First Impressions
The distant chatter of birdsong woke him. He opened his eyes to the gentle illumination of cloud-filtered sunlight reflecting off the crystal walls. When he’d fallen asleep it had been dark, and the only sound outside their window had been the gentle shush of a downpour.
They were back in the Great Holt, he realized drowsily, and they had slept half the day away. Or perhaps a night and a day. They could hardly be blamed.
He tried to rise up on one elbow, then abandoned the effort. He felt too contentedly weary. Instead he slid his arm around his mate and snuggled against the warmth of her back. But when she murmured a sound of pleasure into her pillow, he could not resist waking her with open-mouthed kisses across her shoulders.
She lifted her head with a soft sigh, and rolled over to gaze up at him with eyes hazy with love. He saw the moment when she woke up completely – the sudden alertness that sparked in her eyes when she realized this was no dream. He felt the surge of adrenaline in his own veins through their psychic link.
So this was think-talk! No wonder she’d been so eager to teach him.
She smiled knowingly, and he knew she had felt his spark of awareness in turn. He could almost hear her voice ringing in his ears, a lilting caress.
I told you so…
“D-don’t you look so smug,” he admonished, attempting mock-sternness. He only suceeded in stammering.
“I can’t help it.” When he bent his head to nuzzle his scars against her neck, she all but purred in contentment. “Is… mmm, is it possible to die from sheer joy?”
He chuckled against her throat.“If it was, I’d be dead already. And you’d have to bring me back again,” he kissed his way along her jawline, “and again, and again.”
He teased that spot at the base of her ear that always tickled her, that prompted that girlish giggle she saved just for him. Even as cubs, he’d been the only one who could draw out that particular sound.
He remembered…
They both stilled, and Mel tilted her head to gaze up at him gravely. “How much do you remember… from before?”
“All of it. Like… like it was yesterday.”
“And from after?”
“All of it too! It feels… it feels like when you brought me dreamberry wine. And everything is all so clear at once. Like all my life was lived in one day. Like my head is spinning,” he admitted bashfully.
“It’s the starstone,” Mel whispered in awe. “It’s in your blood now.”
He broke into helpless laughter. “But I hate magic!”
She smiled up at him tenderly, as she brushed the hair out of his face. “You don’t need to. Not anymore.”
“No…” he admitted. He had always feared the unseen world, and the ghost that hid just beyond his memories. Magic had meant a part of Melati he could never reach, and a name he had always dreaded. But now he knew to the deepest reaches of her soul, and now that name held no fear for him. He knew it for his own.
Once again, Mel’s thoughts seemed to follow his exactly, and her expression turned oddly timid. “What… what do I call you now?”
“Lifemate?” he suggested with an innocent lift of his brow. Mel gave a fistful of hair a playful tug.
“You know what I mean!” Cheeks flushed and eyes pleading, she looked downright embarrassed. It was a delicious look on her.
He took pity on her and gave the question serious thought. “I’ve been Beast much longer than I’ve been Yosha,” he decided at length. His gaze drifted to the clawed hand braced on the bed by her head. Yosha was the name his mother had given him. Beast was the name he’d given himself – the elf he’d made of himself. Master of the Shapechanged, he thought with pride.
“Can’t go back,” he concluded. “Don’t want to go back.”
The lingering unease left her face. She understood all that he had left unsaid. Then he felt his cheeks flame in turn as he confessed, “But… I wouldn’t mind if you called me Yosha… now and then.”
She understood that too. She ran a fingertip along his scarred scalp, following that familiar route that always made him shiver. “Yosha…” she whispered deliberately, her voice smoky. Then she cocked an eyebrow. “Now who’s smug?”
He grinned. “Can’t help it. You know I hated the idea of him. Hated that he’d had this body first. Hated that you loved him first. You chose me,” he added quickly, before she could protest. “You called me ‘lifemate’ and you made me so happy… but you always remembered him.” He felt the smile falter as he relived the depths of his resentment. “And I didn’t want you to. Winnowill told me ‘You never forget your first love.’ And I hated that he still had some part of your heart. Even a little piece. I didn’t want to share you with anyone. Especially not him.”
