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STONEHOWL: Having endured an attack by humans, Shadow found allies within some of the humans, and it had only been those who followed their shaman, the Bone Dancer, who sought to wipe out the Elves. In a fight, that seemed to favor the humans, the tides of battle turned when the trolls joined in the fight against the humans; knowing that the humans would attempt to drive them out next. The Bone Dancer was killed by Vineweaver, who had suffered unimaginable torture at Bone Dancer’s hands. Wanting to leave the tainted memories behind, Shadow led his tribe on a quest to find others like themselves. In their journeys they found the Next Ones (Children of the High Ones), Pridewalkers, and others – and in the end, Shadow led them to the Palace of the High Ones. Believing he had found everything his heart desired, the home of his greatest ancestors, Shadow soon felt the urge to return to the woods; return to what he knew was home. He discovered, it’s not the Palace that makes it home; but it’s what the heart makes the home. Now Shadow has led some of his tribe back to the woods, near the Palace, where other elves from other tribes, also followed; either curious to see more of the world, or inspired by the leadership they saw in Shadow. Elements: hybrids shiny object a bridge - a real built/formed structure made by humans/trolls/elves, or it can be an event or moment that connects two halves in someone's life a promise make or making a mothers day A gentle breeze blew through the tree tops. Everyone was slouching around, laying about lazily. Summer had brought with it, the warmth that those from the Oasis Tribe had craved so much. “Now this,” Highsun said, waving his arms about, “is much better. But these trees – do they ever thin out? Branches woven like a wild patterns make wonderful bridges for the animals scurrying about the treetops – but it blocks the sun from ever reaching us on the forest floor.” “During the Falling Leaves Season,” Vineweaver explained, “the leaves will thin out. But by that time, the warm sun you so eagerly crave has also faded.” Highsun looked defeated. “So the answer is essentially ‘no’ – is that it?” Vineweaver chuckled, “We have found some openings here and there, where there’s no trees. You can go lay out there bathing in the sun all you want.” “In the open?” Highsun laughed. “I don’t know enough about the forest life, for example what kinds of creatures live here. What is one of the most difficult creatures that you have ever encountered in your forest home?” “Most difficult?” Shadow echoed the question. Almost in unison, those who had been a part of Stonehowl from the beginning all said, “The Coil.” (1) “What is the Coil?” Highsun asked with a raised eyebrow, surprised that they had all so quickly agreed to the same thing. “The best way I can describe it, is some kind of hybrid between serpent and fang-tooth,” Shadow said. “Even when it touched minds with me; I could feel not one mind, but two of them; both seething with hatred, twisted by magic. Its claws gleamed in the darkness; as did its fangs. It was a living weapon, without a master.” “It was magic that made that beast,” Vineweaver agreed. “I could sense it oozing from its scales and fur. But it was poisoned, sickened. Whatever created it, it spent years and years, knowing only hatred, death…” “It is because of that,” Shadow admitted, “that I made that promise to myself, that when we started new here – that we would not shape stone and tree and bend it to our will. We would live with nature. We use Vineweaver’s magic to control plants, only for harvest, so that none of us go hungry.” “Someone needs to remind you why I came with the rest of you,” Highsun sighed. Later that night, Vineweaver sat with Stillbreeze. “Can you believe our little cubling, Sunsword, is one year old now, as of today?” “I can’t,” Stillbreeze smiled. “I am… so glad that we’re all still here… despite everything we’ve been through.” “As am I,” Vineweaver replied. “But I do have a confession.” His tone was serious. Stillbreeze tensed. “I have broken one of Shadow’s rules,” Vineweaver said, matter-of-factly. “What do you mean?” Stillbreeze asked, somewhat surprised, since Vineweaver had always loyally followed Shadow. Perhaps the most loyal of them all to Shadow. Vineweaver presented her with an elegant rose. “For you,” Vineweaver said, “for mother’s day. I shaped it myself.” The elegant rose’s stem was shaped so that it loosely looked like her face, the leaves, like arms, the pedals, like the faces of her children… (1) See Janurary 2009 Grab Bag: http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/jan2009.html