ElfQuest: Stonehowl Holt!
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An emotional farewell of some characters...

Elements:
1. Change (however you want to use it; whether that's someone changing, or change as in coin, etc)
2. Meditation, either the actual practice or someone sitting and thinking of something.
3. Falling down (can be persons, or things, or more symbolically)
4. Innocence
5. Sea

The seasons bring change.

The white fall brings cold that covers the land; couples embrace, sharing their bodies, sharing their warmth. Daystar’s Gaze brings heat; where people seek shelter from the warm rays that can often times feel relentless during the day, with nights that bring a chill to the tender and exposed skin. In between, the leaves fall, and the plants bloom.

The seasons always bring change.

It was less barely into the Daystar’s Gaze, when Spearclaw and Snowcloud announced that they would be returning to their people in the plains; in hopes that their own clan – the Pridewalkers – have managed to survive after the death of their own Chief – their Sire. Windfetcher knew this had been brewing for some time. While Spearclaw deeply cared for Stillbreeze, there was no Recognition – and over time, he knew she could never care for him as much as she cared for Vineweaver, despite the three of them sharing their furs. Snowcloud had hoped to find adventure; but in many cases, all she had found was violence and death, like she was not accustomed to and in those violent moments, she lost the last remaining bits of innocence she’d retained. She’d wanted to return to the plains for quite some time; and Spearclaw’s desire to leave was exactly what she’d needed. Whether or not she truly cared for him, or deep down knew that perhaps she got close to him after he left Stillbreeze, in hopes of manipulating his desire to return to the plains, remains unknown – even to her.

But that would not be the only change. The turning of full seasons passed, several times over, when the biggest change of all came.

Vineweaver clasped the arm of Shadow. “Are you sure about this?”

Shadow smiled. “I am. My bones are old, my friend.”

“We will keep an eye on her as if she were my own,” Vineweaver clasped his chief close.

“I’ve seen how you raised your cubs; I believe she is in best hands,” Shadow said, pulling back after the embrace and placing his hand on Vineweaver’s shoulder.

“More importantly,” Foxhair, who’d been standing behind Shadow, and embracing Stillbreeze. “I believe you are all in good hands with them.”

Not far, on a small cliff that overlooked the same beach that Buren’s father had used to dock his ship and attack the tribe so many years ago, Windfetcher sat, her eyes closed, listening to the rise and fall of the waves, crashing against the stone wall, the smell of the salty sea, filling her peaceful senses; the sound of the waves falling down against the cliffside, the rush of cool air, were all pieces to the peace she found during her meditation.

She didn’t need her wolfblood to smell it.

A big change was on the horizon.

And she wasn’t sure if she would be ready for what it was about to bring.

The twin moons watched that night.

There, near the cliff’s edge, where Shadow often called council when the twin moons were full; he believed that the High Ones were out there still – through the skies and stars – and when the twin moons were full; when they shined the brightest, they might just see their children down below and be proud of what they’ve become.

As Windfetcher climbed up, she was one of the last to arrive. Immediately she noticed that Snowspring was weeping. Windfetcher bit her bottom lip, she could feel tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn’t know why. Everyone was present – Shadow, Foxhair, Snowspring, Stream, Buren, their son – Stonecutter; her mother and father, Stillbreeze and Vineweaver, and her brother, Echo.

So why was Shadow’s daughter, Snowspring crying, and what was the feeling that Windfetcher couldn’t grasp?

It was after Windfetcher had sat, that Shadow dipped his hands in the red ink that Vineweaver had always made from the sap and petals of flowers – as he continued to paint on the stone; a tradition since their original home – a way to see the story, and take from it your own wisdom.

“My closest friend was the chief before me,” Shadow began, as he painted a picture of Wildthorn. “He was my closest friend, and lover, and eventually Recognized my sister. This made our bond deeper than any could understand,” his fingers drew lines connecting the image of Wildthorn to the image of Shadow’s sister, Purespring, to lines connecting her to an image of himself.

