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krwordgazer wrote: A sending (of any kind) that goes unanswered Autumn's first frost First brush of love (meaning romantic love, I assume) An insect or insects Something that does not go according to plan Something worn on the head: a hat, headband, etc. “It’s like rain,” Purespring said, extending her arms, as the auburn colored leaves spiraled from their descent, spinning as they came crashing into the ground. Her soft, earth colored hair was full of leaves that had lodged themselves into the locks of her hair, as if desperately trying to stop their ultimate fate of landing on the ground. Her soft, green eyes, were like the color of the leaves, before Autumn had come – and with it, the first touch of cold and frost. Shadow, her elder brother, shook his head. “You’re head is full of Puckernuts.” Purespring smiled, kneeling down and scooping a handful of the fallen leaves in her hand and threw it at her brother. None ever reached him; all of them scattering as soon as they left her hand. “And you have troll spit in your dreamberry!” She said. She looked around, “How can you deny how beautiful this is?” She picked one of the leaves from her hair; a crimson colored leaf. “Doesn’t this remind you of Foxhair’s color?” “It reminds me that hunting will be much harder is what it reminds me of,” Shadow grumbled. “These leaves are brittle. Getting close to the hunt will be considerably more difficult with their sharp ears alert.” “You’re a sour one,” Purespring smiled, raising her eyebrow at her brother. She kicked some of the fallen leaves towards her brother, and smiled, “Look! A leaf-leaper!” The small cricket leapt out from the leaves, and made its way across. “Plenty for him to eat! We will be fine, Shadow! We always are.” Vineweaver was sitting on a branch, his auburn hair, much like Foxhair’s, nearly blended in with the reddening leaves. “You worry more than our chief.” Shadow looked up at Vineweaver. “Our chief is young. And though he is my Soul-Brother, he knows how I feel. I feel he’s inexperienced, but I follow him because he is my Chief, and my dearest friend. I would lay my life down for him.” Vineweaver used his plant shaping ability to sturdy a vine, as he lowered himself. He stood next to Shadow, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. “None of us here doubt for a moment that you wouldn’t lay your life down for any of us. Our chief is young, but it also makes him hopeful. He’s learned much from you. His desire to want to learn more about the humans, to one day understand them, and possibly communicate with them – comes from you. No chief before Wildthorn has ever considered such a thing, because no chief has ever had someone like you to stand next to them.” Shadow smiled for the first time, placing his hand on Vineshaper’s shoulder. Vineshaper was many seasons older than Shadow, and had seen many chiefs come and go – most of them, dying by violent means, rather than old age. “The humans will be out hunting this night as well,” Shadow said, tilting his head and hearing the distant drum beatings of the humans preparing for the hunt. “They will begin gathering and hording their food, preparing for the winter that is coming.” The twin moons were full, their ever piercing eyes casting shadows, even on this starless night. Shadow looked at those gathered around him. “We have to be careful on this hunt. The humans are out. We stay clear of them, they should stay clear of us.” “I want to hunt with you,” Purespring said, standing up. “You are not ready, little sister,” Shadow said. “Soon. I promise. But not tonight. Not with the humans out there scavenging the land.” He saw the disappointment in her eyes as she turned to sit with her closest friend, Foxhair. “Wildthorn, with me,” Shadow said, organizing the hunt. Though Wildthorn was the Chief, even Wildthorn knew that Shadow was the best hunter the tribe had – and it was best to trust his judgement. “Moonsong, you and Sungazer run together. Treerunner and Vineweaver, the two of you keep an eye out for the humans.” Foxhair and Purespring watched as the other six proceeded with the hunt. “Burns you, doesn’t it?” Foxhair asked. Purespring looked at her friend, her eyes still raging with anger against his brother. “He does it because I am his sister, and because our mother and father were killed on a hunt. He’s doing it to protect me.” “Can you blame him?” Foxhair asked, her full lips in the form of a luscious smile. “You are the only family he has left.” “But he’s driving a spear between us, by always holding me back,” Purespring said, pouting as she collapsed onto a pile of crimson leaves, giving the appearance that there was a red pool of blood around her body. ** Humans, ** Treerunner sent, as he peered through the brush. ** We had best tell Shadow, ** Vineshaper sent back to Treerunner, coming next to him and peering through the same bush. ** No, ** Treerunner said, looking at Vineshaper, as if he could simply display his thoughts upon his features. ** They’re nowhere near the others. If they get too close, then we can warn Shadow and the others. ** ** That may not be wise, ** Vineshaper said. ** Where there’s three, there’s no doubt six others close