Log Date: 12/15/95
Log Intro: The little party consisting of Rayek, Ekuar, and Ember has
ceased its wandering for a time, settling down in a hidden northern valley. 
There, Ember has begun her teaching of Wolfrider-style hunting to Rayek; he 
has crafted a spear from the work of his hands rather than his magic, and 
Cutter's daughter has found herself frustrated with Rayek's lack of ability to 
scent the prey as she does even as she marvels at his tracking skill. Rayek in 
turn finds a satisfaction in the hunt which he had long ago forgotten -- 
perhaps intentionally. But there seem to be other things which Rayek has 
forgotten, and the old rockshaper Ekuar finds himself troubled as he tries to 
make his pupil remember them....

----------
Rayek sits against the opening of the rock shelter, gazing out into
  the valley, and briskly, but absently, working at sharpening the
  point of his spear. The movements of his hands are sure, his grip on
  the spear-shaft -- hewn from a branch by his own hands --
  unwavering. But his gaze is elsewhere.

Ekuar turns uncomfortably in his light doze, drawing in a shaky breath
  and muttering something unintelligible.
Ekuar suddenly rises up onto his elbow, blinking awake. "Brownskin!"
  It isn't a shout, but more of a soft, urgent call.

Rayek eh? He turns around and peers into the shelter. "Are you
  alright, Ekuar?"

Ekuar sits up against the rock wall, awkwardly scooting himself
  upright with his slender arm. He blinks several more times,
  wordlessly, then his taut features relax into a sheepish, gentle
  smile. "Oh! Eh. Yes, yes. Don't worry." He rubs ruefully at his
  eyes. "Seems like perhaps old Ekuar's having a few nightmares of his
  own. Maybe I ought to come out there, and get some fresh air. Hm?"
  He tugs at one of the furs, tangled about his good leg.

Rayek smiles and lays his spear aside, for a moment, to assist his
  mentor with the fur. "The air is clean... it smells of summer. Ember
  is out."

Ekuar leans over to retrieve and strap on his wooden leg, then
  gratefully takes Rayek's arm for support to get to the entrance of
  the shelter where the fresh air drifts sweetly in. He settles there,
  and rubs at his eyes again. "Eh? Is she hunting without you?"

Rayek tilts his head a little, and half-chuckles. "She is, ah, needing
  time alone, I think."

Ekuar takes a few deep breaths, savoring the valley breeze on his
  cheek. His eyes twinkle faintly. "I see. She's an independent one,
  that Wolfrider. Mm." He stretches. "I'm sorry, my dear, about
  tossing and turning so, in there. I've been worried, I think." He
  blinks, and smiles wonderingly. "I was looking for you everywhere.
  In my sleep, I mean. And I couldn't find you."

Rayek's brow furrows, and he clasps Ekuar's shoulder lightly. "I have
  gone nowhere," he assures his teacher easily.

Ekuar nods slowly, sagely. "Mm-hmm, yes. Yes. I know that, dear one,
  and I'm grateful." He looks fondly into Rayek's face for a moment,
  before his eyes slip away to the middle distance. "But that wasn't
  all there was, to this particular dream..." his tone begins to get
  softer, mistier, as he reaches into his memory.

Rayek, in the days in which the three elves have been sheltering in
  this valley, seems a little less strained of appearance. His gaze is
  surer, and he looks directly at Ekuar as the old elf speaks. But he
  also waits, with patience, for his mentor to go on.

Ekuar speaks with slow thoughtfulness. "There was thick mud on the
  ground. Eh, thick and dark, sticky. And you were there." He glances
  down at his arm, musingly. "I picked you up, my dear, with this one
  hand! You were trying to talk, but I pressed you onto my back so you
  couldn't." He looks back up, into the distance again, but his eyes
  have rapidly gained a haunted look beneath the wise muzziness on the
  surface. He repeats, very quietly: "You couldn't."
Ekuar falls silent for a moment, considering.

Rayek, amber eyes darkening, blinks.

Ekuar continues, his voice thinning. "I was worried, I remember.
  Worried. So I... wrapped you up. In something, eh, I don't know
  what. A fur?" He shakes his head gently. "Tight, tight. Like you'd
  wrap an egg you wanted to keep unbroken. And I had you on my back,
  in the mud. When I stopped, all of a sudden. Eh, I wanted to see if
  you were all right. So I unwrapped the fur." He closes his eyes for
  a long second, then opens them again. "And you were gone. I couldn't
  find you." His gaze goes to Rayek, gratefully. "I woke up. And here
  you were!"

Rayek assures quickly, "Of course I'm here, dear one... where else
  would I be...?" Troubled that it seems to be Ekuar, now, with the
  bad dreams, Rayek frowns a bit, and his voice has turned husky.

Ekuar peers into Rayek's eyes, long and searchingly. "You're here. And
  you mustn't feel that you caused this vision of mine, no indeed." He
  cocks his head. "The question I ask myself is, have I wrapped you so
  tight? And will that really keep you safest, in the end, or will it
  do you more harm?"
Ekuar looks at Rayek as if he might find the answer there, in a word,
  a gesture, an expression... his gaze is gentle and curious.

Rayek blinks yet again -- looking confused, and increasingly troubled.
  "You... you're worried about _my_ dreams, aren't you? The... ones I
  am not recalling...."

Ekuar nods once. "I am, Brownskin. We've bundled your mind up tight,
  haven't we... you followed my instructions, like a good lad, and
  kept it quiet inside. ." He gives the faintest of shrugs with his
  single shoulder. "But it seems that my plan may have had an-- eh, an
  unexpected complication. Perhaps I made you wrap your mind up so
  tight that those dreams got wrapped in there as well. Like thorns we
  can't get out, you see? And thorns left untended can fester."
Ekuar reaches out and carefully touches Rayek's temple with one
  finger, barely brushing the dark skin before lowering his arm again.

Rayek suddenly grips his spear, unconsciously, hand shivering a
  little. "What..." His voice comes out in a croak, and he tries
  again, "What... are you suggesting, then?"

