Log Date: 1/21/96 Log Intro: Doreel has healed Rillwhisper of her second dose of the venom of the 'Preservers', the spiders that inhabit the woods around his grove. But still, Doreel demands that she stay with him, claiming that she is 'all he has left'. Restless, Rillwhisper finds very little to do in the grove Doreel claims is 'paradise'. Little, that is, till she remembers her unsettling fever-dreams about Strongbow. Not knowing whether he is dead, as Doreel has claimed, but needing to know, she decides to find out.... ---------- You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper reaches out, perhaps determinedly, perhaps with some measure of fright. She doesn't know if you're still out there, but she has to find out. With as much strength and clarity as she can put behind it, she sends: ** Strongbow! Soul-brother, can you hear me? ** In time, persistence pays off. As if from beneath layers, silken, of deception and dream, the archer does not so much respond as register awareness of your reaching send. A brief flutter of panic rises in his mind, and as if afraid of the contact somehow leading something to you or harming you in some inderect way, he lets the link go, mind resubmerging. In the middle of Doreel's grove, Rillwhisper stiffens, and despite the harrowing last several days she's had, she beams with elation -- he _is_ still out there! -- at least for a moment. It occurs to her, making her heart sink, that the archer must have been stung with the same venom that the spiders put into her. But that fleeting contact is enough to bolster her spirits. If he's alive, he can be healed. She sends again.... You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper's sending comes back, joyfully, if urgently. ** Strongbow. It's alright. I'm alright. Send to me! I'm going to come find you! ** You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper, as she begins to search the grove as quietly as she can -- strangely wary of alerting the helpers and Doreel to her purpose -- continues to send to you, her contact a beacon. ** I'm coming, archer, I promise! Hang on! ** (Sweet Timmain, please let him hang on...) ** I'm going to get you out of there! ** More coherent this time, the archer responds, terribly briefly, ** Listening...don't dare send... ** He closes his mind with a brief assurance that he is as yet there, alive and awake. She frowns at that sending; it doesn't make sense. But if he's got the venom in him, she can hardly be surprised! As she searches the grove, she notes with some relief that the helpers are all busy at their appointed tasks -- and Doreel is, well, probably somewhere doing whatever he has done in the countless turns of the seasons he's been here. Moving as silently as she can, she filches the spear Lar had loaned her before... and a measure of Lira's medicine against the venom. Thusly armed, she steels herself... and treads, ever so softly, into the woods. You leave the lighted grove behind, the feeling of security you had now gone as you enter the dark woods. Dark Woods As you walk into this part of the woods you can almost feel the stickiness around you. An eerie feeling crawls up your spine as you penetrate deeper into the web encrusted trees. A constant *click* *click* *click* can be heard from all around you and every so often eyes can been seen peering at you. You see the main path off Away-From-Hub, while towards Sun-Comes-Up, the dark woods part and look as though they open up into a grove. However, just as you are about to move, giant, malformed spiders drop on you and attack! Obvious exits: Grove Path You quickly leave the dark, spider infested woods for safer areas of the forest. 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: Strongbow Obvious exits: Mountain Spring Woods Grove Obvious exits: Rillwhisper steals through the trees as cautiously as she can. Charging through here didn't work before; now, she tries stealth, knowing that nothing is as silent as a Wolfrider in hiding. It's frustrating, to have to move so slowly, when every shred of her soul urges her to hasten to Strongbow... who knows when one of those _things_ will decide to make a meal of him? Rillwhisper squints around a tree, pressing herself into shadow when one of those same _things_ goes skittering by. Silence, she urges herself. Silence. And sending. She tries another, to better gauge her direction. You locksend ** Archer. It's me. I'm coming. Can you hear me? ** to Strongbow. Foliage shivers in a breath of air, and shivers on after the air has passed. Something faint stretches between a leaf and a twig, here, then there. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow, apparently sensing your nearness, sends almost in a whisper, exasperated. ** She must know by now. Should have stayed! ** Will she be able to spot him? Anxiously, she looks for telltale glimmers of wrapstuff -- well, no, it's _not_ wrapstuff. Not like Preservers make, anyway. Rillwhisper edges further through the trees, sniffing cautiously, straining every fiber of her senses to catch not only signals of the spiders' whereabouts, but also any trace of her soul-brother's scent. Rillwhisper frowns. _She_? What is he... she then frowns again, realizing. There's few _shes_ that could make Strongbow sound actively... frightened. _So that's what the venom's doing. Making him dream of _her_._ The chieftess doesn't sigh, but she does think about it, as she makes her way towards something that might be the glimmer she's looking for. Webbed among the trees, remnants of any number of things that might have been creature parts glimmer faintly. A slight scuttling noise slides from beneath one shrub to near a tree trunk; a step further on, leaves shake violently on a thatch of vine and bramble for less than a breath's span, then still. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper strives to pour as much confidence and assurance into her contact as she can, answering, ** It's alright. I won't be found. Tell me where you are, brother. I'm coming. ** Rillwhisper scowls. _This_ is starting to look familiar, and she shudders at renewed memories of the battle that had gotten her and Strongbow -- and, she remembers with a pang -- Sunruff. Could she find the wolf...? Probably best not to think about it. Find the archer, for now. Surely the archer would like to give you something helpful, and grudgingly he does so, with the tone one would use on a foolish cub...or with the tone this particular archer is all too accustomed to using on headstrong chieftains. Yet, the picture he offers is less than helpful: shadows among stones that curve up and over, around and down. A shadow moves, and is replaced by entire darkness. Perhaps the archer imagines someone else's amusement at his predicament; he struggles at the stone and preserver-webbing that restrains his body and clouds his mind. Almost too in time with the send, the thatch shakes again. Rillwhisper manages to stifle a shriek, just as that _something_ scurries by overhead, far too close for comfort. Her heart pounding, she huddles against the tree that conceals her, for several long moments. Rillwhisper then, finally, peeks out again. Stone and shadows. She smirks, as it's confirmed: he's dreaming of Blue Mountain. He must be. But the touch of his mind is much closer, and with renewed determination, she begins creeping towards where she thinks it's coming from. Rillwhisper crouches once more behind the best sheltering foliage she can find, hardly daring to breathe. She sniffs again at the air, and her nose wrinkles, as all she gets are the scents of green growing things, and spiders. You locksend ** Archer. Send to me. I can't catch your scent. Lead me to you. ** to Strongbow. The thatch stills again; the archer's mind is quiet as well, though he keeps enough contact to allow the chieftess to track his position, knowing that one stone shadow among all those of Blue Mountain is hardly something to be found by eye. The wind stirs the leaves once more, but no trace of archerly scent is brought up by it...only the faint smells of clean bones, fresh carcasses. There. Rillwhisper's eyes glint darkly as she finally spots it: a flash of that dirty silver of the spider wrapstuff. She notes with a sinking heart that something must have hauled that cocoon up into the trees, though. But is it he? The confused sending _is_ coming from there..... Creep. Creep. Creep. The chieftess sweats, a bit, in the short eternity it takes her to reach the base of the tree she's eyeing. Once behind it, though, she can see, wedged up high in the branches, an indefinite but large lump of the spider wrapstuff, pinned against long strands of webbing as well as the tree's limbs. Rillwhisper bites her lip. She's got no blade! How in the world is she going to get that down? The lump, once spotted, appears to shake slightly at one end from time to time. For a long while, she considers. Well, she has to chance it. The only sharp thing she's got with her is the spear, and it'll hinder her climbing, but there's no other choice. Summoning her flagging energy -- for the chieftess is still recovering from her own bouts with the venom -- she begins to climb. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow checks with you, paranoid that you've been seen or found. Without words, he encourages your silence, your stubbornness, his confidence in you. _Don't let them hear me. Don't let them hear me. Please High Ones don't let them hear me...._ With that silent litany repeating itself in her thoughts, Rillwhisper climbs with more painstaking slowness than she's ever used before. Her heart nearly stops at a brief surge of *click click click* off across the glade, but, relievingly, it comes no nearer. And at last, she reaches a branch beside the cocoon, and scowls as she studies exactly how it's snared. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper, hoping to soothe, keeps to wordless sensations in her sending, reinforcing her presence. She's almost there. She hears you. Curse it. This is going to be tough. She can see the webbing extending out from this tree across the branches to another... interlaced, wickedly, with the surrounding boughs. That elf-sized lump is too far out for her to comfortably reach it from her current perch, and the notion of leaving the refuge of the innermost leaves troubles her... but what choice does she have? Rillwhisper is smaller than the spiders... if these branches can hold _them_, they can hold _her_. She creeps out along them, towards the lump, jaw set. And then trembling a bit, as the cumbersome spear drags through leaves, with a telltale rustle. Rillwhisper clenches her teeth in irritation as she hauls the spear around to begin slicing at the webbing with its point. It's clumsy, but it's the only sharp thing she's got, and she saws doggedly at the net. It wobbles under her efforts, as well as her weight. After a time, the nearer end of the cocoon takes a sudden *dip*... jerking the branches. _And_ the webbing. Off across the leaves, the threatening *clicks* begin to sound again. The glob of webbing identified as the archer shakes, one end thrashing slightly, dislodging itself dangerously more. The archer sends, panicked, ** Found! -- ** He thrashes as stone beneath him gives way. She must have some new amusement planned, some rockshaper acting on her word, destabilizing your path... Rillwhisper flashes a startled glance at the less-distant-than-they-should-be noises. No! Not now! ** Be still, archer! ** she sends, urgently. Shouldn't shake the web any more than necessary. The webbing, emoting faint anger now, stills, swinging gently to a halted position. *click click click CLICK CLICK CLICK* The noises grow louder, and from more directions. She's running out of time, Rill realizes, and with more speed and less finesse, she attacks the other end of the cocoon, intending to free it. After several clumsy moments of sawing, the web without fanfare gives way. Rillwhisper can't help but shriek in dismay as the cocoon plummets, landing crookedly in the middle of the glade. The abrupt drop dislodges _her_, too, and she grunts in breathless pain as she falls. A not-so subtle send of panic wheels from the archer's mind, right through the webbing, almost like a howl with no air in the lungs to back it up. A hole, opened up right under him...with the abrupt jar of the landing, the panic-send halts, and the cocoon is still. Overhead, there's a glimpse of a... leg. And another. Biting back a whimper, she abandons the spear, and tugs at the cocoon with both hands. The only thought in her mind, now, is to flee. Seconds after she grabs at the wrapstuffed lump, more legs come into view above. Seeing them -- or, rather, hearing them -- Rillwhisper, slight Rillwhisper, hauls the cocoon up into her arms, and bolts. 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 strem 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: Lira Obvious exits: Woods Path Hole Tree Strongbow has arrived. Rillwhisper's arrival is heralded by the sound of her feet, off in the trees, long before she actually emerges. But at last, she stumbles into the open glade, panting, face gone colorless with exhaustion. Lira is working in the garden, surprised by the noise she looks up. Rillwhisper drops her prize, and, once into the refuge of Doreel's dwelling place, she starts sobbing with relief. "Found him, oh, please, let him be alright..." Her voice is hoarse, as she begins fumbling at the cocoon with hands gone stiff with the effort of having to carry it so far. Still, motionless, the gob of webbing gives slow, frustratingly difficult way to the green-eyed elf's hands. Lira watches curiously, though she does not stop her work. Rillwhisper, seemingly heedless of the webbing clinging unpleasantly to her fingers, calls out raggedly, "Lira, come, please, I-I-I got your medicine, he's going to need it, please....!" All the while, she pulls and tugs at the strands, till she catches a glimpse of leather beneath. Rillwhisper blinks rapidly, trying to see through her tears. ** Strongbow, oh, please, send, it's alright, I got you out, it's alright... ** Lira rises slowly, looking about the clearing to see if any one else is around. Looking down at the garden, she takes a deep breath and walks over to the Rillwhisper and the webbing of 'food' (?) Rillwhisper's efforts to unwrap... whatever she's brought in... grow clumsier, as more and more of the webbing clings to her fingers. But, at last, she uncovers a bit of pale skin, a tendril of red-violet hair. "I-I-I found him," the chieftess babbles to Lira, "I found him!" The package of webbing and the flesh, leather, and tendril of hair below shivers slightly, as if cold. Rillwhisper wipes her fingers up and down her already ragged and soiled leathers, and picks at more and more of the webbing till she can reveal... a face. Lira looks at the Rillwhisper curiously, "Why you go to preservers and take food. Lar do that for me, not you." Looks as if she wants to stop Rillwhisper, though she makes no move to do so. Rillwhisper continues to sob, making it difficult to tell whether she's elated, frantic, or despondent. "It's Strongbow, Lira, it's Strongbow! My friend! M-m-my friend!" You locksend ** Archer, please... please send... can you hear me? It's alright? I got you out! I'll get you healed! Please send... please... ** to Strongbow. In a locksend, the archer's mind slowly seems to revive itself. The scent of green-growing, of chieftess, and of...something strange...register in his nostrils, then in his mind, confusing him. ** Out...to where...? ** Strongbow's nose twitches slightly beneath strands of webbing stretched among his locks of hair and over his face. Rillwhisper moans tinily, as the stubborn webbing clings to hair and skin and facefur and leather. "Come on, archer, wake up, please wake up, it's alright, come on..." Over and over she urges him, as she gets more and more of his lean frame visible. Lira considers this as she watches you struggle with the wrappings. After a moment the look of comprehension comes over her face, "'Friend' like Lir and Lar for Lira...Lira help the Rillwhisper help friend." After saying this, she produces a small knife, and then begins to cut away the webbing. Rillwhisper flashes Lira an ecstatic, if exhausted, grin; it lights up her face. She pauses long enough to wipe as much of the webbing off her fingers as she can, heedless of the strands left clinging to her tunic and breeches. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper, too relieved and tired to be more specific, urges hopefully, ** It's safe... come back to me... wake up...! ** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow clings to the sending for a moment, head woozing from Blue Mountain to a safe green glade of youth to the old Holt before it burned and rocking back. Lira removes some of the webbing stuck to her small thorn knife, "Friend get stung by preservers? Bad, need medicine, be back." With that, she begins to move towards the hole she shares with Lar and Lir. Between their joint efforts, Lira and Rillwhisper eventually clear a shoulder, an upper arm, a chest. As Lira, with her little blade, works at the cutting, the chieftess returns to the more delicate work of uncovering the archer's face. Rillwhisper, then, as Lira darts off, pauses to drink in the sight of Strongbow's features. She cups her hand to his cheek, murmuring hopefully, "Archer?" Lira clambers into a relatively unnoticed hole and disappears into the tree. Lira has left. After a time, as webbing is cut away, lashes of the same violet-brown color as the facefur flutter. They stay closed, then flutter again as gentle Rillwhisper-fingers touch the skin near them. A lock of red-shining hair slides off of his forehead, and his eyes at last open, brown gaze unfocused. Rillwhisper leans over you, face full of worry. "Can you hear me?" Strongbow sends out, ** Where...is this...? ** The deep gaze searches the sky, then the face that comes into his vision. There is a moment's confusion in the archer's countenance, then all seems to come clear, and he focuses, sending recognizance and a wordless assent to the question. Lira crawls out from a hidden hole off to one side of the grove. Lira has arrived. Rillwhisper's face lights up even more, if possible, as the prone figure beside her looks up at her with open eyes. "It's in the middle of the woods, archer... there's help here... " She sniffles, and scrubs a hand across her damp eyes. Eyes open now, the Rillwhisper-friend lies, searching her green gaze with his own deep brown one. Something about the expression on his face doesn't match the facefur nor the chiseled lines of his form. ** Help? Here? ** He seems a bit astonished that _anything_ should be here. Lira half runs back over, though carefully holding something in her hands, "Lira bring medicine for the 'friend'. Lira will do what she can" The Rillwhisper-friend startles slightly at the voice, eyes panning from Rillwhisper's to the sound's source. The brown gaze widens. Rillwhisper keeps the other hand on Strongbow's face, or at least near it, trying to work at straightening the tangle of hair and headband and webbing still wreathing the other elf's head. She nods anxiously to Lira, while assuring Strongbow shakily, "Y-y-you got bitten, do you remember? Did you hear me sending? I brought you here... this is Lira, she'll help you get better..." Her hands shake as she plucks webbing from long auburn hair. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's send-tone isn't quite right. Something about it is overgrown and lanky, like a svelte sapling or a wet red-violet lock of hair hanging in front of hesitant, youthful eyes. ** What _is_ that...Lira...? ** Lira pokes the Rillwhispers 'friend'. Moving some more of the webbing around, she searches for the bite marks from the Preservers attack. Rillwhisper blinks, and pauses for a moment, staring in evident confusion down at the pale, lean face of her friend. Strongbow snarls softly at the poke, eyes flaring. He looks up at Rillwhisper, as if for help. Rillwhisper frowns for some reason, then blinks, and quickly pulls Strongbow's head up into her arms, soothing, "Shhh. It's alright. Lira's going to help you...." You locksend ** She, um... I'm not sure... she lives here. With Doreel. Doreel's an elf. There's a couple more like Lira... ** to Strongbow. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow seems comforted by the presence of at least one elf, although the name strikes something in him. ** Glider? ** he asks, sharply. Lira upon finding the wounds, she takes the object in her hand and begins to work. Unfolding a patch of leather, she takes some powder and sprinkles it on the leather. Rillwhisper blinkblinks again, as she smooths hair out of Strongbow's eyes, letting Lira examine him. Rillwhisper shakes her head quietly, sending. Strongbow's gaze changes a bit, steeling, and he looks toward the creature identified as Lira. You locksend ** I... I don't think he's a Glider, no. He is tall, yes, and he's got magic, but he doesn't seem to know about... Gliders. ** to Strongbow. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow continues, as if unaware of his change of presence, ** Lira...looks to be one of her bent things. Maybe him too. ** His tone sours. Strongbow scowls slightly, and closes his eyes on the powder sprinkling upon leather. Rillwhisper studies Strongbow's expression, brow furrowing. You locksend ** Archer... do you remember where we are? Or at least, where we were going? ** to Strongbow. Lira rolls the leather into a tube, and pushes it as deeply into the bite mark as it will go. Then, bending over, she makes ready to 'blow' the powder into the wound. Rillwhisper holds Strongbow gently, and murmurs to him, "Lira did this for me, too. The spiders bit me. It's herbs, for healing... hold still...." Strongbow locksends to Rillwhisper, eyes closed. ** Going...to hunt, ** he recalls, tone gentler, a bit...excited? To the green-eyed elf's send, he comments, ** Heal? Heal what? My hand...** He lifts his right hand about a centimeter, as if he imagines it to be injured. Rillwhisper blinks, gaze flickering to the slight movement of the archer's fingers. All at once, she looks more worried, as a memory tugs at her mind. Hesitantly, she sends, ** Archer... what else do you remember? ** Lira blows into the rolled leather. Leaning back when shes done, she pulls out the roll, and repeats the procedure for the other wound (couning on two wounds from fangs). when finished, she rises and goes back to her garden, returning shortly with some leaves Strongbow replies, a smile tugging at his mouth, ** Hunt longear. They all got free... ** Strongbow wiggles the fingers on that hand again. ** Bit me... ** Rillwhisper looks anxiously between Lira and the elf in her arms, but as Strongbow sends on, she stares at him, aghast. Lira bends down, and crushes the leaves in her hand, then roughly pushes them into the wounds. Rillwhisper swallows, then sends carefully, ** Strongbow, listen to me... you've got poison in you. It's making you... sick. Lira and I are going to help you get better, but you need to help us, okay? You need to remember everything you can. Can you do that? ** Rillwhisper studies Strongbow intently as she holds him, cradling his head in her right arm. She pauses once to smile wanly at Lira, as the little creature goes about her ministrations. Strongbow shivers as the leaves are pressed to his arm. ** Poison? ** Something about that seems wrong...longears don't have poison...but snakes do. He opens his eyes, glare stern. ** Figures. ** Lira sits back on her heels, "Now we need Master. Preservers bit and kill, Master knows how poisons stopped." Rillwhisper looks at Lira, bites her lip, and nods quietly. "When your master is ready, we can ask him, alright?" Strongbow snorts, ignoring the creature called Lira. ** Preservers. She has preservers. ** His tone says, clearly, 'great. Just great. That's all we need.' Rillwhisper glances back down at Strongbow, stroking his forehead with her free hand. She shhhs, softly. ** Strongbow. Pay attention. You have to remember everything you can, alright? Tell me everything you remember. ** Lira looks a bit worried at the mention of talking to her Master. His moods having been even more inconsistent than usual. Strongbow glowers, and sends without words. How he got there, he's not sure...perhaps Trollkiller needed help after all, like he'd almost expected. Rock, shadows...captured again, the irritation of it all. They knew better than to cage him again, so wrapped him, web and stone...then Rillwhisper, calling for him. The archer, here and now, closes his eyes, hating the memory, and shudders as the wind brings to him the gentle scent of the woods and the sound of distant clicks and movement. Rillwhisper adds to Lira, worriedly, "Should he rest, Lira? Should I not let him get up?" Lira says "The Rillwhispers friend fall if it gets up. Stay down is better, wait for Master." Rillwhisper absorbs the sending, and looks marginally relieved. Alright; he remembers who she is, and who Trollkiller is. That's good. She smiles, trying to look approving, and hugs Strongbow's battered form lightly. ** You heard Lira, alright? You need to rest, but I'll stay with you. You keep sending to me about what you remember, alright? ** Strongbow's eyes open again. ** Rest? ** Disappointed now, his eyes sparkle liquidly. ** But we were going to hunt... ** Rillwhisper says fervently to Lira, "I'll help him rest." She glances about the grove... Rillwhisper then looks at Lira gain, and asks hopefully, "Do you have a cup, or a bowl, or something? That we could put water in, to drink?" Rillwhisper almost smiles at Strongbow's oddly... youthful... tone, but there yet remains a hint of worry in her gaze. Looking back down at him, she sends gently, ** You'll fall down if you try to get up. ** Lira nods, "Lira get water for the Rillwhisper." Jumps up, almost running to do as she was asked, not told. A smile tugs at the archer's mouth. ** Thirsty, ** he agrees. ** That stream... ** Lira runs down the path, heedless of the fact shes leaving the grove. Rillwhisper coaxes softly, "Lira's bringing you water." Not noticing she's shifted into speech, she adds, "Tell me what you remember, Strongbow? Good things. Tell me." Lira leaves the grove behind with a sigh, heading towards the edge of the forest. Lira has left. Strongbow blinks at the voice. It's not-quite-right...too husky...chieftessly...he closes his eyes once more, mind swirling as he responds. ** Hunting...ravvit bit me...crawling, brush...looking for something. ** His brow furrows, registering something else. ** Something...I needed... ** His send steels slightly, from greenery to leather. ** Someone... ** From leather to stone. ** Who needed help. Trollkiller. ** His brow eases, send changing from stone to blade, angry. ** The Mountain....black snake. Bit me...you came to get me out. Should have stayed safe... ** The reprimand is gratitude despite itself. Lira comes in from the overgrown path, twigs and leaves stuck to them haphazardly. Lira has arrived. Lira runs back in breathing heavily. Holding a makeshift water bowl created by a piece of wood with a natural dip to it. Rillwhisper nuzzles the top of Strongbow's head, gently, and at the sound of Lira's return, looks over at the little being with renewed relief. Lira stumbles, spilling some of the water as she comes to the Rillwhispers side. "Water for friend, like the Rillwhisper wanted" She smiles and sets it down, backing a bit away, she watches. Strongbow nods weakly. ** Water, ** he agrees, tone a bit dark. Rillwhisper says earnestly to Lira, "Thank you... very much. You're being very helpful and good." She smiles as honestly as she can, and then takes up the bowl, holding it a bit tilted so Strongbow can drink. "Slowly now, my friend... slowly..." Strongbow sips, swallows, sips again, and lets the green-eyed elf move the water away. He sighs a bit, and manages with minimal croaking, "Thank you," that the Lira-creature might hear. Rillwhisper sets the water down, after taking a grateful portion of it, herself, and then she smiles at the elf she's holding. To Lira, she offers, "Do you want to look at him? You can come over, if you want..." Lira sits down, watching and listening to the Rillwhisper and her friend. With a look over towards the garden, a brief flash of fear appears, before she covers it with a blank expression. Strongbow watches Lira, quiet, then looks up at the green-eyed gaze. ** Like a troll. A little bent thing...doesn't smell of _her_, though. ** Strongbow voices again, "Lira." His brown gaze glitters in her direction. Rillwhisper considers all the things she's going to _have_ to tell Strongbow, but she's worried. Can he handle knowing that Doreel is obviously mad? Particularly if Doreel is going to have to heal him? Grudgingly, Rillwhisper stays silent on that for now, and lets the archer pay attention to Lira as he well. To remind him she's still present, she strokes his hair. Rillwhisper says gently to Lira, "This is my friend. His name is Strongbow." Lira sits still and nods. "The Rillwhispers friend, like Liras friends Lar and Lir." She pauses and looks at Strongbow, "The Rillwhisper's friend looks funny. Something on face." Rillwhisper blinks, then follows Lira's confused gaze to Strongbow's furred chin. And she giggles a bit. "That's facefur, Lira, it means Strongbow's lived a very long time." Rillwhisper adds, eyes glimmering a bit, "And you've helped him live longer." She smiles. Lira arches her head up and looks again, "The Master lived long too, nothing on the Master's face." Strongbow scowls good-naturedly. ** Not all _that_ long. ** Gruffly, he points out, "Wolfrider. Your 'Master' must not be." He looks to Rillwhisper for confirmation, memory skittish. Lira furrows her brows, not understanding 'Wolfrider'. Rillwhisper feels an inner flash of relief. Good -- if Strongbow remembers he's got facefur, that's an improvement over his previous strangely youthful behavior. She nods to him, noting, "He's not a Wolfrider, Strongbow." And to Lira, thoughtfully: "It's... because Strongbow is not the same thing as your master, Lira. I don't look like your master either, do I?" Lira considers this for a moment. "You and Master look like, more than Master and Lira look same." Strongbow closes his eyes again, daring sleep to near him, letting his body relax and his thoughts wander. Rillwhisper explains to Lira, "Different... creatures... can look different, Lira. We are all living things, you, and Lar and Lir, and me and your master and Strongbow. Do you understand?" She glances down at Strongbow as she speaks. Lira nods, "Lira knows. Lar and Lir look same, but different too." Rillwhisper smiles. "That's right. So Strongbow, and I, and your master are going to look a bit different from one another, too." ** Are you still with me, archer? ** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's mind woozles a bit at the contact. ** Hunt... ** Strongbow sends, quietly, from restless, hazy dream-thoughts, shivering slightly. Lira edges a bit closer, looking from the friend to the Rillwhisper, and thinking about what the Master is like in comparison. You locksend ** Not right now, my friend. You're still sick. I just need you to stay with me, alright? I'll be right here. ** to Strongbow. Strongbow sends, absently, firmness that he will stay right here and protect the other elf. Protect...Rillwhisper. Yes. Rillwhisper hugs Strongbow lightly to her, and as if fully intending to play pillow for him as long as need be, she hums softly to him. Rillwhisper after a time looks drowsier, the exhaustion of the rescue effort finally catching up with her. Still clinging to the stricken archer, she carefully lowers him and herself down to lie on the springy ground, and cradles his head to her shoulder. "Sleep, Strongbow... we'll be safe.... let's just rest..." Lira tilts her head and watches the Rillwhisper and 'friend', doing nothing other than looking on. Strongbow murmurs something quiet, accompanied by a gentle send, already well on his way to dream-hazy sleep. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper curls close to you in sending, sleepily, unwilling to relinquish contact now that she's actually found you again. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's mind swirls, changing place-time even more often and with less consistency in the relaxation of sleep. Once, it seems even as if his self is lost to touch; a moment later, though, the child-Strongbow is there, lanky cub, ridiculously fighting the adult's battles...chieftain challenge in dry desert air, holding out for time and for lifemate in Winnowill's thorn-stone cage. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper's mind ripples a bit in worry and confusion. Why does he think of himself as so young? Linking to what she knows is real and true, she reaches out to you, trying to provide a beacon of stable thought, a refuge to rest in. He remembers her, doesn't he? His friend? You sense in a locksend, Strongbow seems to remember you, all right, quite well. Glad for the respite from adult battles, he practically grabs your hand, running with you on some cub's mock-hunt, like taal with ravvits for the other players and slings and bows for tally-sticks. Rillwhisper frowns softly to herself, in her slumber. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper's mind holds a strange reluctance, a strange sadness, as if she doesn't quite have the heart for the eager games you want to lead her through. But, she thinks to herself, perhaps it'll at least let him rest. Even though she can't help but wonder if she feels 'old' to him, she holds her contact solidly, following the dream-hunt with you. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow leads a merry chase through hunting ravvits that aren't always ravvits and glades made of human-cut tree-spikes and fields scattered with carcasses of giant hawks. The corner of every place is another place, and the archer himself is inconstant, youthful and taken with the Now of the hunt and wolfsong in one moment, deep in thought, remorse, and pain of the elder at other times. The hunt pauses to howl for wolf-friends, more of them than the archer has fingers, many of them his own, some Moonshade's or Bearclaw's. Night has a sun instead of stars, a sliver of moon passing in front of it. Somewhere through it all, he reaches, adult, the glade of youth, the green place where he remembers Runnel, and sends that name, smile barely stifled upon smooth jaw. It is there he collapses and, for a moment, truly sleeps. Rillwhisper starts awake, and stares at the elf cuddled beside her in dismay. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper is stunned. Not only does he think _he's_ a cub again, he thinks the same of _her_... Strongbow sleeps, for a moment, in relative peace. [End log.]