Recognition! Sweet Recognition! It was two-eights and one years since the birth of Dawn, who was the youngest of the hawkriders. After her, there had been no children. Now, there would be little ones once more; Moonflower and Serek were Recognised. The great fire in the Central Cave was lit, and the tribe celebrated with wine and meat, song and dance. As the night darkened, the songs grew rowdier and the dancers bolder.
A solitary elf sat on the ledge of Mountain Eyrie with her back turned to the fire. Suddenly someone touched her leather-clad shoulder.
'Arrowspeed! You're missing all the fun!'
'I'm in no mood for dancing, Featherveil.'
'Really? Aren't you happy for them?'
'Happy? I'm relieved it wasn't me, that's all I am.'
'Sometimes I just can't figure you out. So it's not jealousy. What bugs you?'
'I don't like children. Life's more peaceful without them.'
'How can you say so? Children are the hope of the future!'
'Indeed? But anyone can die. And the pureblood can live forever. Surely an elder like my mother, with all her memories, is more precious to the tribe than some squealing, helpless, ignorant newborn?'
'Your mother would disagree. She loves her children more than her own life. So will you, if you Recognise someday.'
'The High Ones spare me from that!'
'I thought there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you are afraid of.'
'I do fear Recognition and I am not ashamed to admit it.'
'Use that clever brain of yours! Anyone can die, you say. If no new ones were born, soon there would be no elves at all!'
'I know, I know. But if the world was perfect, there would be no death. And no need for children.'
'Do you fear death, Arrowspeed?'
'No. I know I could have Suanshen burn the hawk-blood from me, but I don't want her to. I am a hunter, a warrior, and it is easier to risk my life when I know I am not risking all eternity, just a few hundred years.'
Featherveil was silent. She was neither hunter nor warrior, being too gentle-hearted to kill living beings. Her hawk blood yearned to hunt, but in her the heritage of the High Ones was stronger and stilled the savage dreams. She was a gatherer and her bond-bird was a tiny hawk she had found fallen from its nest, not a proper hawkrider bird at all. She admired all the strong warriors of her tribe, but recently her eyes had turned more and more to Arrowspeed.
Suddenly Kestrel and Darah stood beside them, arms wrapped around each other in drunken love.
'Featherveil! Come dance with us!'
How inconsiderate of them, Featherveil thought, to address only her as if Arrowspeed wasn't there at all.
'Go Recognise a troll, Kestrel!' She answered.
'Oo, the gentle one can bite! Could it be - are you in love, Featherveil? Got a crush on ice-heart here?'
Hearing Darah's taunt, Featherveil blushed. Darah giggled.
'You're wasting your time, dearie. Her heart of stone hungers for blood and battle.'
Featherveil sought words to answer, but was interrupted by Arrowspeed's sending:
Are they bothering you? Say the word, and I'll deal with this.
Please, do.
Arrowspeed stood up and floated over the ledge.
'So you want to dance, Kestrel? Come here and dance with me - hand to hand and foot to foot, or mind to mind or sword to sword.'
'Must you turn everything into a fight?' Darah's voice was full of pureblood contempt.
'Not everything. Just the important things. Featherveil doesn't want your company, so let her be. If you ever bother her again, you'll have me to deal with.'
Kestrel turned away, unable to meet Arrowspeed's eyes. He had lost to her so many times already, in fights and contests both, from sword-duels to gliding races. It was so unfair! They were of age, yet Arrowspeed had been treated as an adult ever since she killed those wolves at the age of eight-and-four. She had been raised as a hunter - and then, four years later, she had suddenly learned to glide, and, this was the unfair part, glide better, faster, and with heavier burdens than anyone born with the gift. Not to mention that she had formed a bird-bond when she was seven and Goldeneyes still inside his egg!
Kestrel lead Darah away, towards the fire and dances.
Arrowspeed smiled uncertainly at Featherveil and alighted on the ledge.
'I don't understand. You seem so happy tonight, yet you don't want to join the celebration.'
'Oh, Arrowspeed!' Featherveil hugged her.
You always gaze into the distance and yearn for new horizons, you who took the High Wind higher! Can't you see, my sharp-eyed friend, what is right here for you to take!
Featherveil… Arrowspeed tightened her embrace and felt the other respond. She glided, supporting Featherveil in her arms, away from the firelight, into the privacy the dark night offered them. It took Featherveil a moment to realize the change in the wind and its reason - her love had literally swept her off her feet! She added her own gliding strength to Arrowspeed's.
My strong one, I love you!
So this is what it feels like - love. Sweeter than spring water, stronger than old wine, wilder than any wind, warmer than any flame! I love you, Featherveil, my graceful one, air-dancer!
Their lips met, their tongues embraced each other. Hands explored under clothes, bodies shuddered in anticipation.
We should go to my nest, or yours.
Nest? No, I want you here, out in the wind that is my soul.
You crazy hawk. You wonderful, crazy hawk.
This is my initiation, let me choose the place.
As if I could deny you anything. I've been yours to take long before you were old enough to know of love.
Hundreds of feet below, items of clothing began to rain on the rocks.