Moving Day

"Wolfsong rises, distant, clear;
High Ones hear its plaintive cry..."
Dreamsinger played his six-stringed lute and sang "Timmain's Choice" to the small group of appreciative elves. They were gathered around a large flat stone near the Mother Tree which was often used as a table by those doing craftwork. For now, they paused in their tasks to enjoy the haunting music. Dreamchant set aside the half-cured fur she was working on to sing the female voice. Next to her, her lifemate Wolf Blade listened dreamily, still stroking their son's head, his haircut only half finished. Across the stone, Nightwind's long, supple fingers lay still over the deergut strings she was trimming, and little Longfox, her son of one turn, gurgled happily and reached for the twisting, shimmering images in the air. Sweetwind marveled at his receptivity: what a Dreamer he would be when he was grown! She herself had to concentrate hard to see Dreamsinger's magical projections.

Since she was nearly finished resoling her boots, however, Sweetwind bent her head once more to her task, thinking just another stitch or two would complete it. She was dismayed, then, when she bit off the last thread, to hear that the song was nearly over. Why is it that the last chords of a song always sound the sweetest? she thought.

When the final notes died away, Dreamsinger left to serenade elsewhere. The elves returned to their tasks. Longfox, though, wanted to play and wasn't letting Nightwind get anything done.

Sweetwind asked, "Shall I play with him for a while?"

"Oh, please," replied Nightwind. "If you could distract him until I get some harpstrings cut, it would be the greatest help." Sweetwind picked up the toddler and carried him back to her spot. When she set him down next to her protective swiftcat Stifler, he dropped his rattle and grabbed for her cobbling needle.

"Oh no you don't," the elf said quickly, her three-fingered hand moving the sharp brightmetal needle out of reach. The child screwed up his face to cry but Sweetwind offered him her shiny thimble instead. His big blue eyes widened and he took the thimble. He started to put it in his mouth. Alarmed, Sweetwind grabbed her last remaining tool, the polished wooden bulb she had stuck inside the boot to hold its shape, and offered that to the child instead. He dropped the thimble and took the bulb. The green-eyed elf whisked needle and thimble out of sight, then picked up the child's rattle. Longfox dropped the bulb and reached for the rattle. But when Sweetwind picked up the bulb, he wanted it again, dropping the rattle. They played the 'give-me' game, exchanging the rattle and the bulb, for a while, the adult elf nearly as engrossed as the infant was. She noticed, however, that he had nearly outgrown the little sleeveless smock he wore. It was an old one of Dreamlight's from when she was that size - which explained the many stains and patches in the leather.

Just then Torch sauntered up and dropped a large leaf-wrapped bundle onto the craft-table stone. "The fruits of my winnings!" he announced smugly. "Look at this!"

Dreamchant and Sweetwind watched as he ripped the leafy covering away to reveal a soft, freshly-tanned hide. The two maidens nodded admiringly at this example of the tanner's skill, but Torch himself gasped.

"What!?!! That cheating sack of giblets! Mushbutt guaranteed that dye would come out as red as blood, not this mucky brown!"

"That's what trusting a troll will get you," stated Sweetwind knowingly.

Dreamchant laughed. "Did it ever occur to you to try the dye on a scrap before ruining a whole hide?"

But Sweetwind was fingering the leather with interest. Despite Torch's description, it was not a displeasing shade, being a medium reddish-brown. Longfox once more grabbed with his long reach for what was in her hand, and tried to stuff the corner of the leather in his mouth. In fact, the leather was just the foxfur color of the child's hair. Inspiration stuck her.

"I'll give you that raw hide I have stretching now for this one," she proposed.

"Done," said Torch quickly, already thinking how he would get another batch of dye from the troll - one that worked this time.

"What do you want with that one?" asked Wolf Blade scornfully. "It's too mucked up to overdye."

"It's fine the way it is!" replied Sweetwind, wrapping it around Longfox. "See, it matches his hair perfectly. Nightwind, may I make an outfit for him?"

The healer stood and gathered her son, still wrapped in the leather. "Did you hear that, little 'Fox? She's going to make you your first new clothes! No more hand-me-downs for you!" She turned to Sweetwind, her blue eyes beaming. "You're wonderful, Sweetwind. Thank you."

As Sweetwind dashed up to her hollow high in the Mother Tree to get her sewing supplies, Torch sent after her, **You can forget about the trade. Take the leather as my gift to Longfox.** He gallantly brushed off Nightwind's thanks, saying only, "We redheads have to stick together."

When Sweetwind returned and was measuring the squirming Longfox with a knotted string (a trick she'd learned from Winterleaf), Wolf Blade asked, "What's wrong with your bondbeast?" She pointed with her namesake shortsword to indicate Stifler. All heads turned to look at the swiftcat, who was laying quietly as he had been for some time.

'Blade continued: "That's the first time I've ever seen you go anywhere that your spotted cat didn't follow you like a burr on your behind."

Sweetwind turned to her dearest bondbeast in concern. Taking his muzzle into her hands, she looked into his green eyes and inquired, **Why not follow me like always?**

**Know elf-friend come right back...** he twisted his head away from her. **... too hard climb so high.** At this admission of weakness Sweetwind felt sick in her belly. She'd studiously ignored the grey hairs appearing in his muzzle, and she'd attributed the seeming stiffness in his limbs recently to simply the contrast with her newer bondbeast's supple kittenish ones. But she could deny it no longer... "He's getting old," she said sadly. "The climb to my hollow is getting to be too much for him."

The others were silent; but for Torch, all the adults present had animal-friends who were about as old as Stifler, and would have to face this realization soon themselves. Dreamchant spoke up. "There's no point in making him climb the Tree every day. You should move to a lower hollow."

"Yes, you'll need some extra space anyway," said 'Blade absently.

"You're right, my hollow is cramped now that Cloudfront is nearly full grown," reflected Sweetwind.

'Chant looked sharply at her lifemate. She recognized from the tone, and the look on 'Blade's face, that the comment came from the source of 'Blade's future-seeing abilities. "What did you mean by that, beloved?"

"Huh? I don't know."

'Chant sighed. Perhaps it was no more than that one of Sweetwind's lovers would tree with her soon, or perhaps... the chieftess-healer stepped over to where Sweetwind sat with her swiftcat, and placed her hands on the preoccupied elf's shoulders. Entering the lightest healing trance, she probed quickly - no, it was not a cub on the way that 'Blade had foreseen. Oh, well, it was no matter.

"All the ground level hollows are occupied now, but the suite above Wind and Whistle's is very easy to get to. It's a good size, too. I recommend you move into it without delay." She turned her attention to the swiftcat. "He's been a lot more active since you bonded with Cloudfront, so he won't miss the exercise."

The green-clad archer nodded, and it was decided.

Moving her belongings was no problem: half the Holt pitched in to help. Each elf grabbed an armload and dropped it any old place in the new rooms. Sweetwind knew a moment of terror when she saw that Wind had decided to move the cherished green clearstone statuette that Heat had made for her; sure enough, he stumbled down the steep tree-tunnel and the statuette would have been broken had Whistle not been there to catch it. (If Whistle got an extra-big helping of the next meal Sweetwind prepared, no one needed to ask why.) She also knew a moment of delight when Dreampeace and Treesong stepped aside from one of the corners in the largest room of her new suite to reveal a little window-garden of nosejoys and purples in full bloom.

When all the items had been moved, she was left alone in the three-chamber suite to put everything in order. But the rooms were full of sunshine, and the delicious scents from the plantshapers' gift, and organizing seemed too dull a task. Sweetwind picked up Torch's soft leather and, rummaging around, found her sewing basket. The novel idea she'd had for little Longfox's outfit was too exciting to be put aside. I'll wager even Winterleaf has never made anything like this, she thought to herself. Stifler and Cloudfront wrestled a bit, then Stifler napped in the sun while Cloudfront groomed herself meticulously and the elf cut and stitched.

The pleasant task occupied her until the sun was well past its midpoint in the sky and her stomach was growling as loud as Moontracker's snores. Nearly finished with the garment, she decided to eat before delivering it.

In the kitchen Wind was preparing pheasant so she grabbed a drumstick and, perched upon the counter top, proceeded to stuff her face. Winterleaf stepped in from the doorway that led directly to the Holt clearing. As he began gathering up some stuff, without losing his characteristic calmness he complained, "Why is it that the kitchen isn't connected to the rest of the Mother Tree? It's part of the Tree but you have to step outside and then enter the kitchen by another door. There ought to be a door connecting the kitchen to the main corridor since it's right behind that wall there!"

Wind replied, "It's like this, 'Leaf. Some of the Wolfrider elves have never taken to the idea of eating cooked meat. Not to name names -"

"Moontracker," muttered Sweetwind through a mouthful.

"- but some even claim that the smell of meat cooking makes them ill. When there was a door from the kitchen to the rest of the Mother Tree, there were complaints about the smell. So the treeshapers closed up the door. I appreciate it myself, actually, when Spice cooks up one of her garlic dishes."

"Or when she leaves a bucket of fish guts under the counter for two days," added Sweetwind darkly.

"Lay off her, Sweetwind, that was over a turn of the seasons ago. What's making you so testy all of a sudden? You were sweet as your name this morning when I almost broke your statue."

"Haven't eaten all day. There's a big empty space inside."

"Here, fill it up." The blond-haired cook stuffed the other drumstick into her mouth.

"What's that you've got?" asked Winterleaf, intrigued by the little bundle of newly-tanned leathers.

"Oh, I want you to see that!" exclaimed Sweetwind. "Give me a moment to finish eating, and you can help me deliver it!"

It had slipped Sweetwind's mind that the nocturnal Wolfrider should have been asleep at this time. Unhappily for Nightwind, but fortunately for the two makers who dropped by, Longfox had had a nightmare. Sweetwind and Winterleaf found the gentle healer comforting her son, singing a soft lullaby, while Moontracker, oblivious, snored on in the furs. When 'Fox's tears turned to hiccups, his mother, seeing Sweetwind's intent, peeled off his old tunic and handed him to the plains-born elf. Longfox was calm while the seamstress put his new outfit on and began making the final adjustments.

The fox-colored leather had been made into a footed, hooded body suit which included large, triangular ears and a stuffed tail with a white tip. Now the cub really looked like his namesake animal.

Nightwind gasped with delight. "It's darling!"

Winterleaf nodded his head in approval of the design. "That's a very creative idea, Sweetwind." He bent to help her tie up the final stitches on the sides. "But tell me, why didn't you use a real fox's brush for the tail?"

Nightwind laughed. "I know why. A fox carcass is the wolfpack's favorite toy. A real brush wouldn't last long being dragged around behind my toddler!"

Sweetwind added, "Yeah, haven't you seen how cautious Redbolt has to be around the wolves?" She completed the adjustments to the long mitten-sleeves and removed them, for the weather was not yet that cold. Longfox picked up his rattle and happily basked in the attention of the three adults.

Leaving Nightwind's hollow, Sweetwind gave an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion. "What a day! I resoled my boots, moved, and made a whole outfit, and the day's not over yet. I ought to clean out my old hollow and straighten up the new one, but first I'm going to take a nice relaxing bath. Then I think I'll find Torch or Wind and 'break in' my new sleeping pit - unless," she waggled her eyebrow teasingly, "you feel up to the job."

"No, no, sorry," Winterleaf replied with a chuckle, "I have to save what I've got for Nightfire, or I'll come up wanting."

"The last thing the Holt needs is for Nightfire to be frustrated," tossed Sweetwind over her shoulder with amusement as she turned into her new chamber. The sunshine had moved across the floor and now it shone where the sleepfurs had been hastily tossed in a heap. As the weary maiden gathered up bath things to take to the Waterfall, her faithful swiftcat settled down on the heated furs. Catching sight of him as she turned to go, she saw how comfortable he looked. What a shame it would be for him to have to follow her all the way to the Waterfall. Her belly clenched a little at the reminder she'd had today of his mortality.

"No, no bath for me," she murmured. Climbing onto the furs herself, she stretched out alongside Stifler and began stroking him. "I'll sunbathe with you instead."

Later Cloudfront squeezed in through one of the windows and together they all enjoyed the fading sunshine, while it lasted.