Log Date: 1/25/96
Log Intro: In Doreel's hidden grove, Rillwhisper has continued to
tend her venom-stricken friend Strongbow -- and much to her elation, the
archer seems to be fighting off the poison of mad Doreel's spiders simply
by the force of his own will. Doing her best to encourage this,
Rillwhisper has coaxed Strongbow into deciding the path of his own
recovery. It is Strongbow who asks if they can send for help, and
Strongbow who suggests that Rillwhisper pace him and steady his addled
thoughts when he sends to reach her lifemate Trollkiller. Gladly,
Rillwhisper has done this, though the effort exhausted both of them.
And it is then that the master of the grove chooses to notice
them again....

----------
Doreel paces from behind the tree, looking up at it, somewhat longingly.

Rillwhisper has moved. She and her sick companion are now much closer to the 
  stream than they had been, before; the chieftess sits cross-legged by the 
  water, with Strongbow crumpled against her chest. Her forehead is leaning 
  down agaisnt the top of his head.

As sleep fades in the archer's mind, leaving him hazily in the present, he 
  shifts, stirring against his golden-haired companion. As if he knows she 
  sleeps on, he stills before one eyes slits open, watching the little rivulet 
  babble by.

Doreel glances over at the two of you, "He is not getting better. Is he?"

Rillwhisper, wolf-napping, jerks uncomfortably at the sound of Doreel's voice, 
  but doesn't quite awake. At least not immediately. Her head snaps up, but 
  her gaze is blank, at the moment.

Doreel looks at Rillwhisper curiously.

Rillwhisper then blinks several times, gaze shifting round to the tall and 
  ancient elf. "What?" she mumbles.

Strongbow frowns down at the rivulet, still quite still. ** You think? **
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sends a brief tendril of thought, 
  encouraging gently for you to sleep on, to rest. There is soft gratitude 
  twined about it before the tendril retreats.

Doreel says "The poison is not kind."

Rillwhisper then glances down at the archer, eyes unexpectedly softening, and 
  she brushes a hand through his hair. "He's fighting it," she says softly, 
  proudly.
You locksend ** I'm awake, dear one... Doreel's here... ** to Strongbow.

Doreel nods slightly, impassionately.

Rillwhisper adds, a slow grin spreading across her face, "I think he'll hang 
  on till Silversong gets here... it'll be alright....."

Doreel says "If she gets in here at least."

You locksend ** You hear me, archer? You're going to be alright! <There's 
  laughter, almost, in her voice; she sounds a little giddy, perhaps from 
  headache, perhaps weariness.> ** to Strongbow.
Rillwhisper looks up once more, green eyes bright. "She will. Woodhawk and 
  Trollkiller, too. Woodhawk's fire will scare the spiders, I'll bet."

Strongbow lifts himself, gently, from his companion. Without a word or a send 
  he reaches out to the water, gathering a scant handful and lifting it to his 
  lips for a sip.

Doreel shakes his head slightly, "They do not scare easily."

With a triumphant tone, Rillwhisper declares, "You haven't seen Woodhawk call 
  fire to him." As Strongbow moves, she stretches, stiffly, watching him to 
  gauge his steadiness.

Strongbow offers, with a bit of a sour grin tugging at the corners of his 
  mouth, still staring into the water, ** They may burn easily. **

Rillwhisper then looks over her shoulder, up at Doreel. "We'll go, when they 
  arrive. And stop eating your food and distracting your helpers." She 
  half-smiles.

Doreel says "Do what you will."

Rillwhisper quirks an eyebrow at the indifferent tone, then turns back to 
  Strongbow. "Well, what I will is to get my friend moving...."
Rillwhisper leans closer to the archer, and asks him, quietly, "How are you 
  feeling?"

Strongbow locksends to Doreel, Strongbow requests, firmly, but without 
  compromise, nor much hope for success, ** Send. **
Strongbow looks over his shoulder then, as if the water had held his 
  attention, distracted. ** Better. **

Doreel glowers down at Strongbow.

Rillwhisper smiles again, warmly. "What do you want to try to do? Think you 
  can walk again, a little bit?"

Strongbow looks past the green-eyed elf by him to meet the glowering gaze of 
  Doreel with one of his own, one with a hint of a glittering smirk in the 
  eyes. Absently, to Rillwhisper, he replies, ** Can. Not just yet. **
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow adds, almost bemusedly, ** Want to try to 
  -- ** He indicates Doreel, with particular clarity. ** Keep my head clear. **

Doreel narrows his eyes as he watches Strongbow, a hint of... something coming 
  over his face.

Rillwhisper's eyebrows go up. She nods, then glances between the archer and 
  the shaper. She doesn't look particularly unpleased, though. That Strongbow 
  has chosen to do something, anything, heartens her.
Rillwhisper casually drinks from the stream, herself.

Strongbow locksends to Doreel, Strongbow refirms his attempt. ** Send truth. 
  Are you afraid? *

You locksend ** I'm here, soul-brother. <Her presence increases. She touches 
  you with her own clear thoughts, clear as a still pool, unrippled by passing 
  breezes.> ** to Strongbow.

Doreel scowls slightly, "I am not afraid. I choose not to send to one who is 
  not a real elf."

