Aryonal's Pledge

"Brrrr!" exclaimed No-Berries, holding his arms close at his sides and rubbing them. "When do they start the central heating in here? I'm cold!"

"Of course you're cold. You're half naked!" burst Sweetwind, at the same time that Vinetreasure snapped, "Go put a tunic on!" Niece and aunt looked at each other and chuckled over their simultaneous outbursts.

"It's not funny," said No-Berries, with a grin that belied his words, as he paced around the hollow the three shared, beating the bare skin on his arms and sides.

Sweetwind, snug in her winter leggings but not yet needing a cloak, told her cousin, "You'd better get used to it. It's got to get colder than this before they fire up the heating stones. There isn't even any snow yet!"

Ignoring the exaggerated chatter of her son's teeth, 'Treasure calmly finished brushing her hair and began using the brush on Cloudfront, who lay beside her. The large mountain cat, who was coming to expect the nightly grooming, purred. "Honestly, Sweetwind, it's nearly impossible to get him to wear a decent outfit. Every turn his father would make him a nice new tunic, and every turn it ended up knotted around his waist like that pelt."

"Tunics are too constricting," replied No-Berries. He rolled his bare shoulders, reveling in the freedom, as he reflected that his mother's voice did not choke over the mention of her dead mate. It was the first time, he thought, that a happy memory did not come with a host of sad ones on its heels.

"We could go see if there's a fire burning in any of the fire pits, couldn't we, and go sit there for a spell - it's not windy outside!" No-Berries put his hands out to help the two females to their feet as though the matter were already decided.

Exchanging a glance of tolerant exasperation, Sweetwind and Vinetreasure complied. Not too much later No-Berries had brought to life a good-sized fire, and Morningdew, Talik-Sun and their daughter Dreamlight had joined the three plains elves at the fire ring. No-Berries stood poking at the fire with a stick, more for something to do while he warmed himself than because it needed tending.

"You're quite a master of fire now," remarked his mother. "You'll have to teach everyone when we go back home."

"It's early yet to talk of going back!" blurted Sweetwind before she could quite get control of herself. She had known since her aunt and cousin had arrived at Eight-of-Dreams that they saw this as just a temporary pause on a journey that would take them back to the plains where they had come from - where so much knowledge had been forgotten or never learned that fire would be a boon. Sweetwind nervously ran a hand through her hair and tugged at a knot. She felt torn inside. Eight-of-Dreams was her home now, and she loved it with all her heart. The people here, their ways and their stories - she didn't want to leave. Yet her aunt was more important to her now than she'd been back when she lived on the veldt. And No-Berries was her best friend now. Sweetwind knew they would want her to accompany them back. But she didn't want to leave, much as she longed to be with her new-found family.

"Of course, we can't begin our journey until the seasons of good weather return," replied Vinetreasure. But looking at Sweetwind, the older elf saw that a mere season's delay was not what Sweetwind had meant. 'Treasure's face took on a stern look.

Spit! thought Sweetwind.I'm still as easy to see through as the little kitten I once was, with my fingers all purple-stained, wondering how she knew I'd had my hands in her berry jar! Since the day the two had arrived, Sweetwind had never brought up the issue of whether she would leave with them. She'd hoped that, by spring, they would come to love the Holt as she did and decide to stay of their own free will. From the expression on Vinetreasure's face, Sweetwind knew she'd hoped in vain.

"But we must go, and you too, Sweetwind," continued Vinetreasure firmly, "sooner or later, to honor Aryonal's Pledge."

Sweetwind's face burned and she dropped her head, feeling once again inadequate to her aunt's lofty ideals. Stated so clearly, she had no choice, really, but to go.

"But who's Aryonal? What's Aryonal's Pledge? Tell us, Vinetreasure," said Morningdew, curious.

"What, has my niece never told you the story of our tribe's beginnings?"

"It was hard, aunt, I was so cut off from home " struggled Sweetwind.

"My dear!" Vinetreasure put her arm around Sweetwind's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Sweetwind, I know what a difficult time you've had. You've never known the way home before. I promise you'll feel better about it when spring comes." Sweetwind smiled ruefully - she had planned adjustment time for Vinetreasure and No-Berries to get used to the idea of living in the Holt, and it was ironically fair that she was being given the same consideration in return.

Vinetreasure turned back to Morningdew. "The answer to your question is a story, so if you're settled comfortably, I'll begin."

"No," stated No-Berries. "Mother, I've heard you tell it countless times. I want to hear Sweetwind's telling." Vinetreasure demurred without a word, removing her arm from Sweetwind's shoulders and leaning back to listen.

