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[quote="krwordgazer"] -The End -not enough -lullaby -Yes! -a treasure -a quest/search [/quote] The STONEHOWL HOLT finale that will change the lives of everyone in the story… CHAPTER ONE: “Change In The Wind.” A gentle breeze blew across the silent plains. The tall grass swayed and danced, grey clouds creeping across velvet dark skies. Stars watched from above, like tiny blinking eyes. “You did not leave with your mate,” Stillbreeze’s voice broke the silence. It had been more of a statement than a general question. Rainbringer, mate of the former Sire, Lionheart, wrapped her arms around herself. Her gentle, soft green eyes, like blades of fresh grass, turned slight. They glistened tonight, under the watchful eye of the dual moons that lingered in the night sky. There were tears in her eyes, Stillbreeze realized. “In truth,” Rainbringer replied, her dirty blond hair falling in front of her eyes, to mask her tears, “I am glad that he is gone.” Stillbreeze froze. She was unsure how to react. She had not known anyone who disliked their mate. Even when Shadow and Joybringer fought their Recognition, neither of them seemed to wish the other harm. “You are… relieved he’s gone?” Stillbreeze fumbled over the words. “I am,” Rainbringer replied, turning to face Stillbreeze. The tears were far more visible now, running down her face, freely. “He killed our only cub. And for what? So that he could remain Sire? He became obsessed… he even killed my own brother, Lilac, when he spoke up against him.” Rainbringer heaved a deep sigh of relief. “We had stopped being mates many seasons ago. He kept me at his side only for appearance. If I spoke out against him, he would lash at me, as well as lash at our cub, Talon. Talon tried to defend me many times… Talon was good at heart… but the abuse at the hands of his own father… who stopped being his father, and became his Sire instead… began to change Talon. Talon became just as obsessed as Lionheart, to become Sire. But Talon’s obsession was to remove his own father from the role of Sire… but in his grim determination… Talon lost himself as well, becoming a reflection of the person that Lionheart was.” Rainbringer stood there a moment, her arms still wrapped around herself, as if she were to let go, she would crumble to pieces. And perhaps, Stillbreeze thought to herself, Rainbringer would crumble, not physically but emotionally. Rainbringer’s eyes brimmed with uncontrollable tears. “I have lost everything. I lost my mate many seasons ago. I lost my cub to my mate. And now,” she turned and looked at the remnants of her tribe, “And I have lost my tribe. We have no Sire to lead us.” Shadow, who had been sitting and listening to the entire conversation, finally stood up. “That’s not true. Stillbreeze here,” Shadow said, walking up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, “When I fell ill, she took over as Chief of my tribe. I know that she and her mate,” Shadow’s eyes drifted to Vineweaver, who was holding their youngest cub, Sunsword, looked back at Shadow with curious eyes, “have young cubs themselves to take care of. The reason we came looking for you is because Berryseed had come from here – saying there were more like us. We have seen the Palace of the High Ones… it’s guarded by vicious trolls, who would do everything in their power to stop us from reclaiming our rightful home. We came here seeking others to assist us in this war. But war,” Shadow looked around, the others had gathered around now, “is no place for young cubs.” “We will not stay behind, Chief,” Vineweaver stood. “We will not let our tribe march to war.” “You must stay behind,” Shadow replied firmly. “You have cubs. They need you.” Vineweaver looked down and saw Echo looking up at him. Vineweaver’s voice broke. “Chief, you can not ask us to stay…” “You are right, I am not asking, I am telling you,” Shadow said more firmly. “This is not right,” Vineweaver shook his head. “Our place is with our tribe.” “Your place,” Shadow corrected, “is with your family.” “We walk with you in shadow,” Stillbreeze said to Shadow, “we light your way in daylight. We howl with you, and we howl for you.” Stillbreeze knew there would be no way to deter Shadow’s decision. In truth, she felt that perhaps, he was right. Shadow jumped on a large rock that cropped out from the land, like a sword that had been run through the earth’s body. “None of the rest of you have to come with us. We march to war. There will be casualties. But we fight for our home. We fight for our Palace. We fight to reclaim what the High Ones left behind. Every answer to every question we have ever wondered lies somewhere within those walls. If you choose to remain here, we will not judge you. We will not think any less of you. War is a frightening thing – it is something that many of us – perhaps all of us – may never return from. For me, I want many questions I have had – answered. With the Palace in sight – I will fight for it. I will fight for the answers. Who will march with me?” “I will walk beside you,” Foxhair said, reaching out and taking Shadow’s hand into hers. “We shall march with you,” Moonsong and Treerunner spoke in unison. Stream smiled weakly, “I am… frightened… I have seen what these trolls are capable of… and Joyleaf’s tribe spoke of unmentionable horrors… But this is war. There will be wounded. I am a healer. I… feel as if I must go.” Shadow shook his head. “There is no pressure to go with us on this final quest.” “No,” Stream shook her head, “I could not live with myself if I did not go. There may be lives I can save with my healing.” Skyshade was about to speak, when Shadow silenced her with a look. “Your situation is the same as theirs,” he pointed to Vineweaver and Stillbreeze. “You have a newborn cubs that you must tend to.” Wardance stepped forward, “I trust my brother to take care of Skyshade. Let me go with you, since both Warsong and I are father to our cubs. They need only one father. Let me fight with you. It’s my people those trolls captured, enslaved and murdered.” Warsong looked at his brother, “Please, reconsider this… You know what the trolls are capable of.” “And that’s why I must go,” Wardance replied, keeping his eyes on the ground, knowing he could not look into the worries gaze of his own twin brother; for he would see his own fear reflected in those eyes, and he would crumble. “These trolls,” he continued, “have done horrible things to our kind. I will not sit idly by while they march to war.” Daymist was about to echo Stream’s comment, but Shadow spoke up. “Daymist, I would like you to remain behind. Stream is coming with us. You could stay and tend to those who remain behind.” Daymist did not argue. She was terrified of the trolls. Terrified of war. And strangely enough, terrified of death. Riverfall spoke next, “Shadow… I would like to remain behind. I love the cubs, and I hope that…” Shadow smiled and shook his head. “Storyteller, you need not explain. I understand.” Rainbringer nodded, “I too would like to remain. I have no skills as a warrior or healer. I am nothing more than a mother… and I could help care for the cubs of your tribe.” “I’d be honored,” Shadow nodded, “to have someone like you help raise the cubs of my tribe, Rainbringer.” Goldmane spoke up next, “I will march to war with you, Sire.” “I am not your Sire,” Shadow corrected, the young female. “I am but a Chief. The title of Sire has been tainted. It’s time to begin anew. If you must call me by a title, call me Chief.” “So be it, my Chief,” Goldmane said, placing her hand on her heart, a ritual of servitude. The brothers, Hammerfang and Shadestrike spoke next, “We shall go with you, my Chief.” Spearclaw looked at Stillbreeze, then to Shadow. “I go with you, Chief.” Dawneyes looked timid. Shadow smiled, “You need not say what’s in your heart, for I read it in your eyes, Dawneyes. Stay with the others here. Help tend to things.” “Thank you,” she whispered, thankful she would not have to speak about staying. Snowcloud nodded, “I am not experienced as a warrior, but I have made a fine hunter in my time. I go with you, my Chief.” Clearwater spoke next, “I shall march with you as well, my Chief.” Mountainheart, the brother of Lionheart, spoke next. “I shall march with you as well, and see if I can’t clean the name that my brother has marred.” It had been decided. One way or the other, they would see this through to the end. They spent the remainder of the night, sharing stories with one another, all three tribes blending in with one another. Vineweaver saw Spearclaw sitting apart from the rest. Vineweaver’s eyes went to Stillbreeze, who he noticed, had also taken notice to the fact that Spearclaw was away from the others. “Go to him,” Vineweaver whispered. Stillbreeze looked at her soul-mate, “What?” She snapped back to reality, and realized she had been staring in Spearclaw’s direction. “I wasn’t… I was just thinking.” Vineweaver smiled. “Whether you were or weren’t, it matters not. He’s about to go to war. He may never come back. This may be the last thing he ever does. Give him what he needs.” “I don’t know what he needs,” Stillbreeze said, flabbergasted. “Tonight,” Vineweaver smiled, “he needs you.” “You can not mean,” Stillbreeze began. Vineweaver smiled. “Listen, I know you care for him. His interest in you has raised your interest in him. He’s good. He fought with us, when the Quickdeath came. He stood beside us. He came to me when Branchsnapper was trying to manipulate us. You are in his head, as much as he is in yours. I know your heart, your soul are mine. But tonight, he needs you just as much as you need him. Go, I will take care of the cubs.” She did not move for a moment, unsure if Vineweaver was testing her. “Go,” he repeated softly. Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she placed her hands on his cheeks. “I am so glad you are my soul-mate.” She kissed him for a long moment, before standing and making her way to Spearclaw, and sitting next to him. “Where is mother going?” Echo asked. Vineweaver ruffled his young cub’s hair, “To see to a new friend. Don’t worry. Now go find your sister, she’s no doubt bothering Shadow about being Chief while he’s gone.” Vineweaver looked over his shoulder and saw Stillbreeze put her head on Spearclaw’s shoulder. They seemed to talk for a moment, before he began kissing her, and their bodies slid against the rock, and disappeared behind it, so that Vineweaver could no longer see them. He smiled, for there was nothing that could ever drive a wedge between him and Stillbreeze. Not even this. And he knew that. * * * * Stillbreeze’s nails dug into Spearclaw’s bare flesh. Her breath was quick and short. Spearclaw was on top of her, each thrust inside of her, breathing hot air next to her neck, filling her ears, flowing through her hair. He felt wonderful inside of her. She enjoyed his touch. His was full of passion; driven by his desire for her; driven by the fear of war; driven by the fear of death; driven by the fear of never seeing her again. She could tell he was coming close. “Howl for me,” she whispered seductively into his ear. “Howl,” she whispered. His skin glistened under the watchful eyes of the two moons. As he felt the sensation thunder through his body, he tilted his head back, just as she raked her claws against his back, and he howled, as if he were one of the wolfriders. He collapsed on top of her, exhausted beyond belief, his breath nearly impossible to capture once more, like a fleeing deer. He rolled to the side, off of her, onto his back and stared up to the heavens. She rolled onto her side, her bare breasts pressed against his body. She put her hand on his chest. “Breathe easy,” she smiled. His breathing slowed and he was finally able to regain his breath. She sat up and put on her leather vest, and touched his cheek. “Come back to us, safely.” He touched her arm, felt her hand, “I will try.” “Don’t try,” Stillbreeze smiled, “simply do it.” She slid on her breeches and smiled at him. He laid there for a long moment, simply staring up at the twinkling stars… * * * * Shadow walked with Foxhair. The moons followed them, like curious eyes, peering through the darkness. “This is it,” Foxhair said, breaking the silence. “One way or another, this is how it will all end.” Shadow nodded, silent in his thoughts. He finally turned to her, “I am sorry that we have not yet Recognized… There was Joybringer… and…” Foxhair stopped, pulling Shadow towards her. “My heart is yours, whether Recognition ever happens. My heart has always been yours. Even when you were Recognized with Joybringer, I could not tear my heart away from you. What I feel here,” she grabbed Shadow’s hand and put his hand on her chest, “is a love that will never die. This heart is yours. Forever. I do not need Recognition to reaffirm what I feel for you.” “But,” Shadow sighed, “without it, we may never have cubs.” Foxhair’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her soft green eyes sparkled like gems as the tears streaked down her face. “You are my cub,” she laughed, wiping the tears away. “I do not need cubs, if I have you. All I have ever wanted, all I ever needed, I found in you. If the day should come that one day we have cubs, then I will love them, as much as I love you. Until then, all I want is you. All I need is you.” Her hands rested on his cheeks, his hands going to hers. “I do not deserve you,” he whispered. “No,” she laughed, still crying, “but the High Ones have brought us together for whatever reason. So I’m stuck with you,” she joked, even as the tears continued to fall. She shed tears of joy, for she knew that he felt the same. * * * * Treerunner and Moonsong sat apart from the others. They could hear the joyous laughter, as some shared stories. They could also hear others, engaged in passionate love. For Treerunner and Moonsong, they say with Moonsong’s wolf, Branchseeker, and remembered Springwater, the Russian Blue wolf that had been with Treerunner for so long. Springwater had saved Treerunner’s life more times than he could count on his hands. Treerunner and Moonsong sat quietly with Branchseeker, staring up at the heavens. “He loved you,” Moonsong smiled. “Perhaps more than I do.” “He did,” Treerunner acknowledged. He looked at Moonsong, “Perhaps more than you do, as you said. He threw his own life on the line against a snowbear… against twisted magic… even against the Quickdeath.” The Quickdeath. It had been Springwater’s final sacrifice in order to save Treerunner. True to its name, the Quickdeath delivered a fatal blow to Springwater that no healer could have ever saved him from – even if he healer was at Springwater’s side. “I miss him,” Treerunner admitted. “He is still with you,” Moonsong smiled, tears twinkled in her eyes, like tiny stars. She placed her hand on Treerunner’s heart. “He lives here,” then she touched his temple, “and here.” “I know he does,” Treerunner smiled, “but I miss his scent. I miss riding on his back. I missing running with him. I miss him.” “One day,” Moonsong said, “you will find him again. And together, you will leap from star to star.” “One day,” Treerunner added, his voice distant. He then tilted his head back and howled to the memory of Treerunner. Moonsong, whose voice was elegant and beautiful, joined in the howl, followed by Branchseeker’s howl. * * * * Stream was by herself when she heard the howl for Springwater. This brought her back to her own wolf, Callbreaker, It had been those bastard trolls that had been responsible for Callbreaker’s death. The arrow that had struck Callbreaker was not fatal; but the poison the trolls had used, proved to be fatal, forcing Stream to do what she had dreaded most – take a life – and take the life of her own wolf. The painful memory returned. Among the dead were Sungazer, from Stonehowl. Also dead was Gemchaser. Bleary eyes looked around, and Shadow saw Stream leaning over Callbreaker, her own wolf. She was weeping madly - yet the wolf was not dead. Shadow made his way to Stream and fell to his knees beside her. "What is wrong?" "Poison," Stream wept madly. "The bolt had some kind of poison. The same that was in the spear tip that struck Stillbreeze. I am drained. from healing her. from healing so many today. I can't heal Callbreaker. I can't. and she's dying in my arms." The poison was vicious; every nerve within Callbreaker's body felt as if it was on fire. The wolf whined painfully. Another effect of the poison was its paralyzing touch. "I can't even get her to stand. She won't even stand, Shadow." "All I can do," she continued to weep. "Is make it stop for a brief moment. Subside the pain for a few minutes." "Give her a few minutes then, where she knows it's you with her, and do what you know has to be done," Shadow whispered. "I can't," Stream cried. "I can't. I heal people, Shadow. I don't kill. I don't kill. Especially my wolf. My wolf, Shadow! My wolf!" Shadow placed his hand on Stream's shoulder. "I can do it for you." There was more sobbing then she whispered. "No, it has to be me. I want it to be me, so she sees me last. A happy moment." Stream closed her eyes and let the healing energy course through her body; what little of it seemed to remain; and for Callbreaker, the searing pain subsided, and she could once again focus. She looked up at Stream and seemed to smile, her tongue dropping out to the side into the cold snow. She whined slightly, because she still could not truly move her body. Stream cuddled close with Callbreaker, and opened a sending with her wolf and began sharing memories that they had done together. Stream recalled how when she was but a cub herself how the mother wolf, Greyeyes, had stepped aside to let her climb into the den. Within the den there had been six wolf pups. But it had been Callbreaker who had stretched and yawned, her paws touching Stream's hands, as if reaching out to pick her, rather than Stream picking the wolf she had wanted. Stream had emerged from the den holding the newly born Callbreaker in her arms. As a cub, Callbreaker's paws had hardly touched the ground, as Stream carried her everywhere, until she had gotten too heavy to carry. Then it had been Callbreaker who carried Stream everywhere on her back, always pleased to spend the days and nights with her. Stream recalled when she was fishing at the side of the river and a young, and still clumsy Callbreaker was trying to assist by grabbing the fish off the tips of the small wooden spears; something that had led to both of them falling into the river. Stream ran her hands through Callbreaker's velvet soft, white fur. "I'm so sorry," Stream whispered. "I'm so very sorry." More memories shared between them, and for Callbreaker, who did not feel ill any longer simply thought that Stream was overjoyed to have Callbreaker alive. Memories came - shared between the two. A bond between Wolf and Elf that ran deeper than blood. It was a bond of the heart. Stream's eyes swelled with tears that began falling in the snow, like warm drops of rain. She placed the dagger between two of Callbreaker's ribs, near her heart. Callbreaker was beginning to twitch again. The searing pain of the poison would soon reclaim her and wrack her body with cruel pain. "I'm sorry," Stream said one more time, then shoved the dagger between Callbreaker's ribs and pierced her lung and heart. Callbreaker twitched violently, whined, and looked at Stream, not understanding that it was still sick and dying. The wolf whined one more time, before her spirit left her body. Stream put her head down on Callbreaker's white fur and let her tears burst from her eyes. The memory Callbreaker’s death hardened Stream as she relived that memory over and over. She would kill every troll she found. She had never taken a life. This is why she was never a hunter, even in her own tribe. The first life she was forced to take was the life of her own Wolf Bond. She would make every troll pay for that. Every. Single. Troll. She tilted her head back and howled for Callbreaker, her howl intertwining with Treerunner, Moonsong and Branchseeker. * * * * Warsong grabbed his brother. “You can not be serious. You can’t go to this war.” “I must go to this war,” Wardance said. “This is a chance to reclaim the Palace. This isn’t about land. About treasure. This is about reclaiming the Palace. It can be ours once more. We can leave this world and return to the stars. Find a place where there is no war. No hatred. No prejudice.” “But these trolls… they’re callous and murderous… this isn’t a game, Wardance,” his twin brother countered. “This is real.” “I want to