires that had destroyed their home.
Woodlock sat next to his half-conscious lifemate Rainsong, his face filled with the worry he had for her as well as their young daughter Newstar and their infant son Wing. Rain the healer had settled himself next to poor Redlance and Nightfall, ready to heal him if needed, tired as he was. Moonshade and Strongbow sat not far off with their children Crescent and Dart, while Clearbrook, One-eye, Scouter, Treestump and Dewshine all rested nearby in the same state of misery that plagued the whole tribe.
Even Skywise and Pike, usually the most cheerful and optimistic Wolfriders, were without much hope. Skywise sat next to his soul-brother, but kept his eyes on his exhausted parents. The whole tribe knew the truth. If they didn't find permanent shelter and water, they were doomed.
'And if it takes much longer none of us will last long enough to reach the mountains. It's hopeless.' Cutter's eyes swept out across the bleak wasteland. Every where he looked there was nothing but sand. Sand and the mountain range that was now as much a mockery as it was a source of hope. From the scant shade to his left Cutter heard Redlance moan in pain. The children were whimpering and the full-grown elves seemed like they wanted to join in. Cutter's eyes hardened, ashamed of his moment of weakness, 'No. We will survive, we will live. And we will reach the mountains. Even if it's my blood they drink.'