Soulname 
Somewhere deep in the greenery of the Forest Beyond, a tribe of 
Wolfriders hunts and howls, far from the Father Tree, a Holt 
they have never heard of. Separated from their brethren in the 
time of the Tribal Split, caused by Two-Spear and Skyfire, the 
mingled blood of the wolves and the High Ones flow through their 
veins, and their bonds with the wolves are just as strong. They 
are Wolfriders, and their chieftess-to-be is missing.

ElfQuest: Skyfire's Tribe
Soulname

* *
 It was Darkstar in the end who found the chieftain's 
missing daughter. The chestnut-haired stormbringer was buried 
under a heavy snowbank not a treelength's distance from the 
river that would have eventually led her safely back to the 
Holt, sprawled beneath bloody powder. Several charred Human 
corpses were scattered around her. She was still and white and 
cool to the touch, but as Wildwood dug her from her death, he 
could feel the very faint flutter of her mind.
 Starfire lifted his head and whined softly at Wildwood and 
his mount. The great silver-blue wolf had curled protectively 
around Brightmoon, was in fact lying atop her in places, and had 
kept both her alive and scavengers at bay until help could 
arrive.
 The treeshaper didn't waste a single moment. He rapidly 
brushed the snow away from her body and gathered her from the 
silent whiteness. Ever mindful of the blackened arrow shaft 
buried in her lower torso, he carefully arranged her on 
Darkstar's back before leaping aside and instructing the smoke-
grey wolf to _run_.
 The faces of Brightmoon's family haunted Wildwood as he 
cradled her close in an attempt to put warmth back into her 
body. Brightmoon had been three days overdue from one of her 
customarily-solitary hunts, something that had never happened 
before. Always, she had returned to the Holt, ravvit or not, on 
the day she'd said she would.
 Sabretooth, their chief, had sent out parties of one, two 
and three to find his daughter, the last of the Blood of the 
Chiefs since a plague had claimed the lives of Moonwalker and 
Starseed, Brightmoon's mother and twin sister.
 And the small cub, Golden, would be devastated if his 
foster mother died in the same manner that had taken his 
parents -- the hatred of the Tall Ones.
 Dreamdancer, the tribe's Healer, would be equally 
distraught if she lost Brightmoon, sister of her soul, the only 
person who had kept her sane when a hunt gone wrong had claimed 
her Recognized lifemate Seeker.
 **....wildwood....**
 The sending was so faint, and he was so caught up in his 
thoughts the red-gold headed elf barely registered it. When it 
gently persisted, he started, then shifted his attention to 
catching her thoughts.
 **Brightmoon?** he questioned worriedly, his eyes and 
fingers flying over her deathly-cold, deathly-pale face. 
**Brightmoon?**
 **...humans...looking for the Holt...had to....stormcall...
they.....shot me.....is...?**
 Agitation and fear for her tribe rolled from her in waves. 
Wldwood sent soothing thoughts. **Just rest, stormbringer. 
Don't worry; everything's fine. We're taking you to 
Dreamdancer. Just a little longer.** _Please._
 A pause. **Wildwood?** Fainter now.
 **I'm here, and I won't leave you.** Frantically, he tried 
to gauge the rapidly-diminishing but still great distance to the 
hold.  his mind sang at him. 
 Weariness and pain momentarily sharpened her sending. 
**Wildwood....you must....tell my father.....Golden....I pass my 
tribal...standing to....Golden....promise me....**
 **You're not going to die!** he replied sharply in alarm. 
**Golden can wait until you've been chief for eights of years. 
I won't let you die!**
 Fainter and fainter now. **...you might not...be able...to 
stop it....i'm so....tired....**
 Wildwood squeezed his eyes shut despairingly. He couldn't 
let her die. Not only was she the chieftain's daughter, but he 
himself had loved her since he had first laid eyes on her as 
cublings. Shocked, he realized he'd loved her the majority of 
their lives. 
 But at this rate, that said life would be over soon. She 
would never make it to Dreamdancer; death was too near and the 
healer too far. **Take strength from me,** he finally told her, 
arriving at a decision that hadn't been as hard as he'd feared 
it would be.
 **...how...**
 **Trel. I am Trel.**
 She didn't reply, but his soul name seemed to give her the 
strength he'd promised her, for the flutter of life she still 
possessed didn't seem so fragile now. **Just stay with me, 
Brightmoon,** he begged softly as Darkstar crested a rise. 
Gently, he brushed her blood-matted hair from her forehead.
 Darkstar yipped, and he glanced up involuntarily. With a 
welling of pure joy, he sensed he was now back in sending range, 
and he threw out a mental scream.
 **Dreamdancer! Healer! The stormbringer is badly 
injured! Dreamdancer!**
 Thoughts skirted the edges of his mind, too emotional to be 
worded. Resolutely, Wildwood ignored the fear and frantic 
anxiety and relief and horror as he called again for the healer.
 **How badly is she hurt?** he felt Dreamdancer send to him 
through the maelstrom of emotion from the rest of the tribe.
	**Humans got her,** he locksent back. **She told me she 
had to stormcall, and that they shot her. The arrow shaft is still 
in her side.**
	Fury and concern. **How far?**
	Winter-bared trees flashed by them. **Entering the 
boundaries of the Holt now.**
	**Hurry.**
	She had no need to tell him. He was already pushing his 
wolf-friend in his haste to save Brightmoon's life, had been for 
perhaps the last fingerspan of the sun-cycle. But as the first 
shaped trees were passed, he kned it had been worth it. **We're 
home,** he told the unconscious stormbringer in his arms. **You
made it.**