Then the grin returned. “But now I know: he was me and I was him ,and that means I always had your heart – all of it!”
“Always,” Mel vowed. “Beast… I used to tell myself some part of Yosha lived on in you. And I told myself that I didn’t love Yosha – truly love him – until I saw his reflection in you. I tied myself in knots trying to explain it all. I should have just trusted what everyone always said about us. Our souls were one from the start.”
“One… but now we’re more.” He shifted to the side so he could rest his clawed hand on her belly. Mel covered it with her own, interlacing their fingers.
“Can you feel it?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s barely more than a spark now… but it’s there. The healer in me is screaming: a cellular anomaly, born of two different matrices… and infused with starstone. It shouldn’t exist, but it does. We made it exist!”
“Is it a boy… or a girl – do you know? Do you tell what it will look like?”
Melati laughed at his eagerness. “Not yet. I told you – it’s only a single stirring. Give it some time. Soon it will take root properly, and our cells will be able to speak to each other. And what you rather have, mmm?”
“I don’t care which, as long as its ours! Yours and mine and no one’s else’s!”
She lifted their clasped hands to her heart. They lay together in contented silence, and he might have drifted back to sleep, were it not for a faint buzzing at the back of his mind.
“What is that?” he asked.
Mel lifted her head. “It’s an open sending…” her eyes widened, “from Cricket.”
Cricket! The name conjured the memory of a face, of a voice, and suddenly Beast heard the sending clearly in his head: the tentative call of someone loathe to rouse his friends from their daysleep. **Hello…? Anyone home?**
Beast sprang up from the bed, his drowsiness forgotten. “Cricket! I have to go – have to see!”
He was halfway to the door when Mel called out, “Clothes!”
* * *
Leathers on, Beast raced down the hallway towards the Palace atrium. The door was open; he could smell the thick ozone of a recent rainshower. A few elves milled in the entryway, speaking in hushed voices to avoid disturbing the many warriors who were still sleeping off the previous night’s ordeal.
He paused on the stairway leading down into the atrium. He spotted Cricket just inside the doorway, approaching Cholla. A rush of memories four thousand years old struck him: the anticipation of waiting outside the Palace, the thrill when he spotted his sire step out into the sunlight at Oasis.
“PAPA!” the cry tore from his throat before he could stop himself.
Cricket turned, looked up at him in bemusement. But Beast was already in motion. He all but flew down the stairs in his haste. He caught Cricket up in his arms and swung him around as easily as he might a child.
“Oh, Papa, I have so much to tell you!”
“Wha- Beast, wait!” Cricket staggered to find his footing again. He looked up at Beast, and Beast felt a sudden unease. He had forgotten how much taller he was than his sire now.
But where Mel had taken long moments to process the change, Cricket seemed to understand immediately. His deep blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, and a faint sending brushed against Beast’s consciousness.
**No…**
**Yes!** Beast sent back. Cricket’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and suddenly he was the one crushing Beast’s ribs in a savage hug.
**My cub! My little boy!** He buried his face in the crook of Beast’s shoulder as he thumped him heartily on the back. **Drukk it – here I said I knew you weren’t him, and you have to go and make a liar out of me!**
**But you know it’s me now?**
Cricket was laughing and weeping at once. **A father never forgets his cub’s sending.**
“Father…” Beast set Cricket back at arm’s length and beamed at him. “You’re going to be a grandfather now!”
Surprise registered on his features, but only for an instant. “Of course I am! Should have known – you two have been waiting long enough; it figures you wouldn’t waste any more time.”
“I feel like I’ve been living my life half-asleep. But I’m awake now! I’ve never felt more awake.”
Cricket staggered back, gazing up at Beast proudly. “I can see it. And I’ve never been one to see magic – but you’re all but crackling with it. Oh, look at you, cub. I lost you as a stripling, and now you’re on your way to becoming a High One. Just wait until your mother hears about this!”
Beast’s heart sank at the mention of Maleen. The first memory to surface was not one from Yosha’s childhood, but from a fight less than a moon-dance past.
