One dead orc.
Two dead orcs.
Four dead orcs.
Storm was getting good at this.
The young elf wiped the blood off his swords and sheathed them, looking down at the corpses with satisfaction. There was no particular reason to bury them; he happened to know of a pack of wolves in this area who would appreciate a free meal. He was eager to get back, anyway, and not just to make sure everyone knew there were still twenty or so orcs he hadn't managed to track down yet; he'd have a little brother or sister to welcome any time now, and he really didn't want to miss that. He was especially impatient to find out if the baby would have stripes like him.
. . . . . .
"Storm! Storm!"
"Kilvara?" Seeing the small red-haired elfling scrambling from branch to branch toward him, Storm's first thought was that his sibling was coming right then—one of the healers, Felrion, liked to employ elflings as messengers in exchange for snacks. But no, Kilvara's face was white, and the little girl was almost glassy-eyed with fear as Storm lifted her to eye level. "What's going on?"
She pointed in the direction she'd come from, shivering. Storm slung her over his shoulder and ran that way. Only a few trees later, he began to hear voices—no, one voice. Felrion's.
"Breathe, Rose. There. Good. Now push."
An agonized scream echoed through the trees. Storm tripped and almost fell from his branch, then began to jump downward. Something caught his eye halfway down—a dead orc a few trees away, and there was another, and another, and—
"Ada..." Storm whispered, but then he shook his head and fought through the shock. His mother might need him.
Felrion was propping Storm's mother into a sitting position against a tree as Storm reached the ground; the she-elf was drenched in blood, especially on her upper body, and her summer-green eyes had trouble focusing on Storm as he knelt next to her.
Felrion grabbed his shoulder. "Bring more healers," he ordered. "We might be able to save the baby."
Might... the baby? Storm broke into a sprint, stepping around Kilvara, who was sitting to the side with her arms wrapped around her. He got a better view of the carnage off to the side as he raced past. Yes, that was his father lying there, still holding his sword. Don't think about that, he told himself. Just run.
Just run.
. . . . . .
"Storm!" His mother's grip on his hand tightened. They were in a house now—Kilvara's—and three healers were moving around them, but Storm could tell his mother didn't have much time. He leaned down so she could speak into his ear.
"Starfire for a boy. Skyfire for a girl."
Elryn or Eithryn. He nodded.
"Either way, teach them to fight. It's your job to protect Greenwood now." Her voice seemed too clear for an elf at the end of her life.
"Of course, Nana," Storm promised. "We'll kill all the orcs you missed out on."
She laughed, though there was grief in her still-bright eyes. "Yeah, you'll be okay."
He smiled. It didn't feel real. "We will." Somehow.
She squeezed his hand. "I love you both. Take care of the little one."
"I will, Nana. I promise."
A minute later, she was gone. The healers cut the baby out of her as Storm watched numbly, and soon he held his little sister in his arms—she was unharmed and happy, amazingly. He drifted outside and up a tree, tucking the precious bundle under one arm as he climbed. He took her up to the canopy, to a shaded spot just out of the sun. "I guess it's just you and me now, Sky," he told her, playing with her wispy copper hair; no stripes, sadly, but her eyes were exactly like their mother's, down to the shining spark of life in them. "We'll manage, don't worry." He had to blink tears out of his eyes, but his voice didn't shake. "You and I are going to be the best fighters in Greenwood. We'll make Ada and Nana proud in Valinor. You would've loved them, sis." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But it's too late to change what happened. It won't stop us." He brushed a tear off his cheek and took a deep breath, then smiled at his charge. "We're going to have fun, you and I," he told her confidently, "and we're going to change the world."
Sky had been listening intently all through his speech, and Storm found that he already loved her. She was like a little ray of sunlight; the world seemed brighter when he looked at her. "Welcome to Greenwood, Skyfire," he said. "You're going to love it."