Strongbow almost growls, then, absurdly, chuckles, laughter rough in his 
  throat. ** For fear you will become unreal? **

Rillwhisper blinks. Then snorts to herself. _That_ sounds familiar; Doreel's 
  realized what a Wolfrider is, has he? Or is this his madness talking, 
  simply? "Strongbow and I _are_ real, Doreel. We're not visions."

Doreel chuckles slightly and folds his arms across his chest, "You perhaps are 
  Rillwhisper. But this one is nothing more than a beast. He wears fur on his 
  face like one... his growl... all of it."

Strongbow shifts, rearranging his position on the ground, sitting cross-legged 
  and cross-armed, waiting to see what meaning takes prime position.

Rillwhisper says serenely, "We're both children of Timmain."

Lira comes out of the helper's Hole, glancing at the three she pauses.

Rillwhisper adds, glancing sidelong with another proud glint in her gaze at 
  the archer, "As for him being a beast..." She laughs, gently. "Beasts don't 
  send."

Strongbow's glance shifts, arrow-quick, to his companion.

Doreel shakes his head, "A lie. Timmain was a leader amoung the first comers. 
  You are nothing like her.

You locksend ** ? ** to Strongbow.

Strongbow locksends ** Timmain. <The send is colored with every image the 
  archer knows of that one, her wolfin form walking so long unknown among 
  them, then stretching shimmering into herself, sending to him with piercing 
  intensity that he himself cannot match, nor long take.> ** He 
  remembers...part. Not all. ** **

Rillwhisper tilts her head at Strongbow, suddenly, catching her breath.
You locksend ** <reverently> Yes. You saw her.... <Regret, on the one hand, 
  that she has not been so fortunate; sympathy, on the other, about her 
  sending. Rillwhisper would have buckled under the High One's contact long 
  before you, she's certain.> ** to Strongbow.
Rillwhisper then flashes her gaze back up to Doreel and sends, levelly, ** 
  It's true. If Strongbow's a beast, Doreel, then so am I, because we're the 
  same kind of elf. But Timmain _is_ our foremother. **

Doreel narrows his eyes, suprised perhaps by her send... he knows about 
  sending, at least what you elves think of it.

Strongbow's gaze searches that of his companion, one brow raising.

Doreel points towards Strongbow, "Then how.... do you explain that?" Meaning 
  his beard.

You locksend ** <faint amusement> Do you want to tell him, or shall I? ** to 
  Strongbow.

Strongbow lifts his hand to run over the fur, eyes shifting back to Doreel. ** 
  I will show you. ** His gaze glitters, and for a moment, he sends to 
  Rillwhisper.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow shows not a breath of hesitation. ** While 
  I have memory at hand... ** His tone is ironic. ** I will. **

Rillwhisper, seeming to realize on some level that she needs to, lightly drops 
  a hand on Strongbow's shoulder.
You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper touches your thoughts again, steady. 
  <assent>

Doreel says "Show me then beast."
Doreel says that with contempt.

Strongbow locksends to Doreel, Strongbow lets into you, sending, clarity 
  piercing, not at all the swirling mind that touched you a day before. 
  ** Timmain. ** The name alone calls up memory, first of image: A silver 
  wolf, stalking among those with whom the Wolfriders run. She is low-rank in 
  the pack, but present...the wolf-elves and their lupine kin, in the archer's 
  memory, explore a great stone memory, the turning magic about them of the 
  Palace. It is near meaningless, but a cub notices...and then all notice, the 
  silver wolf, stretching, shimmering, until in her place lies the thin form 
  of Timmain, the wolf-mother, the elf-mother. It could be a dream but for one 
  memory, almost pain: The High One _sends_ to him, to _him_, to Strongbow, 
  piercing his mind with clarity and intensity that he, with all his power 
  among his folk, cannot long bear nor match. He nearly cries. And, in 
  sending, it is truth.
Strongbow locksend to Doreel, Strongbow adds, a faint patter of words, ** 
  Timmorn was our first chief, son of Timmain by a wolf, long ago. This world 
  runs in my blood, and Rillwhisper's, and all our kind. **
Strongbow glowers at Doreel, sending almost clustering powerful in the air 
  about him.
Strongbow leans back upon his companion then, in sending and a bit in form, 
  lifting one hand to set upon her hand upon his shoulder, facing Doreel, 
  daring him wordlessly to see.

Perhaps already familiar with the kind of tone Doreel is using, Rillwhisper 
  seems unruffled, and sits with equal attention both on Strongbow and their 
  host. There might be a brief flash of sending about her; if there is, it is 
  overshadowed by the archer's mental _presence_.

Doreel wrinkles his brow, his face contorts in disgust.

Lira watches the three standing in most often silence. Unsure of what to do, 
  she goes to her own little 'refuge', the garden.

Doreel says "That is the most perverse use of the powers."

Strongbow's lip twitches slightly, catching the expression. ** Timmain is not 
  yours to judge. I survived the black venom. ** As he sends it, he knows it 
  to be true, and his eyes light the smallest bit. ** Perhaps this is why. **

Rillwhisper keeps her arms about the archer lying back against her, a bare 
  whisper of a sense of green, water-rich coolness about her, almost 
  unnoticeable in the sending Strongbow is putting forth. She smiles.

Doreel sneers, "Timmain is not around to defend herself. She is long dead. 
  Your beasts' blood probably killed her as it will kill you."

