Log Date: 10/7, 10/8/96
Log Cast:
	Trouble, Dart, Doreel's Helper, Doreel
Log Intro:
	Still on her quest to find an adult name for herself -- and
perhaps her soulname, though she hardly dares to admit this to herself --
the maiden Trouble still travels with her hunter companion, Dart. The
son of Strongbow has chased after her out of Lostholt, himself, determined
not to let her travel alone; the two have stayed a turn of the seasons
in the Antelope Valley, but there, they met humans. And to Trouble's
astonishment, Dart knew their words, enough to gain permission to stay for
a time. But now, their time elapsed, Trouble has stubbornly refused to
return to Lostholt. Thus, the pair have wended their way west, idly
considering visiting tribe-friends and kin at the Grove Holt... only
to inadvertantly retrace the same dangerous route once travelled by
the Willowholt chieftess Rillwhisper and Dart's own father, Strongbow.
	And now, following yet another of the arguments that seem so
prone to spring up between the two, Trouble has stalked off the trail,
fuming at her companion....

----------
Curse Dart anyway, to the humans' cookfires, and she doesn't care if he knows 
  their words! What does he WANT of her? What does she expect him to do? 
  _Don't understanding him_, she snaps to herself, as she stomps through trees 
  to which she pays only halfhearted attention. One moment he's attentive, the 
  next snapping at her as though she's a clumsy cub -- is it her fault she 
  hasn't found whatever mysterious insight she needs to win her a better name? 
  Scowling, she stalks... and only after she has finally looked up from her 
  angry storming away from the trail does Trouble pause, frowning, to survey 
  her surroundings.

The forest has changed. No longer is it the lush, life-filled green that it 
  should be.. now it is darker, heavy. And it lives.. not as it should, but as 
  a single entity that watches. And waits. There is no breeze to shift the 
  air, not a rustle of leaf or branch or bird.

Trouble slows her steps, wary now, hand on her bow. She should send for Dart, 
  she knows in her gut -- but pride makes her scowl again. She's no helpless 
  cub and she'll prove it to him. But still, that frisson of... well, alright, 
  fear, that eddies down her spine makes her turn slowly on the path. Stride 
  back out the way you came, Trouble-who-is-not-a-cub. Take it slow. Take it 
  steady.

Something dark scurries across the trail just ahead, one more shadow dancing 
  in the darkness. It is accompanied by a dry rustling sound, which fades 
  almost as quickly as it began.

Trouble slides an arrow from her quiver, nocks it to her bow, keeping it 
  ready. Her footsteps stay mostly silent on the path, even as she shivers at 
  the oddly moving shadows. Dart's that way. Scent your trail. Keep to the 
  path. _High Ones, these trees....!_ Memory twinges in the back of her 
  thoughts, bringing up half-recalled warnings, partly recollected tales of 
  threat, but they are obscured by the more immediate need to get safely back 
  to her companion, no matter how mad at him she might be...

The forest watches you. The trees watch you. The very shadows watch you. But 
  it is those shadows that become animated, shifting about each other. Again 
  the soft rustling sound can be heard, joined now by the softest of clicks.

Trouble sucks in a breath, feeling the hair on the back of her neck rising, 
  feeling a growl wanting to build in her throat. With an effort that makes 
  sweat bead along her brow, she adds speed to her stride, sacrificing a 
  portion of stealth as she does so, and raising her bow towards a better 
  firing position.

Something large and hideously formed drops out of the canopy just ahead of 
  you, unballing into a mass of limbs and hair as it reaches the ground. 
  Individual clicks can be singled out now, some off to one side, others in 
  another direction, many of them still distant.

Trouble shrieks, and send-shrieks as well, calling out her companion's name. 
  Staggering back along the path, she remembers, all at once, the warnings her 
  tribe talked of in the Howl -- Timmorn's _Blood_, she's in the spider wood! 
  Frantic, the young huntress begins looking for her best escape route...

