The Wolfrider's first contact with the Gliders was through a young hunter who belonged to a band that had broken off from the Mountain Gliders long ago. In this tale, originally told partially through roleplays, partially by cooperative round-robins, we meet this Glider and learn of the tale of his past which still haunts him, driving him into a foolish quest for vengeance. This tale comes from a time when the Wolfrider tribe was large, filled with characters (many of them underplayed) now long-gone -- yet current holties will find some familiar faces as well. For a secretive Wolfrider holt, Grey Falls was beginning to feel like Grand Central Station, as characters from other parts of this world kept stumbling across the holt. Eventually there had to be a moratorium on "my holt was destroyed by humans" stories and on strangers happening across the holt, and limits set on the number of characters any one player could have.

As lightly as a shed owl feather falling to the forest floor, the young Glider touched ground for the first time in hours, his booted foot sinking into the soft duff. He was weary from the long time spent aloft, but alert enough to appreciate the stunning beauty of the small elf maiden who was staring at him, astonished, from the branches above. Ancient tales from his own people told of a wolf-riding race of elves somewhere in the vast forests, but he hadn't expected to find them, and certainly not so soon. He ignored the burning ache in his side, and put aside his inner pain for a moment as he strode forward. "The winds are high today," he murmured, forcing a smile, "and it feels like a good day to meet people. Time to make new friends."

The maiden in the tree leaped to the forest floor with a reckless grace that surprised the young Glider. Delicate jewelry around her arms and neck chimed sweetly as she moved. From behind the tree came another figure, tall and graceful, dressed in robes of blue and white, twirling a long blue feather in her fingers. Ah, the young Glider thought, there are ancient ones here, of pure blood. Perhaps this one is the leader? He accepted the feather she offered him, relieved. The legends suggested these elves allied with wolves were savages. Not all legends are true, he thought to himself, as he untied a feather from his own staff, and offered it in return, hoping he was completing his part of some strange custom. He didn't want to make a mistake. This was too important.

"The mists have parted and revealed a new friend," the tall elf-woman said, "My name is Kyleria, and this rambunctious cub of mine is Windsong."

"I am called Kaylamale. My people are... were... the Gliders of the Free Village."

"Gliders, indeed," Windsong chucked.

"You have found the holt of the Wolfriders, Kaylamale," Kyleria said, "So long as you come in peace and keep our ways, you are welcome here."

Windsong gave him a wide, meaningful smile that made his heart turn over. "I think I'll like it here," he said.

"You look tired and travel-worn. Come. We'll find some place you can rest and refresh yourself before the Wolfriders bury you in questions."

"The Wolfriders?" Kaylamale asked, as he walked beside Kyleria, "Are you not one of them yourself?"

Kyleria smiled. "I'm a pureblood," she said simply, as if that would explain all. For the moment, Kaylamale held his questions. Open eyes and ears would bring the answers to his immediate puzzles.

Tall, straight-trunked evergreen trees towered over his head, shutting out most of the sun, leaving those who lived below in a moist gloom full of intoxicating scents and fascinating sounds. Kaylamale peered ahead, through the giant tree boles for a hint of a village ahead. He was surprised when Kyleria stopped suddenly and said "Here we are."

A tiny, naked elf child was standing in the path, chortling delightedly at the sight of the Glider. She was visibly sticky, streaked with sap and grime, and clutching a malodorous stripe-tail pelt. She toddled over to him, obviously still mastering the art of walking, and offered the black and white fur. Kaylamale smiled uncertainly, and took the pelt, holding it at arm's length. He couldn't fathom the meaning of such a ritual, but he could not afford to offend anyone in the new village.

"Hilltop!" A young elf-maid appeared, seemingly from nowhere, her honey-colored hair streaming all the way down her back. "There you are, you little tree-wee! How did you get so filthy so fast? And where did you leave your leathers?"

"Where..." Kaylamale began, looking for the village, then noticed subtle movements from the branches above him. The villagers, these Wolfriders, were coming out to see him. "But..." He looked all around for a sign of a structure, huts, thatching, anything. Then he saw.

"The tree itself!" Heads popped up from burrows near the foot of the giant tree. "And the earth as well. This is wonderful! Humans could walk right by and never know the village was here!"

"Is your cub out of control again, Kestrel?" Windsong teased.

Kestrel laughed in return. "Wait until you have one of your own, you'll see. Brightsun and Soulsinger had better keep their eyes on this one, or she'll be challenging them both for the chief's title. At the same time!"

