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krwordgazer wrote: Harvest Coming of age (realized through some action, not just "growing up") Feathers Feeling thankful and/or giving thanks A turkey (on World of Two Moons, it's called a "wattleneck") The color blue The gentle winter wind whispered through her hair. The auburn color resembled many of the leaves that were now falling from the trees, as Autumn was ending. “He still misses her, doesn’t he,” Windfetcher asked. Stream looked down at the young, female cub, whose brown eyes reminded her of the very soil that gave life to the trees they had called home. “Yes he does, cubling,” Stream finally said, turning his head from Windfetcher back to Shadow who was at the base of a tree that he and his sister had been born. “Can you heal the pain?” Windfetcher asked. “I’m a healer,” Stream replied, her green eyes misted with pain. “But there are some wounds that only time can heal.” “Can I go talk to him?” Windfetcher asked Stream. “He probably wants to be alone,” Stream began, but Shadow turned and looked at them, as if knowing they were there the entire time and signaled for Stream to send the cubling over. Windfetcher made her way to her Chief, each step long, and full of confidence. “Do you miss your sister?” Windfetcher asked. “Every day,” Shadow answered softly. “Does the pain ever stop?” Windfetcher asked. “One day,” Shadow smiled. “Do you forget them? Is that why the pain stops?” Windfetcher persisted. “No,” Shadow said. “You never forget them.” “Then how come the pain stops?” Windfetcher continued to ask. “Because you stop remembering that they’re gone, and start remembering when they were alive,” Shadow said. “It takes time. We’re selfish. We want them here with us. And when we’re gone, we hurt because they can’t be here. But we start remembering them in our minds and our hearts, and they’re always with us. And we remember the times we laughed and cried together. Not the days that we’re apart.” Shadow nudged Windfetcher along. “Come, let us check with your father.” Shadow and Windfetcher made their way back to Stone Howl Holt. Shadow kneeled next to their plant shaper and asked, “How is the harvest?” Vineweaver gestured around him. The plants were being plucked as they spoke. “We will be fine this winter. We have been blessed with blue skies, and light rains.” “I will get some of the others to hunt for meat,” Shadow smiled. “Can I go with them, father?” Windfetcher asked. “I don’t know, you’re still a young pup,” Shadow began. “Father?” she asked again, as if Shadow had never spoke. “If Shadow agrees,” Vineweaver deflected the choice with a coy smile. Shadow glared at Vineweaver, then looked down at Windfetcher with a soft smile. “You can go – but you must do exactly what I say. My sister,” he began. “I know,” Windfetcher said politely. “She was older and still fell.” “She’s spirited, that one,” Shadow smiled at Vineweaver. “Spirited,” Vineweaver chuckled. “That’s one word for her.” Echo, Vineweaver’s son who had been helping his father, asked once Shadow and Windfetcher had left, “Do you think she will be all right?” “Cubling of mine,” Vineweaver smiled, “I am more worried about our chief in her hands, and her in his hands.” He looked at his son and nodding, “Now let’s get back to that magic training of yours.” The hunt was a quiet one. Very little seemed to be alive in the forest; a sensation that put Shadow on edge. Usually that meant one of two things; trouble or humans; and sometimes humans were enough trouble. (For such an instance, read “Twisted” (October Grab Bag)). “Wattleneck tracks!” Windfetcher pointed out, unaware of the uneasiness that had settled among the other hunters. “Keep your voice down, cub,” Shadow said. “We’re not alone out here tonight.” “What else is out here?” she asked in hushed tones. “We have lived here for countless seasons,” Shadow responded. “And still we find new things every day.” Shadow burst through the clearing and to his surprise found a human, who had a wattleneck by the throat. “A human hunter!” Treerunner growled. “And close to our holt,” Moonsong added. “They’re getting braver and braver,” Foxhair growled, her bow drawn and aimed at the human. “We let it go, and it runs back to its tribe and brings more here,” Treerunner snapped. “We have to kill it, Shadow.” Shadow had spent seasons upon seasons studying humans, and learning their language from a distance; with the hope of one day being able to clearly communicate with them and end the fear that they had of one another; that drove them to hate one another – and more often than not, kill one another. But each death, even if it was in self-defense, only made the wedge wider between elf and human. They were right. There was no way they could let the human live. He was too close to their holt. He would bring others. And they would slaughter them. Better to kill this one now, and pray that the humans believe he was mauled by a bear. “You’re right,” he raised his bow. “No!” Windfetcher screamed and jumped from the wolf to stand in front of the human. “You can’t just kill him!” The human did not move; frozen with fear. “Can’t you see he means us no harm! He’s only hunting! He’s hungry! Like we are! He probably has cubs of his own he has to go home and feed!” Windfetcher pleaded. “Don’t you see – if we let him go – he will leave. And feed his cubs. Remember how you feel Shadow, about Purespring? How your heartaches, because you miss her? His own cubs would miss him if you take his life this night!” “Don’t be foolish, cub!” Treerunner snapped. “Me? Foolish?” Windfetcher snapped back. “You want to kill this human! You’re right – he might go back and get others and come back! And if he does – we will be ready! We will know! But what if he just wants to feed his cubs?” “So that they might grow up and hate us as he does?” Treerunner returned coldly. “Or he might just tell them how we found him, and let him go,” Windfetcher explained. “And what if the chain of hate that Shadow has spent so long trying to break – begins with him? Isn’t it worth that risk?” Treerunner turned to Shadow. “Let the human go,” Shadow said, lowering his bow. He looked at the human, speaking their tongue roughly, “=Run, human. Feed your cubs.=” Without a moment’s hesitation, the human quickly fled through the brush. Shadow slid off his wolf, “That was a foolish thing to do. You put yourself between us and the human. Within the human’s grasp. He had a knife. He could have taken you or done worse.” “It was a risk,” Windfetcher asked, “and he didn’t. Which proves that he just wanted to feed his cubs, not come here to kill any of us. He’s hungry, like the rest of us.” “He may have been hungry, but the next human we meet might not be,” Shadow said. “I said you could come if you listened to me and did what I said. You disobeyed me.” “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head. “I just saw how your eyes ached earlier today – and I thought about his human cubs with the same look in their eyes. I couldn’t bare the idea – because I almost lost my father once.” (For that story, read “Twisted” (October Grab Bag)). Shadow smiled. Everyone had said that when Shadow’s time was going to come for him to pass the mantle of chief – the tie with the feathers – it would definitely go to Windfetcher next; and tonight she had proved to him that she had what it took to be a Chief when the time was right. He knew the human was there. He had been tracking it for a number of hours. This was a test for Windfetcher. They were all in on it; except her. And Shadow was thankful that when his time came, that the tribe would be in wonderful hands…