Eight sickly green-gold eyes focus on you as the spider, if spider indeed it 
  is, moves nearer to you. Its jaws click together, softly, even soothingly, 
  and the sound is replied to by something just behind you.

Trouble whirls on the path, growling in earnest now, and firing off arrows in 
  a desperate attempt to drive off the _thing_...

The spider emits some sort of unearthly squeal as an arrow pierces its 
  carapace, skittering backwards and disappearing into the leaves. Another 
  takes its place, though, dropping down from above.

Dart pushes their way through the trees and bushes and join you on the path.
Dart has arrived.

Trouble sendshouts ** _Dart_! <fear/panic> _DART!_ **
Trouble stands, brandishing her bow, and snapping her green gaze from one 
  frightening shape to another on the path. Surrounded on both sides, the 
  young huntress fires off another arrow, trying to clear a way towards escape.

Dart races up along the path, almost falling a few times, ** Trouble! I'm 
  coming! **
Dart skids to a halt, fingers fumbling for arrow-whip and arrow. ** What is 
  _that_? **

How many other creatures are present is not exactly apparent, as they blend 
  into the shadows and the leaves and do not really hold still for very long. 
  Two are terribly obvious, one some distance behind Trouble, the other off 
  slightly to one side. The nearer one hisses softly, pausing in its approach 
  of the one elf as a second arrives.

Dart somehow manages to get an arrow into the loop of the whip-cord, brown 
  eyes darting between the two obvious _things_ while debating which to try 
  for. In a few breaths time he levels his aim on the creature nearer to 
  Trouble. ** Stay still. There's another behind you! **

Trouble freezes, but with evident mounting panic; her eyes are wide and 
  strained, and there is sweat on her brow. Her hand continues to clench her 
  raised bow, even as she slides a look up and down the path.
Trouble sends, raggedly, ** Spiders... tribe warned... didn't remember, 
  Timmorn's Blood, I didn't remember...! **

*click* *click?* The nearer spider sidesteps just a little, all eight of its 
  eyes watching. Its mandibles click, softly, almost questioningly, and as 
  though in answer, the other spider retreats into the leaves.

Dart holds his aim on the spider, ** Not your fault, how many do you think 
  there are? ** With the sidestep of the spider, Dart lets go of the 
  whip-cord, sending the projectile flying in the direction of the spider.

** More than two. More... ** Trouble's sending is clipped, yet delivered with 
  all the random force of an arrow shot in panic. She snaps her green gaze off 
  to mark the retreating spider, then to the remaining one, and shrills, ** 
  It's blocking the path out! **

The spider emits a rasping squeal as the arrow finds a soft spot, ichor oozing 
  up out of the wound. It skitters away, disappearing into the shadows beneath 
  a bush, the noise of its passage possibly covering the rustle of leaves over 
  your heads.

Dart's expression shifrts from that of the hunter to one of the hunted. A 
  muttered, "Oh, puckernuts." his only response.

Trouble watches the wounded spider go, but does not yet relax. Whirling in 
  first this direction, then that, the huntress skitters sidelong towards her 
  companion.

The rustling ceases, and distant, echoed clicks keep away the silence. And 
  then another spider drops down from the branches above.

Dart jumps aside as a spider drops way too close for comfort, ** They're 
  overhead too! **

Trouble fires off more arrows, misses, and whines in growing fear. ** Run must 
  run can't stay they'll wrap us must run... **

The spider lands on the path just in front of you, hissing now as it clicks. 
  It begins to approach, moving one foot at a time, passage zagging from side 
  to side enough that the trail can be considered blocked.