Ekuar lowers his head, his skeletal frame sagging. He says, hushed, "I
  want you to recover yourself, Brownskin. I want you well, and whole,
  and safe. Do you see?" He peers up uncertainly. "But this is hard
  for me. I-- " he closes his mouth suddenly, startled at himself for
  doing so. He frowns a bit. "I nearly stopped myself from telling
  you. But I will, because I know you can manage." He leans a bit
  forward, earnestly. "I -don't- always know what's best for you,
  Brownskin. Not always. I did, when I took you from the Palace... Eh,
  yes. I knew we had to leave, or I would lose you." He shifts
  uneasily. "But now... it's increasingly hard to know what to do. I
  feel as if I-- eh-- ought to try to unwrap the fur, just for a
  moment. To see if there are thorns in there I might be able to get
  at. Do you see? And... would you let me do that?"

Rayek's dark knuckles turn paler as his fingers tighten on the spear.
  But his voice is steady as he says quietly, "I trust you, Ekuar. You
  know that."

Ekuar's ancient brow smoothes perceptibly, and his eyes crinkle in
  affection. "My dear. I have cause to know it. You've put yourself in
  my hands, eh?" He reaches out and puts his hand gently atop the dark
  hand clutching the spear. "Shall we take a quick look-- eh,
  'beneath'? I'll do my best to take thorns out, as quick and light as
  I can be." His eyes carry a deep sympathy, encouragement, but no
  compulsion is within them. It seems that the answer really is up to
  Rayek, and Ekuar will accept whatever his beloved pupil decides.

Rayek looks down for a moment. His hand is still shaking on the spear,
  but after a timer he looks up again, trembling subsiding. Perhaps it
  is because of Ember's encouragement, or simply days of no more
  stress than the physical, but Rayek seems more himself as he answers
  you directly, "Do it."

Ekuar slips his hand lightly up the desert elf's arm, to rest at the
  juncture of neck and shoulder. A light weight, comforting and cool.
  He presses gently on the tight muscle there for just a moment.
  "Breathe deep, Brownskin. Easy and careful. I'll do my best."
Ekuar's mind, powerful and immensely old, carefully approaches... as
  it nears, it seems to be shedding layers of weariness, muzziness,
  the comfortable mist in which the elder sometimes takes refuge.

Rayek nods quietly, closing his eyes, and bowing his head slightly.
  His breathing slows.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind passes through the outer
  barriers of your own, a familiar and loving touch. He is not
  bringing the full power within him to bear... Rather, he seems to be
  purposely narrowing his mind's approach, a light, careful tendril,
  slipping down through the depths quickly and softly. Seeking paths
  past the tight wrapping, the quiet places, down to where the thorns
  might be...

You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek seems calmer than he has in some time,
  clearer, and he opens his mind to you without question.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar is focused and gentle, probing deeper, 
  approaching a place that seems somehow... darker than some others.
  Tangled. He reaches for it, into it, a cool touch against the heat
  and confusion. ** <<image of a thorn>>? **

Rayek draws in a slow breath, feeling the brush of a memory he hasn't
  wished to confront for a time.
You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek sends back assent, with a slight waver to
  it.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind-tendril suffuses this first spot
  with coolness, comfort, acceptance... coaxing the tightly-held
  memory toward himself, opening to bear it with his own ancient
  strength. ** <<image of a thorn being pulled, with a swift, deep,
  but somehow clean pain>> <<permission?>> **

A muscle in Rayek's lean dark cheek tightens. He doesn't nod, but...
You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek forces himself to relax, mentally, to
  not-think, or perhaps to think of something else, as you venture
  deeper into his recollections.

Ekuar's pale hand grips more tightly, where it rests against the base
  of Rayek's neck. His brows draw together over eyes that swirl with a
  mixture of pain, worry, and determination... Whatever else may be
  true, Ekuar does not relish this task.
You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind pauses for a time, cool and
  quiet, as if in readiness. Then it makes a move that is highly
  atypical for the gentle old one... It -pushes-, into barriers of
  heat and pain erected by Rayek's own inner mind, disregarding walls
  he would ordinarily have always respected. The mental touch grows
  cooler, now. Almost disturbingly cold, like a spike of ice, as it 
  -reaches-... -grasps-... -takes-, rather than waiting for something
  to be given. A core of something dark and sharp is enveloped, and
  the icy touch -pulls-, smooth and quick and with great power.

Rayek hisses, suddenly trembling. And memory floods him.

Ekuar's eyes go shut, tight.

You locksend ** <Twenty years. Twenty years in the distant past, with
  Tilia, and her child Vale, and with... the memory blurs. But one
  thing is clear: his inability to move the Palace. They are stranded.
  The Palace of the High Ones no longer responds to his will -- and he
  does not know why!> ** to Ekuar.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind moves swiftly, wrapping around
  the memory, bearing and absorbing as much of the heat and pain as he
  can moment by moment... Taking to himself that sense of bewildered,
  confusing, -failure-...

You locksend ** <He stranded them. The Palace will not answer him...
  his fault! Shame and humiliation curl within him, pressed down with
  a fierce, brightmetal will, but made all the worse for his denial of
  the emotions. Now, with the barrier to them removed, he reels under
  their renewed onslaught. His fault!> ** to Ekuar.

Ekuar's breath stops for a moment, hitches, as if with physical
  effort, then resumes.

Rayek's breath roughens, and he shudders tautly under the ancient
  shape's single hand. His eyes clamp more tightly shut.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar plunges forward, reaching and holding, 
  gathering up as much of this mental thorn as possible. Lifting the
  great core of >blame<... soaking into it and around it, diluting
  it... working to ease the great pressure that has been driving it
  ever deeper into Rayek's tender mental being.

