Growing Pains
Redlance looked over the four culprits with a stern gaze. Pike and Vaya averted their eyes with guilt, but Skot was defiant, and Spar sulked glumly. Redlance’s gaze lingered on his daughter the longest. He knew being chief would be hard. But he never expected he would have to discipline his own daughter for breaking one of the cardinal rules of the Holt.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Building a fire – on the ground – less than one hill away from a human encampment!”
“We were hungry...” Spar mumbled. “And deer meat just doesn’t taste the same raw...”
“We agreed! We agreed that we would light no fires until the humans moved on.”
“They’re been here for two moons already,” Skot growled. “They’ll probably stay for the white-cold at this rate.”
**So you felt that gave you the right to defy the laws of the tribe?** Strongbow sent angrily. **No fires, especially not on the ground. No tracks. No sign of our presence. If the humans learn there are ‘demons’ in the trees they might never leave.**
“What if they had found you? What if they had seen the smoke and gone to investigate?” Redlance snapped.
Spar rolled her eyes. “They’re only humans...” she muttered under her breath.
Nightfall winced. Pike edged away from Spar on the tree branch. Skot chuckled under his breath.
“Only humans?” Redlance stammered, his voice pained. “Oh, Spar... only a cub could say that. Have you forgotten all we’ve told you... the beatings, the killings... Tanner’s needles – the fire! No!” he snapped when she tried to speak. “No, Spar. You listen. We don’t know what those humans are like. We don’t know what they’ll think of us. What we do know if that humans fears the unknown, and what they fear, they tend to attack. Now I judged it safest for us to stay in the trees, to keep our presence a secret from these strangers. And all of you agreed to abide by the rules. And now – for a hank of roast meat – you and Pike and Vaya and Skot could have cost us all dearly. Spar – it’s been less than four eights since I was strapped to the Pillar of Sacrifice, beaten, tormented, my throat nearly slit by warriors who thought their ‘god’ demanded my blood. We cannot take the chance that these humans here are of a nicer sort. We cannot let them see us. We cannot let them even suspect our existence. I expected as much from you, Skot. You’ve always flouted the rules. And you, Vaya. But Pike? I thought you knew better. You were there at Father Tree. You were there when One-Eye lost his eye to them. You were there when Crescent died. When the Holt burned. You should know better. You should set a better example for your chief’s daughter.”
“Don’t blame Pike!” Spar shot back hotly. “It was Skot’s and my idea–”
“I know!” Redlance threw up his hands. “I can recognize your hand in this. You – you have to think, Spar. You can’t just do whatever you want, heedless of the danger. I know you have no idea just how we suffered at the hands of the humans in the Homeland. But I expect you to trust your parents, trust your chief, and obey the rules of the Holt. If you can’t, then I’ll send for the Palace and you can go back to the Great Holt. And that goes for you, Skot. And you Pike, and Vaya. This isn’t some game. We are trying to build a new Holt, a new sanctuary for our kind. This is serious – deadly serious. And if you can’t accept that, then you can all go back to the rainforest.”
The four conspirators bowed their heads.
“You are all confined to the trees until I say so. You are not to set a foot on the ground without my permission.”
Again Spar’s temper won out. “That’s not fair!” she cried, springing up from the tree branch. Pike grabbed the hem of her tunic and pulled her back down.
Redlance stared down his daughter. “It is not for you to decide what is and is not fair, cubling,” he ground out, and Spar recoiled at the icy resolve in his eyes.
Redlance turned and strode away from the four elves. Spar tried to follow him, but Nightfall and Pike each lay a restraining hand on her shoulders. Strongbow pierced each of the culprits with a glare that told them he would be watching them, then followed Redlance.
“Mother...” Spar turned to Nightfall for support. But there was was little warmth in the huntress’s eyes.
**Mother, he’s not being fair.**
**And your lighting a fire on the ground, endangering our Holt – that was? You’re not a little child any longer, Spar. You must learn to control your impulses.**
**But... Father’s never spoken to me like that before!**
**He is chief, Spar. You must not expect special treatment from him.**
Spar turned her back to Nightfall. **He looked at me... like I wasn’t even his daughter.**
“You feel he hurt you?” Nightfall asked gently.
“Yes!” Spar waited for vindication. But Nightfall only shook her head.
“No more than you did him.”
Nightfall found Redlance sitting alone high above the human encampment. The humans were just bedding down for the night. There were a dozen in all. Five full-grown males, two lanky juveniles, four females of various ages, and one nursing infant.
**They continue to sleep on the open ground,** Nightfall sent. **No tents, no huts, not even a thatched roof propped on staffs. A good sign.**
**But they’re still here.**
Nightfall sighed. The travelling tribe of five-fingers had arrived two moons ago, and by their haphazard camp and bound furs filled with belongings, the Wolfriders expected them to keep moving.
