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Post by peachbug on Oct 28, 2008 18:20:57 GMT -6
Softling had slipped among the hunter's ranks as Stormfire bid farewell to Mist and the remaining tribe, ignoring her wolfblood's howl of discontent. Snapbone, ever dull for a wolf, had sniffed the air warily but continued on with little complaint.
The tracker watched the others turn back to the dens with some longing, but knew she could not leave these worried wolves and their curious mounts to whatever called in the rocks. It pained her to see the tribe split even for this short while, to see alpha separated from his mate on the whims of the chieftess.
'The chieftess better have a good idea of what she's getting us all into,' She thought nervously as they turned away. 'This mess does us no good now...what point in pursuing it, elves or not?' She thought of sending her concerns to Windsoft and Mist, but thought better of it. They seemed clear enough in their thoughts, and she would only sound foolish pressing them. She could be of some use here, at least.
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Post by Anna on Nov 2, 2008 8:35:46 GMT -6
Windsoft followed Stormfire as they drifted through the forest. The diminished tribe had spread out, and only experience and keen elfin eyesight allowed her to see the rest of them as they got closer to the mountain.
But eventually the sheltering trees came to an end and they paused in the last of their concealment to evaluate what lay before them.
A tumbled tower of boulders, ranging from giant to pebble sized, resting on a solid mountain base. It looked like a giant troll had taking his hammer and smashed the mountain to bits. What could possibly of done this?
*The magic is coming from the mountain itself,* she sent gently. *Neither good, nor bad. Just...strong. And lonely.*
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Post by peachbug on Nov 2, 2008 13:21:11 GMT -6
Softling shuddered at Windsoft's sending.
*Lonely?* She followed, studying the broken rock. *It feels like sickness here.*
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Post by Anna on Nov 2, 2008 13:32:25 GMT -6
Oakstaff turned and stared at the young elf, then shook his head impatiently. *You think anything that feels elfin is sickness, infant,* he retorted. *You need to spend less time with wolves and more time with elves. It's not sick. It's just other than what is naturally found on this world. You've heard the howls about how we came to be here, and how our magic is quite in sync with the world. Difference isn't sickness.*
*Hush. Pay attention.* Windsoft ordered Oakstaff and Softling as she knelt on the edge of the trees.
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Post by Kris on Nov 2, 2008 14:06:15 GMT -6
Stormfire drew a deep breath, letting her senses sift through its taste and scent. She smelled aged rock and dust . . . what was that beneath it? Death, likely. But the death of what?
*Quiet, both of you,* Stormfire ordered. She fixed them both with a glare. *If you want to snap at each other's muzzles, lock-send.*
She looked at the mound of crumbled rock, and winced as a wave of feeling washed over her. It was steeped in a sadness . . . a grief close to despondency. Hopelessness. She shook her head to clear it; High Ones, what had happened to the elves here? For they had been elves. That much was clear.
There was elven magic in those smashed boulders, a magic that radiated a fading warmth like spent embers. But it was clearer than any trace of magic Stormfire had ever felt. The elves had been strong . . . and yet they had probably died in the rubble of the mountain.
