Sending - bold

Talking - "this"

Thinking - italics

In the beginning it was only a recurring dream.

Amber eyes dominated Echo's sleep, for almost an eight of days, amber eyes in the darkness. Between leaves and in the dark, from the other side of the river, she glimpsed them as she seemed to be running barefoot in the woods. Her leathers were torn and letting in the breeze and her hair was being blown back wild, and the more she told herself she was getting closer… the less real they seemed to become.

You're not listening, cub.

A thin thread snapped. Echo looked up from her slingshot and realized Snowsoft was studying her with pursed lips, how long had her mind drifted? The dream was pulling her away from things… so much more important things.

Her eyes wandered ahead down the trail. Two ravvits were hesitantly emerging from under their bush within clear stone-throw line, and the wind was blowing in her favor. Snowsoft crouched next to her leaning on her spear, blue eyes narrowed as they wandered from prey to the kneeling girl-cub. She was wondering what was distracting Echo so much.

You were going to show me what you can do with that thing.

Sorry. Echo's send was a tiny whisper. She was already pushing it with Snowsoft's patience insisting on the sling instead of the spear the hunter meant for her, she knew that, and she shouldn't be daydreaming on the hunt. Her official First Hunt was due any given night now. She wanted to do it properly, not fail because dreamed amber eyes distracted her…

Amber eyes…

She could almost, with a twinge of panic, see them between the leaves of the bushes ahead, tracking her and the ravvits. Swallowing a gasp, she set pebble to slingshot and launched it with expert hand. Snowsoft nodded in approval as one ravvit dropped dead without a squeak of a sound, back broken. The other leapt back and fled.

"Not bad," Snowsoft said. Echo's heart traveled back from inside her throat to its proper place in her chest. "You're almost ready. Yes." Echo managed to smile a little, tightening her grip on her trusty slingshot. Slingstone would be so pleased and so would her father. "If you'll just stay focused and not drift off – "

And that was when Halfkin came out of the clustered bushes ahead of them.

The hunter had been silent, far too silent for either of them to notice him before he emerged, tossing a hand through his shaggy brown hair to loosen a few twigs caught there, studying them with deep, sealed amber eyes. And Echo nearly choked.

Snowsoft watched them both closely, eyes narrowed. The forest loomed around on all its sounds. Even Sunray's eyes seemed to have almost an accusing note, and the girl was besieged from four directions.

Halfkin picked up the ravvit carcass. He grunted faintly as he held it out before Echo. Your kill, take it, that was all there was to it. Echo stared at him. Her eyes were too wide, a little like prey herself, caught with nowhere to go. She reached up quickly with her small hands and took the body.

"Good kill," the wolf-talker said simply. "Clean. You're with the sling now? Quick-handed cub for a kill like this." He grinned over Echo's head at Snowsoft, who, relaxing somewhat, grinned back. Quick-handed cub, her teacher deserved praise.

It was silly, Echo thought, her heart shouldn't be pounding. She'd seen him come out of the woods like this often, smelling of the deeper places of the woods, of the blood of many kills, and of wind and running. What did her dreams matter? It was silly that, when his hand was so close to hers, she felt something tug at the bottom of her abdomen and the base of her neck, some feeling that was new in the waking world, and for which she – she had – had no name –

Don't look at her. Look at me!

"Good hunt," Halfkin inclined his head finally towards Snowsoft, and gave a hint more of motion to Echo but no more. He walked away. She clutched the dead ravvit hard and concentrated on thinking about pebbles. Halfkin stopped for a moment and turned around.

"Keep your hair down like this. It's nice," he said. The next thing Echo heard was Snowsoft's surprised murmur as the sling slipped and fell from her young charge's hands.

The cerulean depth of her eyes looked back at her from the clear blue depth of the stream. Echo carefully raised a small hand to move wisps of brown hair away from her face, and studied the result very closely.

Unremarkable, in her eyes. Slightly round still, though she could see how her chin and cheekbones were getting sharper and more angular, maturing her appearance a hint, if not enough. Small lips, oversized nose, her eyes just gaining some sort of shape other than cublike roundness. Echo shook her head with some disapproval.

She tried to growl a little at her reflection, exposing sharp canines, but thought it only made her look silly. A memory came with sudden pain – Clover's anger when Lionheart teased him, the wolf in her friend coming to the fore in an abrupt, beautiful moment. Did she have anything like that in her? It frightened her that she didn't really know.

"I am Echo," she said to her reflection. She hadn't another name that would be any better.

Her reflection didn't answer.

She sighed.