do this,” Wardance replied. He placed his arm on his brother’s shoulder. He looked past Warsong, and saw Shyshade holding the twins, humming a gentle lullaby to Dusk and Dawn, her eyes decorated with tears. “You will stay here and protector her, protect them, if I don’t return.” “Do not say that,” Warsong grabbed his brother by the arms. “You must return, brother. You are,” he pounded on his own heart, “a part of me! We were born together into this world! Everything we have done has always been together! Our souls our bound! We even Recognized the same person at the same time! If you die, brother, I fear I may die as well. Remember that. Remember that and come back to us.” * * * * Goldmane sat around the circle, enjoying the stories she was hearing about some of the members of Stonehowl. They led a very different life than the Pridewalkers. Where as the Pridewalkers had aligned themselves with the humans and even established some trading with them, the Stonehowl tribe lived in constant war and fighting with the humans, except for Shadow who had strived to make peace with the humans. She listened to how for the Stonehowl tribe, many lives were usually full of non stop action, but most members died very young because of the constant dangers from the environment that they had lived in. Goldmane’s life had been a simple one. She did not do much in her own life. The males had hunted and brought food for their entire pride. Her single regret was that she was about to march to war, because honestly, she did not know what else to live for – and in her time, she had not found any love mates. She had flirted continuously with the likes of Spearclaw, but even he had regarded her as a younger sister, and never bedded her. She saw Hammerfang and Shadestrike, the brothers from her pride, sitting off to the side laughing at some of the stories that were being shared. She stood and walked across and sat between them. The brothers both looked at her quizzically. “I’m afraid,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper over the laughter of the story Shadow was sharing about Starmane. “I’m afraid to die unbedded.” Hammerfang seemed as though he was about to say something, then a look of confusion crossed his face. He looked over at his brother, Shadestrike, who shared the same expression. “Yes,” she whispered, “I am asking either of you, or both of you, to make sure I do not leave this world unbedded.” Her gaze never left the flickering fire, the flames that danced, warm within the circular stone fire ring that they had made. “I want no obligations,” she added, “should we survive this war. I am not looking for a mate. I am merely looking to know what it feels like to have the feeling of a male within me. To know that in my brief life, where I experienced so very little, that at least someone found me wanting enough to share that moment with me.” Hammerfang finally spoke, “Goldmane, I would be honored to lay with you. You’re a beautiful lioness, but you have always been so… casual about everything… you never seemed to have an interest.” “I never did,” Goldmane replied, truthfully, “until the idea that my life may end without ever having experienced it. Listen to them,” she looked up and saw Shadow dancing around, imitating Wildthorn’s tunic had caught fire. “Listen to how they laugh. Listen to all their stories. These elves have lived. We have barely… even existed. I want to feel alive. I want that,” she pointed at Shadow, “I want to experience things. I want to do it now.” Hammerfang stood and took Goldmane’s hand. As they walked past Shadestrike, she touched his hand. “Come with us.” Shadestrike smiled, “No, go on. The two of you.” * * * * Her vest slid off her body. Hammerfang stared in awe. She had always worn loose clothing, but now, bare skinned, he could see she had a beautiful figure. Her breasts were small, but ample, as he moved in and embraced her. She was unsure what to do, so she had let him lead. His lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss, and she responded in kind. In mere moments, she could feel the tension and the flame of desire consuming her body. She ached for him, in ways she never knew her body could ache. The craving she felt swelling within her body was an unusual sensation. She pulled him close, “I want you inside of me.” “Not yet,” Hammerfang smiled. “I want to take this slow. I want this to be special for you tonight.” “I don’t want special,” she whispered back, and ripped Hammerfang’s vest from his body. “I want to experience life. Lust. Passion.” She could still hear the joyous laughter from the others who were not far away, listening to Shadow’s next story about a troll by the name of Trollforge, and how he tried to explain how the trolls he knew were timid; unlike the trolls who guarded the Palace. Goldmane threw herself on Hammerfang, knocking him to the ground. She ripped at his leathers, and began massaging him so that her became excited in her hands. She moved her leather dress to the side and gently guided him inside of her. She howled like a cat who had just gotten its tail stepped on. Where was the pleasure? His penetration within her was not comfortable. “This,” Hammerfang put his hands on her hips and eased her slowly, “is why I wanted to take it slow with you. Your body is not prepared yet for this to be quick.” She eased down more slowly, still wincing. “Slowly,” he reminded her, trying to curb her excitement somewhat, for now. “Slowly,” he repeated. Soon, she found a comfortable rhythm, her hands on his chest to brace herself as she controlled the trust. Now, with each slow, gentle thrust, she was finding the pleasure that so many in her pride had spoke of when bedding. For Hammerfang, he tried desperately to think of other things to occupy his mind. He had not been with a pride member who had not been bedded before he had bedded them. The sensation was different. Each slide of her body made him wince, and cringe with the desire to explode inside of her. “Slowly,” he repeated, but now his voice was trembling, for now he was asking her to move slowly for his benefit. Something that, despite his best efforts, he could not control, as he suddenly clawed at the ground. She felt the pressure inside of her and she smiled down at him. “You finish quickly,” she smiled, her voice almost purring with satisfaction. “May I?” the voice of another made Goldmane look. There she saw Shadestrike, undressed. “I would like to bed you now. If you would have me?” She smiled at the thrill of experiencing another. Before the night was through, when he body finally collapsed, shuddering involuntarily, she had experienced two lovers in the same night, as well as both of them at the same time. She laid between both brothers, all of their bodies bare for the moons and stars to see, staring up into the velvet soft night skies as gray clouds rolled by, like the hands of a parent, blocking the stars. * * * * Snowcloud approached Riverfall and sat next to him. “They say you're one of the Children of the High Ones.” “Yes, I am,” Riverfall replied, turning to face Snowcloud. Her strikingly beautiful white hair made her distinguishable from the rest of her pride. “So you have been in the Palace before,” Snowcloud turned to face Riverfall. “I have, but I was young,” Riverfall answered. “As a direct line to the High Ones... I age... very slowly. I have lost count how many seasons it's been since I was in the Palace as an infant... but it's well over five hundred of your seasons.” “Five hundred?” Snowcloud was astonished. Most of her Pride did not live past three hundred seasons, yet Riverfall looked no older than a middle-aged member of her pride. She recovered from her strange look and blinked her eyes, “So... the Palace is real. This isn't some quest for... nothing.” “The Palace is very real,” Riverfall smiled reassuringly. “They say that the Palace can take us back home,” Snowcloud continued. She looked up to the dark skies. “Out to the stars.” Riverfall followed her gaze. “Home is where you want it to be,” he answered. “But yes, the Palace could take us back to the stars if that's where we wanted to go.” “Why are you not coming then? To fight for your home?” Snowcloud asked. “Because my home is here,” Riverfall answered, gesturing around him. “Despite the war. The hate. They make this my home,” he gestured to Echo and Windfetcher who were wrestling. “As do they,” he gestured to Sunsword, Dusk and Dawn. “I have lived for many seasons, and yet I am not old. I have not seen a new child born in our people in.... too long.” Snowcloud nodded. She understood. It was not so much where the Palace could take them; but where they decided to call home. Just as Riverfall had said. * * * * Daymist had made no effort to hide her dislike of the Stonehowl tribe. She was now reflecting on her hatred and questioning why. It's true, perhaps because of them, Joybringer had been killed. But were they any safer before the Stonehowl tribe arrived. If it hadn't been humans who killed Joybringer, it might have been the trolls that had been relentlessly hunting them through the frozen mountain. In truth, the Stonehowl tribe had always treated her well. Treated her justly. They had never treated her as an outsider, even when she spat on their name. Even earlier, Shadow had read her when it had come to her to decide whether she would march with them or remain behind. She was going to say she would go – because she felt pressured by the very point that Stream had made. But Shadow read her through her eyes, knew she feared facing the trolls again, and had asked her – before she could speak with her trembling voice drowning in fear – to remain behind and tend to the others as their healer. She stood up, smiling at those she passed by, until she reached Shadow. She looked strangely at Foxhair, then back at Shadow, then back to Foxhair. “I must speak with him.” Foxhair looked at Shadow, who nodded. Shadow looked at Daymist and excused himself from the celebration of life that others had all gathered around for. As they walked, Shadow looked at Daymist, “What is it? If you have changed your mind about going, I will do my best to convince you to remain here.” “No,” Daymist shook her head, coming to a halt once they were far enough away from the celebration that she could talk without