But they stayed.
**How is Spar?**
Nightfall shrugged. **Angry. But it will pass.**
**I feel terrible.**
**Don’t. You did what you had to. Spar has to learn. She is growing up, and challenging, as all young wolves do. But she must learn that she cannot escape consequences because her father is chief. Indeed, she is held to a higher standard than the others, because of your position.**
**She hates me, doesn’t she?**
**Of course not.**
**I want to run back to her and apologize.**
**You know you cannot. She was in the wrong, not you. And as chief you must be firm. Else you might find yourself challenged by all sides.**
**I don’t know how Swift does this. I don’t know how anyone does this.**
**You are doing well, Ulm. You have lead us well since midsummer. The tribe has no complaints.**
**I don’t know how much longer we can sit here, on top of a fire-ant’s nest, trying not to move, trying not to be stung.** Redlance sighed. **I think it’s time to call a council.**
Nightfall lovingly stroked the little braid that fell in front of his right ear. **Tonight?**
**Yes. But not just now. Later, after Daughter Moon passes overhear. Let tempers cool a little.**
Nightfall bent her head and dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder. Together they sat and watched the humans gradually fall asleep.
Spar’s rebellious spark was well extinguished by the time Redlance called the twelve members of the Holt to council. Nightfall sat at her daughter’s side, a hand on her shoulder as both comfort and restraint. But Spar kept her eyes to the bark beneath her legs.
“We hoped the humans would leave us in a matter of days,” Redlance said. “Still they show no signs of breaking camp. Yet they show no signs of fortifying their camp for the coming white-cold. Perhaps they will move before the death-sleep entirely envelops the mountain. Perhaps they mean to stay permanently. We cannot assume anything. I will hear any suggestions you have. What are we to do about the humans?”
“Well...” Pike raised his hand bashfully. “I know you probably don’t want to hear from me–”
**Pokin’ right we don’t,** Strongbow grumbled.
“But... maybe this isn’t as bad as we think. I mean, the humans in the south are friendly. They trade with the Islanders and the trolls. And they respect our borders. I mean, Savin scared off an entire hunting party with a few words. Maybe... maybe all the humans in the New Land are like them. Maybe... if they know we’re here... they might leave.”
“We can’t take that chance,” One-Eye growled. “We could have another war at Father Tree on our hands.”
“Yes,” Clearbrook said. “I remember when Bearclaw decided that the humans at Father Tree were no threat to us – all we had to do was scare them a little and they would flee. And we didn’t see the harm in it, at first. We paid for that mistake.”
“Now, I think Pike’s words have merit,” Tyldak spoke up. “The Hoan-G’Tay-Sho worshipped us at Blue Mountain. The humans in the Great Spur think of us as harmless trickster spirits. Perhaps... the humans at your Father Tree are simply... abberations.”
“No,” One-Eye said. “Swift and Rayek were nearly killed by humans several days’ journey from Blue Mountain. And Savah’s Rootless Ones fled from the forests and moved to the desert to escape humans.”
“Humans have always killed elves,” Moonshade said softly. “Ever since the first man killed the first High One, they have hunted us. Your Hoan-G’Tay-Sho were nothing but mindless pets, Tyldak. And the humans of the Great Spur are the ones who are abberations.”
“Trying something new never hurt anyone,” Skot said.
**Hold your tongue if you have nothing to say,** Strongbow sent, and Skot winced at the sending. **Swift may have filled all you younglings’ heads with notions about the ‘new’ and the ‘unexplored.’ But taking the unproven trail kills.**
“So some say we try to contact the humans,” Redlance said. “Reason with them. Strongbow, you’ve made it clear you don’t think humans can be reasoned with. What do you propose we do?”
**Drive them out,** Strongbow sent.
“How?” Clearbrook asked.
**Set our wolves on their camp. Drive a herd of longhorns through the valley and trample them. Or slit their throats as they sleep and feed them to the pack.**
“War,” One-Eye said. “That is no answer.”
**It is not war. It is twelve humans! And only nine are of fighting strength. We have beaten far greater odds before.**
“There may be more,” Clearbook said. “For all we know, they are simply the advance scouts of an entire tribe.”
“We will not kill,” Redlance said.
**Then drive them out. We can discourage them without revealing ourselves. Destroy the beehives near their camp and let the swarm sting them. Sneak itchleaf sap into their water-skins and watch them gasp as their throats close up. Howl every night until they are frightened away by the sounds of eights upon eights of wolves.**
“Or until they decide it’s time to hunt wolves!” One-Eye snapped. “And we would be right back at Father Tree, living in fear.”
