Family Reunion

Silverfox moved alertly through the woods. In the morning forest's shadows and mists, her silvery hair and black-and-gray leathers were not easily seen. This was just as it should be, for she was hunting.

Here was some interesting spoor - a blackneck had been here, perhaps bedded down here last night. It was hard to tell from merely the scant broken foliage, already dead and brittle for the deathsleep season. The ground held little trace either. Early frosts made it hard, and even the largest blackneck would leave no prints or impression here. For a moment she regretted that she was hunting alone: the acute nose of a Wolfrider companion would come in handy right about now.

She smiled to herself. No, hunting alone was what she'd come for. Her mates had nearly pushed her out of the hollow while protesting, "We'll be fine! Go ahead!" Silverfox enjoyed an occasional solitary hunt but partook less often than she could have. She always remembered the time before she and her mates had come to Eight-of-Dreams Holt, when, as the only able huntress, she'd had to leave them alone far oftener than she would have liked. In compensation now she often stayed by their sides when there was no need. The Holt was safe enough and there were plenty of other elves around to assist blind Fisher and lame Spice if necessary. Proud of her hunting skills, 'Fox readily joined in hunting parties. But she was less ready to grant herself the pleasure of a solitary hunt. Fortunately, her mates tended to insist upon it as a way to calm her down when she grew too tense. Thus she had been ejected from the Holt the morning before.

Casting in widening circles around the suspected bedding area, 'Fox finally found a fresher sign. In a little hollow by a tree root grew soft moss which held an imprint of the blackneck's hoof. Small for a blackneck, but anything larger she wouldn't dare to hunt by herself. Taking the perfect print as a good tiding, she confidently began tracking the faint trail of the buck's passage earlier that day. Here he had stopped to browse; there he had scratched himself against a rough-barked tree. The elf huntress was completely absorbed in tracking the buck. It felt good.

The sun had moved perhaps a handsbreadth across the sky. At last, the trees grew sparser and opened up into a small meadow. There he was, grazing on the dry grasses. Moving cautiously, Silverfox slipped from the trees to cover behind a bush. She edged as close as she dared. She was in shooting range, and at the edge of the shrubbery she had perfect cover from which to aim her footbow. Blackneck were so big, it would have to be the footbow.

Before she opened her pack, she gazed apprehensively at the buck. He was almost too big for a single elf's travois. And she'd never hauled a travois from so far before. She was fully a day's journey from the Holt. But before she could even start to consider letting him go, she imagined the look in Spice's eyes when her lifemate saw the size of the roast she could make. Silverfox pulled out her footbow and set it up.

Just as she was getting into position, the buck looked up, then walked several paces and lowered his head to browse again. He was still in range, so the elf readjusted her position. Again he looked up and began moving, turning to go a little further away from the elf. The angle was worse and he was almost out of range. She gritted her teeth and repositioned herself. With careful aim, she could still...

Perversely, just as the buck was lowering his head to graze, he pulled it up and briskly trotted further away. He was out of range now. Silverfox may have had the discipline to remain silent, but she had to express her frustration somehow. **Open dungpits!!** she sent vividly at the world in general.

An unexpected reply startled her. **Cheer up, huntress. I'm on the other side of this clearing.** She removed her feet from the footbow's grips and stood to spot the stranger. Just as he'd sent, she saw an elfin form peeping out from behind bushes opposite her across the meadow.

**I see you,** she sent.

**I'll flush the buck toward you, if I can have the hide,** the stranger sent.

**Agreed,** Silverfox replied, and she again set her footbow up, this time for a closer range shot. **Try to get him to run on my left.**

**Ready?... Now!** sent the other, and he burst from the bracken waving his arms with a whoop. The buck bolted in Silverfox's direction. The male elf seemed to be adept at directing the startled deer, but the buck was still unpredictable. He burst past Silverfox a little nearer than she'd expected and she shot a little too soon. The spear-sized arrow grazed the animal's right shoulder. She heard spearpoint cracking bone but the bolt did not stick in. Bellowing in pain, the buck crashed past her into the woods.

**Let's go! After him!!** The stranger lithely jumped past her as well. Leaving behind her footbow, Silverfox followed.

**He can't get far. I must have shattered his shoulderbone,** she asserted as they began the chase. The stranger was still a little ahead of her and he began to use a weapon which was unfamiliar to her. Still running, he pulled a throwing-spear from a bundle and fitted the butt of it against a hooked stick. A little like a stiff sling, the stick lent his arm extra leverage as he heaved the spear. He hit the buck's rump but it did little to slow the beast. Like a seasoned archer he had another spear in flight almost before the first connected; again he hit, but the spears were not penetrating very deeply from this distance. He continued the assault without breaking stride. Silverfox readied her own spear for thrusting at the buck, but she was ready to curse again. The animal was running too hard for the shoulderbone to be broken; she must have merely chipped it. Fortunately he was slowing, or the two elves on foot could never have kept up. The blood loss and the numerous spear wounds were beginning to weaken him.