Rillwhisper puts in, mildly, ** Strongbow and his folk saw her in the Palace. 
  **

Strongbow raises a brow. ** Timmain is a High One still. She lives. ** There 
  is truth there, too, piercing and undeniable.

Doreel narrows his eyes at Strongbow. "They are all dead! I am the last one! 
  The humans killed them!"

Strongbow adds, with the slightest twitch of a smile, ** Send to me. Practice. 
  Then send to her, and see. **
Strongbow's eyes darken.

Doreel starts to send, it is dark, and menacing, he has been pushed, his 
  madness slipping in at every angle ** You want to feel my send, beast? Both 
  of you? **

Strongbow locksends to Doreel, Strongbow, for a moment impatient, simply floods 
  your mind. Ancient elves, all those he can call to mind, in image swirl: A 
  tall, ancient mother, darkened in sun and time, touch gentle in fingertip 
  and in mind; another female, black of hair, long hair, past her feet 
  sweeping tendrils -- like snakes, or like spiderwebs -- on stone floor, 
  smiling a Healer's madness. Black venom, the archer thinks, and winces 
  slightly at your sending; however, it seems he has borne worse.
Strongbow scowls darkly, sending for a moment, then closing himself off, 
  steeling himself in a way that implies having done this before, and against 
  a greater power.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow gathers you in, welcoming. ** Stay with me. 
  Send with me. ** It is gentle, but yet an order, slightly paranoid against 
  Doreel's attack.

Rillwhisper stiffens, then her eyes glimmer, ferally, over the archer's head. 
  ** We send truth, Doreel -- we don't want to fight you! **

Doreel blinks, his eyes narrow as you send an image of the black haired 
  'snake', "That one. Who is that?"

Strongbow's lip twitches amusement. He can't, or won't, keep up the contact, 
  then. The archer has withstood far worse. His glance flickers to 
  Rillwhisper, questioning.

Lira watches Master and the Others, truly wishing Lar was around so he could 
  help make Master stop what looks like a time of 'remembering' for all three.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper shivers, mentally, immediately drawing 
  nearer to you. Ill though you might be, she is unnerved by the current of 
  sending she perceives. As if huddling against the Old Willow for protection 
  against a rainstorm, she leans in against you.

Doreel sends openly ** Who is it! Who are they both? **

Strongbow sends, image of calm accompanied in sending by a greater peace, 
  sun-darkened and wise with time, ** Savah. Child of High Ones. ** The 
  concept is a bit past him, but not past what he knows as truth. The image 
  trades for that with black hair and shadow. ** Winnowill. ** The archer adds 
  no explanation for her existence, no excuse for her being, only truth that 
  she is.

Doreel mutters, his eyes blazing, ** I want to meet them. Both of them. If I 
  heal you, you will take me to them. **

Strongbow's brows fly up, but his sending contains firm approval at Doreel's 
  sending. ** If you let yourself be healed, I will. I don't need your 
  healing. **

Rillwhisper frowns a bit. A thought is clearly in her eyes, but she doesn't 
  voice it, not yet. The green sense of her mental presence lingers behind 
  Strongbow's, as if she stood behind a tree to keep out of a driving rain.

Doreel chuckles and takes a step towards the two elves, a wicked look in his 
  eyes, "That is where you are wrong beast. You are the one who needs healing. 
  My body is strong and healthy."
Doreel says "The venom may be working its way out of you, but I made those 
  Presevers what they are... they follow my commands. Withtout your help to 
  get me to those two elves, your own companions will have no hope in getting 
  here."

You locksend ** Archer.... <Warning, and worry, in her contact.> ** to 
  Strongbow.

Strongbow asks, calmly, ** Do they burn? **

Rillwhisper can't help but grin, at that. Fiercely.

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow comforts you as best he can, questioning 
  slightly, wondering what precisely your worry is.

Doreel chuckles slightly, "No. You don't think that the small ones have tried 
  that."

You locksend ** <firmly> Later. When he's calm. ** to Strongbow.

Doreel sends an image of the spider's woods burning. The great beasts 
  skittering away, unaffected by the flames.
Doreel says "I have rebuilt after many such attempts. All to house the 
  Preservers as their young. It is all part of the paradise mother told me 
  about."

Strongbow sends, for an instant, an image, pure, reflected right back: the 
  spiders' woods burning. The grove, consumed by flames. Flames reaching up 
  into the highest branches of the central tree...

Rillwhisper's green eyes narrow slightly. And she suggests, a fleeting image 
  almost like a reflection that appears, briefly, on the surface of a pond: ** 
  <An elf, calling fire directly into the flesh of the spiders in 
  self-defense, to reach his mate and his mate's companion.> **

Strongbow seems to find that almost humourous. ** There never was the like, 
  Doreel. Only survival. ** From nowhere, as if out of the blue, he asks, ** 
  Why are we captive? **

Doreel snarls and stops in midstride, "You will not destroy this paradise! 
  This is the true home that you have always wanted to see!"
Doreel reaches out a hand to grab hold of Strongbow.

Rillwhisper jerks, as Doreel lunges near, and clutches Strongbow to her. ** 
  No, Doreel. We won't destroy anything, if we don't need to. But my mates and 
  our healer _will_ come. **

Doreel snarls, he turns his attention towards Rillwhisper, his eyes narrowing.