“One-Eye, what do you suggest?” Redlance asked.
“Leave,” One-Eye said. “Start a new Holt further up the mountain. Perhaps on the other side of the mountain. The humans aren’t so many that we cannot simply move to avoid them.”
**Like a cluster of scared tree-wees?** Strongbow demanded.
“Yes,” Moonshade fretted. “If we run every time the humans come, we will never be safe. The humans are always moving, always breeding and spreading.”
**If we don’t take a stand now, we might as resign ourselves to life on the run,** Strongbow sent. **Wasn’t the whole point of Swift’s quest to unite all elves so we would never need to run?**
“But I doubt she meant us to go to war with humans,” Nightfall said.
**Twelve humans!**
**And when twelve humans become twelve eights?** Redlance sent. **And when they become twelve hundred?**
**All the more reason to act now! Wolves defend their territory from threats. They don’t turn and run!** He glared at One-Eye and Clearbrook.
“Don’t tell me what a wolf does and does not,” One-Eye got to his feet.
“Everyone,” Clearbrook said calmly. “A pack divided cannot thrive.”
“You can tell us not to argue,” Moonshade muttered. “You cannot force us to agree.”
“All right,” Redlance said. “Who votes that we move further up Thorny Mountain?”
One-Eye, Clearbrook, and Nightfall raised their hands.
“Who votes that we drive the humans out by tricks and force?”
Strongbow, Moonshade, Vaya and Skot raised their hands.
“Who votes that we try to contact them, even reason with them?”
Spar and Tyldak raised their hands. Pike squirmed in his seat, but did not raise his hand.
“And who votes that we do nothing for now?”
Dewshine and Pike raised their hands. So did Redlance.
“All right. We are clearly divided,” Redlance said. “With so much at stake, I say we do nothing rash. Tyldak, Dewshine. Tomorrow night you will both go scouting for a location for a new Holt. Skot, Vaya, you are allowed on the ground as long as you are with either Strongbow or One-Eye. We need your spears in the hunt. Pike and Spar, I am assigning you both an important task. You will take turns, nights and days, observing the humans from the treetops. Do not let them see you, but follow them wherever they go. Learn the way of their pack. Discover all you can about them. For now there is no rush. But if the death-sleep descends and the time comes to smoke meat for winter and the humans continue to linger here, then we will have to decide what to do.”
Strongbow grumbled audibly. One-Eye and Clearbrook exchanged worried gazes. The council broke uneasily.
Guide me, Goodtree, Redlance prayed to his ancestress. Let me protect Thorny Mountain as you protected Father Tree.
Spar approached him uncertainly. “Father?” she asked. “Do... should I...?” she fumbled for the words, unable to express her regret. Her pride was still stung. He could see it in her eyes.
He spared her further unease, and wrapped his arms about her tightly. “Take care, Spar. Don’t endanger yourself. Just watch. Listen. The entire tribe is counting on you and Pike. Who knows, you might uncover the key to living side by side with the humans.”
A tremulous smile tugged at her lips, telling him all was forgiven. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, and hugged him again.
He only hoped he could handle the humans as well as he could his wayward daughter.
The days passed, and summer turned to autumn. The first of the leaves were beginning to turn when Redlance ordered Spar and Pike to keep watch over the humans. Soon the entire mountain was ablaze with colour. Moonshade made Redlance a new set of leathers in coppers and golds, and now the chief moved silently through the trees, perfectly camouflaged against the backdrop of falling leaves.
Spar had never been much of a night-owl, and she gladly took the day shift while Pike slept with Skot and Vaya in their large den. The sun was just beginning to set, enhancing the vibrant colours of the forest, when Redlance joined Spar at her little roost above the human camp.
**They still don’t set up tents or huts,** Spar sent. **When it rains, then simply curl up under their sleep-furs – it looks like they know how to treat the hide to waterproof it – at least a little bit.**
**What have been able to learn about the pack?**
**They don’t seem as smart as the humans in the south. Their clothes are less well made. So are their weapons and jewellry.**
**Less skilled does not mean less intelligent,** Redlance reminded her gently. **The humans of the Homeland did not have the skills of the humans of the rainforest, but they were easily as crafty.**
Spar pointed to the largest of the humans, a white-bearded craggy-faced man who was as stout as he was tall. **His name is Ororik, and he’s the leader, as far as I can tell. That female there with the braided hair is the first mate. Her name is Ullal. But Ororik also mates with the one with the newborn,** she indicated the younger of the adult women, with the babe at her breast. **Her name is Essanassi – or perhaps it is the child’s name. I can’t tell. I think the two younger males are Ororik’s children by Ullal,** she pointed to the smallest of the adult males, then the eldest of the two juveniles. **I don’t know who the male child belongs to. One of the other females’, I suppose.**
**Is Ororik the only one with two mates?** Redlance asked. He wondered whether these humans joined freely the way elves did, or kept to one mating as the humans of the Homeland seemed to.