You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek, paradoxically, fights you, as if
  convinced that the self-blame has no business being lessened. It
  _was_ his fault they were stranded. Tilia, Vale, and.... and...
  <blur>... might have died!
You locksend ** <And in the end -- it was not even his own effort that
  got them home, but Tilia's. A Go-back's. Reminding him that he'd
  taken the Palace from her people in the first place. Surpassing his
  own power. Proving his unworthiness. His struggles as the mental
  thorn's opened hole surges with a spiral that leads deeper into the
  tangle.> ** to Ekuar.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind-shape is more driven and
  directed than you have ever seen him. Every movement is to -take-,
  to sweep hot shards of pain toward himself, grasping the blame with
  the strength of nearly ten thousand years of survival. <<image of a
  thorn driven in by Rayek himself>> <<a powerful insistence to 
  -give-... -stop pressing it in-... >> He holds fast, sure and
  strong, a rock-still center to the mental whirlpool.
Ekuar's breath is uneven... jerking and gasping... not as if he cannot
  breathe, but as if he is sobbing.

Rayek's brown features contort. He doesn't weep, but perhaps because
  of this, seems all the more pained.
You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek cries out to you, ** But it was my fault!
  ** His sending reverberates with self-directed, self-caused anguish.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar presses the blame, the searing sharp
  edge of it, into himself. Willingly, he holds it to himself... and
  rather than his own mind lighting with the same pain, amazingly, the
  pain begins to -cool-... the soothing iciness of Ekuar's own mind
  begins to leach some of the heat away. ** You chose this. You can
  stop it. Choose to let it go. ** His mental voice, this deep, still
  holds the humor and love that fills his physical voice. ** Not
  failure, ** he sends strongly, with a sure sense of -rightness-. **
  Not failure... but a mistake. Time to forgive. **

You locksend to Ekuar, Rayek halts, uncertainly, grieved. He... can't.
  From himself is not where he needs the forgiveness. Not himself,
  but... but... <Again, his memory blurs.>

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind makes a series of sharp, swift 
  decisions, very unlike his normal touch. First, he reaches out for
  as much of the heat as he can, drawing only the tip, perhaps, but
  satisfied with that. He gives a moment of forceful cooling energy to
  this place... and then, all at once, he retreats. He is gone,
  swirling up through barriers and layers, back toward the surface,
  quick and careful, like a flash of lightning having touched the
  ground and darted back to the heavens. He is gone, leaving behind
  him as much of the softness, the woolly covering he places while you
  sleep, as he could... as well as a lingering echo. ** For now... but
  we will finish... **

Rayek, as you withdraw from his head, shivers, his arms wrapping
  around himself.

Ekuar's hand remains on your shoulder, but it feels lighter. Almost as
  if there is no bone inside to give the frail hand weight.

Rayek mumbles, "I... I remember. Twenty years, Ekuar... twenty
  years..."

Ekuar's breathing settles, very slowly, and he opens his eyes. He
  clears his throat. When he speaks, it is with the thick voice of one
  on the edge of tears, or just past them: "Have I done wrong,
  Brownskin? Trying to... -take-..." He shakes his head, words failing
  him.

Rayek blinks rapidly several times, his own eyes dry, but hot,
  overbright. "No, it's alright," he blurts quickly, a little too much
  so, as he hastens to go on, "I need to confront this eventually, do
  I not? It would be cowardly to hide...!"

Ekuar's own eyes widen. "No!" His tone, like his mind-touch had been,
  is quicker than normal, sharper and more commanding. He gropes down
  the arm to take your hand in his, gripping so tightly as might cause
  pain. "Brownskin..." his voice trembles a moment, but he presses on
  in the unfamiliar tone of command: "Listen. Listen well."

Rayek jerks his gaze up, startledly. He is still trembling.

Ekuar says, his normally light voice nearly grating with the effort he
  gives it: "You mustn't. There is no cowardice here. What I learned
  from pulling at that thorn is that it -isn't- -ready-! Do you see?
  Tugging at a thorn that isn't ready to come out will only cause more
  damage. That's why I stopped, and stopped at once. I can't--" his
  voice catches, and he clears his throat. "I can't force it out. I
  can't do that to you. I tried too soon! Let it be. And soon. Soon,
  it will be ready. We can try again."

"I... I..." Rayek frowns at himself. "Something's... wrong with me, 
  I-I-I'm not remembering something, I..."

Ekuar nods, his voice gradually beginning to slow, to settle back to
  normal rhythms. "I know. I felt it. That's the missing piece, my
  dear. We mustn't try to tear the thorn free without it." He gently
  eases his grip on Rayek's hand, looking up into the angular face.
  "Forgive me? It was too soon."

Rayek nods, unsteadily. "Yes... I... alright...."

Ekuar smiles, although his limpid eyes are troubled. "At least now I
  know one way I can best help you. One thorn I can work on, and
  repair, so we may one day pull the whole of it and be done with it
  for good. Hm?" He pats your hand. "Until then... we must try to wrap
  it up again, I think. No good will come from more suffering, since
  we aren't able to remove it, eh?"

Rayek mumbles, "Alright... I... do not like being like this, Ekuar."

Ekuar runs his thumb in a gentle caress across the back of your hand.
  "Being like...?" he prompts. "Not remembering?"

"Something is... missing," the airwalker murmurs, troubled. "Something
  important."

Ekuar nods, understanding. "It is. It is, I felt it... the ripples,
  the mist where it was supposed to be." He presses thin lips
  together, thoughtfully. At last, he says, "Brownskin... You trust
  me. Here is what I need you to do. Let the thorn lie as deep as it
  will, just a while longer. Can you do that? And old Ekuar will do
  the first bit of the search, to find what you've lost." Warm brown
  eyes meet amber ones, gently pleading. "Will you do that? Let me
  begin the finding. You'll be able to help me again soon enough."

Rayek frowns tightly, but at last, grudgingly nods.

Ekuar presses your hand carefully, gently, not speaking. In the depths
  of his eyes is a soft layer of pain... pain at moving so far out of
  himself as to hurt another, even if it was supposedly for this
  other's own good.

Rayek sucks in a breath, trying to relax himself.

Ekuar asks, his voice a tentative breath, "Brownskin... did I hurt
  you?"

Rayek looks up again. He seems drained, exhausted, but he almost
  smiles, one corner of his mouth curling up. "No," he whispers. "No."