As often when she was troubled, her hand went to the small pile of beads she always kept in her pocket. Those were her pride and joy; there were few in the tribe who could carve beads like she did, and she practiced daily. Now their smooth wooden surfaces held no answers, however. She became faintly annoyed with them. Bead-making! It was such a calm, unexciting way to pass the time. It wasn't even a tribal duty.

Maybe she didn't have anything like the wolf in her. Not like him certainly, with the deep amber of his eyes, the strange feral face... another deep twang of what-she-did-not-understand pulled at her inside. She wanted –

- What? What did she want?

"I am Echo," Echo said to her reflection again, more sternly this time, and closed her fingers around the beads.

Then she took off her headband and ruffled her brown hair about her face, letting it loose and free just like Halfkin said he liked.

Since moonrise, Echo had been unusually silent.

That was saying a lot, being as Echo was a quiet cub by nature. But now she wasn't even in the familiar sort of silence, carving her beads or looking at birds fly and plants grow. She was a little shadow among the many moonlight shadows of the Holt, going unnoticed from here to there with a talent reserved for listeners. Few Elves that she passed by even realized she'd come and gone.

Halfkin had business in the Holt that night.

He talked with Firemoss for a short time. Echo stood a few paces away between two bushes, as if waiting for her turn to speak with the Elder. When he had gone on, Firemoss saw her and greeted her, and Echo startled a bit, then asked something about a plant Sunray was chewing. Firemoss told her it was nothing important, and scolded her a little for having to come and ask something that she was supposed to know already.

Wildstar sat with her knapping stone and chipped flintheads. Halfkin crouched by and watched her work. She mentioned off-hand that his javelin could use a touch of Beechnut's skill. He grunted noncommittally. Echo collected a few of the flint chips. There weren't many and they didn't have very interesting shapes this time, but she focused her eyes on the ground and carefully collected all of them nonetheless.

A basket of berries stood by the base of the Denning Tree, its contents purple-red and inviting. Halfkin passed it by and lingered to choose a few of the ripe ones. Echo peered behind a root deciding she also wanted some berries. Then he was done and walked away licking the juice off his fingers, and Echo didn't want berries anymore, or maybe she just forgot.

Slingstone grunted to himself. Leaning back against the trunk, the hunter glanced up at Dreamshadow, who was sitting half-hidden among the leaves.

You should talk to your girl-cub.

The dreamspeaker raised an arched eyebrow. She glanced from her tribemate to her daughter, blue eyes following the small aimless form. You needn't worry, Slingstone.

Don't I?

Dreamshadow shifted on her branch. Slowly she slipped down the trunk and stood besides him, though her eyes were still on Echo. For all that the girl hid in every shadow she could find, with silence and skill a cub should not display, her mother's eyes found her whenever she was, saw the trail she was winding that night.

Lionheart and Boldscout followed him around, Dreamshadow remarked.

Slingstone grunted again, leaning a hand on the pommel of his sword. I don't think it's the same.

Isn't it? Her slender shoulders rose and fell in a faint shrug. Cubhood things pass, my friend, through them we grow wiser. You've had your trouble when you were her age…

Not like this, came the strict answer.

Dreamshadow looked at her cub again, as if she could study her deeply even at this distance. There was something faintly… unfamiliar about the way Echo moved, something slinking and secret, in the way she kept out of the moonlight. It was also something…

Lost.

Maybe, she sent softly. Let her grow.

There was a rustle.

Echo was petrified, like a ravvit caught in a thunderstorm, her blue eyes terribly wide in her pale face. Halfkin had caught her and steadied her before she could fall on her face, her foot caught in a tangle of branches as she slunk a few steps behind on his heels. It wasn't like her to stumble like that; she was a sure-footed cub.

Slowly he took his hand away from her still trembling arm, looking her up and down with a wolfish frown as she stared at him. Echo's breath came in and out like the fluttering of small wings. He took a short sniff, and for a moment was still, seeming waiting for her to send or talk.

He turned then before he could see how the tears brimmed in the great cerulean orbs, the tattletale trickle down her cheeks that she couldn't stop however hard she tried. Shaking his head, as if to banish something that tangled and pestered in his hair or ears, he walked away.

So did Echo. Slowly like nothing at all happened. No one was actually looking her way, no one saw or noticed, which was strange, since by the time she had climbed up to her den she knew her face was bright red.

She curled up under the furs, put her head under her hands and wondered how many moon-dances it would be before she could safely some out.

To be continued

This is the imcomplete fic of Joan Milligan, done just before the holt ceased. I'm hoping she'll continue the story. So leave reviews to encourage this tale of a cub's first crush.

DISCLAIMER: Echo and Rushwater Holt belong to Cindy England, we're just borrowing them. The fic is Joan Milligan's. ElfQuest world is Wendy Pini's (all hail!) and no money was made during this production. Don't steal it either.