yelling. “I wanted to apologize.” “Apologize? For what?” Shadow asked. “For acting as I did,” Daymist's frown twitched slightly. This was difficult. She swallowed. Perhaps it was her pride that she needed to swallow. It almost felt as if she spent the next few turns of the sun and moon apologizing, it would not be enough to excuse her behavior. “I was wrong to act as I did. When I see you – I see you through the eyes of a healer. In your blood, I see the blood of the wolves. I see you age. I see you die. I see how you lived. I saw savages in you. In my... quick judgment... I believed you and your tribe were no better than the very trolls we were fleeing from. I saw that same savagery in your eyes, that I saw in the trolls. But... I realize now... what I saw in the eyes of the trolls was murder... in the eyes of you and your tribe... it is survival I see. I know that now.” Shadow smiled, “There is nothing to apologize for. We're like nothing you have ever seen before. You didn't know what to make of us. As a healer, your first instinct was to protect your people. You did just that. I am glad that... we have come to an agreement, and I hope, that when this is all over, that we can be friends.” “I would like that,” Daymist smiled. “Thank you.” * * * * Clearwater, whose light blond hair looked like spider-silk, and her soft blue eyes, like the clearest morning sky, saw that Mountainheart, though he sat in the circle listening to the stories, did little laughing. His mind was elsewhere. Distant. She moved to sit next to him. “Your head is already in the stars?” “I am thinking of my brother,” Mountainheart admitted. “I should be with him.” “You served your brother faithfully,” Clearwater said, smiling gently, “but the last place you should be is with him.” “He is my brother,” Mountainheart whispered, looking over at Clearwater. “He was also poisonous,” Clearwater countered. “You served him because he was your brother. That was the only reason. Not because he was your Sire. But Lionheart did not treat you like a brother. He treated you as one of the pride that he commands. Your love and loyalty for him was single sided. No matter what you did to try and please him. His own mate, Rainbringer knows this. This is why she did not follow him into exile. This is why you did not follow him into exile. You said earlier that you wanted a chance to prove that not all in your family were obsessed and heartless as your brother. That begins with you living your life, and stop living for his life.” Mountainheart was silent for a moment, before he finally nodded. “I know you're right. I do. But,” he looked at her through his long black hair, his midnight colored eyes, staring into the contrast of her soft eyes. “He's my brother.” * * * * Dawneyes stood behind Rainbringer, as the former Sovereign observed the celebration of life. “I am glad you did not go with your mate, our Sire, my Sovereign.” “I am a Sovereign no more, Dawneyes,” Rainbringer corrected her most loyal assistant. “I am but Rainbringer now.” “They say that Stillbreeze will be our new Sovereign,” Dawneyes spoke, her voice itching with nervousness. “She will be our Chief,” Rainbringer said, looking at her assistant. “The Stonehowl tribe is a very strong tribe. They are far more savage than we ever were. But look at them, Dawneyes. I mean, really look at them. There are those that are soul mates and love mates among them; but beyond that, look at them. They are all family. Not related to one another perhaps, but they treat one another with such love. There isn't a single one of them there that would not die for one of their own pack. While Lionheart was here, could we ever make such a similar claim? I think not.” “So you will not be... vying for the position then, Sove -” she paused, corrected herself immediately, “Rainbringer?” Rainbringer turned and faced Dawneyes. “No. I know nothing of leading people. If I had any idea how to lead people, I would have dethroned Lionheart long ago. But he had convinced me without him, our people would be lost. No. I have seen Stillbreeze lead. I have seen her when her own chief, her own dearest friend, lie there possibly dying; how she picked up and lead them. She is a natural leader.” Dawneyes looked at Rainbringer, “But… if you are not Sovereign… What… what shall I do?” Dawneyes stammered. “I have been your assistant since my days as a cub… I know not… what else to do? How to do it?” Rainbringer smiled, “You have been wonderful, Dawneyes. But it is time that we all change. It’s time that we all learn to live a new life.” “I am frightened,” the timid Dawneyes confessed. “We all are,” Rainbringer said, her eyes going back to the celebration of life. “We all are.” This, Rainbringer realized, was not the end; but rather, a new beginning. CHAPTER TWO: “Choices.” The sun rose the following morning, its light rays of sunshine piercing the grey clouds that had amassed. Vineweaver approached Spearclaw, who watched with great trepidation as he approached. Vineweaver smiled and placed his hand on Spearclaw’s shoulder, “You made a promise to my soul mate to return to us. Keep that promise.” Spearclaw was somewhat startled. “I will. You know that we…” “Yes,” Vineweaver smiled. “Oh,” Spearclaw was more confused than ever. “My impression was that among your tribe… you did not share mates? Like the wolves to which you’re bound, you mate for life?” “It’s true,” Vineweaver admitted. “In our tribe, we mate for life and do not share our mates. But things are changing. We must change with them. I know you needed her. I know that you care for her more than merely bedding her. You sincerely care. I see it. And if anything ever happens to me, I want you to know that I would be honored to have you care for my family. So I want you to come back. Come back safe. And you will be a part of the family I have created.” “I,” Spearclaw stumbled over the words, “I would like that. I have not been a part of a family for a very long time.” * * * * Shadow approached Stillbreeze as she was tending to Sunsword. Shadow sat across from her, smiling, beaming with pride. “You did good while I was… ill. You will make a wonderful chief for them.” “Until you return,” Stillbreeze smiled. “If I return,” Shadow corrected his face grim for a moment. “This may be the last time we see one another. I want to thank you for what you did while I was ill. Our tribe needed someone, and you rose up to take charge. I heard about the Quickdeath last night, during the celebration of life, and how they admired you. I see now where young Windfetcher gets her desire to be chief,” he said, a smile returning. “Shadow, I need you to come back,” Stillbreeze said, ignoring Shadow’s attempt to defuse the seriousness of the situation. “I can be Chieftess for a short while. But it is not something I care to do for a long time.” “Last night, during the celebration of life, did I see what I think I saw?” Shadow asked. “Yes,” Stillbreeze said, not ashamed of her actions. “Vineweaver suggested it.” “And you agreed to it,” Shadow said, more as a statement than a question. “I did,” Stillbreeze nodded. “He cares about me. Risked his life for me when the Quickdeath was attacking. And I care for him.” “And Vineweaver is all right with this?” Shadow asked. “He is,” Stillbreeze smiled. “He knows my heart and soul will always be his. Vineweaver wants to make him a part of our pack.” Shadow nodded. “Everything’s changing.” “Everything has to,” Stillbreeze noted, “if we hope to survive. Our numbers are so few. Even the Pridewalkers and the Children of the High Ones. There’s so few of us left.” * * * * After several hours, Shadow gathered all of those that would come with him: Foxhair, Moonsong, Treerunner, Stream, Wardance, Goldmane, Hammerfang, Shadestrike, Spearclaw, Snowcloud, Clearwater, and Mountainheart. He looked back one final time at those who remained behind: Vineweaver, Stillbreeze, along with their cubs, Echo, Windfetcher and Sunsword, Skyshade and Warsong, with their cubs Dusk and Dawn, Daymist, Riverfall, Rainbringer and Dawneyes. “We will reclaim the Palace,” Shadow said, placing his hand firmly on Vineweaver’s shoulder. “And with it, we will come back for you.” “I look forward to that day,” Vineweaver smiled. “May the High Ones guide you, Shadow.” * * * * It was on the third day since Shadow and the others had left that Vineweaver noticed something was amiss. He had not seen his own cub in several hours. “Echo,” Vineweaver called his young cub to his side. “Where is Windfetcher?” Echo paled at the question. “I promised not to tell. I am supposed to say she’s out by the pond.” “Echo,” Vineweaver’s voice grew deep with concern. “Where is your sister?” “She has gone to follow Shadow,” Echo’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I tried to stop her father! I did! But she said that Shadow needs her! Needs more for this war!” “High Ones!” Vineweaver shouted. “Why didn’t you come to me immediately?” “I don’t know,” Echo cried, “she made me promise!” Vineweaver howled for Creekhunter, and jumped on his wolf’s back. “Echo, tell your mother what has happened. Let her know I have gone after her!” Branchsnapper watched as Vineweaver rode off. He turned to face Lionheart, “Their plant shaper has left as I suspected.” “You were wise,” Lionheart acknowledged. “You are quite clever. Even I should be wary of underestimating you, it would seem.” “Sire,” Branchsnapper smiled, “it is my honor to serve you. When the plant shaper’s child was out hunting alone, I was able to get close enough to her to tell her that Shadow needed her. I knew once she left, the plant shaper would give chase after his daughter. And with him out of the way, we can take back what is rightfully yours, Sire.” “And we will take it back,” Lionheart smiled, baring his fangs. “And when we do, I will make that wolf-bitch, Stillbreeze, my mate. Whether she likes it or not.” “And what about Rainbringer, Sire? Your current mate?” Branchsnapper asked. “We shall kill her,” Lionheart said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I want Stillbreeze. I want to make her pay. I want her mate to know, when he comes back, that I made her mine – whether she wanted it or not.” CHAPTER THREE: “The Coming Storm.” Days had turned into weeks. Shadow led the others across the plains, until he reached the base of