Dart fumbles for another arrow, grasping one he bobbles it in his hands. Eyes 
  locked on the spider in front of him he keeps making grabs for arrows that 
  seem too content to stay in their quiver. ** Run where!? Wrap? Like 
  preserver wrap? Wehere that cursed bug when I need it! **

Her face gone colorless, Trouble chokes back a scream. ** Too big! ** Reaching 
  Dart at last, she inches as close to him as she dares, even as she fires off 
  yet another arrow. Her scent is thick with terror, as she half-babbles, 
  half-sends of warnings from Rillwhisper of Willowholt, from your own sire. 
  They were _here_. She remembers now. They were here, and wrapped, and stung 
  by these things...!

Dart's fingers finally grasp an arrow solidly, as though the slightest hint of 
  his father deserves a bit of one-up-manship. Quickly slipping the arrow into 
  the whip-cord's loop, he levels off a shot at the blocking spider.

The eight-legged thing comes ever nearer, the poison dripping from its fangs 
  now terribly apparent. *click?* *click* *click* Each soft noise hearalds a 
  step, and each is answered by another sounded from just beyond the leaves. 
  The arrow, fired as it is at close range, pierces the thing between some of 
  its eyes, and through another. It writhes, reflexively taking a few more 
  steps before falling forward.

Trouble reaches back for her quiver... then utters a long moan as she finds 
  only an arrow or two left. Aghast, she snaps her gaze round again. There 
  _must_ be a way out...

Dart backs up a few more steps, glancing up and behind him. Swallowing hard, 
  he asks, ** Did they say how they got out by any chance? <nervous/fright> ** 
  The initial dose of adrenaline wearing off, nerves are taking over.

Trouble send-babbles, ** Willowholt came and got 'em, Woodhawk burned the 
  trees, they f-fought with Doreel, he lives in the Grove but he's mad, Dart, 
  we have to run, we have to...! **

Dart gathers whatever composure he has left and does what instinct and a few 
  dealings with hysterical Sun Folks tells him to do, he reaches to slap 
  Trouble.

The fallen spider quivers where it lies, and the concentration of sound seems 
  to shift, rustling softly amidst the leaves, following the trail out.

The smack of Dart's brown palm on her face makes Trouble wheel on him, sucking 
  in a shocked breath. Then she pauses, as cognizance flickers across her 
  eyes. She calms, slightly, then, and adds stubbornly, ** We have to get out! 
  **

Dart nods, reaching for another arrow and eyeing the surrounding bushes 
  suspiciously. ** Well Lostholt's not going to come looking for us, not 
  unless you can send that far. I doubt that I can. **

Trouble shakes her head, despondently. Still clutching her own bow, with an 
  arrow nocked to it, she flicks her gaze back the way she'd come.

Nothing moves. Yet.

Trouble sends, mind-voice small, ** Try to go out? **

Dart's nod is almost imperceptible, ** We try. **

Quivering, still, Trouble manages a bare nod in response, and begins to creep 
  down the path, keeping her bow and arrow at the ready.

And still nothing moves. Instead, it seems to wait, the presence nearly 
  tangible enough to cut.

Dart backs down the path, the same slow pace as Trouble. His eyes flick from 
  overhead to down the path, suddenly very conscious of the fact that his 
  every move is being watched.

Trouble creeps, with painful slowness. As she goes, she lifts her gaze to the 
  overhanging branches...

There is a single sharp *click*, a signal, if you will. There, and there, on 
  either side of the passage through the foliage, two spiders crawl into view. 
  Another click, this time behind, and another pair emerge, flanking you.

At the sudden appearence of the spiders, Dart loses his grip on the arrow he'd 
  knocked. The projectile flies off, well away from anything it was being held 
  for.

Trouble hisses, then clamps her teeth shut on the sound. ** Daaaaaart... **

The four begin to move, now, fixing on the elves in their midst. *click* 
  *click* *click* Even the noise they make sounds of urgency, maybe even of 
  longing. *click*

Dart backs up a few steps, fumbling for another arrow. ** Okay... we can do 
  this... <FEAR> ** Somehow Dart's reassurances are meant more for Dart than 
  for anyone else.