Ekuar moves closer, the elder openly seeking comfort like a shaky
  youth. He leans his head against Rayek, sighing. "I'm glad... oh, my
  dear."

Rayek embraces you, still shaking a little, but ready to share awkward
  comfort.

Ekuar chuckles against you, soft and rueful. "Eh. What a walk this is
  turning out to be, hm?"
Ekuar sighs, soothed by your nearness. "The Wolfrider found us a
  lovely spot for solitude." He chuckles, almost soundlessly. "I don't
  regret stealing you away, Brownskin."

Rayek grins faintly, distractedly, looking up again at last. He seems
  a little calmer now and he answers you readily, "Ember has chosen
  well, yes."

Ekuar pats your back with a weary hand. "I never imagined she'd find
  us. Eh, I never thought she'd be walking with us!" Another chuckle,
  quiet and warm. "But I'm glad."

Rayek's gaze goes a little more absent, but in a strangely pleased
  way. "Have you watched her hunt? She is swift, and cunning with her
  spear!"

Ekuar hmms approvingly. "Wild and lovely to the eye, she is indeed.
  Brave and strong." He is smiling now, easily and gently, observing
  Rayek's recovery from his prior shakiness.

Rayek blinks, at a thought that strikes him, and he ponders it with
  abrupt wonder. "Lovely," he echoes.

Ekuar nods in absent agreement, muzzy-headed again after the stress of
  such sharpness within Rayek's mind. "Eh! My, yes. Like a gazelle. Or
  a sleek young jungle cat, perhaps."

Rayek blinks a time or two, and then focuses on you in something like 
  startlement. "I... had not thought about it, before..."

Ekuar shrugs amiably. "I suppose not. Perhaps you were always, eh,
  busy. Thinking about other things." He smiles into your eyes,
  warmly.

Rayek nods slowly, consideringly. "Lovely," he repeats, testing the
  sound of the concept.

Ekuar leans comfortably against you, looking out into the strange new
  valley musingly. "There's plenty of time now," he says benignly.
  "Without so many other things-- eh, preying on your mind. Taking up
  your time." He blinks calmly, without explaining himself further.

Rayek frowns softly to himself, murmuring, "She is... dark... she'd
  have been a different hue, if..."

Ekuar's eyes flick sideways to rest their gaze upon you for just a
  moment, lightly. Curiously. With an air of almost breathless hope.
  "If...?"

[If, indeed, what? Rayek does not recall, but Ekuar has his
 suspicions. And it is not more than a few days afterward when those
 suspicions are confirmed.

 It is another warm summer day, and the two self-elected caretakers
 of the master of the Palace are out and about....]

Ekuar settles comfortably by a tiny side-rill of the glacial stream,
  putting his staff aside.

Ember is up above the old rockshaper, dangling by her knees from a
  treebranch, tunic and skirt both half falling off from the unlikely
  gravitational shift. She swings, lightly, apparently content to stay
  there for quite some time.

Ekuar fumbles with the straps of his wooden leg, chewing his lip
  absently, perhaps without being aware of it. He removes the limb
  carefully, examining it for soundness with exploring fingers.

Petalwing flits brightly about, singing at the top of its little
  Preserver lungs, and exploring all the nooks and crannies of a
  nearby rock face.

Ember /breeeedts!/ at Petalwing, offering out a hand for the little
  critter to come land on, grinning.

Petalwing oohs! And flits happily to firehair highthing.

Nothing can be seen of Rayek, as the airwalker has yet to emerge from
  the little group's shelter in the rocks.

Ekuar sets the wooden leg down next to the water and begins to dip his
  hand into the cold stream's flow. He scoops out water in little
  handfuls, trickling the water over the travel-worn and dingy padded
  fur boot at the end of the leg. He gently rubs dirt and stains from
  the boot, his eyes half misted-over.

Ember grins, trying to get the Preserver to look right-side-up to her,
  which involves turning her hand one way and her head the other,
  before giving it up as a bad job.

/Silly firehair highthing!/ Petalwing proclaims happily, bright wings 
  aflutter. /Petalwing like!/ It darts up to play with Ember's fiery
  locks of hair.

Ekuar glances up for a moment at Ember and Petalwing, distracted (if
  only for a moment) from some deep series of thoughts. An
  affectionate smile tugs at his mouth, and he lowers his gaze again
  to his task.

Down. Ember's hair is down. She's hanging from her knees, remember?
  "Ack. Don't tug too much, bug, or you'll knock me right out of the
  tree." There's not the *slightest* danger of this, but it might save
  her roots.

Up, down, what's the difference to a Preserver out for play? It
  giggles, and promises, /Get sharpdark highthing to float firehair
  highthing! No fall go oof!/

Ekuar says mildly, pouring a fresh handful of icy water over the
  padded boot, "Eh... I don't think Brownskin's even awake yet. He
  needed some rest, indeed."

Ember lets out a laugh. "I'm not much of one for flying, anyway,
  Petalwing." Too many reminders of Sar, in flight. "And I wouldn't
  want to waken him, no."

Ekuar sighs, his thoughts diverted again to some pleasant memory. "Oh,
  I -love- flying. Eh, yes! Came to Festival on the back of a great
  bird." He blinks unseeingly at the damp boot, his smile faint but
  happy.

Petalwing awwwws, still flitting. /Petalwing think sharpdark highthing
  not sleep good anyway, should play! Petalwing heard sharpdark
  highthing make sleepysad noises!/

Ember rotates her head to look at the bug. "Sleepysad noises?" She
  cranes her neck, looking towards the shelter. "I wonder if I should
  check on him...?"

The Preserver bobs its head knowingly. /Petalwing know! Petalwing say
  so!/

Ekuar looks up at the bright little creature, ancient forehead
  wrinkling in concern. "More nightmares," he breathes, almost to
  himself. He nods to the acrobatic Wolfrider. "Would you, my dear?
  It's worrisome." He gestures to the leg. "And I, eh, can't exactly
  go myself, as it is."

Ember laughs, doubling herself up to catch the branch she hangs from,
  then flipping down to the ground, landing in a neat crouch. "You
  could hop," she teases, and rakes a hand back through tangled curls
  as she pads lightly towards the shelter, calling out softly,
  "Rayek?"