*Stormfire?* Whirlwind sent, an edge of anxiety to her thoughts. *Do you think . . . perhaps it was a ground-quake?*
Stormfire looked at the mountain. *It's the only thing I can think of,* she answered. She bit her lip as another wave of grief welled up in her. *What happened? Did they all die? Or did some of them die at first, and others lingered . . .?*
*Don't,* Tallspear returned grimly. *Just . . . don't.*
Journey advanced forward, his eyes wide with wonder as he looked over the mountain. *We might find out if we go closer,* he suggested. *Who knows? Sureshot always said the spirits of our dead kept close to the Father Tree. Maybe these spirits are holding close to what remains of this mountain.*
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Post by peachbug on Nov 2, 2008 14:45:08 GMT -6
Softling resisted the urge to snarl at Oakstaff, his words an arrow to her being. **I know we are elf.** Her sending raged. **But are we better for it? Timmain chose to be enough without...** Whirlwind's sending caught her thoughts and she left her sending at an end. Death...the idea of elves, wolves or not, dying in such a cold place twisted her insides. She sent her wordless feeling agreement to Tallspear and Stormfire. Journey advanced forward, his eyes wide with wonder as he looked over the mountain. *We might find out if we go closer,* he suggested. *Who knows? Sureshot always said the spirits of our dead kept close to the Father Tree. Maybe these spirits are holding close to what remains of this mountain.* Softling started at the suggestion, turning on the elf. *This is not a Father Tree! If there are dead...* She turned to glance at the rubble. *They are not our dead.* |
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Post by Kris on Nov 7, 2008 23:27:13 GMT -6
Journey heard Softling and answered, *They're not Wolfriders, true. But they're still elves, Softling.* He turned to give her a quick grin. *And who knows? Maybe they'll be friendly.*
*That's enough,* and Whirlwind gave him a not-so-friendly cuff on the head. *You're scaring her.*
Stormfire gritted her teeth, knowing the only reason the edgy bantering behind her was chewing her nerves was because they hung by bare threads. As Snowtreader began to sniff around the pebbles at her feet, Stormfire turned to the rest of her tribe. "Let's sit for a moment," she said. "We'll rest and see if there's anyplace we can use for a den."
"I'll go," Journey offered.
Stormfire fixed him with a level stare. "You'll sit down, Journey. Now's not the time to go flying off. We need to stick together." Chastened, the youngster dropped down on the ground.
The Wolfriders ate and drank a bit. Stormfire wrapped her arms around her ribs, hating the feeling of desolation that seeped into her. She knew it wasn't her emotion that weighed on her. The very rocks were chilled with old grief, a torpor that made her want to curl up, sleep, and never wake up.
She jumped as Tallspear sat down beside her. Stormfire gave him a wry smile, which he returned. "You look like a bent sapling ready to snap," he said. "Lean back, chieftess."
Stormfire obeyed, chuckling as Tallspear began kneading her taut, aching neck and shoulders. **Thanks,** she sent, unable to express her appreciation in words as muscles too tightly-strung flowed under Tallspear's nimble fingers like Evenstar's softest leather.
**No need.** Tallspear eased her back against him; Stormfire leaned into her dear friend's chest, savoring the comfort he offered. **This place feels like the humans' burial place,** he sent. **Barren and sad.**
**I know. And yet . . . Tallspear, have you ever had an itch where you couldn't scratch?**
**Not particularly,** the hunter returned drily.
Stormfire smacked him lightly in the ribs. **I'm not talking about that kind of itch. It's like someone rubbed poison ivy inside my head, and I can't get in there to scratch.**
**Mist could cure that, I believe.** Tallspear held up both hands in surrender as Stormfire turned on him with fist upraised. **I'm joking! I know what you mean, Stormfire. This place makes my skin crawl.**
Stormfire bit her lip and sat up, rummaging in her belt-pouch for a strip of dried meat. She offered some to Tallspear, who took it. They ate in silence.
At last she got to her feet and walked along the edge of the rock-pile. She shook her head in disbelief at the size of it. The mountain must have been huge. What had happened? She couldn't believe it was a ground-quake. What quake could be strong enough to bring down an entire mountain?
And the rocks . . . Stormfire picked up several pebbles and held them up in the softly fading moonlight. They gleamed, smooth and polished against her hands; pearlescent radiance made her skin look rough and dull. And yet the pebbles were full of magic. It sang a wistful, wordless tune that ran through her mind like a mouse through a tangle of ivy.
Softling must be ready to chase her tail, poor cub. Stormfire hesitated, and then shoved the pebbles into her pouch. Mist will want to see these, I'm sure. At least, to look at. He might just throw it at my head. The thought of Mist's expression when she handed him a palmful of rocks made Stormfire chuckle wickedly as she traced her steps back.