Trouble almost squeaks in her sending: ** Do what?! Be spider food? ** But she 
  immediately blushes, aware that's hardly helpful. Hand on her bow starting 
  to shake, she forces herself to take aim on the nearest target... and fires.

Dart grabs hold of an arrow and somehow manages to slip it into the loop. The 
  dark-skinned chieftain steadies his aim as best he can, which isn't very 
  steady, and lets the arrow flie in the general direction of the spiders in 
  front of him.

The spiders continue to close, slowly, purposefully. One hisses as an 
  arrowhead embeds itself in a shoulder segment, pausing to rebalance itself.

Trouble sends openly ** <tinily> I've got one arrow left...! **

Dart glances quickly down at the quiver on his hip, ** I... I spilled most of 
  mine... running here.. **

Trouble flicks her companion a horrified glance. ** Run? ** she suggests, 
  strangely meekly.

Dart nods, ** You run, I'll fend em off with what I've got left. You know the 
  woods better.... slow you down. **

The idea seems to bother her, of leaving Dart alone. ** Get your arrows, ** 
  she suggests, almost panickedly. But she bobs her head as though to convince 
  herself; firing off _her_ last, the huntress then steels herself... and 
  breaks into a sprint, aiming to dart past the creature on the path.

Dart grabs another arrow from his quiver and knocks it quickly firing almost 
  immediatly.

There is a triumphant hiss as one of the flanking spiders comes into range it 
  feels comfortable with, skitting in to bite. The arrows find their mark in 
  the same body, and it shivers violently, moving in faster in a last play of 
  nerves before collapsing in a quivering mass. The second forespider ignores 
  Trouble, going back to help the flankers with what they may or may not catch.

Dart swats at the advancing spiders with his arrow-whip, he sendshouts, ** 
  KEEP RUNNING! **

Trouble doesn't dare look back, even as she bounds down the path, looking for 
  any sign of Dart's dropped arrows. The tone of his sending makes her bite 
  her lip, and she blinks tears of exhaustion and panic out of her eyes. 
  Eventually, she nearly trips across two dropped arrows, and she stumbles to 
  a halt to snatch them up, and look for others -- there, and there! But now 
  what? Agahst that Dart's still in peril, she whirls back, looking into the 
  trees...

If they were playing before, the huge arachnids are quite serious now. Dart 
  soon goes down under one, injected by the creature's venom.
And then the woods fall still again, quiet except for the occasional *click*. 
  Not a bird's twitter, not a breath of wind, not a whisper of a send come 
  back out of the shadows.

Trouble screams, then, horrified, terrified, as Dart's limp shape vanishes 
  under silver webbing and is dragged off. Too late! She pauses there on the 
  path, trembling violently, mind racing as she considers what to do. Run for 
  help? It's days back to Lostholt!
Precious moments are lost, as the maiden forces herself to something vaguely 
  resembling calm. Get armed. Get help. Another wave of fear clenches her gut, 
  though, as she considers where the nearest help _is_. Rillwhisper and 
  Strongbow were right about the spiders. Are they right, too, about _him_? 
  Does she dare take the risk?
Trouble then, impulsively, decides. He's a healer; the elders said so. He can 
  cursed well heal what his creations have wounded, then! And she sends, as 
  loud as she can, in fury and fear, ** _DOREEL_! **

Something rustles in the leaves nearby, a dark thing with no shape that is, 
  and then isn't.

They can smell her, Trouble is sure. She starts looking for cover, if such can 
  be found in these twisted trees, but she keeps sending, as well. ** 
  _DOREEL_! HELP US! _DOREEL!_ **

Perhaps something hears you.. maybe the spiders? In any event, there is no 
  answer. Things fall again deathly silent, and stay that way for minutes that 
  drag on and on and.. and then, something can be heard, moving swiftly 
  through the tangle of underbrush.

Helper walks in from the lighted area to the north.