After many frenzied moments of chase, the buck turned to stand at them. He lowered his antlers menacingly. Steam rose from his hide and blood dripped down his sides; the spears piercing his hide shook and rattled eerily as he panted and grunted.

**Try to take him down with your spears, I'll buttress my spear against him,** 'Fox sent. The stranger heaved a spear which hit the buck's left shoulder as the beast charged, and a second spear pierced the buck's neck through the windpipe as he was upon the elves. The neck blow brought the buck down and his momentum carried him to Silverfox's spear propped against the ground. The two elves dodged as the massive creature fell upon them. Dying, the blackneck screamed and kicked its legs. Silverfox was slow getting out of the way because she had to hold the spear in its ready position until the last moment. A front hoof caught her on the right hip and she screamed along with the buck. The stranger grabbed her and pulled her away from the final dying throes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, alarmed.

She was in too much pain to speak coherently, so she replied, "Ow. Ow! Ow!!" For long moments, she feared she couldn't move her leg, but the hurt subsided somewhat and she tried it. Everything worked, hip and knee moved in their normal courses, and the pain, although intense, did not seem serious.

"Nothing's broken," she reported. "My hip'll be as black and blue as my breeches for an eightday, though." A glance at the buck told her he was dead, and she finally had the leisure to take a good look at her huntmate. He was young and lithely built, with mischievous eyes in a copper-skinned face. His light-brown hair was twisted and matted into long locks and his head was topped with a long knit cap. He also had the biggest ears she'd seen on an elf. "I'm called Silverfox. Who are you?"

He kneeled up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "I'm called No-Berries." She tried to stand but it was still too painful. She let go and sat. His voice had a turn to it that reminded her of a fellow member of Eight-of-Dreams, and when she noticed the strange fur kilt he wore, she was suddenly sure that they must be kin.

"Do you know an elf called Sweetwind?" she asked. She looked into his face and the resemblance further confirmed her conclusion, but his eyes registered no knowledge of the name. "Because she resembles you, and she is bonded with a swiftcat such as the pelt you're wearing." He sat down too, and continued shaking his head.

"Nay, I know no one called Sweetwind, but this pelt came from my last bondbeast who I still feel most fondly for." He fingered his kilt. "My mother and I have been wandering for a full turn of the seasons, and it's been that long since we saw the veldt where the swiftcats live." His eyes brightened. "Have you been there?"

"No," she replied. "But I think that's where she's from. She lives in our Holt now."

"You must ask my mother. She knows more folk than I do." He got up and walked over to the buck. Lifting its right leg, he examined the wound her shot had made. "No, the bone wasn't broken but it's splintered some on top," he noted. "You used a bow with that spear?"

Silverfox nodded.

"It went clean through. That's some power!" he said admiringly. "I'll show you my footbow, but I left it back at the clearing," said Silverfox. "What's that weapon of yours?"

"It's called an atlatl," No-Berries said proudly. "Not so much force as your footbow but I can shoot on the run."

Silverfox smiled agreement. "If it weren't for that, we'd be stalking that buck all day by his blood trail. I don't think my hit slowed him down much."

"But another handsbreadth to the right with your bow, and we'd be sitting in the clearing, eating steaks, by now!"

That made Silverfox laugh. After a moment, she said, "My plan is to take the meat by travois back to the Holt. Is your campsite near?"

"My mother and I are staying in a clearing just beyond the one where we met. I'll help you build the travois and we can drag him back there today -- after all," he added, "you have to pick up your footbow."

"That's fine," she replied. She tried once more to get up, and with No-Berries' help she got to her feet, a little unsteadily. Her hip and leg throbbed and worked stiffly, but they worked. She moved around a little to loosen them up while No-Berries retrieved his spears from the blackneck's hide. Then together they began gathering branches and other building materials for the travois.

It was nightfall by the time they had dragged the buck's carcass back to the clearing. In the fading light Silverfox found the blood-caked arrow-spear she'd shot, and retrieved her footbow. Her hip was aching. They'd constructed an excellent travois but the kill was so large that she could hardly have dragged it alone, even if she hadn't been limping nearly as badly as Spice. She was thankful for her companion's help and his cheerfulness as well.

He grew excited as they crossed the woods beyond the clearing towards his campsite. "I hope mother's not too worried, she thought I'd be back by noon." He added in a softer voice, "Father died last turn, and she's not near over it yet. Don't worry if she goes blank on you." He sent ahead as soon as they were in range. Shortly they dragged the carcass down a little slope and came to a lone elf standing next to a fallen tree. The tree's roots had torn a little den out of the ground when it had fallen, and this was evidently their shelter. His mother just stood as No-Berries let go of the travois and ran to hug her. She seemed forlorn and unresponsive.

