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STONEHOWL HOLT: Elements: A hunt may be after prey or treasure of any kind. A new chance Yay! (Or any kind of cheering.) A fall Desperation of some kind. Can be hilarious or serious. the wolf instincts in an elf “I don’t understand,” Spearclaw sighed. “We’re going to go hunt down a wolf – that’s not a part of the ones you ride – but we’re not going to kill it?” Vineweaver smiled. “I thought you said you didn’t understand?” “How is it we’re hunting it, if we’re not going to kill it?” Spearclaw asked, holding the spear, for which he was named after, in his hand. “I was one of the best hunters of the entire Pridewalkers. But when I hunted, I hunted to kill.” “Well then consider this your new chance,” Vineweaver winked, as he patted Spearclaw on the shoulder. Many seasons ago now, Spearclaw had a romantic interest in Vineweaver’s mate, Stillbreeze, and it seemed that she might have been interested in him as well. Through a mess of complicated situations, Spearclaw’s tribe leader learned of this and tried to turn this so that Vineweaver would be killed, so that Spearclaw could claim Stillbreeze as his own. In the end, Spearclaw turned on his own tribal leader, and revealed the plot and thus saved Vineweaver’s life; but by this time, his tribal leader had suspected as much and told Vineweaver of Spearclaw’s emotional attachment and desire of Stillbreeze. In the end, Vineweaver and Spearclaw turned on Lionheart. He has since become like a brother to Vineweaver; though he’s never explored his romantic interest with Stillbreeze. “It’s time for wolves to have cubs,” Vineweaver explained, as the perplexed Spearclaw still remained standing there. “The wolf pack that has lived in these woods has bred with the wolves of Stonehowl, which means that there will be some wolf cubs who will be capable of bonding.” “This is that strange thing you do with your wolves, yes?” Spearclaw smiled. “Yes,” Vineweaver smirked. “But why do we hunt a wolf, both you and Stillbreeze have one; and surely Dusk and Dawn are still yet too young to bond or whatever it is you do,” Spearclaw said. “Indeed,” Vineweave agreed, “this hunt is for Windfetcher.” Windfetcher stood behind him and cheered, startling Spearclaw. “Best hunter indeed,” Vineweaver smirked. “Our littlest hunter just got the drop on you.” “I was preoccupied,” Spearclaw laughed. Vineweaver followed his gaze right to Stillbreeze. He coughed. Spearclaw looked at Vineweaver. “What?” “What indeed,” Vineweaver chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.” They had been hunting for hours, far beyond the holt. Vineweaver stood next to Windfetcher, “This hunt is yours. We’re only here if you get in trouble. You want a wolf cub to bond with, you have to be like a wolf. Surrender to that side of your blood. Become a wolf. Make it so you are not a threat to them.” Windfetcher took a deep breath and let herself escape her own body. She felt the feral blood of the wolf in her veins. She began sniffing until she caught the scent of a wolf. She began chasing it desperately, wanting a wolf cub of her own more than anything. She found a den with a single grey wolf, whose eyes just opened when she stuck her inside. And she fell. Fell deeply in love. She wrapped her arms around the wolf cub who returned her love with a long last licking across her cheek. She giggled. Spearclaw looked at Vineweaver, staring at only her butt sticking out from the den. “She was never in any danger was she?” “None,” Vineweaver smiled. “Why drag me out here with you?” Spearclaw asked. “To see what makes us who we are,” Vineweaver explained. “You’re a brother to me. I want you to understand me. To understand Stillbreeze. To understand our tribe.” “I do,” Spearclaw shrugged. Windfetcher emerged from the den holding the wolf whose tail wagged vigorously happy. Spearclaw saw a bond that ran deeper than friendship; deeper than love. And he felt his eyes mist. “No,” Vineweaver whispered, “Now you understand our tribe.”