Trouble half-crouches, grasping her bow again, and torn between diving into 
  the nearest cover and staying at the ready to shoot. Her ears twitch, and 
  she jerks round in the direction of the new sounds.

Whatever it is, it does not click. The rustle of leaves and occasional 
  snapping of a twig are almost familiar, not the soft whispery sounds of the 
  spiders that dwell here, but something else. And whatever it is, it can be 
  heard to mumble incoherently to itself.

Trouble sends out, warily, ** Doreel? ** Her bow snaps up, arrow nocked.

Again, no answer. The bushes a stone's throw ahead move suddenly, then the 
  branches part to allow passage for a very small creature, which lets them 
  fall back behind it before looking around.

Helper
A small being with pale green skin, a large nose, and rounded ears. It 
  resembles nothing so much as a troll with it's mop of curly brown hair, yet 
  unlike most trolls, this one might actually almost pass as cute. It is clad 
  in roughly cut skins, and carries a wickedly long thorn.

Trouble sucks in another breath, and stares. Still quivering with reaction to 
  the battle, she then inches forward, and barks out, "Help!"

The new thing stops short, the thorn in its hands brandished suddenly. Bright 
  beady eyes dart toward the cause of the sound, and then it replies. "What?"

"You... you're one of... Doreel's creatures, right?" Trouble gasps out the 
  words breathlessly. "You have to help... my friend! The spiders have him!"

"'M not a creature!" The being replies, looking slightly injured. "I'm a.. 
  uh.. I'm not a creature!" Then it tsks, lowering the thorn. "The Preservers 
  catch all." Bobbing its head sagely, the little green thing moves closer. 
  "Are you a Rillwhisper?"

Trouble starts at this. Then almost smiles, but not quite, as she babbles out, 
  "No. But I know Rillwhisper. You remember her? My name is Trouble. Please, 
  you have to help me get my friend!" Her green gaze flashes off in the 
  direction she last saw Dart; she can still smell him. The trail's not cold 
  yet...! "Is your master still alive? Can he help?"

It nods once or twice, then stops short. Eyes go large and round, and it looks 
  at you intently for just a moment. "You're a.. a.. you're trouble?!?" It 
  shrieks then, turns, and runs back the way it came. "Master! Help!"
Helper pushes their way quickly through the trees and webs, trying to reach 
  the grove as quickly as possible.
Helper has left.

Overgrown Path
Twisted, dark trees grow all around you here. Totally unfamiliar sounds come 
  from every direction. The path that you walk on is hardly a path what with 
  the way the trees haphazardly part for the dark path. Multi-faceted eyes 
  peer out at you - their yellowish glow adding to the dreary and evil 
  atmosphere. Webs hang from almost every tree though to your left they are 
  more abundant while up ahead you think you can see a lighted clearing. A 
  quick glance to your left through the webs reveals a narrow path leading 
  deeper into the woods and away from what would appear to be a safe haven in 
  the grove ahead. As you move through the woods surrounding you there is a 
  constant *click* *click *click*
Contents:
Spider
Obvious exits:
Mountain Spring  Woods  Grove  

You push your way through the woods and webbing to get to the light that 
  seemed so far away before. You breath a sigh of relief as you see...
Grove(#9784RJLU)
Life fills you as you walk into this grove. All around you plants grow, 
  twisting around each other in a magical dance of life. A majestic tree 
  stands in the center of the grove, it's life force encompassing the whole 
  area. Small rock formations dot the garden adding another level of beauty to 
  the place. A small spring flows from between some of the rocks and becomes a 
  miniature stream meandering through the many trees and flowers. Other than 
  the huge tree in the center of the grove all the others bear wonderful fruit 
  of all different varieties while each flower is in bloom and full color. You 
  notice stairs curling up around into the tree directly into it's heart. Even 
  through all this beauty you can hear the constant *click* *click* *click* 
  off in the dark woods surrounding you.
Contents:
Helper
Doreel(#6997PJXce)
Obvious exits:
Woods  Path  Hole  Tree  

Trouble edges down the path into the grove, looking back the way she came, 
  still brandishing her weapon. Not about to give up on a possible ally even 
  if that ally is known to be dangerous, she then flicks a green look into the 
  grove as she enters it.