**I think so. Perhaps it is a chief’s priviledge,** Spar shrugged. **The other two women seem to belong to the next biggest men after Ororik. The males dominate the females.**
**Aye. As they did back in the Homeland.**
**Through force, sometimes,** Spar added, disgust in her sending. **I saw Ororik give Ullal a beating the other day, when she was too slow in her tasks. But Ororik has struck the child as well.**
**Humans rule by fear and force,** Redlance decided. **Like a ragged wolf pack. One without real discipline. A chief wolf who ruled as Ororik does would be run out of the pack. Yet no one challenges him?**
**Not directly. But,** Spar smirked now, **Pike said he saw something interesting the other night. Did he tell you?**
Redlance shook his head. **What?**
**The smaller of the adult males – I think he is Ororik’s eldest son. Well, Pike said he saw him joining with the nursing mother in the bushes some distance from camp. In secret, he thinks.**
**And she is Ororik’s second mate.** Redlance smiled wryly. So the youngster was challenging his father for leadership by secretly mating with the old man’s woman. Young male wolves often courted the alpha female of the pack when they sought chief wolf. Perhaps humans were not so difficult to understand after all.
**Anything else? Any words you can understand?**
Spar frowned. **Well... I think “Essa” means “yes” and “Eida” means “no.” “Oh-war-ay” seems to mean “go.” Ororik says it when he orders the males to go hunting, or the females to gather roots. When he is very angry he curses “Gah-tah” at the others.**
Redlance chuckled. **“Dung-brained zwoots,” perhaps.**
**No, worse than that. They seem to be very afraid of that word. I think... it’s more like “You are meat to be wasted.” He likes the way they shudder when he says it. So he says it a lot.**
Redlance smiled. **You’ve been paying careful attention. **
**Oh, yes. And they all say “Ah-say-ahn” to Ororik when they return to camp, and before they bed down for the night. It could be a greeting. “Shade and sweet water” for humans.**
**Mm, or “hail, chieftain,”** Redlance sent. **Well done, Spar. We may need to learn their tongue soon enough.**
**How are Dewshine and Tyldak doing with the search?**
**Good. They’ve found several sites where we might make our home. And Tyldak’s enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings.**
**It must be hard for him, not to fly when the humans might be watching. He can’t really get around in the trees without spreading his wings. ** She was silent a moment. **Father... I don’t think Strongbow is right – not when we says we should fight them. But I agree with him about one thing. It isn’t right to flee. We can’t run from humans forever.**
**Oh, Spar,** he touched her hair. **You are so young. You were still a child when we left here for the rainforest. You cannot imagine what it was like... before. Sometimes... it’s better to run. Do you know why our line did not become chiefs until now? Do you know the howls for Goodtree’s family?**
**Your grandmother Speedwell died. And when Goodtree was dying, she named Mantricker Blood of Chiefs instead of your father.**
**Mm.** Redlance nodded. **Because Goodtree rescued a human child, Bearling, when she was pregnant with my grandmother. Because Bearling went back to live with the humans and became Egaruk. And because Egaruk returned to the Holt with his new human family. They poisoned the wolf-friends. They killed my grandfather Fireweed. They killed my grandmother Speedwell. They left my father Spark an orphan. And when the time came to pick an heir, he deferred to his uncle Mantricker.** Redlance turned pensive. ** And when Mantricker died, there was no hesitation – the chief’s lock went to Bearclaw. And my father was content to be the tribe’s treeshaper. He changed his name to Kindle when Mantricker was still a cub, and he always said that that was how he liked to be thought of – as a gentle hand kindling a steady flame, not as a bolt of skyfire. Not like Mantricker and Bearclaw.**
Redlance took Spar’s hand and led her deeper into trees, out of earshot of the humans below. “You know... I wasn’t his first child. Kindle Recognized once before... when Bearclaw was still a cub.”
Spar stared at him, dumbfounded. “You never told me before. You had a brother? A sister?” Redlance nodded sadly, and Spar’s eyes lit up. “I had an aunt? What – well – who was she? What was her name?”
“She didn’t have one. She was stillborn.” Redlance hung his head. “Father was devastated. I remember Joyleaf telling me that he never really smiled again until he Recognized my mother Fawnspot.” He smiled sadly. “I remember... once, I asked him: ‘Why aren’t you chief, Father? You were the child of Goodtree’s firstborn. You should have been chief.’ And he just shook his head and said, ‘A chief’s lot is only sorrow.’”