the cliff that they had originally scaled down. Shadow pulled himself onto the top of the ledge. His eyes scanned the snowy ground. It took only mere seconds for Shadow to pick up their scent. There were trolls about. As he helped each person onto the ledge he whispered, “Keep an eye out, and be quiet – there’s trolls about. I’ve picked up their scent.” As Shadow pulled up Mountainheart, the last of them, onto the ledge, the first attack came. A bolt tore through the snowy evening, striking Treerunner. The bolt struck him in the chest and he collapsed immediately, the pure white snow bleeding into pink colors. Moonsong jumped from her wolf, Branchseeker, and ran to her soul-mate’s side. She cradled his head into her lap. “Yurn, you must hang on!” She looked up, tears too warm to be frozen, ran freely. “Stream! Stream, I need you! Now!” Treerunner shook his head even as he began to cough blood, “No, Anye, it’s already too late for me. I see him.” Moonsong’s voice, which had always been noted as one of the most beautiful sounding things, was cracked. “Yurn, do not say such things. It’s not too late!” Stream was already at Treerunner’s side, trying to push Moonsong aside so that she could begin working, even as everyone else began forming a circle around Treerunner to defend him, though their enemies remained unseen. Treerunner grabbed Moonsong’s hand, “I see him.” He repeated. Through his fading vision, Treerunner could see a grey colored wolf slowly taking form. It looked happy to see him. The wolf became clearer, taking on a Russian Blue color. He felt the wolf’s tongue on his face, though he knew the wolf was not there. He reached out for the wolf. “Wait for me,” he choked, “I am coming with you…” Eyes fluttering rapidly, he turned his head and smiled at Moonsong, “I see him.” “Who? Who do you see?” Moonsong cried, her vision so blurred by tears, that she did not see Stream’s grim expression. “Springwater,” Treerunner smiled. “He’s here to take me. To take me to the Palace. He’s here to…” And with that, Treerunner’s life ebbed away. “No! No! No!” Moonsong howled as she cradled Treerunner’s warm body. Through tear streaked eyes, she looked up. “I will kill every troll I find! Do you hear me?” She jumped on Branchseeker, and broke away from the others, charging forward. Several bolts whizzed by her, but it did not slow her down. She discovered their secret. The trolls had dug into the ground and were using cover with snow on it, barely peeking out from the holes to fire their attack. “They’re underground!” she called out, just as a bolt struck her arm, sending her flying off her wolf bond. A troll climbed out of its hole and grabbed Moonsong by the throat. “I’m going to gut you and watch your blood spill on the snow!” the troll laughed. The troll’s laughter was cut short when Branchseeker jumped and grabbed the troll by the neck, sending all three toppling to the ground. The wolf, however, did not release its hold on the troll’s neck. Not until it had rendered pieces of the troll’s neck and blood sprayed the wolf in the eyes. Another bolt fired struck Branchseeker in the hindquarters, with enough force to throw the wolf onto its side. Some of the trolls lunched forward from their hidden locations. Shadow watched as they ran towards them, cutting off any chance of getting to Moonsong. His eyes quickly scanned the trolls – there appeared to be at least thirty of them. He looked back at the others who had taken up arms and prepared against the onslaught of trolls and knew there was not enough of them to fight off the trolls and win. The quest for the Palace, he thought, was about to come to a very bloody end. The trolls had been waiting for them, anticipating their return. They had taken the time to dig the holes and take cover. And they had waited. Waited patiently until they returned. * * * * The spear was pulled out of Wurik’s body, human eyes, vacantly staring up in the heavens in surprise. “We have been displeased by you,” Lionheart boomed at the gathered humans, holding the spear that had only moments ago taken Wurik’s life. The Chief’s Spear. “You let this man bring you together – merge six different human tribes as one! But you let him be weak! His people waged war with those like my kind, who rode on the back of demon-wolves! He let them come onto our land! He let them murder some of your own tribe – and did not punish them! Now they have come and exiled me! The Sire of my own people! They have filled their ears with lies! Turned them on me! Now – you will follow me – or you will follow your last Chief to the grave!” * * * * Vineweaver breathed heavy, as he fell off Creekrunner, exhausted, having gone nearly three days with no sleep, pushing himself and his wolf-bond to the limits of their threshold. Windfetcher had been on Glimmer’s back. Glimmer was something of an unusual wolf. He had been bonded with Wildthorn, their previous chief, before his demise. Then Glimmer had selected Windfetcher to bond with. Windfetcher had constantly urged that there was something different about Glimmer. Aside from the fact that Glimmer had out lived most of the other wolves, having been bonded with Wildthorn, then Windfetcher – and most of the elves of Stonehowl recall Glimmer being bonded with others, but were unsure; always doubting that this wolf could be over sixty seasons of age, when most wolves passed after twelve seasons. Windfetcher was light. Glimmer could keep going, despite the wolf’s age. At the pace that Glimmer was moving, he was going to catch up with Shadow and the others quickly. * * * * The brothers, Hammerfang and Shadestrike, struggled to fight one of the snow trolls. Even as they did, one troll moved quickly, staying behind the troll they had been fighting, to stay out of their view. Then when he was close enough, he sprung out from behind the troll to the left, shoving his sword through Shadestrike’s side. Hammerfang watched in horror as he saw the blade pierce his brother completely, so that the tip emerged from the other side. “Shadestrike!” he cried, letting himself get distracted for a second. And one second was all these war trained trolls needed to kill someone. The troll grinned, grabbing Hammerfang by the throat. Hammerfang dropped his sword, instinctively going for the troll’s hands to free himself of the troll’s grasp. The troll, however had made the same mistake Hammerfang had made. He had let himself get distracted, obsessed with the idea of killing the elf. He had no seen – or heard Stream – leaping at him. Her small sword, no more than a mere dagger, glistening in the snow covered evening. She latched onto the troll’s hair with her right hand and repeatedly drove the dagger into the troll’s eye socket, until the troll’s brain had finally registered what had happened, and released Hammerfang and fell over dead. The second troll watched in horror as the feral Stream leaped from that dead troll, onto it, driving her dagger into the base of the troll’s neck. Blood splattered as several arteries and veins were suddenly severed. The troll collapsed, choking on its own life. Stream stood over the troll, her eyes locked with its. “I am going to watch you die. I am going to make you and your kind pay for what you made me do.” She leaned close to the troll who choked on its own blood, “That is for Callbreaker.” * * * * Warong’s gaze went to the horizon. It looked as if the stars had fallen to the ground and formed a serpent made of fire. He called Stillbreeze over, who peered in the same direction. “Humans,” Stillbreeze hissed. Shadow had been the expert at dealing with humans, in his constant effort to make peace with them. Rainbringer came to stand next to Stillbreeze. “There is no need to fear them. On the plains, we have long since been allies with the humans.” “Have the humans ever come to you in the middle of the night?” Stillbreeze asked, looking at Rainbringer. “I can not say that they have,” Rainbringer admitted. “Gather all of the cubs,” Stillbreeze commanded. “Bring them to your hut and guard them. I fear this may not be a kind visit.” “That’s nonsense, I am sure they’re here for food perhaps,” Rainbringer began to say. “I did not ask you,” Stillbreeze barked. “I commanded you. Now do it.” “Of course,” Rainbringer bowed her head and grabbed Dawneyes, so that they could gather Echo, Sunsword, and Dusk and Dawn. The others all formed a welcoming line for the humans. “What do you want?” Stillbreeze shouted. One of the humans, the apparent leader of them stepped forth. “We have heard that you have taken over the Pridewalkers. Is this true? Where is Lionheart?” “He has been exiled for crimes against his own pride,” Stillbreeze explained. “So now you are their leader? One of the outsiders?” the human asked. “I am,” Stillbreeze said, “for now. The others are on a quest and will return shortly. Where is Wurik? He knows who I am and can speak on my behalf if you have doubts.” “Wurik is dead,” a familiar voice laughed. The crowd of humans parted and Lionheart stepped forward. CHAPTER FOUR: “The War.” The troll pulled his sword out from Branchseeker’s gut. Now with the wolf out of the way, there was nothing between it and its target – a pretty female weeping over the first kill. The troll grabbed Moonsong, who had been mourning over Treerunner’s fallen body and laughed. “You’re making this too easy!” Wardance lunged forward, “Release her!” The troll looked up at the elf, “Or what? As soon as I gut her, I’ll gut you next.” “You’ll be gutting no one!” another voice growled, and Shadow shoved his sword between the troll’s ribs, from behind. The troll screamed in pain, shoving Moonsong aside, and spinning quickly – yanking Shadow’s sword from his hands in the process. The troll grabbed Shadow by the neck and shoved his blade into Shadow’s gut. A look of surprise crossed Shadow’s eyes. “No!” another voice shouted. One that should not be there. Shadow fought to keep his eyes open as he saw Windfetcher suddenly come over the edge of the cliff with Glimmer. The wolf tackled the troll, while Windfetcher jumped on its back and shoved her own dagger through the base of the troll’s neck. Wardance moved to the troll’s side and pushed the troll off of Shadow. There was blood everywhere. Thankfully, it had not all been Shadow’s. “Stream!” Wardance shouted over the sounds