As you come into the grove, life resumes, and noise. The green thing is here, 
  at the far end of the clearing, panting frantically between attempting to 
  explain something of extreme importance to a tall silvery figure who sits on 
  one of the steps leading up into the tree, watching it. "But, Master! It 
  SAID it was Trouble!"

Trouble turns, then, startled. He _is_ alive, then. But she didn't expect him 
  to be... beautiful. She swallows, then sends out, ** Doreel! **

The greenie's string of chatter is halted by a gentle motion of the elf's hand 
  as he turns slightly to look. Then he sighs, deeply, bowing his head. "Come 
  to burn it again, haven't you.. yes, of course you have."

Trouble scowls, anxiously. ** Not going to burn anything. I'm not a 
  fire-maker. Can you _help_ me? I have to rescue my friend, and if you can't 
  help, I promise, I'm out of here! **

"Rescue your friend..?" The other elf repeats that, slowly. "Rescued him once, 
  you did, then ran away. Always run away.." He sighs once more, at which the 
  helper pipes up. "Trouble should go away, right? Trouble is bad?" Doreel 
  just looks at it, and it shuts up again.

Trouble eyes the taller elf, thinking quickly, then she snarls out, ** I'm not 
  Rillwhisper, mad one! Can you _help_? **

Doreel nods once, faintly. "Of course I can help." He doesn't get up, though. 
  In fact, he doesn't even move.

Trouble groans, then sends in exasperation, once more glancing over her 
  shoulder into the shadowed trees, ** _Will_ you help me? **

Distant blue eyes focus, looking intently at you for a moment before clouding 
  over again. "I will." He says, absently. "If you'll stay here."

Trouble blinks. Her thudding heart nearly makes her scream out, 'Whatever!' 
  But she stops herself in time, and snaps, tone on the edge of hysteria, ** I 
  _can't_ stay here! It's not my... home, and I haven't found my name yet, 
  curse you! It nearly k-killed Strongbow and Rillwhisper to be here! ** She 
  starts backing off down the path. Bad idea, this.

Doreel bows his head again, speaking to the burrower that still hovers by his 
  side. He mutters something about Lir and finding, preservers and hiding. 
  Then he look up again. "They died." He points out quietly. "They left, and 
  they died. The tall ones came, killed them all." The figure by his side tugs 
  on his sleeve for a moment, but then he nods. "You can't do it alone." His 
  voice isn't so much quiet for that last statement as it is flat, not a 
  command, only a statement of fact.

Trouble whirls back, wide-eyed, wary. ** Strongbow and Rillwhisper are alive! 
  ** Her sending is heated, still tinged with her lingering fear. ** 
  Rillwhisper saved him from the spiders -- she said so! **

"If you want my help," says the other, dismissing the burrower with a wave of 
  his hand, "Then you must stay here. With us." The burrower grumbles, 
  throwing a glare in your general direction, then slips off to do whatever it 
  was Doreel instructed it to do.

Trouble's eyes narrow. ** Why?! ** Her still-clutched bow shakes in her grasp.

"Because.." Doreel glances skyward for a moment. "We get so lonely.." He 
  shakes head then, voice becoming slightly clearer. "It is safe, here. Not 
  out there."

Trouble blinks again, and lowers her bow, slightly. ** We... can stay for a 
  while, ** she sends, uncertainly. Then her gaze turns frantic, once more. ** 
  For a while, at least, please, if you can help... **

"You will stay." Again it is not a command, nor is it a request, it is a 
  statement of fact, and he nods. "My helpers will find your friend.. if it's 
  not too late."