"Wait," cried No-Berries as Sweetwind drew in a breath to start. He stepped away from the fire, bolted towards the Mother Tree and was back in a moment, pulling Nighteyes by the hand. "Here's a story you won't want to miss, come, Nighteyes, listen!" A few other elves who were passing by took up the invitation as well. No-Berries sat down next to Sweetwind and pulled Nighteyes down by his other side. His skin was glowing from being by the fire but Sweetwind thought that having Nighteyes beside him gave him some extra glow. Warmth kindled in Sweetwind's heart as well - is there anything nicer than when two of the people you think are wonderful find each other wonderful too?

Fortified by happiness, Sweetwind began. "We don't know what the High Ones did before they came here - oh, Aryonal told his descendants but they could never understand. When he died it was quite forgotten with him - that was much, much later, but still long before my eldest great-grandsire's time. When the High Ones came here, it was a mistake, an accident. They were unprepared. There were many of them, eights of them, but they got into a fearsome battle and Aryonal saw death all around him. He could fly so he flew away, but he didn't have the strength to carry any of his companions with him. He flew far! He had never known fear before, and without thinking what was best he flew until the land's pull had exhausted him, and he fell, still afraid, to the ground."

Other Holt members continued to gather by the fire ring, filling out a good-sized circle. Silverfox, Fisher and Spice were walking past the circle toward the Mother Tree, Spice picking up her pace to hurry her lifemates along. From the corner of Sweetwind's eye she saw Spice suddenly pause, and turn her head to lock eyes with Vinetreasure. Spice conferred with her mates a moment, then all three came and joined the circle, Spice somewhat reluctantly. At Vinetreasure's special request, Sweetwind surmised - although nothing Sweetwind knew of could have persuaded Spice to spend an evening in Sweetwind's presence, let alone listen to her storytelling. Spice's friendship with her aunt must be even deeper than Sweetwind had realized. But these thoughts took only a moment. The narrative continued smoothly, with only the crackling of the fire accompanying her voice.

"Now besides being able to fly, and spark fire from his fingers, Aryonal could speak with his mind so strong that what we know as sending is only a tiny broken shard of that ability. So he called from where he lay on the ground back to where the other High Ones were. But there was no reply. They were silenced. Aryonal was the only one left of his kind."

"He must not have realized the effect this world had on his powers," muttered someone.

"So, not caring whether he lived or died, he lived. Caught between fear and loneliness, he could neither return to where he came from nor journey onwards. He stayed where he was and learned to live on fruits and nuts under two moons and one sun. And the seasons turned, and a long time passed, and he grew lonelier still.

"How he wished to have a fellow elf, a mate! And one of his many powers was to shape his own flesh, but that power was much dimmed by the tides of this world. Before, he could have become a female, as you or I might change a garment. And had he done so, he could easily have brought forth a child to be his companion. But he could not, hard as he tried.

"At last he undertook a desperate measure. Thinking that he might be able to nurture a life inside his male body until it could sustain itself, with the remains of his magic he created a spark of life from his own body that might grow into a female elf.

"The power that he expended to do this was so great, a skyfire storm raged about him when it was done! And he was exhausted, more tired than when he fled from the storm of the High Ones' arrival.

"He reached inside himself and felt the spark of life in his belly. But it was not good. The male body could not sustain the life properly. It could not grow, and would soon die.

"All Aryonal's power was dissipated, even as the storm broke up. So he walked, dragging himself, under a clear sky, searching for an answer outside himself, since nothing further could be done from within.

"Seeing animals as he trod wearily along, he thought perhaps a stout female beast might do what his own meager body could not. So he walked among the spiral horned runners and the leapers, the bison and the long horns. He could speak to their minds, but all the grass-eaters were too dull of mind to understand what he told them. The thought of taking such a liberty, imposing such a burden, without being granted leave was repugnant to Aryonal. So he turned instead to the sharper-witted beasts of prey."

Sweetwind glanced around to see if Darkthought was present. He was, so she would have to take the next bit carefully. In looking at all the rapt faces around her, she realized what a successful storytelling session this was turning out to be. Dreamberries were being passed around, absently, and there was not a mind present but was with Aryonal on the veldt, walking with him on his desperate quest.

"Aryonal came to a pack of hyenas," Sweetwind continued. "He made to go to them and ask for help, but he was frightened by their raucous behavior, their sneering faces, the servile fawning of the lesser ones to the higher ones. So he turned aside, and walked on."

"It goes to show that even the High Ones can make mistakes," inserted Darkthought magnanimously, an arm draped over one of his hyena bond-friends.

Vinetreasure was giving Sweetwind a look of approval: "frightened" was a kind word to substitute for the traditional "disgusted and repelled." Sweetwind looked at No-Berries, the only other here who knew what she had changed from the original, but her cousin's head rested peacefully on Nighteyes' shoulder and he seemed asleep. She thought there might be a small smile on his lips, though.

"Next he came to a pride of lions. He was impressed by their regal bearing, their dignity and their cleanliness -" Sweetwind caught herself before she uttered the traditional wording, which would have been "especially in contrast to the hyenas." "- And he went to a noble lioness and asked if he might beg a favor. She looked him over with her great tawny eyes and told him that there was absolutely nothing he could do for her in return, so she would grant him no favor." (This part of the story seemed to sit quite well with Darkthought, who had a satisfied "isn't-that-just-how-you'd-expect-a-lion-to-act" look on his face.)

"Now Aryonal thought he was at the end. The only other common creatures he knew he could talk to were creatures of the sky and the water, which bore eggs instead of live young. So he stumbled on, dragging, thinking that when his tiny child-mate died, he would destroy his own life also. Then he felt a mind touch from behind him.

"He turned and saw a cat of a type which was very rare, golden with black spots, and black streaks like a widow's tears running freely down her cheeks. She spoke to his receptive mind ever so sweetly. She said her mate was dead and her kittens were dead, and her kind were so scarce on the plain that she may never find any other mate. As she had so little to lose, she would do him a favor if she could.

"What she told Aryonal was like water to thirst - but before he could partake of her generosity, he wanted to do something in return. So he pledged that he and his folk to come would stand by her and her kind in the plains, and see the numbers of her kind increase until they were as common as the lion or hyena, and help them forever onwards. So it was agreed, and though the Firstcomer's magic was sore worn, he made his last great effort and transferred the tiny life to where it could grow and prosper.

"In due time Aryonal's child-mate was delivered from the swiftcat, and she was Hemet Landborn. To Aryonal she seemed squat and dark, perhaps, and nearly mind-blind, but we would see her as willowy, piercing, and with sending power unequaled now. With Aryonal's help, the swiftcat found another mate, and soon she had cubs of her own which Aryonal protected as fiercely as he protected Hemet.

"And time went by, and Aryonal and Hemet had many children together, Arnee Windchaser and Stone-Hehn, Marlowel Three-Spot, Helinel, and Farseeker, and their children had children, and all kept Aryonal's pledge to the swiftcats to be their steadfast helpers.

"This is the story of how my tribe came to be, and this is why, when I was little and my parents readied me for sleep, they would tell me: You are an elf, and your blood is an elf's blood, but the heat in your bones is the swiftcat's heat, and the beat of your heart is the swiftcat's rhythm, for now and forevermore."

There was stillness. Even the crackling of the fire had fallen to the silence of banked embers.

Finally Nighteyes broke the spell. "Sweetwind, that's incredible!" she said in a hushed voice, full of awe. "Why didn't you ever tell us this story before?"

"It never came up?" replied the archer, abashed.

"I can hardly believe it," stated Morningdew. "Can you believe it, Talik-Sun? I don't believe it. I don't think that's possible."

"Ask Winterleaf," suggested Darkthought.

"I will. I'll ask him tomorrow."

"I don't think he'll be able to 'see' it," said Sweetwind. "It was long, long ago."

"You said it was a long time after the High Ones' coming," asserted 'Dew. "He can't see as far back as that but I'll wager he could see this."

"It was a long time after the High Ones' coming, as a sapling is a long time after the seed," said Vinetreasure mildly. "Here we sit by a tree that we cannot link our arms around, that is how far past the sapling we have come."

The folk around the circle broke up into small discussions of the subject. No one seemed willing to tell a story to follow that one, and soon in their small groups they made their ways to the Tree for the night.

When Sweetwind stepped into the hollow, Vinetreasure took Sweetwind's hands in hers and said softly, "Please - forgive me for being so harsh with you earlier. I must have seemed an awful hypocrite - pushing you to leave your friends and your life here, when I had left our home plains of my own free will. I -" her voice choked a bit, but she recovered - "I scarcely knew what I was doing, then. It has taken me this whole turn of the seasons to come to terms with - everything." She smiled. "I cannot do less than to offer you a turn of your own, to consider what's best for you. If No-Berries agrees, we'll stay here with you for one full turn of the seasons before we even speak again of returning."

"Oh, Vinetreasure!" exclaimed Sweetwind. It was an unexpected relief and redemption to her. She hugged the elder elf.

"Where is my son, by the way?" asked 'Treasure, looking around the hollow. The last Sweetwind had seen of No-Berries, he'd been climbing into the Tree arm in arm with Nighteyes.

"Oh, I think he's found some nice warm furs for the night," she chuckled.

Indeed, by the time they saw No-Berries again, late the next morning, he could only confirm their conclusion that he wouldn't mind one bit staying in the Holt a while.