by that we can’t see. ** Not far away, Wildthorn paused. What was that scent? He sniffed the air again. He knew that scent. But he had to be wrong. He looked for Shadow, but the hunter had moved ahead. Wildthorn stopped and began to backtrack. If it was what he thought – there was going to be trouble. He leaped down from the branch, and surprised the figure hidden in the bushes. He reached in and grabbed an arm, “Purespring! It is you! What are you doing?” “I wanted to hunt,” Purespring admitted. “I wanted to watch and learn, so I could show Shadow that I can hunt.” “If he finds out,” Wildthorn began. ** Up here, now! ** Shadow sent. Wildthorn looked up and did not see Shadow. He was still somewhere ahead. “Wait here,” Wildthorn growled. “Do not move. For any reason.” Wildthorn quickly scrambled up the tree and came to Shadow’s side. ** What is it? ** ** Down there, ** Shadow pointed. ** Boartusks.** ** Huge ones, ** Wildthorn sent, raising an eyebrow in surprise. ** If we can hunt them, we should be fine, ** Shadow sent, smiling. ** A regular boartusk is a lot to handle, ** Wildthorn sent. ** These look… larger. More aggressive. Dangerous. I’ve never seen any so … big. ** ** It will be fine, ** Shadow smiled. ** I will even give you the easy part. ** ** Which is? ** ** Circle around, and jump down. That should frighten them towards me. I will grab the last one and kill it for food. ** ** Sounds too easy. ** ** Which means something’s going to go wrong, ** Shadow smirked. ** That’s the part that worries me, ** Wildthorn sent back. Wildthorn made his way around the trees, and waited for Shadow’s sending to let him know he was in place. Then, with a yell of “Ayooah!” Wildthorn leaped down from the tree. However, instead of the over sized boartusks bolting in one direction – they scattered – including one going for Wildthorn. Wildthorn quickly dodged out of the way, avoiding its massive and deadly tusks. Then scampered to his feet, and scrambled up a tree. The boartusk rammed its tusks against the tree several times, attempting to shake Wildthorn out of the tree. ** These boartusks – they’re completely vicious!** Wildthorn sent. ** I see that, ** Shadow sent back, as he struggled with one. Wildthorn watched as another bolted down in the direction towards where Purespring had been told to hide. “No!” he shouted, and quickly began leaping from tree to tree, wishing he had been as agile as Treerunner, who was named for the skill of leaping from tree to tree with amazing agility and grace. He got to the tree just above where Purespring was still hidden. “Good girl,” he said beneath his breath, wheezing heavily. “Give me your hand!” Wildthorn said, hanging upside down from the tree. “Do it now!” Purespring looked up, her eyes now glazed with fear – she had never seen her chief so desperately frightened. “There’s no time to waste, give me your hand – now!” Wildthorn shouted, no longer caring if Shadow overheard. In Wildthorn’s eyes – as he stared at Purespring, pleading for her hand – he saw her innocence; and at that moment, he felt something heavy in his heart. His mouth gaped open, his palms grew sweaty. What was wrong with him? He had seen Purespring so many times. What was it about her now that made him feel so strange? “Your hand,” he whispered, “now.” She did as he had asked, and he grabbed her hands, and with all of his strength pulled her up, just as a boartusk ripped through the bushes, snarling and violently shredding the bush that Purespring had been hiding in. “What is that?” She whispered, horrified by the creature’s behavior. “That’s no normal boartusk…” “I tried to tell your brother that,” Wildthorn muttered. “But no, he thought we could hunt these things…” ** Humans! Humans! ** Came the urgent sending. Treerunner came through the tree, nearly falling; something he’s never done. “Where?” Wildthorn asked. “Back there!” Treerunner pointed behind him. “We were watching them – then these boartusks – large ones – came busting through the brush – started the humans – began attacking them… killing them – so the humans scattered… three of them nearly tripped over Vineweaver and I…” “Where is Vineweaver?” Wildthorn asked, looking past Treerunner. “Where?” Treerunner turned around, “He told me to go… that he was going to do something to stop the humans…” “No,” Wildthorn muttered. “High Ones, no…” “He was going to shape the plants to stop the humans…” Treerunner wheezed. “Take me to where you were! Now!” Wildthorn snapped. Quickly, Wildthorn, Purespring and Treerunner returned to where they had been watching the humans. The brush was torn apart. “He’s not here,” Treerunner gasped. “Quiet,” Wildthorn growled. He closed his eyes and sent. ** Vineweaver, answer me… ** Silence. ** Vineweaver, answer me now. I am chief. I command it! ** Silence. Wildthorn opened his eyes. “He’s… not responding to sendings…” “What does that mean?” Purespring asked. Both Wildthorn and Treerunner knew more than likely what it had meant. Purespring leaped down from the branch, despite Wildthorn’s protests. “There must be tracks! Something here!” “There,” Wildthorn jumped down from the tree branch. He kneeled down and picked up Vineweaver’s branch headband. It was covered in blood. … TO BE CONTINUED?