Log Date: 1/23/96 Log Intro: Some hours have passed in the hidden grove at the middle of the spider forest, and Rillwhisper has continued her vigil over the ailing Strongbow. She naps, lightly, keeping a send-watch on the archer both in sleeping and waking thought; after a time, though, the chieftess wakens, restless.... ---------- The grove continues in its relative peace, though the sporadic distant clicks from the spiders of the woods punctuate the occasional birdsong in the overhead branches. Rillwhisper, sitting on the grass, works stiffly at stretching towards each of her feet, in turn, while keeping an eye out for Doreel or the helpers. Rillwhisper scowls softly at her travel-worn boots. She needs new leathers, and she doubts she's going to get them any time soon. Better to discard the footwear, or keep it? Continuing at her awkward exercise, she frowns in idle thought. Turning over in his increasingly restless sleep, the deep dreamless time leaving him, the archer nevertheless seems to have benefited from true rest--as well as time, food and water. His muscles twitch spasmically as he moves limbs, but they do move, stiffly. Rillwhisper glances over at her drowsing companion. And sends, just a sense, enough to announce her presence if it's needed. That much seems to be enough to give the archer a moment's stability in his uncertain, timeless dreams. He sends back, clutching to the young-but-grown chieftess, ** Now... ** It is almost a question, and accompanied with the faint recollection of spiders, Moonshade, an elf in a glade who refuses to send. A moment later, his eyes slit open, gauging the light. Rillwhisper moves over to your side, less lithely than she should, but freely, and she leans over to look down at you. ** Now, ** she responds, confirming the memories. A bit of a smile flickers in her eyes. ** That's good, you're remembering by yourself. ** Strongbow shakes his head. ** Alone would tell me nothing. ** He sits up, stiffly, and lets a smile of satisfaction show through his glittering gaze for having done so. ** They've gone? ** He looks around the glade, gesturing with his gaze and indicating with a send the squat miniaturized trolls he recalls. Rillwhisper beams outright at you, stifling the impulse to provide support -- wait till he needs it, she urges herself, elated. She answers happily, ** Tending another task across the grove -- it took the three of them to do it. ** Strongbow snorts weakly but with much meaning. ** And none of... ** He searches for the name, grasping at threads. Handfuls of names that sound similar or that he attaches to similar faces from his own time or from history slide through his mind, and he finally settles on the one most unknown. ** Doreel's help. Where's he gone, then? ** Expression full of approval and pride, Rillwhisper inches back from you, just a bit, avoiding too much concerned hovering. She goes on, glancing up at the central tree, ** Doreel is... well, he's gone off to hide again. ** Her nose wrinkles. Strongbow's glance shifts away. For all that his bones and muscles are stiff and his mind muddled to near-mush, his emotions and his gaze is sharp. ** Coward, ** he mutters, as if to himself. Rillwhisper offers, a bit unsurely, ** I think... we're the first elves he's ever seen. Since the High Ones, I mean. ** Rillwhisper sends openly ** I can't quite blame him for being scared. So much _time_ alone...! ** Rillwhisper shakes her head, in slow wonder. ** That's longer than I was in Fallberry's wrapstuff. ** Strongbow wrinkles his own nose. ** He won't send. ** He looks back toward his companion, brown eyes dark in the shadows of unkempt hair. ** He refuses truth? Comfort? ** The archer's lip curls slightly. Rillwhisper sighs softly. ** When he first found me, he thought I was 'Tasheya'. I-I think he's addled, archer. I remember him calling me 'FallenLeaf', too. ** Strongbow sighs in sending. ** No Healer, that. ** Rillwhisper points out, ** He healed me. ** She frowns a bit, though. ** He... goes in and out. ** And she pauses a bit, hesitantly, not sure whether this'll bother you, as she continues, ** And he doesn't have the spider venom in him. I think he's just... mad. ** Strongbow nods, opinion unchanged. A coward who's broken. ** Needs a healer himself, ** he compromises, grudgingly. ** You...sent...the Preserver...? ** The name of the little creature, for the moment, escapes him. Rillwhisper supplies, ** Fallberry. ** She blushes, mouth curling a bit. ** I, um, was still sick when I saw the bug, but I remember. I think. I told it, go find