There's no immediate answer. Curiously, the Preserver zips past Ember
  and darts into the shelter, too. /Ooh!/

Ekuar's smile grows, warm and affectionate, as he watches the lithe
  Wolfrider go to the upcropping.

Ember mmms? "Oooh, bug?" She ducks inside, at least partway, squinting
  at the comparative darkness before her eyes adjust.

Ekuar's hand rests on the clean dampness of the fur boot, picking
  nervously at strands of fur as he keeps his eyes on the rock
  shelter. His eyes are darkening somewhat, concerned.

Inside the shelter, Rayek's lean form has sprawled out to occupy what
  space Ember and Ekuar are not, with one arm flung out to his side.
  His head tosses silently back and forth, as Ember and the bug look
  in on him.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mental presence has been here
  throughout your sleep, the lightest touch, a soft layer of silence
  to keep it peaceful, as he had promised. Now this touch stirs, very
  slightly.

You locksend ** <Disjointed flashes; anguish; memory of bitter cold. 
  Loneliness. Someone's in trouble, and he can't help...> ** to Ekuar.

Ember creeps all the way inside, murmuring, "Rayek?" again before she
  reaches out to touch that outflung arm.

Rayek jerks, eyes flying open unseeingly, and a hoarse cry escapes
  him.

You locksend ** <Another disjointed flash: bright light! Too fast! He
  can't --> ** to Ekuar.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mental touch soothes, slow and cool.
  ** Easy. Wake to us... **

Ekuar's eyes widen at the cry, and leg or no leg, he leans
  instinctively toward the call.

Beside Rayek, Petalwing pipes, /Sharpdark highthing come back from
  scarybad dreamplace?/

Ember lets out a soft hiss, the sound somehow reassuring, and her hand
  slips up along Rayek's arm. "Wake up, Rayek." Her voice is gentle,
  cajoling. "Just a nightmare. I'm here."

Rayek, amber eyes finding Ember the first thing in his immediate line
  of sight, stares at her with a strange mixture of startlement,
  relief, and... adoration. Then, he blinks, muzzily, and the
  expression promptly shifts to one of disorientation. "I... a... a
  dream..."

Ekuar hears that soft assurance, and sees Ember's care for his
  befuddled student, and his tense frame slowly relaxes. Brownskin is
  in good hands. He tries to pull his attention back to the fur boot,
  shaking it to remove some of the water, but his gaze keeps slipping
  back to the little cave.

Ember nods, smile reassuring. "Tell me about it?" Her hand stays on
  his shoulder, shades of brown.

You sense in a locksend, Ekuar's mind-touch, a steady companion during
  sleep, slowly and carefully withdraws... just as he always does upon
  your waking. Leaving you to privacy for your conscious hours, with a
  soft promise to return when next you sleep.

Rayek blinks, staring again at Ember, as he slowly awakens; his gaze
  suggests that he has never quite looked at her before, and is
  stunned to be doing so now. Then, he frowns, mumbling roughly,
  "It's... gone. I cannot remember..."

Ember smiles. "That's all right." She moves a rough lock of black hair
  away. "Do you need anything?"

You say "Need..."

Ember leans forward a bit, encouragingly. "What?"

Rayek's gaze turns inward, pained; still half-asleep, though, he
  shakes his head rapidly, and then frowns at Ember and the Preserver
  as Petalwing suggests, /Need sparklewaters?/

Ekuar runs his fingers through the damp fur, smoothing the boot so it
  will dry neatly. He sets it aside with his staff and bends to the
  water again, dipping his skeletal hand within the clear iciness...
  His attention is going inward, into deep thought.

Ember chuckles softly at the Preserver. "Water might be good,
  Petalwing." She arches an eyebrow at Rayek to see if this agrees.

Rayek nods, slowly, fumbling himself up into a sitting position.
  "Water... yes, water..."

Ember offers Rayek a hand as he sits, smiling at him. "You look
  tired," she says softly.

Ekuar lifts his hand from the chill water, sparkling drops falling
  between his thin fingers. His eyes are misty and far away.

His black hair still in disarray, and his eyes a little vague in his
  drawn, thin face, Rayek mutters embarrassedly, "I... do not think I
  have slept well in some time..." He trails off at Ember's slightly
  paler fingers on his bare arm, then turns, unsteadily, and crawls
  outside.

Ember nods absently and follows Rayek out.

Ekuar reclines, slowly, onto his side, curling up in a slight heap
  next to his staff and wooden leg. His bare old head is pillowed on
  his arm, eyes half-closed.
Ekuar's thin chest rises and falls slowly as he drifts between the
  waking world and a deep reverie of memory and introspection.

Rayek wobbles over to the stream, and blinkblinks, taken aback, at the
  sight of Ekuar curled up there. He pauses, then frowns, and looks
  plaintively back at Ember. "He... was having ill dreams as well, he
  said..."

Ember smiles lightly. "I'll just have to keep an eye on both of you to
  keep the dreams away." She imagines that the 'blanket' that Ekuar
  has wrapped around Rayek's mind explains the elder's dreams. "What
  you need, my friend, is a good tumble in the furs."

Rayek blinks, then smiles sadly. "You sound like Kahvi." He 
  half-smiles, gaze shifting to Ekuar, then away across the stream.

Ember grins. "Kahvi's right at times."

Ekuar's eyes have gone from half-closed to entirely-closed, and he
  seems to be floating in a self-contained cocoon... though whether of
  sleep or of deep meditative thought is unclear. His gaunt face does
  not smooth into the peace of a calm sleep, though, so wherever Ekuar
  is, it is not paradise.

Rayek, without looking at Ember, murmurs, "I hope that this does not
  mean you will eventually wind up with a spear at my throat."

Ember's eyebrows dart up. "I won't."

Rayek fails to see the lifted eyebrows, as he adds, "But you speak
  truly... she is... right, more often than I ever gave her credit
  for... perhaps she will..." He trails off, then, and glances
  worriedly down at Ekuar, uncertain. Should he think about this, with
  Ekuar apparently so quiet, so troubled?