“Oh scat! Mother!”
* * *
Three days later, he paced restlessly inside the Scroll Chamber, waiting for Cricket to return. A short walk would take him to the door of the Palace, and the world of Oasis beyond. But he was not ready for that walk yet.
The Palace had stayed in the Great Holt for a night and two days, while Swift shared her experiences with the entire Circle, and Beast struggled to find some excuse not to meet Maleen. Just thinking of their past encounter made him physically ill. He didn’t know what hurt more: the memory of his claws about her throat, or the look of despair in her eyes.
It wasn’t my fault, he told himself. I didn’t know her then. And she was hurting Mel. She shouldn’t have hurt Mel.
Then the Palace made a quick flight to the Egg to drop off Aurek and his family. Beast was sorry to see Weatherbird and Bluestar go. They promised to come visit soon, once they had seen to matters at the College. Beast tried to content himself with that. They had interrupted their own lives enough for his sake, after all.
And what about his own life? Where would he and Mel go now? He had learned what had happened in Oasis after their brief visit: Arshel’s protests and Haken’s ultimatum. Mel seemed quite pleased with the outcome: “We’ll start a new life on Homestead,” she said. “Among those who understand us. Just think, our child could be the first elf born on a new world.”
But did the High Ones and the Red Snakes understand them? How could they, when Beast couldn’t still couldn’t quite understand himself. Part of him wanted to run back to his childhood hut, trying to match memories to relics. Part of him wanted to return to the Cinder Pools and play with his jackrunners. Part of him wanted to stay in the green of the Great Holt forever, and make a life far away from all of his past.
Perhaps Homestead was the best option, though when he tried to imagine living under a moonless sky he felt distinctly uneasy.
He heard voices in the corridor. Had the ordeal come? No, it was only Swift and Haken. Beast hid himself behind the now-empty throne in front of the Scroll. He had grown to like Swift, but Haken had made him nervous as Yosha and doubly so as Beast.
The elves did not enter the Scroll Chamber – Cricket had probably warned them off – but as they passed the doorway, Beast clearly made out their conversation.
“…Gotta say, you’re about the only wolf in the world who could win a challenge by showing throat.”
“I will choose to take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is. I just don’t know if you realize how much you’ve bitten off.”
“I have over two hundred elves fighting for place in the first wave of colonists. A group I swore would not exceed sixty-four. Believe me, I am well awake of this particular mouthful.”
“Sixty-four still seems big to me. Face it, Haken: apart from a few fly-outs you and Skywise did way back when, you have no idea what you’re landing on.”
“Which is why the Ark must begin its survey work immediately…”
The voices moved off. Beast resumed his pacing, his tail twitching irritably.
“Just let me warm her up,” Cricket had told him. “And if it gets too hard, you just give me a sign.”
He tried to imagine what Cricket was now telling her. He could almost hear Cricket’s jaunty, carefree voice: Hey, remember that giant lizard-elf who almost smashed your head in and screamed over and over that he wasn’t your son brought back to life? Surprise!
“You don’t have to say much. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”
Mother, I’m very sorry I nearly killed you…
Maleen, I know you won’t believe me, but it’s good to see you again…
I’m sorry I went climbing after dark, Mama. Please, don’t be angry with Mel…
He heard footsteps, and Cricket’s gentle voice. He turned.
“Ah, here he is…” Cricket urged, as he lead Maleen into the Scroll Chamber. Beast stared at her, feeling like a cornered ravvit. She had changed so much from his childhood memories. Her face was harder, her eyes more guarded, her mouth tight and bracketed by thin lines. Even her clothing had changed: gone were the sleek cotton tunics and short dresses, replaced by woven leather pieces that looked more like armor. She guarded herself now.
“Mother…” he breathed.
Maleen flinched at the word. “You told me I wasn’t. You said you weren’t my son.”
“I’m sorry.”
Cricket whispered something in her ear, but she didn’t seem be listening. She studied Beast with wary eyes. **Mother,** he tried in sending, but she held up her hand to stop him.