Woodhawk and Trollkiller. I think it heard me... ** Rillwhisper adds, ** Hopefully they'll bring Silversong. ** Strongbow nods to that, Silversong being brought already a thought in his own mind. ** Have they sent? ** The chieftess's cheerful expression falters a bit. She shakes her head. ** If they have... I haven't heard. ** She tries to grin. ** Not as good as you are, at it. ** Strongbow's mouth twitches slightly with the hint of a smile. ** Not good at it right now, ** he replies, with it the knowledge that if someone tried to reach him from far, he might not hear -- or might not register it correctly or as the right person if he did. Oddly, that seems to comfort her, and her eyes lighten. If you know you're still muddled, that's a sign you're improving, she reasons. ** Do you want to try to work on that? ** Strongbow raises a stern brow. ** Time, ** he replies. It's occured to him that it's the spider's poison...the thought spins a bit of his memory, equating this place with the black snake's venom. He closes his eyes, shakes it off as best he can. ** How? ** Rillwhisper quirks a brow as she tries to fathom that somewhat disjointed thought, then she brightens when that is accomplished. ** We have to get you moving, ** she tells you. ** Wake your blood up. So you can fight off the poison. ** Rillwhisper half-smiles. ** Best thing I can think of, right now. Without a healer, or any of my brother's teas to feed you. ** Strongbow tilts his head in a half-nod. ** Water...? ** He looks round, remembering that the female mini-troll had brought water before. Rillwhisper nods earnestly, and glances around. ** Look, ** she sends, pointing off to the nearby gurgling spring, ** there's water there. I want to see if we can get you to move there, okay? ** Strongbow nods once and shifts, readying himself to try to get to his feet. Rillwhisper rises, carefully, not yet holding out her hand for support, but watching you intently to see if she may need to do so. Strongbow gets to a squat, both hands on the ground, out to either side to steady himself, without much trouble. There he stays, woozing, for a moment, considering his next move. Rillwhisper encourages softly, ** That's it. Slow and easy. You can do it... ** Her hand moves slightly forward. Strongbow lifts one hand, keeping his balance, and then the other. ** Close, if I lose balance... ** He trails off, concentrating on staying upright. Slowly he unbends his knees and hips, coming slowly to a stand. He is still for a moment, then he sways, putting one foot wide to the side with a start to catch himself. Rillwhisper doesn't grab for you, not yet. She smiles, though, thinking fiercely, _Yes! I knew he could do it!_ ** Right here, ** she promises. Strongbow nods slightly, gaze unfocusing and refocusing, breathing just a bit fast. After a moment he puts out his hand for yours, sending. ** Before I can't, ** he requests, needing some guidance to be sure of the direction to the stream. Rillwhisper's fingers are immediately there, her grasp firm. ** You're doing marvellously, ** she assures. Stepping slightly before you, she gives a gentle tug. ** This way. Just follow me. Step at a time. ** Strongbow takes a step, a bit less long and a bit broader apart from his other foot than usual, but steadier for it. He sends something approaching a growl as an autumn leaf crisps under his foot, but silences as he realizes he's not winning anything by being quiet anyway. Another step, following those of his companion. Progress is slow, the stream seemingly days and days away. Rillwhisper inches you towards it, surreptitiously slipping her slender shoulders under your arm. Strongbow leans very slightly on the shorter elf, able to step a bit more quickly with more certainty that the ground will stay put. As his mind weakens and his thoughts stumble from the clear Now he'd picked out to a few others, his need for water stays strong in his head, and he keeps on, making slow progress. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper sends gently, but steadily, ** Still with me, archer? ** At last. The scent and sound of water, both vivid. Rillwhisper stops, and tugs at you, before you stumble forward again right into the rivulet. ** Down, now, ** she urges. ** Take it slow. ** Strongbow startles a bit to hear the send, as if for a moment he'd expected another's mind-voice. He looks aside at you, searching green eyes for sympathy in a shade of violet. Without comment on what he doesn't find, he slowly lets himself to his knees and clutches the bank, fingertips in the water, muddied grass beneath either hand. Rillwhisper kneels beside you, hands lingering near. ** There you go, ** she sends soothingly. ** Are you still with me, soul-brother? ** Strongbow nods once, panting a bit for breath, mind swirling. When the correct Now comes across him, he knows it, but seems unable to hold to it, falling against himself into whatever memory presents itself. In a moment of clarity, whether in the glade or somewhere else, he reaches one hand out to scoop up a bare handful of water, which he lifts to his mouth and consumes. Rillwhisper frowns lightly to herself, but you don't see it, as she slips her hold on you to simply prop you up steadily enough to drink as much as needed of the water. Feeling your thoughts blur, she frowns more deeply, but doesn't send a correction, not quite yet. Let him think of one thing at a time. She keeps both her hands near, though, and reinforces her physical presence with a fleeting mental contact. Rillwhisper eyes the water around your bowed head, and almost giggles, but her gaze is worried. It's a runnel: her namesake, at least when she was small. As if worried you'll return to that perception of her, she sends again, ** Stay with me, archer. Take your time. ** Strongbow repeats the motion, taking several handfuls of water between bouts with forgetting/remembering. After a time he lets his hand fall to the shore once more, closing his eyes to try to stabilize himself anywhere -- any place he can work his way back from. Your gentle touch, hands and mind, and the fleeting mind-sight of someplace green and safe, gives him a handhold. Runnel, he thinks, just less than a send, and then corrects as a chieflock flashes above a resigned smile, ** Rillwhisper. ** The stream and the green place shift to accomodate the sensation of cold water droplets in facefur, and the archer shakes his head slightly to clear them. Rillwhisper smiles, relievedly, at you as you correctly identify her. ** Rillwhisper, ** she agrees, and she adds approvingly, ** You're still with me, dear one! ** Her eyes shine. Strongbow grumbles weakly, knowing better. ** Closer. ** He slits open his eyes, glaring into the water for the brief flashes of his reflection. Rillwhisper nods to you, and keeps near, to be leaned on as needed. As the water settles, she peers into it with you. Again, the chieftess frowns softly, over your shoulder. The continually bubbling spring isn't exactly useful for a clear reflection, and she eyes you sidelong, to see if you can make it out on your own. Strongbow lifts a hand to run fingers across his furred chin, not needing the reflection to be clear, the brief flashes doing more to pick out which like flashes in his mind are best to base his thoughts on. Rillwhisper waits, wordlessly. And still worried, a bit, but less than the previous day. Her faith in you is being vindicated, as she watches what she knows to be your dogged fighter's will shoving you back to alertness just as well as she. Perhaps better. She gives a bit of a smile. Watching, the chieftess finds herself reminded of your odd hesitance back at Lostholt. That worried her as much as the venom-sickness does now; thinking to subtly fight it, too, she asks you, ** What do you want to do now? ** Strongbow closes his eyes as a flash of golden curls in the water brings back a different memory than that which he knows sits near him. After a long, slow breath, he turns away from the water to sit, mentally reviewing events. Half-sending as he does, he tries to put things in the right order. Angry violet eyes...looking for lifemate...a wolfcub. The furred face in his mind is gray, though, from a memory, and the archer continues despite it. Spiders...then black venom, shadows and stone, preserver webbing...no, spider webbing. Around his feet, his hands. Hunt, green cub-place...Runnel. Rillwhisper. Here, the glade. The miniaturized troll-folk. And the elf who won't send... Strongbow opens his eyes, clear. ** Can we send to the others? ** Rillwhisper considers. ** We can try, ** she answers, settling herself to sit cross-legged on the dry ground beside you. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper touches your mind, steadily. ** How do you want to do this, soul-brother? You've got more power at this than I do. ** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow considers longly before replying: ** Keep me steady. Pace me. ** Rillwhisper nods firmly, and, with a subtle touch, gets you out of your crouch by the stream. ** C'mere, ** she encourages, tugging you to lie back against her. ** You'd better be comfortable for this. ** Strongbow leans back without complaint, trying to think of who he should be sending to. Rillwhisper leans you against her chest, and bows her head a little, breathing in the scent of your hair. You don't smell right, and it makes her nose wrinkle, but she holds you to her nevertheless. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper strengthens her presence in your head; it feels much like her hands on yours when she guided you to the stream, and she hovers there, waiting for you to try a call. ----- And meanwhile: [Trollkiller, Woodhawk, and the others of the Willowholt party determined to locate their missing chieftess have camped in a hollow among the endless grasses of the central plains. It's been a long ride, punctuated with one heartening occurrence: the arrival of Fallberry. The Preserver, albeit exhaustedly, has provided the first real clue to Rillwhisper's whereabouts, and much to the elves' admittedly grim relief, the bug promises to escort them to her. But in the meantime, Rillwhisper's younger lifemate is restless, and stays awake when his tribesmates sleep, working on oiling the cracked and bleeding pads of his wolflike feet....] Trollkiller sits, quietly, looking at the heatshimmers rising from the waves of tall grass around his campsite. Unable to sleep, he waits, staring northward in the direction from which the bug had flown. You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: Strongbow reaches, blurrily at first, then gathering his mind together to be the strength, sure as one of his arrows, that he knows it can be. ** ...Trollkiller? ** he offers, as if just grasping the name as he needs it. ** You there... ** Trollkiller jumps, stumbling to his feet. ** ?! ** ----- In the grove: Strongbow shivers slightly against you, but allows himself a moment's satisfaction. He remembered someone, and found them, too. Someone important. You locksend, to Strongbow, Trollkiller: ** ** You sense in a locksend to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: Trollkiller sends, distant, at fist unfocused but then sharper and more clear... ** ?!???! ...Strongbow?! Rillwhisper?! ** Strongbow nods slightly, as if encouraging the distant friend, and gathers himself, steeling his expression. ----- On the plains: Trollkiller sends foot-oil flying as he hops over to his and Woodhawk's furs. ** Wake up! ** Woodhawk jerks, at the call from Trollkiller, eyes flying open before he is conscious. Trollkiller locksends ** Listen! ** to Woodhawk. Trollkiller locksends, to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: ** Are you there? Where are you? Are you alright?! Where have you been?! ** Woodhawk frowns muzzily. ** ? ** He peers out of his pile of furs, then blinks. As Trollkiller relays his received call, the firestarter's eyes go wide. You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: Strongbow's sending lurches a bit this time, but comes through more clearly. ** Glade...spiders. Black venom, need Silversong...? ** He leans away from his send, as if asking for Rillwhisper's check to his accuracy. Trollkiller strains, sending again, with fewer words and more raw presence, more directed power. You locksend, to Strongbow, Trollkiller: ** ** From afar, to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: Trollkiller sends, ** WHERE? ** with surprising strength given what appears to be a terrific distance. ----- In the grove: You locksend ** ** to Strongbow. You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: Strongbow works on that one a bit. ** Glade... ** The image comes through, backed by a forest that seems, sporadically, to click. More than that is hard to grant, though he can, and does, pull a little, sending such that one might be able to follow it. ** One elf, some trollkin. ** The elf pictured is unremarkable for, perhaps, an abandoned Glider living in the woods; the other beings, though, are far too small to be trolls, and too compact. Unconsciously she smiles at the touch of her lifemate's mind, even relayed. But Rillwhisper keeps her thoughts rooted with you, aware that, at the moment, you need her attention more. You locksend ** Direction, soul-brother. Focus on direction. ** to Strongbow. ----- On the plains: Trollkiller locksends to Strongbow, Trollkiller reaches out with his mind, trying to help carry your send, reaching out as best he can to aid in getting your thoughts from yourself to him... Trollkiller strains, relaying Strongbow's send to Woodhawk, while trying to keep together the contact... Trollkiller