Lira works no longer, only listening to Master and the Others, their talk 
  greatly disturbing.

Strongbow reaches out a hand to be grabbed hold of, sending a moment's comfort 
  at Rillwhisper. ** No. _This_ is the true home. ** And with the most and the 
  last, the clearest and most piercing of his strength, comes true the image 
  of the Palace, having been in it, having felt it work its subtle truth and 
  magic upon him, shimmering.

Rillwhisper shivers a little, but doesn't falter, as she sends, ** Hear him, 
  Doreel! We have both been in the Palace -- we've seen it! **

Doreel grabs hold of Strongbow's hand as tight as he can... harmful magic 
  starts to work it's way from the mad elf, but with the archer's sending... 
  it slows, turning itself around, as it starts to heal him instead.

Rillwhisper gives a startled cry, preparing to jerk the archer out of Doreel's 
  way if she needs to....
You locksend ** <alarm?!> ** to Strongbow.

Doreel seems to be drawing this sudden change in mood from the image Strongbow 
  is sending.

Strongbow winces and steels himself for the blow of bent healing and cruel 
  sending, but blinks once as it fails to come, staring at the elf before him. 
  Not understanding, he sends, hesitantly, the Palace again, stronger, every 
  detail his memory-laden mind can dredge up. The Scroll turns for his memory 
  now through the voice of his chief's cub...tales of those few who 
  escaped...it is muddled in order, but the images are clear, the archer's 
  sending sustaining upon his power, then drawing upon the support of his 
  companion.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow holds to you, still letting himself be your 
  Old Willow, but needing the vitality of the sapling to keep up the work... 
  ** Send. You remember too -- send! **

Rillwhisper immediately puts in, her own images much steadier and ordered, her 
  own memories of the Palace landed in her very own Holt. No Timmain within, 
  but there was Rayek, making the Palace fly. Rillwhisper's elder lifemate 
  walked into the Palace's halls, to commune with an enemy's spirit -- and to 
  find the lost part of himself.

Doreel grips hold of Strongbow's hand tightly, his healing magics continuing 
  to flow into him. ** I... I must see this... The true home... the true 
  paradise **

Strongbow nods once, slightly, sending wordless assent.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper urges you: stay here, stay now, let the 
  healing work. Don't slip!

Doreel gasps as all the images come from around him. He breaks his grasp from 
  Strongbow's hand, leaving him healed for the most part. He stands and turns 
  away.

Strongbow lets his sending trail off, ending with one fading image of the 
  Palace from without, stone spires in myriad colors of rock.

Rillwhisper gasps a little, Doreel's abrupt cessation of the magic again 
  startling her. She hugs Strongbow tightly, sending.....
You locksend ** Soul-brother? Are you well? <worry/love/concern> ** to 
  Strongbow.

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sends exhaustion and pride, clear and Now, 
  memories drained enough to leave him be. His body, though strengthened, is 
  willing enough to assent to his mind's cry for sleep.
Strongbow leans back into Rillwhisper, eyes narrowing to weary slits. ** My 
  thanks, ** he offers, a bit bemused, not sure who should be thanking whom.

Rillwhisper cradles the archer against her, eyes bright with relief and worry 
  intermingled.
You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper lingers, very near in your head. Rest, 
  she agrees softly, that inner glade where she took you before shimmering 
  ethereally in her contact. Rest, dear one. She'll be with you.

Strongbow's eyes, after a time, slit the rest of the way closed, his body 
  relaxing, calming into sleep.

Doreel mutters and moves away, his head spinning, his eyes glazed over. 
  Something is whirling through the ancient elf's mind.

Rillwhisper looks up, at last, as Strongbow drops into exhausted slumber. ** 
  Doreel... thank you. You helped me save his life. **

Doreel doesn't seem to hear as he leans back against the tree.

The chieftess nods to herself, quietly. She won't disturb the shaper, then. 
  Carefully, she settles Strongbow down to her lap, smoothing his hair out of 
  his face.

Lira looks from Master to the Others, still unsure about whats going on...she 
  will have to talk with Lar about this.

Doreel suddenly screams out. Something that just happened has sparked 
  something in his mind, "NO!!!!!!!!! TASHEYA!"

Rillwhisper, meeting Lira's gaze, smiles to the little helper... then starts, 
  at Doreel's scream. Wha...

Lira looks at Master, her face truly worried...Lar where are you runs through 
  her mind.. She jumps to her feet and runs to Master.

Doreel slumps back against the tree, shaking uncontrollably.

Rillwhisper pauses, reluctant to leave her sleeping companion, then realizing, 
  slowly, that she can't abide Doreel suffering, too. No more than she could 
  allow Strongbow to remain spider-wrapped in the forest. Putting the archer 
  down on the ground as gently as she can, she rises, then advances carefully 
  to the other elf.

Lira reaches Master shortly, her short legs pumping as fast as they will go.

Rillwhisper says, carefully, "Doreel...."
Rillwhisper offers, "Her spirit will be in the Palace..."

Doreel has his face in his hands, covering it completely. Images shoot out 
  occassionally of a female elf, and then of a child, barely a turn old... 
  then, again, the humans...