As firmly as she can manage, the maiden sends, ** I'm going with them! **

Doreel tsks softly and shakes his head. "The preservers would attack." At long 
  last he stands, taller now than before. "They will find your friend." Quite 
  abruptly he changes topics. "Are you hungry?"

Helper leaves the grove behind with a sigh, heading towards the edge of the 
  forest.
Helper has left.

Trouble watches you rise, still warily, and blinks. ** Hungry? ** she echoes, 
  startled.

Doreel nods absently, walking across the grassy expanse to a a cluster of 
  trees at it's edge. "Of course you're hungry.. you always are."

Trouble shoots another nervous glance off over her shoulder, and lowers her 
  bow, but only somewhat. Her attention divides, now, between the trees and 
  their clearly rambling shaper.

He reaches up into the leaves, retrieving several smallish fruits, then 
  settles on the grass. He looks thoughtfully at something there, shifting the 
  fruit to one hand, and holds the other out to something.

Trouble swallows, eying the fruits Doreel is taking down. But she then jerks 
  her gaze back to the trees. Can't think of food at a time like this. Indeed, 
  her stomach churns at the very thought.

Doreel
Extrordinarily tall is this elf, and he might be that much taller if he wasn't 
  nearly always watching the ground. Waves of soft, white-blonde hair fall 
  back away from his face, tied off between his shoulderblades, immaculatly 
  clean and almost auratic as it frames his face. His eyes are the same 
  brilliant blue as the sky, endless and eternal and somehow out of touch with 
  the Here, instead fixed on somewhere There. He is clad in grey and white 
  leathers, a conglomeration of silver and dove and mist and foggy white that 
  are really more functional than elegantly crafted though fringed tunic and 
  breeches are lined in soft white fur. Pale he is, and etherial, as though he 
  only half exists in this place. Often enough it seems that his mind is 
  elsewhere, since just as often he mumbles to himself.

The faint prickle of extended magic can almost be felt, along with a softly 
  golden glow that runs out of Doreel's fingers, into the grass. Then, as 
  quickly as it began, it's ended and he's stood up, rebalancing things in his 
  arms.

Her skin shivers at the magic sense; she knows that kind of magic, used as 
  often as it is at home. The huntress-maiden looks nervously to the tall elf, 
  once more. ** How many Helpers do you have? How long will it take them? **

Smiling beningly, the keeper of the grove moves over to you. "Enough of them. 
  It shouldn't take too long, I don't think. Here.. have one of these." He 
  pauses not all that far away, offering a fruit. "It will make you feel 
  better."

Trouble blinks, twice. ** I'm alright, ** she sends, more softly, wary still. 
  Then she frowns, wondering whether it's wise to tell this mad one no. She 
  steps to him, looking up through frightened but narrowed green eyes, slim 
  fingers reaching for the offering. ** ... thank you. **

Doreel nods in satisfaction as you accept his gift, tipping his head to one 
  side to watch you eat it.

You sense in a locksend, Dart struggles to make contact. No distinct thoughts 
  reach you, just general discomfort and a sense of not liking being enclosed.

Trouble's green eyes flick from Doreel to trees and back again, as she sniffs 
  at the fruit, then tentatively nibbles. Then, after a swallow, she 
  straightens, ears pricking. ** Dart... he sends...! **
You locksend ** <relief/anxiety/fear> Dart? Keep sending... I'm sending 
  help...! ** to Dart.

"Of course he does." The other nods, once. "And he'll be here soon enough. Now 
  eat."

Trouble frowns at you over her shoulder, then at the fruit. It... smells 
  alright, she supposes. Still eyeing the trees, she bites, chews, swallows.

You sense in a locksend, Dart sends weakly, ** Hurts, can't move much... 
  <pain/fear/nausea> **

The flesh of the fruit is crisp, and faintly tart. It smells faintly sweet 
  andclean, with just a hint of the promised tang. Nothing wrong with it, 
  really. Doreel just smiles.