“What did he mean?”
“Goodtree lost her firstborn. So did Mantricker – a cubling born to Brightwater who died of the foaming sickness. So did Bearclaw – a little boy born and lost before Joyleaf’s birth. And so did my father. And he lived in fear that I would be taken from him as well. Mother and I.” His green eyes darkened with sorrow. “I remember... Father once said a curse hung over the line of Goodtree. Because she brought a human into the Holt... little Bearling, who grew up to play a part in Speedwell’s death. Oh, I never believed in the curse,” Redlance said quickly, when Spar looked at him strangely. “Well... maybe some nights I did... when I was little, when the thunder rolled overhead and the noise frightened me. And... once more...”
Spar shivered at the darkness creeping over his eyes. “Father?”
Redlance could not answer her aloud. Instead he sent her an image, a blur of sensations and emotions. Hot blood spilled against a cold stone. Frayed woven ropes digging into the sensitive flesh of the wrists. Fire, shadows. The sound of a whip cracking overhead.
“Oh....” Spar swooned forward, and Redlance caught her in his arms. He cradled her against him, stroking her hair.
“I’m sorry, Spar. It... I didn’t think you’d understand... not unless I showed you, just a glimpse.”
Spar hugged him tightly. **No – I’m sorry, I’m sorry,** she stammered, thinking of the many risks she had taken.
At length Redlance set her back. “No. There was no curse. Because the High Ones blessed my father with two gifts. One, that he died before Mother. It is always the luckier lifemate who goes first. Two... that he died before the humans returned to our forest. And yet... sometimes I wonder... what might have happened, had he still been living then?”
“What do you mean?”
Redlance shrugged. “Oh, I’m just dreaming, Spar. Something Swift said to me... when she wondered what might have happened if my line had been the line of chiefs. As we’ve been watching these humans... waiting, hoping they’ll leave us in peace... I keep wondering what my father would do. If Kindle had been there when the Followers of Gotara came to Father Tree... might he had challenged Bearclaw for their shared birthright? Might he have led the Wolfriders far away from harm... oh, what am I doing?” he moaned. “Stay in the Now. Stay in the Now...” he murmured.
Spar put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Father. You’re a fine chief. I’m... I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden.”
“No, no, Spar, of course not. I’m so glad... so glad you came here with me.” He touched her cheek fondly. “You and your mother keep me in the Now. You remind me... a chief’s lot isn’t sorrow. Come, let’s return to the Holt. Pike can come and take over your watch.”
The mountain continued to molt red and gold. Three eights of days passed since Spar and Pike began their watch overhead the human camp. The two observers gradually deciphered more words of human speech. More, they began to notice a disturbing trend. Ororik did indeed rule through fear and force. He bullied his women and the younger males, and the other hunters did not challenge him. Only one time, when the Ororik threatened one of the other women, did that woman’s mate stand up to him.
But more dangerous was the evidence that the humans were settling for the season. The women began to build a thatched lean-to against the largest rocks at the edge of the little clearing. The men smeared their faces with deer blood and danced under the full Daughter Moon. When it was Mother Moon’s turn to wax to full, the men erected a crude cairn of stones on a nearby hilltop.
**They’re building an altar,** Strongbow growled.
“I’ve heard their prayers,” Spar said. “I think they worship something called ‘Threk-kahn.’”
“Might as well be Gotara,” Moonshade brooded.
“I think Ororik is afraid of this Threk-kahn,” Pike added. “He trembles when he prays. These humans fear their chiefs, and their chief fear their gods.”
**All they understand is pain and fear,** Strongbow sent.
“They don’t have nearly enough supplies to survive the coming white-cold,” Clearbrook reasoned. “They must be planning to move south before the first snowfall.”
“I say we move,” Tyldak said. “Further up the mountain, out of their territory.”
“I agree,” Nightfall said.
**Paugh! And we run.** Strongbow sneered. **And we keep running!**
“We do nothing rash,” Redlance said. “For now... we wait...”
**How long will we keep sitting here like helpless treewees?** Strongbow demanded.
Redlance had no answer for him.
The morning songbirds were just beginning to sing when Vaya crawled inside Spar’s little den, shaped off the side of Redlance and Nightfall’s tree. The young Wolfrider was fast asleep, her face buried in her furs.
“Wake up, cubling,” Vaya nuzzled her shoulder affectionately.
“Mmph... not now, lovemate...” Spar moaned.
“Well, I’m flattered, but I didn’t come for that!” Vaya laughed, whipping the blanket off Spar’s back. “Up, up. It’s time for us to sleep and you to get up.”