Ember's gaze, too, goes to Ekuar, and, uncertainly, she says, "Do you
  think we should wake him?"

Rayek kneels beside Ekuar, as Petalwing comes flitting curiously over,
  and he studies the elder's features gravely. "He breathes," Rayek
  reports, holding a brown hand against the old shaper's mouth.
  "Perhaps a blanket for him, though, lest he catch chill..."

Ember nods, and runs back to the shelter to find such, returning
  moments later.

Ekuar is settling deeper into stillness, looking fragile without the
  bright glow of his gaze to show his inner fires.

Rayek says softly, "I... hope he did not exhaust himself, helping
  me..." He frowns.

Petalwing peeps, /Petalwing could put oldold moverock highthing in
  wrapstuff? Sleep safesnug?/

Ember settles the blanket around Ekuar, carefully, and absently
  admonishes, "You're not supposed to be thinking, Rayek." It's said
  affectionately. She looks consideringly at Petalwing.

Rayek blinks, then quickly shakes his head at the Preserver. As Ember
  returns with the blanket, he glances at her, and again, half-smiles.
  "Ekuar is right, nevertheless. You're lo --" He suddenly catches
  himself with a strange look, and continues, "Your largesse is a
  credit to your raising."

Ekuar does not stir as he is covered, but... it seems that perhaps one
  or two of the worry-lines have smoothed out somewhat.

Ember pauses in tucking the blanket around Ekuar. "My /what/?"

Rayek blinks back at Ember, equally taken aback by her response, then
  smiles wearily. "You are a generous soul. I... do not think your
  sire would be so generous with me."

Ember chuckles softly, going back to tucking Ekuar in. "Father holds
  grudges. Mother would still do anything for you."

Ekuar's eyes move beneath pale, almost translucent eyelids, darting
  back and forth as if following a bird on the wing, or the flash of a
  thought through the depths of his mind.

Rayek pauses, then stares at Ember oddly.

Ember looks satisfied at the bundle of Ekuar, and glances up, eyebrow
  arched, at Rayek. "What?"

Rayek quirks his head, then, one hand halted on Ekuar's frail form. "I
  have... met your mother?"

Flittering nearby, Petalwing blinks. Several times.

Ember stops. Completely. The pulse is visible in her throat, a beat or
  two, then she slowly shakes her head. Ekuar, Ember needs your wise
  old head, here. A tendril of thought reaches out to the old
  rockshaper: ** Ekuar? He doesn't remember Leetah? What do I do? **

Ekuar is deep within himself. Deeper than normal thought, deeper even
  than normal sleep. Far down, a spark floats, bright at the center of
  whirling memories. It reaches toward Ember, touches her, soft and
  cool. ** Leetah... so -that's- what was missing... oh, my dear. **
  The spark glitters, disturbed. ** Take care. Gently. Don't push at
  it... this thorn won't be ready for removal until his memories are
  whole again, until he has grasped your lovely mother once again in
  his mind. **

Ember nods slowly, both at Ekuar and at Rayek. "You did..."

Rayek frowns to himself, eyes darkening. "I... do not remember this.
  Another thing I do not remember...." He suddenly scowls. "I cannot
  be fit to be master of the Palace, if I am not master of my own
  recall...!"

Ember reaches up to grasp Rayek's shoulder firmly. "Don't worry,
  Rayek. The memories .will. come to you, and the Palace will soar
  again. But you mustn't worry. Please believe me."

Ekuar's mental spark brushes against Ember's thoughts once more,
  distant but warmly concerned. ** I'm glad you're here... he needs
  more than just old Ekuar... **

Rayek meets Ember's blue-green gaze with his own, and his is
  anguished. "I am... not to worry, about these gaps in my memory? How
  can I not help but do so?"

Ember's return sending is more affection than words, though she
  offers, ** I do hope I can help. ** Then her concentration returns
  to Rayek, and she chews her lower lip for a moment. "There are many
  things that I can't remember, Rayek. For me, it's because of the
  wolf blood." She tilts her head, and softly, suggests, "Could you
  perhaps think of yourself as a Wolfrider, for a time? While you
  learn the Way, and the hunt and the howl, with me? Then the faded
  memories will ... belong."

Rayek gives an abrupt little noise that might be a snort, and might be 
  laughter. "I... never thought I'd be invited to practice _that_. I
  would not know where to begin."

Ember hunkers down, looking at Rayek thoughtfully. That reaction was
  better than she expected, really. She expected outrage. The sending
  to Ekuar is quick. ** Ekuar? Is it safe to share a sending with him?
  ** Aloud, she says, "I might know where..."

Ekuar's bright core reaches out again from the soft, dark depths where
  it rests, touching Ember with gentle reassurance. ** Safe... safe...
  if great care is taken. -Share-, Wolfrider. Do no taking, no force
  or pushing at boundaries. ** Here there is a welling sense of
  concern, and... is that regret? ** Offer gifts, and let Brownskin do
  the accepting. We mustn't push at the thorn before it's ready... **

Ember's sending is a smile, this time, to the rockshaper. ** An
  offering, aye. And if he will accept it ... a wolf will work the
  thorn out when he's ready. **

Ekuar's mind-self is drifting back into layers of darkness, turning to
  itself and its memories, working at a deep matter of thought... But
  as it goes, there is a gleam of hope left with Ember. ** May that
  day come soon... **

Ember, still watching Rayek intently, blue-green eyes half squinted,
  offers, "I could share with you, Rayek, in the same way that Ekuar
  shares your dreams. An...open sending, linked together. So you would
  see the world as a wolfrider does. Or close, anyway. And then the
  forgetting...would not be bothersome."

Rayek looks back at Ember, eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious, clearly
  worried by the concept. "But... I am _not_ a Wolfrider, Ember. It
  cannot last, surely, past the sharing."

Ember pulls in a deep breath, carefully. "Not past the sharing. But
  memories rise unbidden in us, when it's time for things to be
  remembered. What I'm offering, Rayek, is ... Ekuar is in contact
  with your mind all the time, right? To provide a shelter for you.
  That's what I'm offering. A Wolfrider's senses surrounding you until
  the memories come as they would for one of us."

Ekuar's slow, steady breathing catches in his throat for a brief
  moment, as if something in the deep places of his mind has disturbed
  him. After this one subtle sign, though, the elder settles again...
  perhaps grappling the disturbing thought, perhaps circling it
  intently.

Rayek looks troubled, as he considers. What she offers... strikes him
  as too much of an alteration of his... Self, despite it being
  temporary, despite it being an honestly offered gift. He frowns,
  then says at last, tentatively, "I... cannot say yes or no, Ember,
  without... seeing, first. What you... offer me."

Ember's response is simply to open her mind, her senses, to Rayek, an 
  invitation to see the world as she does. Physically, she actually
  reaches out a hand towards him, underlining the invitation.

Rayek clasps the proferred hand readily enough; he is nothing, the
  airwalker, if not willing to brave uncharted dangers.

It is not a flood; Ember's sending is too careful for that. The change
  are, instead, more gradual, the first being scent. Warm winds carry
  the tale of dinner to be hunted, stir up and mix together the three
  elves, each still remaining distinguishable through the blending.
  Glacier-fed stream scents of carried earth and fresh, cold
  crispness...and then, added in, comes the hearing, light sounds of
  treading animals, the steadiness of Ekuar's breathing, the far-off
  cry of a circling hawk. Despite the influx of information, there is
  no panic, no hurry in the sending, everything wrapped in the hazy
  warmth of Now. And, kept to the back, less important than the
  comfort, is the wolfsong, music to fall into for a moment or
  forever, where memories are kept safely away until they are needed.
  Further below that, all but subdued, is the feral nature within
  Ember herself, the wolf itself, silent strength.

Rayek's head jerks a little in startlement at the overlay of new,
  added depth to his own senses -- acute as all elves' are, but this,
  this is intricacy of awareness such as he'd never imagined. Oh,
  true, he has felt such richness in the magic of the Scroll of
  Colors... but this is different. Earthy. Surprisingly present.
  Surprisingly appealing to the sheer physical form in which Rayek has
  too often felt trapped. He tastes the unfamiliar sensations, stunned
  enough for a time that he misses some of the subtler things entwined 
  in the chieftess-daughter's sending.

Ekuar stirs, but only slightly... it's the movement of tight limbs
  finally relaxed, lines of concern smoothing and easing. He seems to
  be drifting upward within his enclosure, up to a more comfortable
  and less intense form of sleep. His breathing deepens, and his taut
  expression begins to gentle.

When there is no immediate sign of rejection, Ember slowly opens her
  mind a little more to Rayek, allowing more of the wolf into it, more
  of the song that comforts all Wolfriders through hard times. It does
  not sense of stealing away, or danger, merely a gentle relaxation of
  those things that are too hard for the wolf to deal with at the
  time. And, if he reaches for it, Rayek will see how the memories do
  rise again, once the wolf is capable of understanding. Ember's mind
  has no fear of losing self in the song, for the song .is. self. Is
  it possible for someone who is not a Wolfrider to accept it?

In the shared sending, Rayek whirls, gaze still wide and wondering at
  the unexpected new levels of sight and sense and hearing... almost
  enough to make his head hurt, till he begins to sort through them.
  His pulse races; he cannot remember a time when he has felt more...
  alive. And as Ember sends to him, he turns to regard her with that
  same awed amazement. _She_ has that song beating in her blood, and
  with his augmented hearing, he can almost feel it, himself. With his
  augmented sense of scent, he picks her out of the flurry of messages
  brought by the wind... and he is transfixed.
Rayek murmurs, huskily, "You... smell... different, Ember...
  something..." Still captivated, he stares at her, confused even in
  his sudden fascination. Something about her is... familiar. The
  wolf-song? No. But even as she weaves it into his open upper mind,
  he can sense something else in her scent and blood, something else
  she inherited along with the brown skin and the red of her hair, a
  hint of a scent as elusive as Petalwing when it wants to hide. And
  he studies that, too, equally stunned.
Rayek begins to tremble, all at once, gaze going troubled. His fingers
  shake in Ember's hand.

Ember's smile flashes across her face and through the sending. "That's
  me," she explains softly, and perhaps inaccurately. "How I scent to
  wolfriders." Her hand tightens gently on Rayek's, not capturing, but
  comforting. "It's all right."

There is a ripple underneath the fur tucked around Ekuar, as his
  single good leg shifts position. The steady breathing does not
  change, but somehow the rockshaper's sleep seems... troubled,
  perhaps. If only a bit. It seems as if the tone and timbre of the
  sendings flowing over and around him are affecting the thoughts and
  feelings within his own mental cocoon.

Rayek's breath comes rapid and ragged out of him, and he manages
  hoarsely, "This... is so... much..." He can even scent himself, his
  scent sharp, arid. _I smell like sand_, he realizes abruptly,
  bemused. And his aquiline nose wrinkles a bit, as he catches subtler
  tangs to his own aroma. "I... do not smell... well."

Ember, watching the darker elf in concern, draws her sending back a
  little, scents and song dampening somewhat, though not dissipating
  entirely. "You're not," she points out. "You need sleep, and food,
  and time in the sun to relax." She doesn't mention the need for a
  bath.

Rayek stares down at himself and scowls, fastidiously. "Time in the
  water as well," he mutters. He glances at Ekuar, gaze gentling for a
  moment as he ascertains that the shaper still rests. Then, abruptly,
  he rises, and begins stripping off his travel-ragged clothing.

Ekuar still rests, indeed, and more comfortably with each passing
  breath. Perhaps, as the heightened distress of Rayek's first
  Wolfrider-sensing has been mastered, the ancient elf allows himself
  to relax more fully into a true state of peace.

Ember chuckles, the sound running warm through the sending, link
  remaining open so long as Rayek wishes. And, aside from the usual
  Wolfrider senses spinning through the sending, there is open
  admiration as the dark elf strips away the worn clothing.

Rayek, when clad in nothing but his own long black hair, plunges
  unhesitantly and swiftly into the stream. And yelps -- as he
  realizes that his skin, too, seems more sensitive than he's used to.
  He goes under, then comes up spluttering. But he immediately begins
  swimming the length of the water, back and forth. Only when involved
  in that does he glance back, and smirk at Ember's sent admiration.
  _I smell as though I've been feversick for years, and she admires
  me? Faugh!_

Ember's eyebrows rise up at the smirk, and she glances away, back
  towards Ekuar. The sense of her sending -- if this link remains
  open, she's going to have to find some way to prevent thoughts from
  traveling it randomly -- is faintly insulted; Ember is not Leetah,
  no, but she's not /that/ bad, is she?

Rayek with almost ferocious movements swims. And repeatedly dunks his
  head underwater, as if attempting to inundate his hair with the cold
  wetness.

Ekuar's head turns softly to one side, the unconscious movement of the 
  sleeper. His face is still fairly peaceful, though, so it seems
  unlikely that the disturbing sleep-visions of earlier times have
  returned. Muzzily, from the depths of slumber, his mind sparkles
  with a faint open sending... the telepathic equivalent of talking in
  his sleep. ** <<all right?>> **

Ember stands, walking back to the shelter to fetch another fur. Rayek
  is going to be an icicle when he gets out of that river. The senses
  do not fade, however, as she moves away.

Rayek jerks up in the water, and looks over. Briefly, his face lights
  up at Ekuar's drowsy contact, as he finds himself realizing that he
  can smell the old elf, too: scents of age, and of magic. He
  unconsciously smiles, hugely, and sends back wonderingly, ** It
  is... all right. ** Threaded in the sending is a bit of disgust at
  the way he smells, though, and fiercely, he returns to his bathing.

Ember returns with a fur tossed over her shoulder, and, mildly, says,
  "You need exercise, Rayek, to clear all the scent away. It's in your
  muscles." The sending suggests something that her words do not --
  that Kahvi's method is a good way to clear head and scent -- but the
  thought is quiet. And to Ekuar, ** Aye, all right. **

Rayek muttergrowls, "I have smelled this way to you all this time?"

Ekuar's sleep-sending sparkles once more, wordlessly, gladly and
  mistily absorbing his beloved pupil's reassurances, as well as
  Ember's. His mind falls quiet, and the last of the worried creases
  smoothe out of his face.

Ember shakes her head. "No. You used to smell a lot worse. You're
  getting better."

Rayek's expression turns positively black, and, utterly 
  self-disgusted, he goes underwater again.

Ember kicks her boots off, and, dropping the furs, wades in after
  Rayek, to stand nose-to-nose with him when he re-emerges. "You want
  to know what you *really* smell like?" she asks. "When you're not
  sick?"

Rayek comes up, sopping, and frowns warily up at Ember. "All...
  right...."

Did you know that arrogance had a scent? It does, one similiar to
  power; in Ember's mind, it resembles the scent of a chief, confident
  and strong. And the sand that you noticed, always a part of you, and
  filtered through Ember's memory, there is a hint of fire, the smoky
  lodge of the Go-Backs, and Kahvi. Pride, too, has its own scent,
  falling about Rayek like his cloak of black hair, and the scent of
  magic, controlled. And within, there is something of a auburn-haired
  healer reflected, and an aged, graceful elf who keeps memories for
  her children. The hunter is in the scent, and the lover, all of it
  sheathed in the coolness of superiority.

"Now," Ember says firmly, "get out of the water before you freeze to
  death." She turns and wades back to the shore.

Rayek blinks, several times, in astonishment. Shaken -- as if Ember
  had somehow looked to the very core of him -- and shaken further by
  facets of that scent he could not identify, he emerges from the
  stream. And sucks in a rapid breath as the cool wind chills the
  water on his bare skin.

Ember strips water off her legs with her hands, reaching for the fur
  and handing it to Rayek silently.

Rayek clutches at it, hastily, made clumsy by the sudden shivering of
  his fingers.

Ember nods towards the shelter. "Go on," she says softly. "I'll get
  Ekuar and we can sleep. You'll warm up, between the two of us."

Rayek, trembling violently under the fur, wrings water out of his
  sopping mane, and nods, making his way after a time into the
  shelter.

Ember turns and lifts the sleeping Ekuar easily, carrying him
  carefully to the shelter, ducking inside with the precious bundle,
  and setting him down on warm furs, near Rayek. Before resting
  herself, she returns for his staff and false leg both, placing them
  within easy reaching distance of the old elf, when he wakens.

Ekuar does not wake as he is gently settled in the shelter, but he
  nestles up instinctively against Rayek, warmth against shivering
  coldness.

Once the old elf is settled and Ember is satisfied of his comfort, she
  moves around the little shelter, to Rayek's other side, and curls
  down next to him, offering her warmth as well.

Rayek shivers between the two, but, as he is surrounded, begins to
   relax.
Rayek glances a little startledly between the two elves -- so close,
  their scents flare up in Ember's augmentation of his senses.

Ekuar murmurs something indistinct from the depths of sleep, snuggling
  in comfortably.

Ember's sense is that the scents are comforting, surrounded by warmth
  and love, but, through the link, less a sending than a feeling of
  questioning, she asks Rayek if he wishes the sending to remain open
  while he sleeps.

Rayek, mollified somewhat by Ekuar's trusting contact, smiles a little
  wearily at the old shaper, then shifts his damp head around to
  regard Ember. "I... perhaps..." A sudden flicker in the amber gaze,
  that might almost be nervousness. Then he squelches it, trying to
  smile narrowly. "I... doubt it could make me sleep any worse."

Ember yawns slightly, and nods. "A little less, though," she murmurs,
  and the sending, and senses, fade away a little more. "You probably
  don't need my dreams, too." Ember is somewhat doubtful as to the
  safety of allowing you access to a Wolfrider's dreams, at the
  moment. An utter immersion in wolfsong is probably not something
  Rayek needs now. "Sleep, Rayek." Her voice is tired, body warm and
  relaxed.

[And sleep Rayek does. End log.]