For those few who know the Thing-no, I'm not revealing the whole secret yet, don't worry.
"You gonna miss me?" Storm asked Snapper.
The sarril pinned his ears.
"Didn't think so. Oh well. See you at the next all-tribe meeting, eh?"
Snapper turned around and trotted back to his herd, amid the mounted Kinn-lai.
"He's good," he heard Smoke say, and he realized the Kinn-lai and Kindi leaders were talking, Smoke from atop his mare and Hawk from the ground. "Not like that Rain girl, but good."
Hawk nodded thoughtfully and turned to Storm. "Welcome."
"Thanks." Storm joined his great-uncle, and waved to the Kinn-lai as they rode away. "It's good to be here."
"I'm glad."
Hawk's children came to investigate. "How're Moss and Dove?" inquired Sparrow, one of the Kindi healers. The other one, Moth, drifted over with him but stayed back; she was the elder of the two, but shy.
"They're fine. I didn't talk to Moss much."
"He's quiet."
The other Kindi watched from a safe distance. In Storm's experience, they were somewhere between the Kinn-lai and the Hwenti; kind, but not immediately trusting. He wasn't too worried.
. . . . . .
A human boy, probably around thirteen, ran up to Storm and the healers before they even entered the little village. "It's good you're here," he cried in stilted Avari. "My sister—"
"Show us," Sparrow prompted, and they followed the boy into the village and along the gravel street. None of the human villagers—Easterlings—appeared alarmed or surprised at the elves' presence, and many shouted hellos.
"This is a good thing you're doing," Storm told Sparrow.
"So many of them have fled their homelands recently," he replied. "We hunt for them when their crops fail, and help their healers, and keep the armies from discovering them. In return they give us food and shelter if we need it, but mostly we help because we want to do something."
"Do the Easterlings send armies often?"
"Sometimes to attack the western lands. We can't do much besides annoy them."
The boy ran into one of the houses, calling for someone. Sparrow led them in after him, and in a room that smelled like medicine, they found an older woman who greeted Sparrow in a language Storm didn't know, sounding relieved. A small, frail girl lay on the bed, whimpering. Moth went to her immediately and began speaking soothingly, and Sparrow joined her after learning what he could from the woman.
Storm drifted outside to find the boy, who was sitting on the steps. "Pretty houses," he said in Avari, sitting next to the boy. Even though the buildings were mostly wood and stone, they managed to be unique. In fact, there was some variation among the houses, and Storm wondered if their occupants came from different places too. Flint said the East had many different kingdoms and peoples, just like the West.
The boy looked at him. "You aren't Kindi."
Right, the dye-mark. "No. I came to see what they do." He looked back into the house. "Good things, I see."
The boy sighed and laid his head on his knees.
"Hey. You play games, right?"
"Yes...?"
"Can you teach me?"
The boy, too, looked behind them uncertainly. They could hear talking and people moving around, but nothing specific.
"They'll take care of her," Storm promised. "There's nothing we can do now. Let's play a game."
Finally the boy agreed. He showed Storm how to play a game that was sort of like chess, then they played a ball game with the few other children in the village, and then Storm taught the children to do cartwheels. None of their parents seemed concerned, and after a few hours, Sparrow and Moth emerged from the house and nodded encouragingly to the boy—whose name, Storm had learned, was Mashaal.
"Nice," Sparrow murmured to Storm as they left.
. . . . . .
"You're sure you want to run with the Cuind?" Hawk asked one night. The Kindi had similar evening traditions to the Hwenti—just spicier food sometimes—so they were eating around a campfire.
"Sure. Can't neglect one tribe, can I?"
"Oof," groaned Eagle, Hawk's oldest daughter. "Be warned, they're rough."
"We've had elves come back literally crying," Hawk told Storm.
One of the other daughters, Magpie, grinned at Storm. "Plus, the Cuind are weeeeeird."
Storm thought Magpie was a little weird. Never mind the white splash in her hair—they could bond over hair oddities—she was kinda batty. And really dramatic. Plus, she'd been flirting with him, though luckily he'd been assured she flirted with quite a lot of elves.
Not that Storm had any right to complain about weirdness.
Sparrow spoke up. "Should we tell him the... you-know-what?"
"You mean the rumor about the elf who was Captured?"
"Of course he's heard," Eagle scolded her brother. "He's not an elfling."
Sparrow stuck his tongue out at her.
"You don't think that's true?" asked Storm. When Morgoth had released some of the elves he'd caught, elves who were halfway turned into orcs, the tribes had quickly put them all down after a few casualties like Moon's mother Mist. The idea that the Cuind might have kept one was nauseating to Storm after hearing his tribemates' tales of elves gone mad, lashing out in bloodlust to kill their former friends, but to the elves who'd actually seen the Captured, it was far worse. No one had actually seen such a creature, though, and few elves really believed the stories.
The Kindi exchanged glances. "I used to think it was only a story," Hawk began cautiously, "until I asked Whisper." Whisper was the Cuind healer, but she'd been Kindi once.
Storm inhaled sharply. "She—"
"No. No, she denied it. Vehemently."
"But now she hardly talks to us," finished Eagle.
"I know Whisper," Sparrow maintained; he'd been trained by her, after all. "She's hiding something."
"But her husband was one of the... you know," Eagle argued. "That's why she left. She wouldn't get involved with that, surely!"
Storm cleared his throat. "Do you think it has something to do with Twist?"
Sparrow met his eyes. "What have you noticed?"
Twist was... a strange elf. Never mind the normal Cuind things, there was something off about him. Not that Storm thought he was the Captured elf they talked about, not at all; this was very different. He... well... there was one particular occasion that illustrated the point particularly well.
. . . . . .
"Hey there."
Storm was rewarded with a brief glance and a raised eyebrow.
"How are things up north?"
A shrug. This elf was notoriously hard to engage in conversation, even for his tribe.
"Right. Want to eat with the rest of us tonight? The Windan brought some of the stuff they've grown this year."
A head shake.
"C'mon."
"Why?"
"Because you need to try corn on the cob at least once."
Raised eyebrow.
Storm mimicked the expression. "Hey, Twist?"
"Hm?"
"Say 'three terrible tree turtles'."
Twist just looked at him.
"Please?"
The Cuind leader gave Storm another second to register his unimpressed look, then turned away to lead his tribe to their customary place on the slope of the hill, overlooking the rest of the all-tribe gathering. The Cuind healer, Whisper, fell into step with him.
Storm chuckled and followed them. "Help me out here; I bet Raven I could get you to say three words in a row."
"I know."
Of course. "Raven does this a lot, doesn't he."
Twist smirked at him, but then an odd expression flitted across his face. Storm was going to ask what was wrong, but Whisper quickly stepped between them and guided Twist away with her hand on his arm; the other Cuind swarmed around them protectively, sending warning glares at Storm, and hurried up the hill much faster than before. The Hwenti was left scratching his head.
"You win," Storm told Raven when the tall elf met him halfway down the hill.
"Always have." Raven accepted Storm's new fancily carved obsidian knife with a smug grin.
Storm had been planning to complain about the thievery, but he was too busy trying to see what had happened to Twist as the Cuind spread out on the hillside. "It's odd, though, he got this funny look at the end and the others all hid him from me."
"I saw." Raven, too, searched for the aforementioned elf, but gave up after a few moments. "Odd elf, isn't he?"
"Yeah. He stands a bit off-kilter, have you noticed? But his balance seems fine."
Moon popped up next to them, pulling Fox by the hand. "Who're we talking about?"
"Twist," said Storm, while Raven rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Ooh," their gossipy friend exclaimed delightedly. "Did you know no one's ever seen him without at least one other Cuind?"
"I saw him randomly collapse once," Raven added. "He was walking along up there on the hill, froze for a second, and fell. Didn't see what happened after that."
Storm pursed his lips. "You said his name wasn't always Twist, right? What was he called before?"
"Twitch," said Fox. "And no, before you ask, we don't get that one either." He frowned. "I just realized, I don't have a clue who his parents are. Raven?"
The ancient elf shrugged.
"He's usually with Whisper," Storm mused. "Could he be her son?"
Raven shook his head. "No, her husband died a long time before—aha, there's Twist. Looks fine."
Storm quickly spotted the elf in question now that the protective herd of Cuind had dispersed. "If you call being green around the gills 'fine'."
That distracted them. "Green around the what?" Moon repeated, wrinkling her nose.
"It's a human saying. Means he doesn't look so good."
"That makes no sense, but sure. Well, let's go get something to eat."
"Shouldn't we make sure he's okay?" Storm worried.
"You want to get beat up by a whole tribe?" Moon grabbed him with one hand and her husband with the other and pulled them down the hill. Storm followed, but his eyes were still on the mysterious Cuind leader on the hill, who was resting his head on the healer's shoulder. Twist saw him looking and matched his gaze for a moment, then closed his eyes tiredly.
"I'll figure it out someday," Storm promised himself.
. . . . . .
"I've wondered about Whisper myself," Sparrow mused when Storm finished making his points. "She's always acted as his mother, anyway. They look a bit alike, and she could've remarried in theory..." He bit his lip.
"Sparrow has other theories," Eagle told Storm.
"Don't get into that now," Hawk scolded. "It's probably nothing, and Whisper's just being protective because I practically accused her."
Sparrow raised a meaningful eyebrow at Storm, but moved on to one of the whole family's favorite topics. "So, how's Flint?"
Allow me to introduce you to the most conspiracy-ish rabbit hole I have created.