"Mother, I want you to greet my new friend, Silverfox. Silverfox, this is my mother, Vinetreasure. She's named for her wonderful preserved berries and fruits. We'll have to give you some, won't we, Mother?" The elf said little but met 'Fox's eyes, cheerlessly. Again Silverfox was reminded of Sweetwind, so she ventured to ask about her tribemate again. No-Berries put his arm around Vinetreasure comfortingly as his mother pondered.

'Fox didn't know much of Sweetwind's history but, recalling that her name may have changed since she joined the Holt, added, "This is her appearance." She sent to both the elves a mental picture of the green-eyed elf who seemed such a good match with the other two.

Vinetreasure's eyes opened wide and a change overcame her features. "This is my sister's daughter Windveer!" She raised her head and smiled. "I have not seen her family in many, many turns. We thought them all dead long ago!"

Silverfox looked at No-Berries. He showed no recognition himself of Sweetwind, but he was beaming to see his mother smile. It had caused quite a transformation, 'Fox thought, to hear this news of lost family. She took the other woman's hands into her own.

"Vinetreasure, I plan to take this meat back to the Holt quickly, and its hide belongs to you and your son. It will travel much better all in one piece, so please come with me, both of you, and I will see that you meet with Sweetwind upon our arrival."

Vinetreasure nodded, and No-Berries said slyly, "It will travel much better, my friend, if we remove the most perishable cuts right now."

'Fox smiled in return. "It is past time for our dinner, isn't it?"

She turned back to the travois to cut some meat off the buck. Vinetreasure saw her limp and exclaimed, "You've been hurt!"

"It's nothing, really. Just a bruise."

"You poor thing! Let me get you some numb-pod to chew." Vinetreasure went into the den and searched through a pack. 'Fox almost could not believe that the elf who pressed the pain-killing shreds of plant matter into her hands with such officious bustle was the same lost soul who had greeted them originally.

However, Vinetreasure reverted after their meal, staring motionlessly into the campfire. No-Berries stared too, but with fascination: neither of the two elves had seen a campfire before. No-Berries asked 'Fox what the Holt was like and they talked for quite a while. Finally they curled up in the den to sleep. Vinetreasure remained motionless, staring into the dying fire, long after.

Torch looked up from where he sat weaving some rope, to see Silverfox returning from her hunt, bringing more than just meat back to Eight-of-Dreams Holt. Two strangers were with her, a male and a female. The male helped 'Fox tug a blackneck carcass over to a convenient spot for butchering and the two began unloading the carcass from their travois. Torch turned his attention instead to the female, who was setting down her packs and looking around. The firestarter smiled and his blue-gray eyes widened appreciatively. Her mottled blue-and-white tunic and her thigh-high boots both fit her like a second skin. Her legs were beautifully curvaceous and led his eyes upward to a shapely body. A bit smaller in the breast than average, but it looked good on her. Her large, dark blue-green eyes were as deep and expressive as a doe's as she slowly turned her head, taking in the Mother Tree, the rivers and the clearing.

Torch couldn't resist the chance to meet this beauty, so he got up and approached her. Getting closer, he could see that her tunic and leathers were stained and her long loose curls were tangled and matted. No matter, thought the muscular firestarter, I'm sure I was a sight worse than that when Treesong and Dreamstealer pulled me out of the river and brought me into the Holt. "Greetings, mistress sky-tunic!" he called. "Welcome to Eight-of-Dreams!"

Her eyes turned to him, but held little more expression than they had when they had been surveying the landscape. Unprepared for such a blank response, Torch threw himself to his knees at her feet and spread his arms as if in appeal. "Can I give ye something to comfort you after your journey? A skin of the finest melon wine, to soothe your throat? A song to please your pretty ears whilst you look about the place?" Still expressionless, she turned her head and Torch's gaze followed hers to Silverfox and the male, who were approaching.

"Torch, these are Sweetwind's kin," Silverfox introduced. "No-Berries and his mother, Vinetreasure. This is Torch, our best tanner, and perhaps he'll tan that blackneck hide for you, if you don't make too many faces at his singing."

No-Berries said, "A minstrel is always well met. We must hear you sometime," and took hold of his mother's hand. When she said nothing, he squeezed her hand a little and added, "Come on, Mother. Make an effort."

Vinetreasure managed a quick little smile for Torch, then, as if that mere action had warmed her up a little, echoed with genuine feeling, "It's good to meet you." But before the blankness had entirely left her face, Torch suddenly recognized it. It was the same look he'd seen before in the eyes of an elf from his old holt who'd suffered the death of his Recognized lifemate.