locksends, to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: ** Spiders. Explain SPIDERS. ** Woodhawk sits up, reaching for Trollkiller's shoulder, and entering the link. His sending glimmers. Woodhawk locksends, to Strongbow, Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: ** ** ----- In the grove: Rillwhisper breathes, "'Hawk!" prayerfully, over your hair. Strongbow shivers a bit, heeding your advice, though pushing himself as far as he dares. You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: Strongbow shudders slightly, mind faltering in memories. An image, finally selected, comes through, of giant spiders -- Rillwhisper's size, larger -- clicking and shifting through trees and bramble and brush, webbing anything they might catch and working through anything that quits moving with shining mandibles... ----- On the plains: Trollkiller shudders in horror. Trollkiller locksends, to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: ** Under attack _now_? Or hiding? ** Woodhawk scowls, and the air grows slightly warmer immediately around him. ----- In the grove: Rillwhisper's brow furrows in concentration, resting now against the top of your head. You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: Strongbow thinks on that. ** Grove, ** he repeats. ** None here. ** The image comes through green, with a single tree oddly in the middle of it. The woods surrounding the place click from time to time, but here it seems quiet, safe. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper urges again, firmly, ** Direction, soul-brother. Show him the way. ** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow hesitates. He knows only the way you and himself took in...and it was almost deadly. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper stresses that there is no other way _she_ knows, either. But she's certain she felt Woodhawk in the contact, and she takes heart, when she glimpses the notion of Silversong. ** Many elves coming, soul-brother. Show them the way. ** You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper plants her mental feet, striving for the steadiness of the Old Willow's roots, and she hangs onto you firmly. Don't leave her now. ----- On the plains: Trollkiller locksends, to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: ** We are looking for you. Silversong is with us. We're coming. ** You say "Can you get their direction from their sends?" You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper: Strongbow almost reluctantly calls to spinning memory the path he and Rillwhisper took into the woods outside the grove. Calling back anything particular to his disjointed mind is almost painful, but as he puts himself into it, detail comes clear. ** More webbing...like little spiders before the big... ** As he forces the path to come to him and shares it with those listening to his memory, more spiderwebs, and larger, do seem to frequent the wood. Bones left in the shade of a tree, from a hunt of theirs...overturned earth and scratched moss where scents were left hidden. More webbing, until the wood looks like it's been overtaken by Preservers, and the archer holds long enough to say, ** As far...then the spiders to fight... ** before he spins into memory of another webbed forest, and the send is halted. Trollkiller's voice is rough from unaccustomed use, and the dry breeze. You sense in a locksend to Strongbow, Woodhawk, Rillwhisper: Trollkiller sends acknowledgment of hearing, and asking, ** Go where the webs are thickest? ** You locksend, to Strongbow, Trollkiller: ** ** Woodhawk frowns tautly. "I... think so..." His gaze shifts, mostly west, somewhat north. Trollkiller looks off into the distance, staring in the direction of the send. ** I got it. ** Trollkiller sends, ** We leave at sunset. ** ----- In the grove: Strongbow sinks slightly in your arms, crease lines of concentration on his forehead relaxing. Rillwhisper shivers, then exhales. Her head hurts! And if that was hard for her... she whimpers a little, in sympathy, and nuzzles at you as a she-wolf might an exhausted cub. Strongbow sends, murmuring, almost to himself. In another webbed grove in another time, the archer is home, snarling at -- of all things -- wrapstuff in his den. And there, then, are violet eyes to calm him, to make things simple again...he drifts a moment in leather before returning to green, the scent and sound of flowing water -- one runnel at his side, and the other to hold him. ** Rillwhisper, ** he reminds himself, half-amused, and sinks, swirling, into sleep. [End log.]