Lira looks back at the Rillwhisper, "The Rillwhisper say she help 
  Master...help Master!" Kneels almost reverently by Master, looking at him, 
  though she never touches him

Rillwhisper comes up beside Lira. She glances down at the little helper, then, 
  remembering her promise to Lira and Lar even before Lira pleas, now, she 
  reaches a hand to Doreel. "Doreel? We can try to find the Palace for you... 
  you should go there... Tasheya's spirit will be there. And the others." She 
  pitches her voice softly, soothing.

Doreel mutters quietly to himself.
Doreel says "She is gone though... her spirit... her... gone..."

Rillwhisper encourages, gently, "And you'll be able to see the other elves 
  across the land... the humans haven't gotten us all. We can show you where 
  Sorrow's End is, and Savah...." Stepping closer, she repeats, "Tasheya's 
  spirit will be in the Palace. You can talk to her, there. Like Woodhawk did 
  to Tash."

Lira looks at the Rillwhisper hopefully, maybe the Rillwhisper can make Master 
  stop 'remembering' she and the Other did it once...

Doreel shakes his head, "No... no... I cannot leave them here alone... the 
  preservers will kill them.

Rillwhisper smiles down at Lira, then tells Doreel, "They might want to come 
  with you, you know. You should ask them."

Doreel looks up, his eyes bloodshot, as if he broke out of his 'remembering' 
  too soon and it shattered his thoughts, "This is their home... everything 
  they have ever knonw."

Rillwhisper kneels in front of Doreel, quietly. And glances at Lira. "But 
  you're their master. They love you. Right, Lira?"

Lira looks at the Rillwhisper, "Lira, Lar, and Lir help Master. Listen to 
  Master, keep Master safe when Master 'remembers'"

Doreel looks at Lira, "But outside of here... I don't know it any better than 
  you three do. And your child," he reaches out to place a hand on Lira's 
  stomach, "It will not know this place."

Lira blinks , surprised at Doreels gentle touch. "Master need be safe. 
  Preservers hurt Master someday, will hurt child too. Preservers kill Lira's 
  child" A brief look of sadness passes over her face and is gone again, 
  replaced with concernn for Master.

Doreel shakes his head, "No... you three... your child cannot die." He blinks, 
  unsure of what he is doing, "I... I don't know if I can leave this place."

Rillwhisper says softly, "Strongbow and I... and my mates... and our healer... 
  can help you."

Doreel shakes his head, "This is like mother said it was... like the home 
  was... no humans... just the life around us. You must be able to feel it 
  Rillwhisper..."
Doreel looks around the paradise he has created in the middle of all the 
  darkness.

Rillwhisper follows your gaze, and answers, "I... _feel_ your magic, Doreel, 
  and it..." She pauses, considering her words, then smiles a little and goes 
  on, "It reminds me of the palace. And no, there are no humans here... but 
  there are other safe places, too, where there are no humans. Like my Holt. 
  And Sorrow's End. And many places, where elves have learned to dwell."

Doreel bows his head, "But none like this place. This is like mother told me. 
  Of where they came from... where they started..."

Rillwhisper coaxes, "Is it? Can it really be, if there are no other elves 
  here, to _make_ it a home?" Her eyes go a little more gentle. "Without elves 
  to live in it, it's just... a place."

Doreel says "But we are not meant to be here."
Doreel says "It was an accident..."
Doreel mutters quietly, and sends so that Lira cannot hear ** It was some of 
  the small ones... **

Rillwhisper pulls in a breath, thinking of how to answer that, and finally she 
  answers, ** I know... Timmain told Strongbow and his tribe... and Strongbow 
  told me. But we _are_ here... and if we hide, we can't ever learn how to 
  leave, can we? ** She finishes, still smiling a little, ** And whatever the 
  first helpers did... it can't be Lira's fault. Or lar's or Lir's. **

Doreel shakes his head, "No... not their fault. But we still do not belong 
  here. You sent an image... of the ship... flying..."

Rillwhisper agrees, "Yes... the Palace has flown. It came to my Holt."

Doreel blinks, "Then we can leave?"

Lira sits quietly, leaning back on her heels, watching Master and the 
  Rillwhisper.

For a long while, Rillwhisper considers that. Then answers earnestly, "I don't 
  pretend that >I< know how the Palace works. I can't honestly answer that 
  question for you." She sighs a little, then goes on, "There's an elf who 
  learned how to make the Palace fly. But the last time I saw him, he was 
  sick, I think. I saw him at Sorrow's End. And Savah lives there too... she 
  is very old, and very wise, more than I."

Doreel says "Then... if he can make it fly... He has to be healed. We can all 
  leave then... and the humans won't bother us anymore."
Doreel looks optimistic, perhaps too much so.

Rillwhisper half-smiles. She's not as sure as you of this, but she's even less 
  sure that she should let on to that. She allows, "Healing Rayek is... well, 
  up to Rayek. But I don't know where he is. Maybe they do in Sorrow's End."

Doreel nods, his eyes returning somewhat to normal, "That... that is where 
  this Savah is... The other one. The black haired one. Certainly she would 
  want to leave if she is like me..."

Rillwhisper stills, then says, very cautiously, "I would... suggest that if 
  you go to seek Winnowill, Doreel, that you should be careful around her." 
  How much information does she dare to give the ancient healer, at once? 
  Rillwhisper's green gaze flickers uncertainly.