While opening his mouth to reply, the awkwardness of his situation struck him and he got to his feet, speechless. Fortunately Silverfox filled the gap. "Torch, go and get Sweetwind while I search for Dreamchant, will you?" Overjoyed at this excuse to run away, he grinned sheepishly at the two plains elves and headed for the Mother Tree. Sweetwind was often to be found there at this time of the day, preparing an evening meal.

Silverfox collected Dreamchant just in time to witness the reunion. Torch must not have told Sweetwind much, for when the brown-haired archer was halfway across the clearing, she dropped the basket in her hand and, with a yelp of excitement, began running.

"Vinetreasure! Aunt!!" she exclaimed. Silverfox noted that, although No-Berries showed no recognition of Sweetwind, he beamed to see her excitement mirrored on his mother's face.

"It's true! It is you, Windveer! After so many turns, we thought you dead!"

If Sweetwind hadn't dropped the basket, it would have been crushed flat between the two elf women as they ran into each other's arms. It would have been further flattened like a dry leaf as the two squeezed each other in a tight embrace.

**I'm called Sweetwind now, Aunt, and my arms hold you with joy!** The three-fingered elf had to send, for she had no breath to speak. At last she broke away and, gasping, cried, "I missed you all so much! I tried many times to find my way home. I needed your sense of direction, Vinetreasure, for I had no idea which way to go to seek the veldt."

"You were lost, all these turns? But what happened to my sister, Night-touch-day? And your father, and your brother?"

"Dead." Sweetwind lowered her eyes. The presence of her aunt brought to life a time long gone. A little of the anger from that time flared up. "That steaming hairball Longjaw! He told us how to find these creatures called trolls, told us they were friendly traders. They weren't - they killed my parents and Shatterflint without even looking at us. Then they tortured me, trying to get something from me that I couldn't give them. They live underground - dragged me around under there for days and days. When I escaped, I had no idea how to get back."

'Treasure, reflecting, began, "Longjaw disappeared about the same time as you -" then gasped as, grasping her niece's hands in hers, she felt something amiss. She held up Sweetwind's right hand. "Your finger!"

"The trolls did that."

"Oh, you poor dear!" She began tugging the three-fingered glove off.

"Leave it - there's nothing but a scar. But, 'Treasure, how came you here?" For the first time she looked over at her other tribemate. She broke into a grin. "This one's your son, isn't it? He's Flake-Ears' get, or I'm a swiftcat with no spots!" She reached out to playfully pinch the youth's large ear. "Where is Flake-Ears?"

A horrified expression transformed 'Treasure's face, and she looked as if she were about to cry. Sweetwind didn't need to be told. She pulled her aunt into a second embrace, gentler this time. "He's gone, isn't he."

"Just one turn of the seasons ago," spoke up her cousin. "Bellyrot. It was bad." He moved forward and put his hand on his mother's back. "That's why we've taken up traveling. We needed to do something... to do something different."

Sweetwind only then noticed that 'Treasure was wearing the sweetgrass armbands that had belonged to her mate. She was afraid to ask after her other cousin, but without prompting her aunt murmured, "We lost Hawk-Eye too, she was gored on a hunt. That was before No-Berries was born. He is ever my comfort." 'Treasure turned to her son and took his hand. An admiring smile lit her face momentarily. "Isn't he just the picture of his father?"

"Yes, just a bit leaner," agreed Sweetwind.

"And much more talkative," added her newfound cousin with an impish grin.

"No-Berries?" Sweetwind turned the name into a question.

"Oh," 'Treasure recalled with a chuckle, "he was born when the longthorn bushes began to bear fruit, I couldn't spare any time that season to harvest them and make the special honeyed dried berries."

"Flake-Ears' favorite," recalled Sweetwind.

"Yes. He stretched out the previous turn's supplies to last a while longer, but they were gone by the time we met with my parents. In his speak-little way, the only thing he had to tell them about our little bundle of happiness was, 'No berries!'"

Sweetwind chuckled. She could picture the scene as if she had been there. "I've missed everyone on the veldt so much."

"Come with us now!" urged 'Treasure. "Perhaps we will go back there!"

"Oh, no, you must stay here with me!" exclaimed Sweetwind. "The weather is very bad in the coming season - they call it the white cold in these parts. Winter in the Holt with me before you think of traveling any further."

No-Berries looked at his mother, as if gauging what were best for her, then wrapped his arms around himself and feigned a shiver. "Didn't I say it was getting colder, Mother? Let's settle here with Sweetwind, for a while at least."

Vinetreasure easily acceded. As she bent to pick up her pack, the black-clad elf who had been watching their reunion stepped up. "I am the Chieftess, Dreamchant," she said. "Welcome to our Holt. I hope you will find this a place of healing."

Sweetwind thought, I hope you will find, like me, that this is home.