“No!” she cried. “No, you can’t do that! You’re not allowed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My son died on the cliffs just outside. I mourned him and I learned to live without him. And then this…” her lip curled back in a sneer, “stranger comes here, wearing his skin and speaking in a monster’s voice.”
“Maleen–” Cricket began. But she stepped forward, trembling with emotion.
“And I mourned my son all over again, do you understand? It was like ripping open an old scar. And I’m trying to close it… and now you come back and you say you are Yosha, and you call me…” she struggled to speak as her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. “They said you couldn’t send, but you call me – and your voice isn’t his – it isn’t! But you send – and I hear him–”
**Mother,** he sent again.
Maleen’s expression crumpled into a rictus of grief and recognition. **Yosha! My Yosha!**
“Mama–” he held out a hand, it was all it took to make her break. She staggered into his arms, sobbing his name.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” And he meant more than the attack.
“My son! Why did you stay away so long?”
“I came back as soon as I could.” But that wasn’t true. Perhaps he could have found himself much sooner if he hadn’t been so stubborn. If he had let Mel try to heal him instead of insisting she abandon the memory of Yosha. If he hadn’t been so afraid of returning to Oasis.
She wept on his shoulder for what seemed like an eternity. She was so tiny in his arms. When he’d first died, she’d still been taller than him.
At length Maleen recovered. She stepped back, wiping at her nose and her mouth until Cricket produced a small cotton cloth. She took it with a grateful look and dabbed at her face. “You always know what to do, you wretched old wolf,” she scoffed, and Beast heard the affection under the rebuke. For a moment he began to hope the worst was already behind them.
“How did this happen?” Maleen asked him.
He tried to explain, as best he could, the fight with Kahvi and the Palacestone crumbling inside his fist. Maleen could only shake her head in amazement.
“I still don’t understand.”
“What does it matter?” Cricket asked. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Our lad is back and we’re not going to lose him again, are we?”
“My son…” Maleen reached towards Beast’s face, then checked herself. “I can barely see him in you.”
“I grew up,” Beast said with an awkward shrug.
“You certainly did,” Maleen said with a humorless laugh. “How did you ever get so tall?”
He shrugged again. “Mel kept growing. I guess I did too.” He saw the shadow that crossed Maleen’s eyes when he mentioned the name. He looked down at his feet so he wouldn’t have to face her disapproval. “These helped,” he admitted, lifting one lizard-paw.
“Oh, never mind those,” Maleen took his hand – his left, unblemished one – in both of hers. “Now that you’re back you can forget all about them.” A tremulous smile lit her up face. “Leetah can put you back together properly and–”
“What?” Beast pulled his hand free of hers. She gave a start of surprise at the rejection.
“Well! You don’t really want to walk around looking like one of Melati’s ‘creations’, do you?” a roll of the eyes made her feelings on the Shapechanged abundantly clear. “I don’t know what even possessed her to do it–”
“I asked for these,” Beast countered sharply.
That gave Maleen momentary pause. She studied him carefully. “Beast asked for them, surely. But you’re not Beast anymore.”
The words struck him hard. He reeled, momentarily speechless.
“Of course he is!” Cricket snapped, his voice like a bolt of skyfire. “High Ones, Maleen! He’s had a whole life out there without us, you can’t expect him to just forget it all!”
“A life as that snake’s halfwit plaything. Master of the Shapechanged – paugh!”
“Stop it!” Beast commanded. “Don’t talk about her like that! And I’m not her plaything, I’m her lifemate. I love her and she loves me – she brought me back when no one else could, and she loves Beast – not just Yosha. And I am still Beast – I’ll always be Beast and I’ll always be proud of it. And…” he found himself shrinking under Maleen’s piercing glare, “and w-we’re Recognized now… a-and if our child wants a tail or claws or wings one day, then good!” he blurted out. “Tails are useful! You’d know if you tried one!”
Maleen took in his outburst in silence. Slowly her expression changed from confusion to a resigned sort of acceptance. “All right, Yosha. I hear you.” She tried to smile. “I suppose it’s not really so different from Bonebat’s wings, is it?” But then she turned her gaze on the left side of his face and again she looked anguished. “But you will have her smooth those out, won’t you?” she gestured to the twisted scar tissue.” I don’t know how she can bear it. It makes my blood run cold to see such ugly reminders–”
He didn’t hear the rest of it. His mind latched onto that one damning word. Ugly. His own mother thought him ugly.