of combat. “Shadow’s been stabbed! We need you over here now!” Stream finished stabbing the troll she had been fighting, repeatedly in the eye, and jumped off of him, running back to where Shadow lay. Stream looked over at Windfetcher. “What are you doing here?” “I came to help,” Windfetcher replied, matter-of-factly. * * * * Inside the hut that had once belonged to Lionheart, Rainbringer rocked back and forth holding Sunsword in her hands, humming a lullaby that she had once heard from the humans. Dawneyes sat close by, as she had always done, as Rainbringer’s most loyal assistant. There was no hiding her fear that decorated her meek, plain features. The fighting was just outside the tent. Lionheart had convinced the humans to side with him and to come kill the demon-wolf riders. But Rainbringer knew, Lionheart intended to kill more than the elves of Stonehowl – and that included the cubs. The tent flap flew open. A looming shadow stood there, only fangs seemed to sparkle from the shadowed figure. Dawneyes grabbed the dagger that Stillbreeze had given her to protect the cubs. Fumbling with the dagger she stood, “Come no closer. There’s only cubs in here. You can’t kill them.” “But I can,” the voice countered as it stepped into the light. “Lionheart,” Dawneyes gasped, her hand trembling violently, her heart nearly exploding in her chest. “Put the dagger down, Dawneyes, and I will let you walk out of here,” Lionheart promised. “I only want to slay the demon-cubs. And my own mate, who did not follow me into exile.” “I can’t let you pass,” Dawneyes replied, her voice cracking. “You’re willing to die for the demon-wolves?” Lionheart laughed, taking a step inside the tent. “Dawneyes,” Rainbringers voice was like a gentle angle on her shoulder. “Leave.” Rainbringer had set Sunsword down, so that Echo could take care of him, and Dusk and Dawn. “I will take care of this.” Dawneyes handed Rainbringer the dagger, her eyes full of sorrow and tears. “I’m…” “Hush little one,” Rainbringer smiled, “this is not your fight. Go.” Dawneyes quickly scampered past Lionheart, and out of the tent. “You have really let it come this far?” Rainbringer asked. “You have brought war upon your own people?” “My own people exiled me,” Lionheart boomed back. “They turned their back on me! I am their Sire!” “You were their Sire,” Rainbringer corrected. “They now have a Chieftess. And her name is Stillbreeze.” “She will be mine,” Lionheart laughed. “She will be your replacement, for your betrayal.” “The only one who has betrayed anyone here is you,” Rainbringer growled. “You betrayed your people! You have fed us lies! You have ruled for the sake of ruling – not for the sake of the people that you should love! You have ruined this Pride with your greed! Your thirst for power blinded you. You killed our own son. You could not even fight him fairly – because you knew – you knew! – that he would have defeated you.” Lionheart moved with a swiftness and was on Rainbringer before she could raise the dagger to protect herself. Echo screamed her name, but Lionheart turned to him, “Don’t worry cubling, I will send you to the High Ones soon enough!” Rainbringer struggled, “You can not harm the cubs! You can not!” “I will,” Lionheart promised as the two struggled inside the tent. “I will make them suffer! They will die slowly! Especially the cubling of that bitch, Stillbreeze! I will make her watch her cubling die! Then I will take her in my tent and bed her – even against her will!” “You have gone too far,” Rainbringer growled. “And you have said too much,” Lionheart growled. He took his massive hand, and with the strength of a dozen lines crushed her throat. Rainbringer began gasping for air, that would not come to her. “No!” another voice shouted. Lionheart turned just in time to feel a cold dagger go through his throat. Lionheart collapsed, his hand on his throat, trying to breathe – just as his mate suffocated next to him. Dawneyes kicked Lionheart off of Rainbringer and began weeping madly. “No! No! I am so sorry! I am so sorry, my Sovereign! I should not have left you! I should not have!” “Protect the cubs,” Rainbringer wheezed. “That is all that matters. Protect the cubs…” And with that, she gave one last gasp, before her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her life… gone. Dawneyes took the dagger in Lionheart’s throat and gave it one last shove, nearly severing his head in the process – and ending his own misery. Then Dawneyes curled up next to Rainbringer, and placed Rainbringer’s hand on her head, as if the now dead body of her former Sovereign were stroking her hair; just as she had done in the past when Lionheart would scold her for the most trivial of reasons. * * * * Stream placed her hands on Shadow’s wound, “This is going to hurt,” she warned. “A lot. I don’t have time to let the wounds mend slowly. I am going to push my powers to the limits – so this will not feel good.” A circle had formed around Shadow, to protect both him and Stream, during this time. Three trolls charged forward. One of them was attacking Goldmane, who struggled against the troll. Quickly, Hammerfang was at her side to defend her. He was a bar better hunter, having been a scout for the Pridewalkers for many seasons. The troll began taking steps backward, unsure of how to handle this quickly moving elf. Hammerfang was so focused on the troll that he had not seen the other coming from the side, but Goldmane had. The troll swung its spiked weapon – but it did not hit the designated target. Instead, Goldmane jumped between Hammerfang and the troll; the blunt, circular weapon with random spikes struck her in the side of the head. She crumbled to the ground. “No! You son of sloth-bitch!” Hammerfang growled. Wardance was next to him, “Check on her.” He kept the troll at bay. Hammerfang kneeled down next to Goldmane, her gentle blond hair streaked with blood. She reached out to touch him, her eyes full of tears. “Thank you for what you gave me… I am sorry… Sorry… I could not stay… sorry for your brother… I will… see him… soon…” And with that, her eyes – the life within them – was gone. * * * * Echo peeked outside of the tent. His heart sank. In order to even get in the tent, Stillbreeze had sent Riverfall to guard the tent outside. Lionheart had ripped his throat open. Dawneyes placed her hand on Echo’s shoulder. “You must not go outside! The humans will kill you!” “No,” Echo said. “I think I know how to stop this!” Echo’s eyes surveyed the situation. Stillbreeze – his mother – was fighting off five humans at once, while defending Skyshade who had been wounded. Warsong was close by trying to fight off another group of humans. Both Gemchaser, Skyshade’s wolf, and even his own wolf, Talonmist, were dead, with spears in them. The humans who had killed them, close by – also dead. Echo walked out into the battle, and held up Lionheart’s head, which Dawneyes had nearly severed in her attempt to defend Rainbringer. “Stop!” Echo shouted. No one could hear him over the sounds of combat. “Stop!” He repeated, this time much louder. Humans turned and saw what the young cub held in his hand. “Lionheart became your chief, by killing Wurik. Now it is I who claims the position of your Chief.” Echo threw the head down to the ground. “Is there any who dare challenge me?” The humans halted – staring back and forth amongst each other nervously. This was never their war. But how would they follow someone so young? “Do you see?” a familiar voice shouted. “Remember when Lionheart said that the wolf-demons came to take over everything! Now even their whelps are claiming to be your chief!” Stillbreeze looked and saw Branchsnapper emerge. She had been looking for him throughout the battle – suspecting that he had a part to play in all of this. Branchsnapper made his way through the humans. “These elves are diseased! They shape the land as they want with their magic! They twist and pervert the land that Grethen has given you!” “Do not listen to him,” Echo said, sounding far more mature than he ever had. “My magic has allowed me to see… he, along with the head of the one I have thrown before you, have used you. They were exiled because they murdered their own son in cold blood, in what should have been fair combat. But they – he! – resorted to poison. He even feigned friendship with the son, to gain his trust, so that he could more easily poison him. He is poison. He is the perversion. He is the one you should not trust. Look where it has gotten those who follow him? Exile? Killed? Will you follow him? Will you drink the poison of his words until it is your blood that feeds the soil?” The humans began murmuring to themselves. “Leave now,” Echo continued, “And I freely give up my right as ‘Chief’ to your people. My first and last command would be that you find a new Chief among you to lead your people. To find peace.” The humans nodded. This had not been a fight they had wanted to get involved in to begin with. “You son of sloth-bitch!” Branchsnapper yelled at made a leap for Echo. “Cub!” Stillbreeze cried, seeing that Echo was facing away from Branchsnapper. But Dawneyes jumped between Echo and Branchsnapper. His blade drove itself deep between her breasts; but her own dagger had managed to puncture his gut as they crumbled to the ground together. “Daymist, get to her, now!” Daymist quickly scrambled to Dawneye’s size, but Dawneyes only smiled. “No,” she choked, blood on the corner of her lips. “Let me go. I will be with her again… to be there with her… There… I see her… I knew… she would… wait… for me…” And with that, Dawneyes let go of her own life and rejoined Rainbringer, just as she had always done when she was alive. * * * * “The trolls,” Foxhair cried out, holding her side. “They're retreating.” Wardance bandaged his arm, “Good. This will give us time to heal before we give chase.” “No,” Shadow said, holding his side where he had been stabbed. A quick heal from Stream had mended the wound, but it ached terribly with pain. “If we take the time to heal, they will prepare a defense against us. Now is the best chance we have. We keep pushing. We keep after them. Who knows what those troll caverns look like. We could lose them if we give them a chance to get too far ahead of us.” Spearclaw put his hand on Shadow's shoulder, “My Chief, I don't mean