Doreel shakes his head, "If this Winnowill is truely like you say... she will 
  have the powers that may be necessary to get us all away from here, and the 
  humans."

Lira looks on, silently. Confused by the new names Mater speaks she wonders to 
  herself...has he started 'remembering' others now..ones he had forgotten...

Rillwhisper looks away, grimly. Her voice is quiet as she tells Doreel, 
  "Winnowill is very powerful, yes. She heals, like you. But...." A sigh, and 
  Rillwhisper looks back. "You've sensed what Strongbow and I are, Doreel. 
  We're Wolfriders. And Winnowill doesn't like Wolfriders."

Doreel shakes his head, "I am not like you."

Rillwhisper goes on, "We've... fought with her. My tribe and Strongbow's both. 
  It would be wrong of me to not say that." At the disclaimer, she almost 
  chuckles. "No. You're not. She might like you, because you have magic, and 
  you don't have the wolf-blood."

Doreel looks relieved at that, "No... I am none of your beast. My magic... 
  yes..."

Rillwhisper shoves a hand through her hair, then adds, "For healing me and 
  Strongbow, I'll tell you where Blue Mountain is -- that's where Winnowill 
  lives -- if you wish it. And show you something of the way. But I shouldn't 
  go there. Nor should Strongbow."

Doreel reaches out to grab hold of your arm, "No! You must take me there. I 
  have never been outside of the grove."

Her gaze troubled, Rillwhisper allows you to take her arm, but it doesn't 
  change her bleak expression. For a few moments, she peers at you 
  searchingly, then sighs again. "Doreel... I'll happily take you to Sorrow's 
  End, once I let my tribe know Strongbow and I are alright and do what I can 
  to help Strongbow find his mate. But... the best I could offer for Winnowill 
  is to take you near the Mountain. I can't go there."

Doreel says "You will take me to the mountain then."
It is more a statement than a question...

Still troubled, Rillwhisper allows, "_Near_ the mountain. And only after my 
  tribe knows what I'm doing. It's dangerous for a Wolfrider to be there."

Doreel shakes his head and points to Stronbow, "I healed him. I healed you. 
  You both would be dead were it not for me or my helpers."

Lira looks at the Rillwhisper questioningly, "If bad for the Rillwhisper is 
  bad for Master too?" Her voice is quiet, unobtrusive, her face unsure as she 
  speaks out.

Rillwhisper faces you and says quietly, "I'll be dead, or worse, if I go to 
  where Winnowill is. I can't tell you not to go. But I won't go any nearer to 
  her Mountain than I have to.

Doreel snarls and stands, turning his back on the both of you.

Rillwhisper bows her head. Curse it.

Lira watches Master turn away. Used to the sudden change in mood she makes no 
  outward response save for a slight sigh.

Doreel says "I will find it myself then. We are not meant to be here, none of 
  us."

Rillwhisper says quietly, "I'll show you the way, but I won't go into the 
  Mountain. Or near it, unless I have to. Wolfriders aren't welcome in the 
  Mountain Winnowill rules, unless they suit her purposes."

Doreel shrugs, "You do not want to help. You do not have to."

Lira stands and walks over to Master. "Lira, Lar and Lir will help Master. We 
  always help master, do what Master says and wants."

Rillwhisper adds, "Frankly, Doreel, I believe Winnowill would be happy to 
  leave those of us with the wolf-blood right here, humans and all. She 
  doesn't like me or my kind, and she's hurt Wolfriders before." Sadly, she 
  finishes, "Winnowill is dangerous, Doreel, and I'd be only doing wrong to 
  you if I didn't tell you that."

Doreel says "If some do not get away... then... if it is better for the rest 
  of us."

Rillwhisper, not having the heart to debate this, says simply, "When my mates 
  and Silversong get here, I'll hold council with them. We'll decide then." 
  With that, she rises, and pads tiredly back to the archer's sleeping form.

Strongbow sleeps peacefully on.

Doreel hmms and nods slightly and then paces towards the tree, muttering to 
  himself.

Rillwhisper sits down by Strongbow, crooking one knee up under her chin, 
  wrapping her arms around that leg

Lira watches Master walk away...maybe he heard her, maybe he didn't, oh well...

Doreel turns and offers a quick smile at the helper.
Doreel has left.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper wistfully lingers in vigil over you, 
  disquieted.
You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper <steps into the hidden glade, needing 
  that center of gentle strength and peace, and sinks tiredly down by the 
  crystalline stream there, staring into it. It sparkles and shimmers with the 
  aftermath of your sendings of the Palace, but she, the chieftess, is not 
  comforted.>

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sleeps deep, wolfish sleep, dreaming only 
  dreams of the Wolfrider, dreams to be forgotten in waking. Your presence 
  stirs him slightly, but does not wake him from his long-awaited comfort.
Strongbow shifts slightly in his sleep, curling slightly, wolfin, on the 
  ground.

Rillwhisper sighs, hand reaching down to trail through strands of Strongbow's 
  red-brown hair. "Shouldn't disturb him," she mutters, troubled, then turns 
  to stare across the grove.

Lira looks at the Rillwhisper upon hearing her voice. Shrugging to herself she 
  returns to the little garden, hoping there's something left to be done in it.

After a time, Rillwhisper speaks up. "Lira.... is there something I can do to 
  help you?"

Lira looks over at the Rillwhisper and shakes her head, "Garden good. Lar and 
  Lir help." She pauses looking at the garden, "Lar and Lir help to much, not 
  'nough for Lira to do."

Rillwhisper looks disappointed, and fretful. "Alright..." Needing soemthing to 
  do with her hands, she plucks restlessly at her tattered leathers. "Look, 
  Lira... do you and the others make clothes?"

Lira leaves the garden and walks over to the Rillwhisper and the Other. 
  Showing off her hard, crudely done leathers, "We make own clothes." She 
  looks at your leathers and smiles, "make better for stop preserver bites..."

Rillwhisper smiles tiredly. "I'm going to need to make new clothes," she tells 
  the little helper, and nods in approval at Lira's work. "Do you have any 
  hides... big ones, that could fit me? I need to _do_ something...."
Rillwhisper scowls down at the stains of sweat and spider webbing across her 
  ragged tunic.

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sendmurmurs something in his sleep, 
  something about a healing. Closer to wakefulness than before, coming out of 
  darkness into Now, he wakes more from having no reliable sleep schedule 
  anymore than from need.

Lira thinks for a moment trying to remember if and where they would be.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper turns, sensing you stirring. She is 
  there. Quiet, green, worried.

Lira says "In Helper Hole...hidden might be more. Long time since made 
  clothes. Last loooong time before need more clothes..."
Lira scurries off to the Helper Hole, her brows still furrowed in thought
Lira clambers into a relatively unnoticed hole and disappears into the tree.
Lira has left.

Rillwhisper sighs, hopefully, then turns, tugs off her tunic, and begins 
  working on peeling off what's left of her ragged breeches.

Strongbow turns onto his side, uncurling slightly, preparation to wake. After 
  a time he slits one eye open, checking the light.

Lira crawls out from a hidden hole off to one side of the grove.
Lira has arrived.

Rillwhisper finally gets the breeches off, and snorts as one leg of them rips 
  the rest of the way through. Kicking off her worn boots as well, she wades 
  out into the stream. It's not very deep -- but at least it's water.
Rillwhisper crouches in the middle of the bubbling flow, and works on 
  splashing herself, on wetting her rodent's nest of hair.

Strongbow rolls over at the sound of splashing, then sits up, opening his 
  eyes. ** Wash? ** he asks, bemused, thinking this an odd time and place. 
  Then, thinking twice, he wrinkles his nose, shaking his own matted hair. Not 
  a bad idea.

Lira walks back over, holding some older furs and leather scraps. She drops 
  them onto the ground and stretches some of the better ones out for you to 
  look at. "All Lira Lar and Lir have. Use what the Rillwhisper wants, we find 
  more later."

Rillwhisper flicks a glance at Strongbow, relieved to see him move, then 
  remarks pungently, "I stink." Then, seeing Lira, she smiles and splashes 
  barefootedly back to the helper and dry ground. "Lira... oh...."
Rillwhisper, beginning to look more pleased, asks hopefully, "Do you have a 
  needle? Or thong to sew with?"

Strongbow idly disattaches his belt and quiver-strap, grumbling to himself at 
  the loss of his bow.

Lira pulls out her small thorn knife, "clean poison from knife and make with 
  it."

Rillwhisper nods sagely to Lira, but tells her, taking up her discarded tunic 
  and fingering a tear, "See, though, Lira? I should fix this, but a knife 
  won't let me do it easily. I need to put a new piece of hide here."

Strongbow leans over the water, letting his tunic hang loose around his lithe 
  waist, staring into the shivering reflection. ** Mess, ** he pronounces 
  himself, untying his headband. As an afterthought, he turns around, flicking 
  a glance from Lira to Rillwhisper.

Strongbow quirks one brow.

Rillwhisper, as she speaks, starts restlessly picking through the little 
  scraps. Busy-work, this, and she leaps to it anxiously, almost. Her brow is 
  furrowed, though, and her gaze dark and worried.

Lira isn't sure what the Rillwhisper wants...

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow questions wordlessly at your worry, but 
  only asks, ** Should I ask about soaproot? ** He thinks painfully at the 
  idea of pulling rats out of his unruly hair without something to sooth it.

Rillwhisper begins to explain, "I... need a needle, Lira. A little sliver of 
  bone, or something, sharp, so I can make holes in the leather pieces and tie 
  them together. as I want. Does that make sense?" Then, distracted, she 
  glances at Strongbow.

Strongbow shrugs slightly, working out of his battered tunic, still strewn 
  with spider webbing.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper flashes you a bit of immense relief, at 
  the sight of you on your feet, and offers to unsnarl your hair for you. She 
  then pauses, and adds grimly, ** Doreel wants to go to Blue Mountain. **

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow offers, blandly, ** So let him. **
Strongbow works off his boots, shaking his hair irritably out of his eyes.

You locksend ** I can't tell him not to, but..... <Worry.> He's... mad, 
  Strongbow. He won't last against her, and... <Disheartened, she trails off.> 
  ** to Strongbow.

Lira holds out her small thorn knife, "Use this. Lira Lar and Lir make clothes 
  with this. No bones, sharp thorns" She smiles hopefully.

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow fills in, darkly, ** She'd take him in. 
  Make him her _thing._ ** For a moment, Strongbow's least favourable 
  impression of Rayek comes to mind. ** He needs healed first. **

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper, feeling very much as if her heart 
  hurts at the notion of sending Doreel into Winnowill's grasp, agrees mutely.

Strongbow shakes his head absently and slips, bare toes first, into the water, 
  crouching to splash, then lying right down in the stream, for all its 
  shallow depth is better put to use that way. He lets the water run around 
  him, swirling his hair, loosening mats.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow considers you longly, as if from a great 
  distance, at that sensation of heartache. At last he sends the mental 
  equivalent of a shrug.

Rillwhisper distractedly looks back at Lira, and smiles wanly to her. "Thank 
  you, little one." Gaze bleak, she accepts the offered thorn, and starts 
  trying to see if she can get reasonable thongs made out of some of the 
  scraps brought to her.

Lira sits and watches, curious how the Rillwhisper makes clothes. Maybe it is 
  different from the way she and her friends do.

You locksend ** I... it... <A suggested image: mad or not, powerful or not, 
  Doreel has struck her as though he's very much a child, unaware of what the 
  world is _like_, and she would rather cut off her own hand than send a cub to 
  Winnowill.> ** to Strongbow.
Rillwhisper blinks several times as she fumbles with the thorn knife, her 
  leather tunic, and the scraps. After a time, her focus on the task at hand 
  seems to grow rather more dogged, as if she's decided it is absolutely vital 
  that she pay attention to nothing else.

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow, calm in the water, can latch into that and 
  see sense. ** Won't let him go until he's been healed, ** he comforts. ** 
  And not alone. ** That said, he has little else on the matter to say; people 
  he'd rather not see go to that Mountain have gone, many times, never mind 
  what he's said. It will happen again, and for once the elder is done with 
  being stubborn.

Rillwhisper flicks Strongbow a brief, glimmery glance, as her hands work at 
  trying to slice a scrap into thongs to sew with. As she looks at the other 
  elf, the knife slips, just enough to prick, and she jerks and mutters an 
  oath at herself.

Strongbow rises after a while to a sit and obstinately starts finger-furling 
  mats and tangles out of his hair.
You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper answers, at last, with a strangely tiny 
  and un-complex sending, barely an acknowledgement of your opinion, as she's 
  distracted by the little pain in her finger. And, it seems, tiredness of her 
  own.

Strongbow frowns at his companion and stands, sheeting water, to walk from the 
  stream over to her, apparently well. He crouches, then kneels by her side, 
  putting one hand over her pricked one.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow offers gentle comfort, his presence, stolid 
  like the Old Willow to rest in. ** My turn, ** he states without wryness, 
  though not without a smile.

Rillwhisper, finding her attempt at thong-making halted, glances up sheepishly.
You locksend ** You're... _truly_.... alright? <The question is tense, and 
  holds worry on more than one level. And more than one Now. It's been a long, 
  long vigil she's been holding for you, and it didn't start here in the 
  grove.> ** to Strongbow.

Strongbow sighs softly, sending. ** Yes. ** One arm slips behind the 
  chieftess' back, as if it's a gesture long-known and used.
You sense in a locksend, Strongbow comforts, coaxing you to rest...for the 
  time will come that your strength, too, will probably be needed. ** I will 
  watch. **

Rillwhisper, on the simple sent 'yes', abruptly and fiercely hugs you.
You locksend ** <Relief/joy/exhaustion/relief><Her sending wavers, as if 
  something has just loosened inside her, making her reel from the sudden 
  release.> ** to Strongbow.

Strongbow folds you into his arms, relaxing, letting your weight slowly lean 
  him back, his sending twining protectively about yours.

You locksend ** <Two thoughts flash through her head at once, each on the 
  heels of the other. Their presence annoys her, as if their mere existence is 
  evidence of foolishness on her part, but she could no more hide them from 
  you than from herself: ** Afraid you were dead before/Afraid you were 
  mindhurt.... <exhaustion/relief> ** ** to Strongbow.
Rillwhisper huddles into both the physical and mental embraces, clamping her 
  eyes shut in self-directed aggravation. _Curse it, I don't _want_ to weep..._

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow strengthens his sending. ** No black venom 
  _that_ strong, ** he answers, unspoken and unsent comparison to a stronger 
  pain that didn't kill nor madden him, either. ** Let it go. **

Rillwhisper looks up at you. For all her self-aimed exasperation, her green 
  eyes still glitter damply, but then, her gaze is alert, searching.

Strongbow looks calmly, firmly, into your eyes, brown gaze deep.

You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper studies you, for a moment. And there's 
  a brief.... but deep, very deep.... sense, as though in her inner glade she 
  were peering with critical intensity into the stream in the very center of 
  that place.
Something shifts, then, in her expression; something makes her eyes lighten, 
  despite tears, and a smile plays at the corners of her weary mouth.
Rillwhisper leans against you then, eyes closing, features slowly settling 
  into contentment.

Strongbow squeezes his companion once, gently, nodding approval. Then, 
  patient, he sets to watch as he has not in so long, waiting for the return 
  of Doreel, or of the little ones, watching over his soul-sib's rest in 
  sending.

[End log.]