HalfElven: Book Four
By Maracae Grizzley

(Battle's Aftermath)
Hoofbeats pounded into the distance as the Go-Back stags escaped the battlefield with Go-Backs, Wolfriders, and three stunned Gliders. Forgotten on the field a small mound of snow quivered and then shuddered aside as a crumpled Petalwing emerged beside the fallen One-Eye. It looked at the severed braid of Clearbrook's silver hair, absently fondling the soft locks. "Silversoft highthing try make wrapstuff?"

Wrapstuff Petalwing could understand. The symbolic message of cutting her hair as a grief-offering was beyond Petalwing's capabilities. Not such a bad thing in the end. Preservers aren't elves, and it's okay to be nothing more or less than what you are. Elves can't make wrapstuff, but Preservers can.

So Petalwing honored Clearbrook's grief-offering in the only way it could. It made wrapstuff for her. And it included Clearbrook's "wrapstuff" with One-Eye in his cocoon.

Watching the tiny preserver, the troll-elf Two-Edge, master smith and master riddler, considered the developments in his grand game. Voll was supposed to die, felled with the same spear that killed his bird. His death was to make the Gliders flee, leave the wolfchief without their magic in the coming clash. Now Voll lived and two of his Gliders stayed with him.

All because of the strangeling elf-maid.

Two-Edge remembered her from Blue Mountain. He had watched her as he had watched all the wolfling elves. She had never showed such power there, near his mother, curse her black heart. She was stronger than his mother, more magic lived inside her. Could she have simply killed all the trolls that threatened them? Used her magic to break the mountain in two and walk through to the Palace?

He would have to study this one, listen closely and decide if he could use her in his plans, or if he had to remove her.

Farther away from the battlefield than the warmth of Sorrow's End, a figure sat in meditative contemplation. He was a hunter, of sorts, dedicated to tracking his prey using every means at his disposal. The ends justify the means, and he sought nothing less than extermination. His soul was twisted, he believed beyond repair, by what he had done, the terrible crimes he had committed.

Kinslayer.

A silent alarm went off in the emptiness of his soul, and his mind was drawn to the World of Two Moons, the world of Elfquest. No one had gone to that former playground in a very long time. He had almost stopped looking there. But now a thread of telepathic energy accompanied by a most unique energy signature escaped . . . as my name is Destiny Dreamsail . . .

He smiled, lupine eyes opening. "Well, little sister, it has been a very long time indeed."

Cutter woke momentarily as they arrived at the camp, sliding from the top of the stag into Skywise's arms. "Leetah!! Where are you?" Skywise called out.

"I'm coming!" Leetah returned, sliding down from her own rescuer's stag and running over to them.

Kahvi didn't think much of healers, but the devotion of family was stronger than she. They could use her furs. They were no strangers to the blood of warriors.

Voll still carried HalfElven in his arms. He could almost feel Kureel's anger, at the Wolfriders, at the trolls, as these new Elves and their rough attitudes and seeming distrust of the magic that was central to Blue Mountain. Being honest, Voll couldn't fault him his anger. These elves did seem to reject everything that stood at the heart of the haven he had worked to build.

But when he entered the lodge and saw the sheer number of younglings among the stranger elves, he had to ask himself just who was wrong, because he wasn't so sure anymore.

He found a quiet corner, out of anyone's way, and sat down. Kureel knelt nearby, as if shielding him from the rest of the elves, while Aroree simply collapsed, almost beyond anymore tears. She had never seen an elf die, had never seen an elf's blood spill. Now the light that Skywise had lit in her eyes was gone, and not even Skywise could bring it back, his attention was on saving his friend and chief. Voll could not fault his devotion.

Still HalfElven slept.

Still Voll held her, and wondered as new thoughts ran through his mind, questioning ideals left unquestioned for thousands of years.

A howl of agony split the air, given voice by the Wolfrider. His tribemates shuttered in sympathy, but the snow elves merely shrugged. Kureel growled, a strangely wolfrider-ish sound. They are vermin, Lord Voll! How can these . . . these creatures be elves like us?

Voll sighed. Like us? No, Kureel, they are not like us, and yet they are elves. Elves who have learned to survive in the world we abandoned.

If this is the fate that awaited those who chose not to follow you, then you were wise beyond even your parents to seal away the world from us. They don't know what it means to be elves!

Voll looked up at Kureel, a strange expression on his face. Was I? Have they?

Kureel was stunned into silence. And still HalfElven slept.

Leetah emerged, dazed, exhausted, to see to the hurts of the rest of the two tribes and to reassure the Wolfriders that their chief would live. She leaned on the arm of one of the snow-elves, who apparently wasn't a snow elf at all. His skin was dark as the healer's and his aura wasn't at all like the others.

Even Kureel grunted in reluctant admiration. That one's no barbarian.

When Leetah approached them, Voll smiled at her. "She only sleeps, Healer, I think we can allow her this much, at least."

Slowly Leetah nodded.

Later Leetah could no longer resist her own need for rest and the strange dark elf carried her back to sleep beside her lifemate.

And still HalfElven slept in Voll's arms.