to question your judgment, but look.” Spearclaw pointed at several of them who were wounded. He then pointed to Moonsong. “Some mourn the loss of the ones that were their soul-mates.” Shadow looked, his gaze softened for a moment, then returned to its hardened, cold look that reflected the snowy mountains. “Those that can't press forward stay behind then.” Shadow began pressing forward, the others looked amongst themselves before following. Spearclaw noticed that Moonsong did not rise. He walked back to her, “Come Moonsong, we pursue the trolls.” Moonsong looked blankly ahead, her vision focused on nothing but empty coldness that these mountains offered. “No,” she answered, her voice completely devoid of all emotion. “My quest has come to an end.” “Do not say that,” Spearclaw pleaded. “You must come with us.” “I must stay with my mate,” Moonsong said, still looking at nothing in particular. “My place is with him.” “He would want you to come with us,” Spearclaw tried to explain. She shoved Spearclaw's concerned hand away and looked up at him with scolding eyes, “Do not pretend to know what he would have wanted. Go. Begone!” Spearclaw sighed. He looked at the others who had pressed on without looking back. “We will come back for you,” he promised, more to himself than to her. * * * * Hammerfang fired the strange bow that the trolls had dropped in their hasty retreat. The bolt flew, striking a troll in the back. The other trolls did not stop, they continued moving quickly through the cavern. As Shadow and the others caught up to the fallen troll, Stream shook her head. She wiped her brow, which had been drenched in sweat, only to streak her face with the mixed blood of both elf and troll. “They don’t even stop or help their fallen. They care only about themselves.” Hammerfang rolled over the fallen troll that was still gasping for life and fired the next bolt through the troll’s eyes. Each troll he saw only reminded him of the all too fresh vision of his brother falling to their attack. * * * * Vineweaver reached the edge of the cliff and pulled himself up. His eyes went wide in horror at the scene before him. Bodies were everywhere. Arrows lodged in some, swords in others. White snow had turned pink with blood. “High Ones,” he muttered. Then he saw Moonsong kneeling in the snow. He quickly ran to her and collapsed next to her in the snow. “Moonsong…” She looked up at Vineweaver, her eyes decorated in frozen tears. “They killed him.” He looked down and saw Treerunner in her lap, his eyes already gray; his lips already blue. “I’m so… sorry.” “He said he saw Springwater,” she smiled, still crying. “I wonder will I see my mate when I am to go?” “I am sure he will be waiting for you,” Vineweaver nodded, reassuringly. “The others?” He looked around, he could not make out whose footprints belonged to who and how long, for they crisscrossed one another so frequently in the snow. “Where are the others?” “Through the cave,” she answered, pointing at the cave against the northern wall. “Was Windfetcher with them?” he asked. “Yes,” Moonsong smiled, “She is a brave cub, that one. She will make a fine Chieftess.” Her voice was distant. Though she was answering Vineweaver’s questions, he couldn’t help but feel her mind was elsewhere. She had gathered the other fallen elves around her; Goldmane and Shadestrike. Windfetcher was not among the fallen. “You should come with me, Moonsong,” Vineweaver urged. “There is nothing more that can be done here. The trolls… they may come back.” “And that’s why I remain,” she smiled, as if ready for death. “To stop the trolls from defiling their bodies.” Vineweaver did not need to see it; he could hear it. She was ready to die. She was hoping the trolls would come back. He placed his hand on her shoulder, “We will meet again.” “Eyes to the sky, bodies to the soil,” she nodded, citing a common saying for those ready to die. Vineweaver nodded and quickly made his way to the cave. * * * * “Look how they enslave their own kind,” Mountainheart said, pointing over the ledge. Hundreds of trolls were shackled and forced to dig. Clearwater looked at Shadow, “You spoke of trolls by your old home. Could they be like those trolls? Could they help us?” “There is only one troll I would ever truly trust,” Shadow whispered, “And I do not see him among them.” His thoughts drifted to Trollforge. Shadow shook his head, “We can’t trust those trolls down there.” “We could use their help,” Wardance urged. “Until they stab us in the back,” Shadow countered. He had tried so hard, all of his life, to be tolerant of others; humans, trolls… He tried to bridge the gap of hatred that had been built and protected by primal fear. The hatred had to come to an end. It was true; there was not enough of them to march directly into the snow troll’s den. “Yes,” Shadow finally said, realizing for them to truly reach the end of this quest – to find the treasure that they sought – the Palace of the High Ones – they would need all the help they could get – and he had the perfect idea now. “We could use their help. I don’t trust them. I don’t know them. But look at their eyes. When the snow trolls crack the whip, these trolls – the look in their eyes, like embers of a troll forge, but burning with hate.” He looked, “A few of us will go down there and free the trolls – cause a distraction, while the rest of us continue.” “I will go,” Wardance volunteered. “As will I,” Hammerfang agreed. Mountainheart grinned, “Well, this is too exciting for me to pass,” he said, volunteering himself; and though he had played as if it did not bother him; in truth he was dreadfully afraid. He knew this very well could be the last time he would ever see any of them again. But this was also the best way to prove that his family lineage was not completely tainted by irredeemable madness. Shadow nodded, “High Ones guide you.” “And you,” Wardance smiled. “And if this is…” “I will tell them,” Shadow nodded. Wardance nodded silently then proceeded down the cliff side, towards the slave pits. * * * * She could feel the crystallized tears that had frozen on her cheeks. She heard their laughter. Cold. Eerie. She looked up and saw four trolls approaching her. Her numb hands wrapped around the hilt of her blade as they approached. When they were close enough, she lunged. Her sword went through one troll, but the second ran his spear through her, pinning her to the ground. She coughed. Blood decorated her lips. She saw the troll grinning. The other two were laughing. The one she had struck was dead. They didn’t care. Death was all they cared about. She slammed her sword against the tip of the spear and shattered it. The surprised troll fell forward, so she ran her sword through its neck. She wrapped her hand around the troll’s waist and grabbed its dagger, and shoved it into the next troll, whose look of laughter changed to one of shock. One last troll remained and she simply lunged forward, clawing at his eyes, ripping them out with her bare hands. The troll fell backwards, screaming. It crawled away, blinded, as she crawled back to Treerunner’s body and laid her head on his chest. She closed her eyes. And there he was with Springwater and Branchseeker. He smiled at her, and extended his hand to her. She accepted. Then, with a warm smile that could have melted the snow caps, she took her last breath. * * * * Wardance fired the troll’s crossbow at the troll who had been closest. The bolt struck with such force that it punctured a hole in the troll’s throat and proceeded to hit the ground, a spike decorated in blood. The troll standing closest to the struck troll looked around surprised. Then he saw another troll slaver fall. The troll raised his pick that he had been using to dig, “Fight!” he shouted, and drove his pick into the closest slaver. A revolt quickly broke out. “It’s working,” Mountainheart smiled. “The trolls are turning on another another.” Mountainheart jumped down from the ledge and dove into the melee, cutting down the troll slavers as quickly as he could. Wardance tried to stop him but Mountainheart had moved too quickly. Wardance winced and quickly reloaded the crossbow he had gotten from the dead trolls, and tried to provide covering fire for Mountainheart. Hammerfang ran down the cliff side, following Mountainheart. Wardance continued to provide covering fire, until he ran out of bolts. Then, with grim satisfaction, he too ran down the cliff side and into the slave pit. * * * * Vineweaver clawed his way through the cavern as quickly as he could. His heart nearly jumped through his chest when he heard the sound of combat. Screaming. Shouting. Steel against steel. Dying. He crawled to the edge of the slave pit and looked down. He saw Hammerfang, lying there, dying; Mountainheart was in front of him, defending him against some trolls. Wardance was back to back with several trolls, who were fighting other trolls. Clever, Vineweaver thought. Shadow’s doing no doubt, to free the enslaved trolls to turn against the frost trolls. This would cause confusion, and force Scalphunter to split his forces. One to stop the onslaught of elves; one to quell the rebellion within the slave pits. Vineweaver watched in horror however, as a troll had struck Mountainheart from behind and skewered him on his spear. Vineweaver closed his eyes. He would remember – should he live through this – to speak of their bravery. * * * * Sword and steel clashed. “We’re close,” Shadow shouted. The guards were more heavily armored, using finer weapons. Clearwater’s dead body fell next to Shadow. And these trolls were far better trained at warfare. Shadow and Foxhair fought back to back to prevent any trolls from striking from behind. Shadow watched in awe as Stream, driving by unyielding rage, seemed to jump from troll to troll, striking quick, if not always lethal. Spearclaw was trying to defend Snowcloud, who had been struck by one of the troll’s bolts. Windfetcher was next to Spearclaw, fighting as valiantly as any warrior Shadow had ever seen. Shadow thought for a moment how this was the end. They were hopelessly out numbered. The trolls had widdled them down until there was not enough to finish the fight. There wasn’t enough to see this through. There wasn’t enough to finish the Quest he had started. The Palace of the High Ones would be denied