Trouble, mostly worried about Dart, downs the rest of the fruit and turns to 
  look for somewhere to throw the rind. Her frown yet remains, and she glances 
  off into the trees, sending...
You locksend ** <worry> Listen! I've sent help! I found the one who lives in 
  the Grove, his helpers are coming for you...! ** to Dart.

[And meanwhile, in the corner of the woods where Dart is imprisoned in the
 spider wrapstuff....]

Dart struggles vainly against the cocoon, not succeeding at much other 
  than improving his circulation a bit (which is not a good thing long 
  about now).

The voices? The voices get louder, mayhaps drawing nearer. They go silent
  for a moment, then one sounds sharply. Some indefinite period of time 
  elapses, and then something brushes against the coccoon.

Dart locksends to Trouble, Dart sends tiredly, ** Tired, want out. **
Dart's squirming increases in strength for a moment, ** Out! Let me 
  out! <pain/nauea/exhaustion> **

[Back with Doreel and Trouble....]

A hand is extended, perhaps for the rind. In it, however, rests a midling 
  sized mushroom, cap dusted with speckles of brown and blue.

Trouble whispers, anxiously, "C'mon, you, _send_..." Her one hand on the bow, 
  the other with the remnants of the fruit, Trouble blinks at Doreel. Oh. She 
  hands the rind to him.

You sense in a locksend, Dart sends tiredly, ** Tired, want out. **

The rind is taken, set amidst the other foodstuffs quietly. Doreel then 
  chuckles, quietly, shaking his head. "He can't hear you.."

Trouble wrinkles her brow and looks back at you. "He just sent, again!" she 
  insists, roughly.

Doreel mmmhms, quietly, holding the mushroom out again. "Of course he did." He 
  nods once or twice, looking off toward the trees. "Of course."

Trouble frowns, and her restless gaze returns to the trees. Both her hands 
  clench on her bow. "He's tired... he wants out!"
You locksend to Dart, Trouble mentally reaches for you, in a send-hug that she 
  would never do in physical contact, or at least that she has never done. ** 
  Keep sending! Doreel's helpers are coming for you! I'm waiting! **
When her green regard comes back to the Grove's master, Trouble blinks again 
  at his outstretched hand. ** ? **

Doreel tsks softly, nodding again. "Of course.. the preservers have him. All 
  webbed up." His voice takes on a faintly sing-song tone, one someone might 
  expect from a small child. "Eat, it'll calm you."

You sense in a locksend, Dart sends, almost panicked, ** Spiders? Spiders 
  outside? Sent spiders? **

Trouble frowns a little, but takes the shroom. Again she sniffs, as she says a 
  little scatteredly, "I'm... fine."

It has no scent. None at all. Doreel again only smiles.

You locksend ** No! No, look, see: <image of small troll-like creatures, 
  coming to help, coming to free you> ** to Dart.
Trouble once more looks distracted a moment, sending. Then she nibbles at the 
  shroom, and swallows.

It couldn't really be said to have a taste, either. If anything, it is faintly 
  fizzy.. but that isn't a flavor, is it? Yes, it might actually taste fizzy. 
  But then it's gone.

Trouble's brow furrows. She nibbles more at the shroom, attention turning 
  again towards the trees, towards Dart's sending. The hand with the bow in it 
  lowers to her side, as she eats; one of her feet twitches, booted heel 
  bouncing in lingering restless worry.

Now that more of it is eaten, it becomes distinctly obvious that it DOES taste 
  fizzy.. a fizzy that goes out as it goes down, to your fingertips and toes. 
  It doesn't last nearly long enough, though.

Vaguely, Trouble frowns, then turns back to Doreel. ""What..." ** What does 
  this... shroom do? I feel... **

Doreel just smiles serenely. "It doesn't do anything, really."

[Or does it? End log....]