Quick as a wink, Cricket caught hold of Maleen’s wrist. “He’s not ugly!” he burst out, an enraged wolf. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t mean–” Maleen sputtered. Her eyes had grown large again, as she realized the impact of her own words. “Yosha–” she began.
“I told you, my name is Beast now!” he spat back.
“What kind of name is that for an elf?”
“It’s the one I choose!” Beast thumped his chest with his clawed fist.
“You–” Maleen began, but Cricket seized her firmly by the elbow.
“Give us a moment, Beast,” he said cheerfully, before he hauled Maleen away, ignoring her squirms of discomfort.
“Why do you always have to make everything worse?” he hissed under his breath.
Beast watched one parent drag the other out of the Scroll Chamber. A long miserable sigh escaped him. The sight of him made her blood run cold. After such a verdict, there was really nothing else to say.
* * *
Cricket returned later, his usual optimism only slightly strained. “Give your mama a little time. And don’t judge her too harshly. You have to remember – she’s changed over the years almost as much as you have. Losing Ruffel… and then you so soon afterwards… well, her scars run just as deep than yours. Deeper, maybe. And her scars are more than just a matter of appearance.”
“Do I really look so ugly?” He had a vague memory of being once displeased with his scars, but Mel had always lavished such praise and attention on them, that for years he couldn’t quite remember why. They were just another element of adornment, along with his spines and scales and claws.
Cricket did not hesitate. “You look like a ‘Beast’ ought to look: formidable! Fearsome when you want to be. Tough as brightmetal. You’re… the Timmon Yellow-Eyes of the desert. Master of the Shapechanged!” he said the title in tones of awe, not derision. “Maleen wants a little dunecat kitling to cuddle. Just give her time.”
Beast nodded glumly. He was brave enough to face down any predator. He had killed the immortal Kahvi barehanded. He could be brave enough to weather his mother’s disapproval.
He considered seeking out Mel, but he knew she wasn’t the one to help him this time. She had never known the love of her birth parents, nor the disapproval of her adopted ones. She would probably tell him to cast Maleen out of his heart as easily as she had cast Pool out of hers. And the last thing he wanted to do was reinflame the simmering animosity between the two elf-women.
Mel was busy with Haken anyway, drawing up plans for the move to Homestead. Apparently Haken had agreed with the rebels that she would not be allowed inside Oasis, but as the Palace was considered neutral territory, he could meet with her at inside at their leisure.
How dare they seek to exile her? Did they not realize all she had done for them?
But as far as Beast knew, no one had made any promises to keep him penned.
The sun was setting outside. No one loitered around the open door of the Palace. He peeked outside at the world he’d left behind four millennia past. Finding the coast clear, he took a few cautious steps forward.
The flat outside Tallest Spire was much as he remembered it. But Tallest Spire itself had changed: its contours leaner, its balconies subtly altered. The first line of huts beside the feast grounds were completely unfamiliar.
He saw a pair of villagers standing at some distance. Did he know them? The wide hat on one of them seemed familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place the name. He raised a hand in a greeting and the pair turned to flee.
He slowly prowled about the perimeter of the feasting grounds, taking in the changes. The dairy had moved, and in its place was a smaller sandstone spire filled with windows. The lanterns which hung from the poles were all of a new style. A pair of peacoos dozed in the shadow of a hut, their fan-tails sporting patterns markedly different from those at the Cinder Pools.
I’ve been away for a long time, he thought.
No one else was about; he supposed it was coming up on the supper hour. Still, he felt eyes on him from time to time. But whenever he looked, the presence withdrew. He caught sight of shadows just inside doorways. They’re hiding from me, he realized with a sinking feeling.
He went looking for his own home, but the lanes between the houses were different. The familiar landmarks were all gone. He soon got turned around and ended up close to the old jackal dens.