to them. And they would die fighting for it. The treasure of their ancestors just within grasp. Then it happened. A troll ran in from one of the other caverns. He was bloody. He collapsed in front of Scalphunter, who was hiding behind several shielded trolls. “The slaves,” the dying troll muttered. “They have revolved. They have found the others…” “The others?” Scalphunter demanded, but the troll was already dead. Scalphunter crushed the troll’s head in with his metal boot. That’s when Shadow saw – the dying troll was horribly disfigured. A burst of flame boomed through the hall that the dead troll had just emerged from. A wave of heat rushed through the room. Shadow was beginning to doubt his sanity. Vineweaver suddenly emerged from the hall. But behind him – scores of trolls. CHAPTER FIVE: “The Changing Tide.” Shadow didn’t know what to believe. Not only had Vineweaver led trolls into the cavern to fight other trolls… Wardancer was with him. Still alive. Stranger still, three other elves – none of which he had seen. They were taller, slender, fair skinned. His first thought was Joybringer. She had mentioned that the trolls had abducted several from their tribe. The one with fiery red hair seemed to command fire. Torches that the trolls had used for light were bursting with uncontrollably flame it seemed. The other, grey hair, hazel eyed; he seemed to command the stone. Trolls found their feet suddenly ensnared by stone, as the once slave trolls rushed forward to kill them. The last elf, blond hair and green eyes, simply touched trolls and their flesh seemed to turn to water and melt. She touched trolls so that their faces would seemingly melt. Shadow suddenly realized; Scalphunter had been using these elves and their magic to further their digging and smithing; for fire and stone; and the flesh shaper to fix the aching muscles of slaves and slavers alike. “Stop them!” Scalphunter shouted. “Kill them!” The trolls were trying. But the tide had turned. The former slaves; both elf and troll; were beyond furious. In mere moments, Scalphunter had gone from decisive victory to utter loss. His troll legionnaires were falling dead, left and right. The elves and trolls were cleaving through his trolls, moving forward. Magic had upset Scalphunter’s once dominate hold of victory. Soon, Scalphunter stood alone – none to defend him against troll and elf. “Why did you do it?” Shadow growled. “Why did you fight us? Why did you prevent us from taking back our Palace?” “Why?” Scalphunter spat at Shadow. “Because you and your kind enslaved us! You made us your lowly servants! You made us clean after you! We were your pets! But we grew stronger! This world changed us! We all changed! I see it even in you! Your blood, your eyes – like the wolf that stands at your side. You changed too – because the world changed you! You had to change to survive! If I let you take back the Palace, you and you ilk might discover how it is you enslaved us originally! I couldn’t – I wouldn’t have that! We changed, became stronger, so that we would never be slaves again!” Shadow was silent. “Let me kill him,” Stream growled between her thinly pressed lips. “No,” Shadow shook his head. In a sense… he saw why Scalphunter had done what he had done. It was true; even from the stories he knew of the High Ones and the Palace; he had heard how the High Ones had used the trolls, once small and diminutive creatures, for pets and entertainment, as well as workers. “What?” Wardance shouted. “After everything he’s done?” “I don’t agree with his methods,” Shadow said, “but I see why he did it. He did it to survive. Is that not why we all do what we do? He has lost everything. He will live in his life in exile, if one of you don’t kill him before he gets far. We came here for the Palace. We have won. He has nothing. Whatever remains of his army is scattered and broken. The Palace – that’s what’s important. It’s ours.” “No!” Scalphunter growled, grabbing the sword of one of his fallen legionnaires and lunging forward. It was Windfetcher who jumped between Scalphunter and Shadow, saving his life. She shoved her dagger into the belly of Scalphunter, even as he collapsed on top of her. “Cub!” Vineweaver screamed and jumped, stumbled, and tripped over the dead. He rolled Scalphunter off of his cub. Her face was covered in blood. “No,” Vineweaver cried. “No. Don’t let it end like this. Not like this.” Glimmer, Windfetcher’s wolf, approached her and nuzzled her nose against her face. The wolf looked up at Vineweaver with sad eyes. Scalphunter coughed, still alive, the small dagger having barely penetrated his armor, leathers, and own skin. Shadow put his foot on Scalphunter’s throat, “Kill him,” Shadow growled. “Slowly.” Troll, elf, wolf and even lion lunged forward and began to rend Scalphunter piece by piece. Scalphunter screamed. He screamed. And he screamed even more. He begged; he pleaded; asked for mercy. The kill was slow. His death taking a long time. For Stream would heal him, just when he was about to die. Just so he could be taken to the brink of death again. Time and time again. Glimmer nuzzled her nose against Vineweaver. “Shadow,” Vineweaver muttered as he fell backwards. “Glimmer…” Shadow looked at the wolf, who had once been the wolf bond of his best friend, Wildthorn, and said to have been a wolf bond to many others before him. The fur… was beginning to glimmer. Glimmer howled. And suddenly began thrashing around. “High Ones,” Shadow muttered. “What is happening?” Paws began to reshape. Paws became hands. Fur became hair. Hind legs became legs. Wolf became Elf. The once wolf, now elf stood, wavering at first, unsure how to stand on two legs. “My children,” she whispered, looking at Shadow, and the others. “The Palace… it is ours… once again.” Shadow suddenly realized he had been staring at the mother of his entire tribe. The mother who had begun the Stonehowl tribe. She had been with them always. Protecting them. She knelt down and placed her hands on Windfetcher’s forehead. Windfetcher suddenly took in a deep breath and looked around. “Father?” She wasn’t certain how that had happened. In all the confusion, she had not seen him leading the trolls into the main cavern. She thought for a moment – she had died and somehow he had died as well. Vineweaver kept her close. Glimmer turned and looked around. She saw the death. The chaos. The destruction. She frowned. It was as she had always feared. The High Ones had tampered with too many things. Touched too many lives. Done too much with their curiosity. And now, it has led to this. A revolt by trolls crashed the Palace. The world they landed upon, brought death in the form of humans, who were struck by fear of the unknown. Survival had forced the High Ones to flee, taking various forms to survive in the world. Now the line of “elf” as they had called themselves; was tainted. There were those who bore the blood of wolf, some of lion, some of jackal, some of – too many for Glimmer to think, to even remember – when she and the few who survived the human’s attack – fled and took form of animals, in order to blend, in order to survive. But being away from the Palace, they discovered this world drained them of their magic. Their magic grew weak, and most remained stuck in the forms they had taken in order to live in this world. Those who tried to reclaim the Palace, could change back once they grew close enough, but were often found and slaughtered by the trolls. Death. So much death. She could hear the hum of the Palace, like a sweet lullaby. She began walking, even as the others continued to stare in awe. Just past Scalphunter’s halls, the caves opened up. Inside a circular dome within the mountains was a magnificent Palace. “The Palace,” Vineweaver awed, feeling his entire body come alive with magic. Glimmer stopped. She closed her eyes. She could feel them. All of them who died. They were all around her now. They were happy to see her. They begged to go home. Return to the stars. To leave this place of Death. She walked through the Palace. The trolls had cleared out most of the decomposed bodies of the High Ones and carelessly threw them into a corner. Glimmer sat down in what appeared to be the main throne room as the others followed silently; afraid to speak, as if they might awaken from a dream. Glimmer rest her hands on the chair and closed her eyes. Then they all felt it. A hum. A song. Gentle. Soft. A lullaby that called to them. She was calling them all. * * * * Echo opened his eyes and looked around. No one else seemed to notice. “Mother,” he shook Stillbreeze. “Mother, wake up.” Stillbreeze sat up, her hand instantly going to the dagger at her side. “What is it my cub?” “Do you hear it?” Echo asked, smiling. “Hear what?” She tilted her head slightly listening for sounds, half expecting the humans to return. But she heard nothing. “Not with your ears, mother,” Echo smiled. “Listen with your heart. Your soul.” Then she heard it. A soft, gentle song. An urge to return. To the Palace. “They did it mother,” Echo smiled. “They did it! They reached the Palace! The song! The song is calling us all home!” * * * * Weeks later. The Palace was abuzz with life. Elves of all kinds had continued to walk through the Palace doors. “This is bigger than anything I could have imagined,” Shadow admitted. There had been other elves that had bonded with: Wolves, Lions, Tigers, Bears, Hawks, Jackals, Boar, Cheetahs, Owls, and there were so many others. When Stillbreeze and the rest of the tribe arrived, they could not believe their eyes. Wardance embraced both his brother, his mate, and his children. Others mourned the loss of those who had died. Vineweaver, Stillbreeze, Echo and Windfetcher all embraced one another and shared tears of joy. Vineweaver grabbed Spearclaw and pulled him into their family embrace. Foxhair looked at Shadow, “You did it. You have brought all of the Elves home.” “I did not do this alone,” Shadow said. “We all did it. Those of us who stand here now, and those of us who died so that we could stand here.” Shadow collapsed to the ground. “It’s over,” he said, “it’s finally over. And I can feel them here… they’re… so proud… of me… Wildthorn… Purebreeze… Starmane… Elktamer… I can feel them all.” “It’s finally over,” Shadow wept. “This is finally… the end.” THE END.