****	****
	The search parties were called in, and the anxious tribe 
kept watch on Dreamdancer's den from wherever they were perched. 
Wildwood, Sabretooth and Golden sat crosslegged in front of the 
entrance, deep in quiet conversation.
	Sabretooth held Brightmoon's foster cub loosely in his 
lap, comforting the child when he whimpered for his mother. 
Wildwood stared at the flaxen-haired cub for a long minute.
	"You should know that Brightmoon wants her tribal standing 
passed to Golden," he said suddenly.
	Sabretooth smiled faintly. "She'll live," he said 
confidently. "But thank you for telling me."
	Wildwood wasn't sure how to respond to that, and silence 
descended.
	The uneasy vigil was broken soon after the two moons had 
disappeared from the sky. Dreamdancer emerged from her den and 
stood weakly in the entrance. Damp tendrils of blonde hair clung 
to her cheeks, and her face was drawn and pale. Her white-knuckled 
hands clutched the sides of the opening for support. But there 
was triumph in her eyes, in her thoughts. **The stormbringer 
lives,** she announced.
	Smiles blossomed like wildfire, and tears of relief glistened 
in more than one eye. Howls tore from Wolfrider throats, howls of 
unadulterated joy. In the chief's lap, Golden's voice piped clear and 
high. He scrambled from Sabretooth and flew to the healer, who 
grinned weakly and made room for him to pass into her den.
	As Wildwood was straightening, he thought he saw tears 
streaming down Sabretooth's cheeks to be absorbed by his face fur. 
But the chief was only in direct sight for little more than a glimpse 
before he walked back to his tree.
	The treeshaper shook his head as he turned towards his beloved 
plants. He would forever be grateful to the wolves who had kept life 
stubbornly rooted in the stormbringer. He hadn't been imagining _that_ 
at least.
	But Sabretooth, crying in relief? Stoic, aloof Sabretooth? 
No, it had to be bad dreamberries.

****	****
	An eight of days passed before Brightmoon was well enough to 
leave Dreamdancer's den. Even then, her soul's sister protested, but 
the stormbringer was firmly and most definitely leaving.
	**Brin, I'm not a cub anymore,** Brightmoon sent with fond 
exasperation. **You can't keep me tied in the furs!**
	Dreamdancer grumbled to no end. **Look at you!** she retorted, 
her blue eyes glittering with motherlike concern. **You can barely 
stand on your own two feet! You'd be better off staying in those furs 
for another day or two to regain your strength.**
	The young chief-to-be shook her head stubbornly. **This White 
Cold is the hardest yet,** she sent firmly. **The tribe needs every 
hunter out along the game trails just to survive.**
	**I'm sure Sureshot's and Ravenlock's parties are doing just 
fine,** Dreamdancer remarked acerbically. **It was hunting that landed 
you in my den to begin with, and you won't even _touch_ a bow until I 
say you can!**
	**I refuse to let someone do my hunting for me!** she blazed, 
pride flaring up. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she 
adopted a stance her father often used in skirmishes with other members 
of the tribe. Her silver eyes bored defiantly into Dreamdancer's face.
	The healer stared back with a thoughtful, narrowed gaze. A smile 
pulled at the corners of her lips. >>Definitely Sabretooth's daughter,<< 
she said to herself. "Fine," she growled, turning her back on her friend 
lest the smile on her face betray her. "Just don't stick yourself with 
any more arrows."
	Brightmoon relaxed and touched the healer's shoulder, sending her 
thanks and her gratitude, then left the den. Starfire rose eagerly from 
where he had been lying beside the tree, and Brightmoon smiled, scrubbing 
at her wolf-friend's ears. She gratefully threw a leg over his shaggy 
back and allowed him to carry her through the Holt.
	Unsurprisingly, she found her thoughts were taken with the 
treeshaper who had saved her from her cold sleep. As a cub, she had 
always been a 
little taken with the redheaded Wolfrider, following him mercilessly 
when he went off with Stoneclaw to learn plant lore. As she had gotten 
older, she had looked longing at him, hoping that one day she might be 
granted the intimate knowledge of his soul name.
	Now, she had it, but not in the way she wanted. She wanted 
Recognition with him, to share life, cubs and hunts. This...this 
left her unsatisfied.
	Her thoughts wandered until returning to a tale Shadowlight 
had howled last firenight. A tale of two who had gone against their 
fates, cheated what had been written in the stars, and taken Recognition 
into their own hands.
	A smile curved over her lips. >>Trel,<< she thought with sweet 
anticipation.