Spar ran her hands through her hair and reached for her leathers. “You know,” Vaya said. “It’s not very fair of Pike to make you sit up every day. You hardly get to spend any time with the rest of us. Don’t let squirrel-cheeks push you around. If you want to take the night shift, then take it.”
“No, I don’t mind,” Spar fastened the elk-tooth toggles of her tunic. “The humans are more active in the day. It’s something to watch, really.”
“Sounds boring. Muckin’ five-fingers just staggering around and beating each other up.”
“No, it’s not like that. I think Father has the right idea. They’re like a kind of wolf we’ve never seen before... like a pack of near-wolves!” her eyes lit up and she smiled at the comparison. “They have pack rules, just very strange... and very brutal ones. But they are rules. And if we can understand them... then maybe we can get along with them.”
Vaya shrugged. “I like the Great Spur humans better. They keep to themselves.”
Spar pulled her leather trousers on. “I’m starting to see why Father and Mother wanted to come here, rebuild the Holt. It really is like a new world. And watching these humans, trying to get inside their heads and figure them out – maybe it was my punishment to start, but I’m really enjoying this.”
“Blech. It’s that cursed curiousity of your kind,” Vaya laughed good-naturedly. “If it’s not in sight – or better, in my hand – it’s none of my concern.”
Spar slipped on her boots. “All right. Let’s see what the humans are up to today.”
She was just starting to follow Vaya out into the pre-dawn gloom when a sending star stopped them both in their tracks. **Come quick!** It was Pike. **Something bad’s happening with the humans!**
Spar and Vaya jogged through the treetops. Redlance and Strongbow soon fell into stride alongside them. The four of them joined Pike at his little perch above the human camp.
Ororik was shouting at the elder of his sons, gesturing wildly and pointing at the younger of his mates, who was craddling her baby to her breast and huddled against Ullal for protection. The infant screamed, and its cries seemed to be infuriating the chieftain further.
**What happened?** Redlance asked.
**Ororik found... um... what’s-his-name...**
**Tallal?** Spar supplied.
**Yeah. His son, Tallal, joining with Essanassi, there,** he indicated the young mother. **He’s hopping mad.**
**This isn’t good,** Spar sent.
**A challenge to a chief’s power,** Redlance sent.
**He’ll punish Tallal, now,** Spar agreed.
Ororik cuffed Tallal about the head, then bloodied his nose and brought him to the ground with hard blows of his fists against the youth’s shoulders. When the boy was bleeding on the dirt, Ororik turned to Essanassi. The elves winced, expecting her to endure the same treatment.
They were wrong.
Ororik didn’t strike Essanassi. Instead he seized the little baby from her arms. Essanassi screamed and groped for her child, but Ullal held her back. As the elves watched, horror-struck, Ororik carried the screaming baby to the edge of camp by its ankles, then smashed its little body against the rocks over and over.
Spar let out a scream. Pike clapped his hand over her mouth, but a split-second too late.
It didn’t matter. The humans hadn’t heard her over the sounds of the grieving mother. Essanassi tore away from Ullal’s grasp and threw herself on the mangled remains of her infant. Ororik turned cooly and kicked her in the stomach.
The other humans stood by, unwilling to interfere. The bloodied Tallal pulled himself to his knees and crawled away to the perimeter of camp. One of the other women hastened to comfort Essanassi, but Ullal, the matriarch of the camp, remained unmoved. She calmly took the little body from Essanassi’s grasp and walked off, presumably to dispose of it. Ororik was now barking order to the other hunters, as though the murder hadn’t happened at all. Essanassi was now wrapped about the bloody rock, weeping loudly.
Spar was convulsing with sobs. Pike and Vaya flanked her, arms about her and hands over her mouth, shushing her softly, rocking her as they might a young cub. Redlance swallowed hard, closing his eyes tight to fend off an attack of vertigo.
**Why?** Vaya demanded. **Why did he do that?**
Strongbow doubled over, his hand over his mouth. He shuddered, fighting the urge to vomit.
Redlance stared at the bloody rock, a miniature pillar of sacrifice. Rage and disgust choked him, but he forced himself to rise above instinct. Suddenly, he understood.
**The child... the old man couldn’t be certain it was his. It might have been Tallal’s. So he killed it.**
**Disgusting,** Strongbow sent.
**But not unknown to forest beasts. Even wolves... sometimes...**
Strongbow turned and climbed back into the trees. Spar gestured weakly, wanting to follow, and Vaya helped her to rise. Together they climbed back into the cover of the forest, leaving Redlance and Pike to watch the scene below.
“Owaray!” Ororik shouted at the men, when they lingered at the side of the fallen Tallal. “Eida, Owaray cha!”
