Stonehowl Links Stonehowl Holt's information is hosted on Tawmis' website. You can help ease the burden of bandwidth by making a donation through Payapl.

krwordgazer wrote: something hidden a misunderstanding (possibly caused by language differences) laughter a wedding a scent (lingered upon and described) music Like a dancing viper, the black smoke seemed to twist and contort, reaching higher and higher into the air. Gentle winds carried the smoke across the tree tops, where unknown to the humans below, someone watched from the depth of the blackened shadows. Cautious eyes watched the humans as they continued to dance and chant around the fire. Other humans beat on the drums, providing the rhythmic music for them to move their bodies to. ** What are they doing? ** Wildthorn asked through Sending, maintaining their silence. ** It’s a mating ritual, ** Shadow sent back. ** I’ve seen it before. It’s a human tradition. It seems it has to be done before the man can have the woman as her mate.** ** And I thought Recognition was a difficult process,** Wildthorn smirked. ** They don’t seem so… evil, right now… I mean, listen to that joy in their chanting… and their laughter… I never thought humans knew how to laugh…** ** They never are, during these rituals, ** Shadow replied back, sharing his mental link with his Soul-Brother. ** So, ** Wildthorn, who was Chief, sent to Shadow, ** What’s your interest in these humans anyway? ** ** We fight with them over game, over fear, and yet we are not certain why, ** Shadow retorted. ** Long ago, they may have killed the High Ones… but I think it is fear that drew their clubs then, and draws their spears now. If we can… learn their language, then perhaps, we can remove that fear, and one day live peacefully side by side.** Wildthorn looked at his closest friend, his confidant, and his Soul-Brother and seemed to be waiting for Shadow to crack a smile, as if he had been jesting. But no smile came. No smirk. ** You’re serious? ** ** I am, ** Shadow sent back, sternly. Though Wildthorn was Chief, Shadow was still his elder by several seasons. ** I have followed the humans during their hunts, listened to their words, and I believe I am beginning to understand their language. When I feel I have understood it enough to convey my message, then I will approach them.** ** They’ll kill you, ** Wildthorn sent, matter-of-factly. ** Even before you ever get a word out. ** ** If that’s the case, ** Shadow sent, turning to his friend and smiling, ** then that means I will win the bet, and I will be at the Palace before you, waiting to greet you one day, my friend. ** The flames reached higher and higher, the heat radiating from its spiraling flames. Yurika was daughter to the Chief of the human tribe. She was beautiful, beyond the words that most humans could ever hope to use. Her long, black, raven colored hair touched down to the middle of her back. Her skin was soft and milky white. Beneath the mane of her midnight hair, was two sharp piercing blue eyes; a sharp contrast to the black hair that seemed desperate to hide such beauty. Her frames was wonderfully shaped, her waist thin, her chest ample. She was indeed, everything, a mate could hope for. She would bare beautiful children. Children that would one day be Chief to the tribe. Tamier was the son of Bone Dancer, the most reverend position, second only to the Chief. The Bone Dancer was responsible for marriages, foretelling the future, and other things that kept him directly in touch with their god, Grethen. Tamier was strong, a powerful hunter, a body full of muscle and wisdom. His brown hair had been long, but pulled tight into a woven ponytail that went down the middle of his back. Indeed, their children would be beautiful. Powerful. Heirs to the tribe. That marriage was Two Seasons ago now. Time had changed everything for Yurika and Tamier. One night, Tamier had a vision in his sleep, where Grethen had paid him a visit. According to Tamier, he had said that their god, Grethen did not wish for hatred to be between the humans and the wood spirits. That the time for war and hatred and fear, was now long past, and that an era of peace was to come if they expected to survive. When Tamier had shared this vision with his own father, the Bone Dancer, his father told him to never speak of it again. And for several moons, Tamier kept his promise of silence. But Grethen came again, with the same vision and the same words. Tamier told his father again – and it became clear, in his father’s rage – what the problem had been. His father never truly had visions of Grethen like he had. His father was fearful of losing his one position in the tribe, to his son. Tamier had tried to convince him that he would not seek the position as the Bone Dancer, but that his father must heed his words and tell the tribe what has come to him in those visions. Instead, the Bone Dancer betrayed his only son. One night, he spoke to the tribe that Tamier had been tainted by the wood spirits. Tamier was brought forth and told the tribe what he had seen in his visions – and the Bone Dancer turned every word around, and counted on the fears of the Wood Spirits, to cast his son and wife out of the tribe. Fear is a powerful tool. And Tamier and his young wife, Yurika, were cast out. Tamier was a survivor. He did not let this best him. Instead he chopped down wood, and made a new home for his wife. Half a season later, she felt a child within her womb. “I do not want my child to grow up an outcast,” Yurika cried. “I do not know what else to do,” Tamier comforted his wife, stroking her raven soft hair. “Perhaps if I can speak to one of the Wood Spirits – have them come with me to the tribe – then they will see that the Wood Spirits are not evil.” Tamier walked through the forest, its blackness surrounding him. Only the flickering of the torch kept the cold darkness at bay. He called out for the wood spirits to come to him. To make themselves known to him. And that he sought their council, as Grethen had told him to do. It was Shadow, whose torch light suddenly revealed, as if melting out of the darkness. “What do you want human? What do you seek? Go away. Your kind is not wanted in this area. You know that.” Tamier could not understand the elegant words of the wood spirit before him. But he could see in its face, even in its words, that it was not pleased with him. “{Please,}” Tamier began, speaking in human. “{My wife is with child and she wants to return to the tribe we have been cast from. Come with me to my tribe, show them that you are not the vile ones they claim you are. Help me remove fear from their hearts.}” Shadow had been watching the humans for many seasons now. He had even stalked them as they hunted, always listening. He had picked up much of the human tongue, but not enough to know what the one before him had been saying. But there was no hate there. No fear. “{Not what say,}” Shadow spoke the tongue of man. “{Go not come back.}” Tamier was astonished that the wood spirit knew the words of man. It took his breath away for a long moment. “{Please,}” Tamier pleaded, his strong body, now weak with desperation. “{If you would just come…}” He reached out his hand, to which Shadow immediately drew his sword. Shadow growled, and at that moment, four wolves suddenly seemed to appear behind him, all growling at Tamier. Tamier knew when he was not welcomed, and quickly turned and fled. At the Howling Stone Holt, Shadow sat on a tree branch with Wildthorn next to him. “So you mean to tell me you intentionally made yourself present to the human?” Wildthorn asked, chewing on an apple. “I did,” Shadow said. “He was headed straight for the holt. I have been watching him and his mate. It’s the same two we saw several seasons ago. But they’re not with their tribe anymore. They live alone. And I can’t figure out why.” “You’re lucky the human didn’t kill you,” Wildthorn shook his head. “That’s just it,” Shadow said, leaning back. “He couldn’t have.” “How do you figure?” Wildthorn asked, raising an eye brow. “He came out here with no weapons,” Shadow replied. “As if… he had come out here with peaceful intentions.” “Better safe than sorry, I say,” Wildthorn smiled, and took another bite out of his apple.