****	****
	She found the treeshaper in the Howlkeeper's beloved dreamberry 
meadow. She stared at his back for a long moment, a strange mixture 
of anticipation, exhiliration and fear choking her chest, before 
carefully dismounting. She scratched Starfire's cheek and sent, 
**Go hunt, old friend.** The wolf swiped at his elf-friend's fingers 
with his long red tongue, and vanished soundlessly into the forest shadows.
	Leaving the stormbringer alone with the treeshaper.
	**Wildwood?** she tried softly.
	He jerked, and belatedly she realized that he hadn't heard her 
approach. **Good hunting to you, stormbringer,** he replied evenly, 
turning to watch her with guarded blue eyes, though not guarded enough, 
as a hint of dread seeped into the cerulean color. In his hand, he 
held a laden twig from one of the dreamberry bushes, and his long, 
red-gold hair clung to his face. Obviously, he'd been absorbed in 
coaxing the succulent fruit from its winter hibernation when she'd 
rode up.
	**I know what you did for me.** Her eyes were just as guarded 
as his as she went right to the point. She felt his mind closing off 
as she locksent, but she persisted. **And I know _why_.**
	**To save you,** he snapped gruffly. **There was no way you'd 
have made it without the strength my soul name gave you.** He turned 
away. **That was all.**
	**Really? I don't think so.** "Trel..." she said softly, pleadingly, 
and he stiffened as if slapped. But he did not turn back. Brightmoon 
circled him and knelt before him. Taking his free hand between both of 
hers, she pressed again. "There's another reason, Wildwood." No answer. 
She took a deep mental breath. **You love me, don't you?** He was unmoved. 
**_Don't you_?**
	He jerked free of her grasp, and the dreamberry twig went flying. 
"Yes!" he shouted desperately, his expression angry. "Fine! You know the 
truth! I've loved you since I was a cub! Now, let me be alone, Brightmoon."
	She was silent for a moment. Hesitantly, she finally said, "I want 
to tell you a story, treeshaper. About a little girl-cub, who tagged 
after a red-headed boy-cub because he fascinated her. As this little 
girl-cub grew older, she found her thoughts of him were no longer fascinating. 
They were longing. She longed for him, to mate, to live, to love." 
Tears were running down her cheeks. "After seasons, she finally had what 
she wanted, but not in the way she wanted. She wanted something more. 
Has always wanted something more."
	"To give a soul name is not an easy thing," Wildwood said hollowly.
	**Look at me, Wildwood. Trel. Please?**
	Because he could not bear to hear her begging for something he had 
the power to do for her, he bleakly raised his eyes to meet hers...
	...which glittered and drew him deep inside her mind, to where her 
essence floated naked. **I love you, treeshaper,** her mind whispered to 
him. **I am Zyll.**
	Wildwood stared at her in shock, barely registering the fact that 
he was gently touching her face. "What...what have you done? I've never...
felt this way..."
	"I finished what you started," she said, suddenly looking small and 
vulnerable. "I thought it was what you wanted." She bit her lip. "What 
we both wanted. Isn't it?"
	With a groan, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped both arms 
tightly around her. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent, hardly 
believing this was happening. **Yes,** he confirmed. **You are what I want.**
	Brightmoon shook with tears, with pent up stress and pain. 
**Trel,** she asked softly. **Don't leave me.**
	As Induced Recognition seared through their souls, and made them one, 
Wildwood pressed his face into Brightmoon's chestnut hair. **Never, Zyll,** 
he promised feverently, tears streaking down his cheeks. **Never.**

****	****	****