Reluctantly the men abandoned the youth. Ororik dragged his son over to the rock, and left him to contemplate the spilled blood of the infant. He pulled the comforting woman off Essanassi and sent her on her way.
**I thought...** Pike sent. **I thought... Ullal would protect the baby.**
**She’s the chieftess wolf,** Redlance sent back. ** She chose to protect her rank. It happens, sometimes... with wolves... when a lower-ranking female breeds without permission...**
**It isn’t right! Humans – they think they’re better than the forest. They think they’re better than the beasts, and that we’re demons. But they’re the demons!**
**No, Pike, ** Redlance sighed. **They’re just... beasts. Vicious... ruthless beasts. No more. No less. Come on.** He tapped Pike’s shoulder. **I think we’ve learned all we need to know from them.**
The human pack was restless following the murder of the newborn, but it seemed fear of Ororik was enough to keep the peace. No one offered comfort to Tallal or Essanassi, who grieved in silence, terrified to console each other and invite further punishment.
“Why do they not turn against him?” Spar asked helplessly. “Why do they tolerate them as their chief?”
“Perhaps they think the alternative is worse,” Redlance said.
The humans patrolled wide looking for food. A fat deer might soothe their chief’s temper. The elves watched helplessly, too nervous to sleep, as the hunters marched under their very trees.
**Den-hide,** Redlance said. **No one leaves the Holt.**
They waited all day, sleeping fitfully. When Redlance finally drifted asleep, he overslept, and by the time he awoke it was already late at night. The humans were still awake, restless as ever. No one, it seemed, wanted to turned their backs on Ororik.
At midnight, the last of the hunters fell asleep. But now Ororik himself was up and moving. He kindled the campfire and hunched over it, eyeing his followers nervously.
When Redlance returned to the Holt, he found Strongbow gathering his bow and arrows. Moonshade was shouldering her own bow.
“What are you doing?” Redlance asked.
**Hunting,** Strongbow sent.
“No,” Redlance shook his head. “No, you can’t. Not with the humans in a foul mood, jumping at shadows. One false step, one snapped twig and we’ll have the humans on our trail.”
“We need meat in our bellies to think clearly,” Moonshade argued.
**Aye. We cannot sit on the branches and grow mould,** Strongbow sent.
“I say we keep the den-hide,” Redlance said.
**Keep the den-hide! Hide from the humans! Run from the humans! Run from a band of eleven mangy beasts! We should slay them all now.**
“Yes,” Moonshade nodded. “I would have counselled caution while the infant lived. But now... they have proven themselves as dangerous as a wolfpack seized with the foaming sickness. We cannot live side by side with them.”
Redlance frowned. “First you say you want to hunt food. Now you want to hunt humans!”
Nightfall drew to her lifemate’s side. “Have you forgotten there is still a child among them. And an innocent grieving mother.”
**What do they matter to us? Only our tribe matters! Our kind! Our home! I will not sit back and let us be driven from home again.**
“And had you run to war against the humans back at Father Tree, do you really think you would have saved the forest?” Redlance asked. “Strongbow, we cannot rush to anger. We must–”
**WAIT? Wait to be slain as we sleep in the daylight. Wait - some times cannot wait, treeshaper! A tribe needs food and I will find it! I will do something – something more than sitting about, yapping and shivering and doing nothing!** With that Strongbow turned his back on Redlance and strode down a tree branch. Moonshade followed demurely.
**STOP!** The force of his sending brought Strongbow up short.
**You will not go!** Redlance jogged down the branch to catch up with him. **You will obey your chief and remain here. And I am your chief, Strongbow.**
**And I am your elder!** Strongbow retorted.
**An elder does not make a leader, Strongbow–**
**Nor does a weak heart!**
**– And as you swore to follow me when we left the Great Holt –**
**I trusted Swift’s wisdom – but now I question it.**
Redlance squared his shoulders. He stretched himself taller and looked Strongbow square in the eyes. “Do you challenge me?” he growled.
Strongbow stood firm, locking eyes with him. Moonshade and Nightfall could only watch as the two engaged in a silent battle of wills. Fear flashed in Moonshade’s eyes. Fear for Strongbow, or for Redlance? She backed away, towards Nightfall, and averted her eyes to show that she meant no challenge.
As soon as it begun, it was over. Strongbow and Redlance both staggered backwards. For an instant longer the victor of the challenge was still unknown. Then Strongbow lowered his head and turned away.
“Beloved?” Nightfall hastened to Redlance’s side. **Ulm?**
Redlance nodded discreetly to show he was all right. “Strongbow,” he said. “I know you’re restless. But we cannot just run into their midst. We cannot. You know that. In your heart, you know that. We have to keep the den-hide for now. We have to wait.”