A stone went whizzing by him, pocking the ground a few strides away. He looked up startled to see a spindly youth with sandy-blond hair, a second stone already in hand.
“Monster!” the boy cried. “Go back to your hole in the ground!”
The second stone didn’t land any closer than the first one. But his words struck home. Beast stared long at the boy. He was the age Yosha had been.
Seeing that Beast showed no fear, the boy reached for another rock. Beast roared, a resonant howl of the desert that echoed off the rocks. The boy let out a thin whine as he ran for safety.
Beast felt a momentary triumph. But sorrow crept in quickly behind it. What would he have done at that age, confronted by a creature who seemed more animal than elf? Probably run for his mother, then boasted about stones he had never thrown.
What would his own child think, looking up at its father for the first time? Would his scars and spines frighten the newborn?
He felt dangerously exposed, prey without a pack. He needed to get back to the Palace and safety.
He turned. A trio of farmers had gatherered beside a grove of cloud-trees, watching him anxiously. Feeling petty, Beast bared his teeth and made a mock charge. They ran as quickly as the boy had. Beast took some small comfort from that. Their fear was better than Maleen’s disgust.
Fearsome when you want to be, Cricket had said. If that was all that would move these ravvits, then he would be the most fearsome monster they could imagine.
Halfway back to the Palace, he found his path blocked by an elf-maiden in red.
He stared her down, expecting her to give way. But though she stared at him with awestruck eyes, she didn’t withdraw.
He knew her. She was the same Snake who had shaken him out of wrapstuff at the Cinder Pools.
“Carrun…” he tested her name on his tongue.
“Master,” she replied earnestly.
Now other elves appeared: a flame-haired lad floated down from his perch on the cliffside; a round-faced maiden stepped out from behind a cloud-tree, beckoning to her companions. As Beast waited uncertainly, four, then five, then seven elves assembled behind Carrun. Some were nearly as tall and lanky as pureblooded Gliders, others Wolfrider-petite. But they all wore the distinctive red snakeskins, tailored to suit their personal styles.
They all gazed at him in reverent wonder.
He felt his hackles rise. This he didn’t understand. As he contemplated a counterstrike – another mock charge? A roar? – all eight elves dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
“Master of the Shapechanged,” Carrun breathed. “You have returned our lady to us. We thank you.”
“…Y-you’re welcome?” Beast said, his voice rising questioningly at the end.
A young lad behind Carrun lifted his head. “Have you come to command us?” he asked, green eyes sparkling.
Carrun shot him a warning glare and made a shushing gesture with one hand.
“Command?” Beast asked dubiously.
Beast crossed the distance between them. He studied the bowed heads. He knew Carrun, but the others were all strangers to him, except the lean Glider with burnt-auburn hair.
“Feathersnake. I remember you.”
The elf’s head came up. A proud smile played across his face before he schooled it into formality. “Yes, Master. I knew you when you were Yosha.”
Mel liked you, Beast thought, with a flash of jealousy. It soon gave way to a smug pleasure. But you never knew it. And now you bow to me.
“You said I brought Mel back to you,” Beast said hesitantly, testing the bounds of this strange power they had given him. “But we’re not staying in Oasis. We’re leaving again, soon. For Homestead.”
“Wherever you lead, we will follow,” Carrun said piously.
“If you accept our service,” the green-eyed lad behind her added.
They were all looking at him now, but not with fear, nor pity, nor even affection for the elf he had been. I knew you when you were Yosha, Feathersnake had said, but it was almost off-hand. Yosha didn’t command the loyalty of these feared warriors. Beast did.
“What is your bidding, Master?” Carrun prompted, when the silence grew uncomfortable.
Beast blinked. He could make these fighters do anything, he realized. He was as powerful as Melati in their eyes. Not a monster, not a plaything. A leader. A lord. And they were his pack.
“I… I want to know you better,” Beast said at last. “We should have supper together.” After all, a good pack always feasted together.
“Tonight. In the Palace. Mel can cook.” He saw the looks of utter stupefaction on their faces and added defensively, “She’s a good cook, you know.”
Elfquest copyright 2016 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2016 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2016 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts.