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The elements are.... Fire A spider A vision Spinning Resentful NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to Nightsea for the Doll that she made of Clouddreamer, giving a character who was nothing more but a background (Foxhair’s mother) new life. The vision she created inspired the idea that this month’s Grab Bag HAD to be about her somehow. You can check out Nightsea’s dolls of Clouddreamer and MANY others here: http://fathertreeholt.forumotion.com/t138p60-elfquest-dolling-thread#top This, I feel, emotional piece, was written while listening to the DRAGONHEART sound track, mainly the song “FINALE” which can be heard here if you don’t have it (and recommended listening to it on repeat as you read this really long grab bag!) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEzy8_67VmU This one was very emotional to write. And something I did - the elements are repeated in all three segments (with Foxhair, then with Balgar, then with Shadow). The chilling breeze of winter found its way inside the cavern that Shadow and the others had taken cover in. No one spoke, instead, each sat staring into nothingness, each of their minds thinking something different; yet all connected to the tragedy that they had just endured. Shadow had been sitting on the cold stone floor, his knees pulled close to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, as if that were the only thing holding him together. Curled around his back, Foxhair laid there, her eyes closed, trying to shut out the visions of her child being struck by an arrow while in her arms, fleeing from the Frost Men. Foxhair sought the warmth of Shadow’s body, but even he seemed cold, disconnected. She closed her eyes as she felt the stinging of tears forming on her eyes, the chilling winds biting. Somewhere between silently sobbing for the child who would never grow up to be their own person, Foxhair drifted off to sleep finally. Clouddreamer smiled at her children. “Stormcreek, Foxhair, you must pay attention!” Their mother was stunning. With her long, auburn hair was woven into braids, and looped to the top of her head, giving her an elegant, sophisticated look. She wore a headband that she herself had woven and created to hold her braids in place. Her green eyes, as everyone had always told her, were like the meadows after a good rain; so glowing, so beautiful and so full of life. She wore bear furs over her shoulders, over her strapped, lavender colored shirt, which she had dyed using dreamberries. Her pants were long, covering her entire legs, in a darker lavender color, also dyed from dreamberry extract. Stormcreek shook his head, “Mother, I know all of this! I know about the humans!” Banetricker, the father of Stormcreek and Foxhair, and loving soul mate of Clouddreamer, and one of the best hunters of the tribe, leaned against the tree. “You may think you know,” his stern voice was always the same; Banetricker never relaxed. Ever. He was a complete contradiction to his loving soul mate who was very relaxed, very kind, very social. Many at Stonehowl often said, the only thing he and Clouddreamer had in common was their love for one another, and their green eyes. “It’s not just the humans you have to be aware of,” Clouddreamer smiled at her anxious children. “When you bond with a wolf – you must also be conscious of the mother of the cubs. These are her cubs. She will be protective of them if she feels you are not right for them.” As she led her daughter and son, with her soul mate behind them, they suddenly halted as they grew nearer to the wolf den. Clouddreamer extended her hand, silently signaling the other to be quiet. Banetricker quickly slipped his bow over his shoulder and moved ahead, moving as quietly and quickly as the wind. He looked at the ground then looked to his soulmate. Large, clawed prints were in the mud next to the stream. {This… looks like bear tracks, but it’s not… these claw marks are bigger,} he sent to Clouddreamer. {Headed for the wolf’s den.} Clouddreamer looked back at her two children, who, until a moment ago could not contain their excitement at the opportunity to finally meet with their potential wolf bonds. {What is it mother?} Foxhair sent to her mother. {A bear has gotten the scent of blood from freshly born wolf cubs,} her mother’s sending was sad. Foxhair did not need her to say more. {We must help the wolf! The cubs will be killed! The mother too!} Foxhair sent urgently to both her mother and father. {No,} Banetricker’s stern sending was just the same as when he spoke. Strong. Firm. {This is the path of nature. If the mother is strong enough, she will defend her cubs. Or at least the strongest cubs will emerge from what is to come.} “You can’t be serious!” Foxhair hissed, resentment bursting through his voice. “How many times have the wolves been there to save us? Where was ‘the path of nature’ then? When they howl and warn us of humans approaching? Where? I will not stand idly by!” Stormcreek didn’t say a word, but gave chase after his sister. Clouddreamer looked concerned at her soul mate. {They have your blood, and your stubbornness!} And with that, the two of them gave chase to their own children. When they arrived; it was a horrific scene. It was not a large bear that had caught the scent of blood; but another beast all together, one that they had never seen before, but generations before spoke of – a beast they called ‘Bloodfang.’ The large, furry creature resembled a large bear; but the claws on its front paws were much larger than any claw on any bear seen before; they almost protruded from its paws like small swords. Rather than normal teeth, this creature had massive fangs, like a tooth-cat that could be found in the plains not too far outside of the woods. The wolf mother was already dead; her carcass nearly shredded to pieces, her entrails spread around the den’s entrance like a spider’s web. Six of the seven cubs were clearly also dead, their corpses splashed around the outside of the den like reckless decoration. This creature killed not for hunger or need, but merely to kill for the sake of killing. What had made this even stranger – standing between this massive beast of fury and death was a young human boy, no older than their own children, holding a torch, spinning the flames in circles, to keep Bloodfang at bay. The furious creature seemed to dislike fire and roared repeatedly, seeking to kill the final cub of the wolf mother. Though the young human boy faced down against death, trying to defend the wolf, he refused to back down. Even as Bloodfang swung its massive claws and ripped into the young boy’s chest, the boy rose again, clasping his chest with one hand, holding the torch in the other, shouting at the beast in the human tongue. When the boy had finally managed to burn the beast’s matted fur, though barely, Bloodfang reared back and quickly turned and left. “High Ones,” Foxhair muttered softly, “I have never seen such courage.” “We should kill the boy,” Banetricker whispered, pulling out his bow. “He’s too close to our holt.” “No,” Clouddreamer said, placing her hand on her soulmate’s hand. “Wait.” The young human picked up the sole, surviving wolf and cradled it in his arms. The boy wept into the young cub’s fur. Though he had saved the wolf, he knew he could not take the wolf cub back to his tribe; they would kill the beast for the wild animal that it was. Yet, if he left it here, it was too young to care for itself; it would starve or another predator would come along eventually and find it. “We should go,” Banetricker said, turning then noticing that Foxhair was nowhere to be found. He turned immediately and saw that she had jumped out of the trees and was approaching the human boy, who now stood up, alarmed to see a ‘demon’ approaching him. But there was no fear in the boy’s eyes. As a matter of fact, there was immense relief. The boy smiled. “Baleric tevan shellaugh?” Foxfire did not speak the tongue of humans, but the way the boy was extending the young wolf cub towards her, she understood what he had said – he was asking her to take the wolf. Though she was a demon to him; he knew that the demons of the woods also rode on wolves, and that if there was anyone who could care for this young wolf cub, it would be these demons. Foxhair extended her arms and the human boy put the wolf cub in her arms. He seemed proud, happy, that he had stood up for the wolf cub against such a foul beast; and more happy now, that despite the tragic loss of its family, the wolf cub would have another family to raise it now. “Pala deliana furlough,” the boy smiled, and turned and ran into the woods. The young wolf cub licked Foxhair’s face, and cuddled deep into her neck, unaware of the travesty that had befallen its family; it only sensed great, deep, appreciative love from the one who held her now. When they returned back to the holt, the young wolf cub had clearly grown very attached to Foxhair, believing she was its mother. After Foxhair and Stormcreek shared their story, Shadeseeker, Shadow’s father approached her and said, “You mentioned that the human said something to you?” “Yes,” Foxhair nodded her head emphatically. “But I don’t know the human tongue. I don’t know what he said.” “Could you repeat the words?” Shadeseeker asked, having spent many years learning the human tongue, in hopes of better understanding them. He taught his son, Shadow, the human tongue, hoping one day, to be able to speak to the humans and put aside their hatred for one another. “First he said something like, ‘Baleric tevan shellaugh’,” Foxhair explained. Shadeseeker smiled, “He asked you if you would take this wolf cub into your heart.” “Before he left,” Foxfire continued, “he said, ‘Pala deliana furlough.’” “He said, ‘Thank you, my name is Elk,” Shadeseeker translated the words. Foxhair looked at the dark brown wolf and held it up high, “I will call you Elkheart,” she smiled, “Named after the human who saved you, because he had a wonderful heart.” That had been Foxhair’s first and only wolf bond. She loved it dearly. She often returned back to the site of the den, where Elkheart’s family had been slain; and after several years, the wolf began to understand. Foxhair had come here to pay her respect to her wolf’s family, but she had also hoped to one day, reintroduce the human who saved the wolf cub – so that he could see the magnificent wolf that Elkheart had grown up to be, because of the human boy’s courage to stand up to a murderous beast. Foxhair suddenly woke from her dream. She looked to her side and Shadow was not there. She looked around the cave, frantically, not seeing him anywhere. “Where is Shadow?” She yelled. Stillbreeze sat up, “He said he was going out in the snow. Clear his head. He was feeling confined.” “Oh no,” Foxhair whispered, and quickly got to her feet and ran outside of the cave. Elsewhere, not far… Balgar was hidden, peering through the brush, like gazing through a spider’s web. Inside the cave just ahead, he could see his only son, Buren, making a fire, trying to keep the inside of the cave warm, not only for himself, but an infant demon spawn he rescued from the burning bodies of the victims. That same demon child was the reason he was now exiled from the tribe, who celebrated their victory over the demons not too far away. Their shaman priestess, Sherala, follower of the human being that lit the sun every morning, Kuraul, had a vision and had convinced Balgar, spinning her words in a manner that she had convinced Balgar, Chief of the Frost Men, to leave his son to decide on killing the demon cub and returning to the tribe, or watching the demon cub die slowly, knowing that Buren would never be able to provide for it, and that Buren would come crawling back to his father, begging to be let back into the tribe, and feeling that he had been foolish and dishonored his father, he would be much easier to manipulate, now forever seeking to gain his father’s approval and forgiveness. But watching his son, Balgar grew even more resentful of his son, who cradled the demon spawn close to his body, using his own body heat to try and keep it warm. Balgar snarled, and quietly returned to the celebration with his men, though he did not celebrate with them. Unbeknownst to Balgar, someone else was watching his son. Green eyes, normally associated with the blooming green fields of the plains, now were green with envy, hatred and resentment. Shadow’s gaze were locked on the young human boy in the cave, holding something. It didn’t matter what he was holding – he wore the clothing of the Frost Men. Shadow would do what the Frost Men had done to him and his tribe. He had a vision; he would go in, slaughter the boy, cut him, and let him bleed out and die, then throw his carcass into the center of the Frost Men’s celebration, as retribution for killing not only his cub – but his tribe, and their cubs as well. A fire so deep and burning consumed Shadow. The boy would be an easy kill, the way a spider devours a fly that had been ensnared within its spun, silken web. Shadow did not hide his approach. He stepped out from the brush, and with firm, quick strides, sword in hand he approached the cave. The boy saw a figure, assumed it was his father, until he saw that the figure was thin, and he knew it was one of the demons. He stepped forward, extended his hand, excitedly and said, “Baleric duras shellaugh?” But Shadow did not stop. He did not listen to the human’s words. Instead he grabbed the human boy by the back of his head and plunged his sword deep into the boy’s chest. The boy let out a gasp, his eyes wide, as he stared beyond the cave. At that moment, Shadow saw what was behind the boy. Shadow’s eyes were now wide, as he felt the boy’s warm blood soaking his hand; and behind the boy, Snowspring, his daughter coo’ed at the sight of her father. Shadow’s jaw opened. “No.” He whispered. “High Ones. No.” He pulled the blade out of the young boy, who was now clasping the wound on his chest. “Perudoa del fera,” the boy choked. Shadow now, brought back to his senses, understood the boy. He had said, “I am not angry. I understand what you’ve done and why.” Shadow shook his head. Now, in hindsight he understood what the boy said as he entered the cave, “Will you take this child into your heart?” At that moment, Foxhair burst into the cave and slid next to the human boy, placing her hand on the child’s chest. She looked at Shadow. “What have you done?” Shadow looked at Foxhair, then to his cub, then back to Foxhair. “The human… he was… taking care of our cub.” After a moment he looked at her, “How? How are you here so quickly?” “My mother,” Foxhair replied. “I had a dream about her – a memory.” Just then Stream came into the cave and placed her hand on the human boy’s chest. “I brought her with me,” Foxhair answered Shadow’s unspoken question. Shadow dropped his sword and picked up his cub. He turned to Stream. “You have to save the human.” “I’m trying,” Stream screamed at Shadow. Foxhair stood up and embraced Shadow and Snowspring. “What have I done,” Shadow repeated over and over. “What have I done…”