Strongbow nodded miserably. He turned and hiked back to his den. Moonshade followed. **Ulm?** Nightfall asked. **Are you...?**
**I’m fine. Go back to your den. I’ll... I need to clear my head.**
“I’ll come with you,” Nightfall whispered.
“No. I... I need to be alone. I need to think.”
Nightfall furrowed her brow, but at length she nodded. Redlance left the Wolfriders in at the Holt and climbed higher into the trees. From a little perch he watched as Nightfall reluctantly returned to her den. Soon everyone had retired to more fitful rest and worry.
Redlance shivered. Strongbow’s sending stars continued to ring in his head. He felt the archer’s pain, his anger, his frustration. Strongbow had all a warrior’s rage, and the conviction of one who desperately yearns to lead.
But his path would doom them. Redlance knew it. They could not lash out in anger.
And yet they could not keep hiding. They could not run.
He didn’t know why he did, but soon he was crawling through the trees, back to the perch overlooking the human encampment. Now at last Ororik was beginning to sleep, still siting in front of the fire, his chin bobbing against his collarbone.
The dying firelight made the dried blood on the rock shine. How could they camp there? How could they sleep only a few paces away from the site of murder?
I hope you have nightmares, Redlance thought darkly.
And then another thought struck him.
He dropped down to the ground, silent as a falling leaf. Slowly he crept closer to Ororik, until he crouched on the opposite side of the fire.
“Hssshh,” he called.
Nervous as he was, Ororik was a light sleeper. He awoke instantly, and let out a hiss of fright as he saw the point-eared creature that seemed wreathed in fire.
“Ororik,” Redlance whispered.
Ororik clutched his fur wrap more tightly about his broad shoulders. “Threkahn?”
Redlance nodded slowly. “Essa. Threk-kahn.”
“Ke? Umsa marr tu ahsayan?”
Redlance drew his hand through the air, banishing the Tall One’s babbling. “Threk-kahn gah-tah Ororik!”
Ororik shook his head. “Threkahn... menno tall?” he whispered. He held up his hands, palms out, and bowed to the creature in the fire. “Menno? Say assahn nu-nay assi? Menno?” he implored, his hands held out.
Redlance didn’t know the words, but he guessed the meaning easily enough. Drawing himself tall, he pointed to the bloodstained rock. “Gah-tah! Gah-tah, Ororik!”
“Eida, eida...” Ororik pleaded. “Eida nu gatar.”
“Oh-war-ay cha!” Redlance snapped, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture, pointing south. “Oh-war-ay cha! Or...” he pointed to the rock again. “Ororik....” he said meaningfully, then drew a hand across his throat.
Ororik let out a cry of horror.
Redlance kicked the fire, stirring up sparks. Before Ororik could get to his feet, before the other humans could rise from their beds, Redlance had bounded back into the trees.
“Eida! Eida!” Ororik screamed into the night.
Redlance crept back into his den. Nightfall sat up on the furs, embroidering a little headband for Spar, who was sitting at her side, observing her technique. Both looked up when Redlance entered.
“Did you look in on the humans?” Spar asked. “I can hear them screaming from here.”
Redlance shrugged. “Humans... who can understand them? The big one started wailing... screaming at his sons. Now they’re all chattering. Maybe slaying the child gave him bad dreams.”
The next day, the humans had broken camp. Tyldak and Dewshine watched from the trees as the humans slowly trekked down the mountain and into the lowlands. Two days later, the Glider and his mate returned, reporting that the humans were still travelling due south.
Redlance and Strongbow crouched on the branch overlooking the remnants of the human camp. The offending rock, stained with the blood of the nameless infant, had been removed and buried by Strongbow and One-Eye. The ashes of the campfire had been scattered. Thorny Mountain was once again home to elves alone.
**Well... you said they would leave in time,** Strongbow admitted.
“We were lucky.”
**I still marvel Swift chose you. But... you’ve earned your lock, treeshaper.**
“Thank you, Strongbow. It means a lot, coming from you.”
**If I had won the challenge, I would led us into an attack on the human camp. I would have played demon for those five-fingers and driven them out by spearpoint. I could not stomach sitting on my rump and waiting! But you were right. We were patient and we saved the tribe.**
Redlance was silent, seemingly lost in thought. At length Strongbow sighed audibly. **Well. Let’s hope the young wolves gut their chief in the night.**
“Let’s hope,” Redlance agreed.
Strongbow turned back into the trees and began his climb back to the Holt. **Wonder what finally lit a fire under their rumps?** he mused as he disappeared under the canopy of leaves.
Redlance smiled softly.
Elfquest copyright 2014 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 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts