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Post by peachbug on Jun 21, 2009 22:30:52 GMT -6
**Don't test him, brother,** Starpath urged warily to Ashglow, referring to Ashglow's tone more than the words. **The Wolfriders are many, and seem to have many strange customs. I fear we will learn them well enough with time.**
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Post by meimei on Jun 22, 2009 0:10:28 GMT -6
Ashglow frowned at Starpath's sending. He hadn't told Nightsun to stay. He certainly would have tended to the fire himself if need be. It wasn't his fault she hadn't eaten before he'd reminded her, either. He was going to respond, but the stranger spoke first. Nightsun's query made him frown.
There was plenty of dangers. But he wasn't certain he knew what the Wolfrider meant either. "Our tribe has always used fire. It keeps the larger predators at bay wherever we travel. Cooks our meat. Helps in the making of medicines." He offered the Wolfrider a wry smile. "It has helped keep us alive."
Starpath's second lock-sending made him pause and he shook his own head in resignation. **So you've made your decision? You say Nightsun couldn't stand the loneliness. But is that all? You're curious, aren't you? I haven't seen you entertain that trait since...**
Ashglow swallowed the last of his meat. It seemed the strangers were already affecting both his siblings. And neither seemed worse for it. He would live with whatever path they'd chosen. "I speak of our tribe, but they are no more. We are all that remains. Living their ways cannot bring them back." He stood, dropping the stick from his kebabs back into the fire. He smoothed his sister's long hair gently as he passed her. *If either of you need me, send.* He wandered back to the edge of the campsite.
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Post by peachbug on Jun 22, 2009 13:35:11 GMT -6
**I've made no decision. I simply want to watch. I am curious...** Starpath admitted as Ashglow stood and moved away. **But my thoughts are always first for you and Nightsun.** With Nightsun feeling so far from him, Starpath couldn't bear to lose Ashglow to bitterness. They had to stay together.
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Post by Kris on Jun 22, 2009 22:41:40 GMT -6
Wingfoot watched the brothers, sensing their sendings; he closed his mind to them and kept his attention on Nightsun. "Have you never encountered humans, then?" It seemed a miracle to him, that elves could journey through wide spaces for years and years, and never encounter the five-fingered ones. Even on their journey, humans had been a blight on the landscape, like rot in a grand old oak.
He envied her brother the freedom to touch her hair. Although his own hair was dark, and many Wolfriders had dark brown or black hair, Wingfoot could only name Sureshot's lifemate Waterdance as an elf who'd had hair as dark as Nightsun's--and even the chieftess's hair was not quite so lustrous as the maiden's smooth, long tresses. They gleamed like crow's feathers in the sun, shimmering purple and blue in the moonlight.
Wingfoot almost reached for a rock to beat some sense back into his skull. Oh, you're mad, all right. Might as well ask her to lifemate with you already, you idiot.
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Post by Anna on Jun 22, 2009 22:57:29 GMT -6
Nightsun pulled her gaze away from Ashglow's departing back. Her pause before she answered Wingfoot was long, and not all of that was due to thought. Her throat was tight, and she dared not look at the Wolfrider. She could feel the hot ache in her eyes, and the scalding tears she was trying to hold back. She absently pulled the spitted meat away from the fire and carefully, slowly, sifted dirt over the flames to smother them.
She had begun plaiting the long grasses before she felt she could answer. Even so, her voice was softer than usual, and slightly hoarse. "We have, many times, encountered signs of the five-fingered ones. Campsites cold with age, or collections of dwellings that had been abandoned. I have never seen a human, despite all our wanderings." She paused in her braiding and spread one hand wide, palm up, and looked at the sky. "Starpath determines the paths our feet walk. How he chooses our where we wander depends sometimes on the lights that sparkle in the night sky - and sometimes on other things."
As her gaze continued to drift about the starry sky, her hands took up their task again, and the woven grass baskets formed quickly under her practiced fingers. Her voice, in odd counterpoint to the briskness of her hands, was almost dreamy. "I never questioned where we went and why. It mattered not. My brothers hunted, scouted, guarded, and protected. They kept me safe and I had no cause to worry or wonder what dangers there may be." She smiled and finally looked at Wingfoot again. "My brothers have spoiled me quite thoroughly."
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Post by Kris on Jun 23, 2009 21:40:33 GMT -6
Wingfoot felt sadder than he had in ages. No, lovely one, what they've done is kept you caged. He tried to imagine how he might have kept himself going for so long with no wolf-friend, no one but siblings for company. Small wonder she was speaking to spirits.
"A good thing you've never encountered humans," he said at last, and smiled to see her so engrossed in her task. She was never truly still, but seemed to be nothing but tranquil in her moods and ways. Wingfoot looked around and saw his kin had taken to their dens. "Nightsun," he said at last, "would you like to take a walk with me by the river? There's no harm to be had from the fire, and it's quite cool now."
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Post by Anna on Jun 23, 2009 22:15:17 GMT -6
Nightsun picked up a stick and stirred the buried remains of her fire throughly, looking for the faintest hint of a spark. Nothing glowed, and when she lowered a spread hand over it, no a hint of heat rose to her palm. When she buried her hand in the loose dirt and ashes, they were warm, but it was a fading warmth. "Cutting the grass away prevents the sparks from hiding in the roots from many seasons ago," she said absently. "A fire thought dead could linger unnoticed and arise again all unexpected. This one is gone, and when we depart, I will re-lay the sod and no one will know that we were ever here."
She smiled then, blushing, as she picked up cooled, cooked strips of meat and dropped them into the grass pouches she'd woven. When that task was finished, she rose to her and glanced towards the river. "It's lovely beneath the light of the moons," she said. "A quieter, calmer beauty than the vastdeep waters."
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Post by Kris on Jun 23, 2009 22:35:20 GMT -6
Wingfoot got to his feet and took her hand.
"What are the vastdeep waters?" he asked, truly curious. "Are they wider than the river?"
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Post by Anna on Jun 23, 2009 23:06:42 GMT -6
Nightsun looked down at their joined hands, startled that such a familiar gesture, such a common touch, could be so different. When she held Starpath's hand, or Ashglow's, it was comforting and pleasant. But Wingfoot's hand, strong and warm around her own, was no mere pleasantness. The innocent touch made her feel warm and glowing, a pleasant thrum almost vibrating within her. She raised her hand, his lifting with hers, and marveled at the contrast of light skin against dark.
A warm glow of fondness for this strange, pale Wolfrider filled her heart, completely separate and unique from all the other, merely physical, feelings he'd stirred. She lowered their hands and raised her other, placing it lightly on his arm just above his elbow. She adjusted her step so that she walked close to him, her head resting affectionately against his shoulder.
"How marvelous," she murmurred and sighed contentedly. "The vastdeep waters... They are no simple river, tracing paths through the land, traveling from plain to woodland, to burning waste. They stretch far, much farther than any eye can see. The water seems to live, rolling to shore in rising crests that crash down upon the sand, then receding back from whence it came." She looked at him, and smiled, a teasing sparkle lighting her golden eyes. "It is vast, and it is deep. All the lakes, ponds, rivers, and streams you have ever seen, combined all in one, would be as nothing when in comparison to the vastdeep waters." She sighed, and the teasing smile softened into a dreamy one. "The rush of water on sand, the crash of waves - it is not tranquil as a river tame and mild as this, but it has a lonely peace all of it's own."
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Post by Kris on Jun 24, 2009 22:24:09 GMT -6
Her hand was so small and delicate within his own, and the weight of her head against his shoulder made Wingfoot swallow hard to wet a suddenly-dry throat. But her voice was what drew him, that voice that made him think of purple moths fluttering in a summer dusk, deep and warm and vivid. And her words evoked images in his mind of the Vastdeep she described.
He thought of the river that ran close to to the old Holt, and how it raged in spring when snowmelt and rains caused it to swell and overflow its banks. He tried to imagine it covering the forest as far as the eye could see, and had to drive the thought away. It was too frightening--and he knew it could not be what Nightsun meant.
*Will you share a memory of it with me?* Wingfoot sent.
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