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Post by Viola on Nov 8, 2008 0:38:21 GMT -6
Firecat suppressed a shiver running down her spine while she stood at the foot of the mountain. The wind played with her hair as she lowered her head, to investigate the stone. There was nothing here, not physically, but the creeping feeling that something was really off, here, was something she couldn't shake of.
She moved over to Stormfire who was closeby, gathering pebbles. *The magic feels old. Much older than wolfriders. The mountain... do you suppose the mountain was shaped by rock-shapers before it crashed down?* It was something she could hardly believe. The pile of rubble they were in front of was huge already, and she could barely imagine the grandeur of the mountain as it was before it collapsed, let alone a mountain shaped in rock shaping magic.
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Post by Kris on Nov 9, 2008 16:26:48 GMT -6
Stormfire arched an eyebrow as she picked up another piece of rock. This piece was larger, and had oddly smooth curves--stone didn't curve like vines, and certainly not with such a sheen. "It does feel like shaper's magic," she admitted to Firecat. "Like Journey said, it's a little like the Father Tree." She suppressed the shudder that went down her spine. She didn't feel the dead here; she wasn't even sure what that would feel like--but the traces of magic and sensation were too strong to ignore.
"I'll have Sunsong take a look at it," Stormfire told Firecat, and put it in her pouch. "Want to go hunt for caves? I don't know what we'll find here, but I'd rather have shelter than sleep in the open next to this."
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Post by Kris on Nov 9, 2008 16:40:21 GMT -6
*Well, isn't this a welcoming sight,* Whirlwind sent to her companions, as they examined a pile of boulders.
Out from beneath one of the large rocks, veined in a strange, vibrant purple, jutted what appeared to be the remains of a hand. As Tallspear moved some of the pebbles and rocks away, something gleamed in the light.
"That's a bracelet," Journey noted.
*Send,* Whirlwind ordered. She knelt beside Tallspear, who freed what was an elfin hand--the fingerbones were scattered among the pebbles, but it was easy to see the hand had possessed four fingers, not five. The hunter raised the bracelet up to the moonlight. Underneath dirt and lichen was the unmistakable odor of gold. Whirlwind shook her head. *I don't want it.*
*I do,* Journey offered.
*You would, magpie,* but Whirlwind grinned as she handed him the trinket. *You've learned bad habits from the trolls, no mistake,* she added teasingly, watching him stow it in his pouch.
*Look at this,* and Journey tugged on something dark that fluttered from under the rubble. As soon as he did, it disintegrated to dust. "Oh, no," he groaned.
Tallspear coughed as the dust blew across his face. *Nice going,* he sent to Journey.
*Come on. Let's try on the other side of these boulders.* Whirlwind got up and headed to where the boulders formed a spillway down to the foot of the mountain. *This looks like it's the actual mountain, and not just a pile of rocks.*
*Careful,* Tallspear warned as they approached. *It could fall on our heads too.*
*Nothing's going to fall,* Whirlwind retorted. *Quit going water-spined on me, Tallspear.*
His furious riposte was lost as the three elves saw a fissure in the rock. "Hey," and Whirlwind forgot to keep silent as she bounded up to it. "Look at this!" She examined the fissure; it was taller than she was, and shaped oddly, narrow at both ends and wide in the middle.
"I've never seen a cave mouth that looked like this," Journey remarked. He put his face to the fissure and breathed in, then drew back with a grimace. "There's a smell of death, but it's mostly old dust in there I smell."
Tallspear leaned forward and inhaled. Whirlwind decided to let the better hunter of the three of them get whatever scent there was in his nostrils; she'd take his word for it.
*There's death, and dust, but nothing more. And it's been long ago. There's no threat . . . and we can even get the wolves in.* Tallspear stepped back, snorting. *Stormfire! Everyone! We've found a cave!*
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