“He,” Shadow placed his hand on the still wet image of Wildthorn, “saw my sister – his Recognized – die in his hands – killed by what he believed to be humans. In his mourning and madness, he killed a human woman – innocent in all of this – who was with child. That woman’s mate – a human named Tamier who had come to us seeking peace many moons before – drowning in grief, found Windfetcher and killed him.”

Shadow paused. It’d been so many turns of seasons now, but his heart never healed the gaping wound of losing his sister and his best friend, almost back to back.

“I could not kill him,” Shadow said, his tone low, as he drew a human. “I could not kill Tamier, because I understood what he felt. Why he’d done what he’d done. He’d killed my best friend – but my best friend had killed his wife, who was with child – and had nothing to do with Purespring’s death. We parted that ways that night, understanding what had happened – but also understanding that there would never be peace.”

“We were betrayed by one of our own, whose name I will not speak,” Shadow said, drawing only a faceless elf with black hair. “There was a war between us and the humans – a war that spilled blood, drenched the soil in crimson.

“I needed to get away from what was there,” he drew forest trees, with red ink. “The blood. The war. The death. So I took those that would follow with me – that was everyone. Everyone believed in me that we would find a new home, get a new start.”

“We met the Pridewalkers, and found, even within our own kind; though different, they were poisoned as well,” Shadow drew a lion’s head, and placed his ink covered hands on its forehead. “We were forced to kill our own. To. Kill. Our. Own.” He shook his head. “I lost hope,” he said flatly.

“We left them, taking some with us,” he looked around, “and now it’s only our tribe, and Buren.” His eyes fell on Buren. “Even here, we could not find true peace. Buren’s father, leading a band of marauding humans like we’ve never seen before – towering and tall, savage and fighters – unlike any human we ever encountered, murdered so many of us. There is blood here. There is always blood. Always hatred.”

He shook his head. “Buren offers us a symbol of hope. He stood against his people, risked his own life, denounced his father and his blood, to save a child of ours. And now, he and Stream have a child of their own – Stonecutter – who looks human in his build, and height – but his ears and eyes reveal his elven blood. As always, we have adapted. We have found a way to survive. But I’ve seen so much. And I am old.”

He drew himself and Foxhair, standing apart from the others. “Foxhair and I are leaving. Our cub, Snowspring will remain in the care of Vineweaver and Stillbreeze, and the rest of you. For us, our journey takes us elsewhere.”

He took a deep breath. “We will meet again. But it won’t be here.”

He drew two moons and a palace.

“It will be there,” he concluded.

He took another deep breath. “We have always believed that the Alpha Male is the one to be Chief. That was foolish of us. Today, that changes. Today,” he turned to Windfetcher, “Windfetcher, Chieftess of Stonehowl, will take my place.”

There was only endless sobbing from all, as Shadow and Foxhair, walked next to their wolves; also old, and left under the cover of the moon’s ever watchful gaze.

Shadow hoped that the High Ones were smiling.

After all, he would see them soon.

• Vineweaver (Male Soul Name: Reyk) – Auburn Hair, Blue Eyes (Tree shaper, Soul Mate of Stillbreeze, Plant Shaper)
• Stillbreeze (Female Soul Name: Hewl) – Brown Hair, Brown Eyes (Soul Mate of Vineweaver, Tanner)
• Echo (Male Soul Name: Ayav) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver, Magic)- About twenty three years old.
• Windfetcher (Female Soul Name: Burm) – Auburn Hair, Brown Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver) – About twenty three years old, Chieftess
• Snowspring (Female, Soul Name: Tylo – Black Hair, Green Eyes) – Fourteen years old. Daughter of Shadow and Foxhair.
• Stream (Female Soul Name: Vree) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Healer)
• Buren (Human, Brown hair, hazel eyes) – About 25 years old in human years
• Stonecutter (half elf/half human, son of Stream and Buren – brown hair, green eyes) – About seven years old