"And High Ones help us if she wins!" Windsong's jewelry chimed in tune with her laughter.

"You can toss that ripe pelt," Kestrel added, to Kaylamale, "The cub has been trying to stick it on Treesniffer's bald head all the twilight. Hungry, little one?" she asked, now that the child was mouthing around in the hollow of her shoulder, nearly falling out of her arms trying to get into a nursing position.

The child would soon get her fill, Kaylamale knew, and he began to wonder what the rest of the villagers ate. His journey had been long, and his last meal ... when had it been? He followed Kestrel, hoping to strike up a conversation once she got her child settled in her arms. Who knew what else the maiden might have to offer? "Lead on," he said, with a charming grin. Kestrel cocked one eyebrow and looked at him sideways, then broke into a run, straight into the arms of a silver-haired elf standing a short distance away. The Glider's eyes met those of the tall young elf. There was murder in those gray eyes.

"That's Stone, our healer," Kyleria said, catching up to him, "He doesn't share," she added, pointedly.

"Oh. That's... fine."

"And Treesniffer, beside him, is our other healer. Not quite as powerful. Maybe it's the Go-Back blood in him."

"Are you really an elf?" A child all in green, her white-gold hair falling in her eyes, had taken Kaylamale's hand. The friendly gesture contrasted with her suspicious look.

Kaylamale grinned. "Yes, of course, small one."

The child's underlip protruded. "I'm not so small. Anyway, elves don't fly. My grandmother, Whitefox, says so, and she's the wisest elf in the whole world." This declaration was greeted with a chorus of giggles from somewhere up in the branches.

"Starfall, you little chatter-squirrel!" A lovely elf-woman, her body nearly cloaked by her long white hair, leaped down from a branch and grabbed the child, blushing nearly as red as the leathers she wore. "You shouldn't make fun of me like that."

"Making fun?" Kaylamale stared blankly. "Oh, she's just a child, and a funny one at that."

"I am not!" protested Starfall, stamping her foot.

"Now you've done it," laughed Whitefox, "She'll stop speaking to you forever. Or at least until she thinks of something else to say."

Kaylamale could see the healer still glaring at him, speaking in low tones to the bald elf beside him. Was Stone the right name for a hotblood? Or was he misjudging the healer? Best to let him cool down before there was a confrontation. His own head was too full of sensations to think straight. He turned to the white-haired elf-woman who reminded him somewhat of his mother, though his memories of her were dim.

"This Stone," he began, "He's a healer?"

"Probably the best this holt has had."

Kaylamale looked at the healer again. "You think rather highly of him."

"I should. He's my own cub."

If I'm not careful, I'm not going to get anything straight, Kaylamale thought to himself. I've been in this village only a few moments and I've nearly made a hand of mistakes already. This elf-woman, Whitefox, seemed friendly enough. Perhaps she might help him...

Another male came sidling up to her. Another jealous mate, Kaylamale wondered?

"Whitefox, what's his name?" And before Whitefox could answer, "I'm Glow. Welcome." His arms spread wide, Glow gave Kaylamale a welcoming hug. For the first time since stepping foot in the village, Kaylamale felt as if he was doing something right.

Other elves were gathering around, their rampant curiosity obvious, yet some code of politeness among them kept them from launching a barrage of questions at him. Some of those lupine eyes were merely curious, others edged upon hostile. It would be up to these villagers to decide if he would stay or leave. Best to get his story out in the open and get it over with as soon as possible.

"My greetings to you all," he said, stepping away from Whitefox, "My name is Kaylamale of the Gliders. I come in peace, I assure you, but my journey has been long, and I am weary to the bone. Let me rest and eat, and those who are curious about me and my nature will find the answers they seek tonight when the moons rise." He turned to Kyleria. "Where can I..."

"Come," offered Glow, "There's room in my den for you to stretch out and rest. There's sure to be food in someone's den, too, and they'll bring it up."

"Lead the way," the Glider said, rising into the air.

A waxing mother moon was high in the night sky when Kaylamale emerged, looking more rested, but a trifle more nervous. He saw the villagers gathering at the base of the tree he had rested in, the one they called the Grandfather Tree. Tribe, he reminded himself, the Wolfriders call themselves a tribe, not a village. They shaped the living trees into shelter, and seemed to believe only humans lashed cut branches and thatching into huts.

"There is no fire to gather around?" he asked, thinking the gathering looked rather cold without the glow of flames.

"Of course not," Glow scoffed, "What do you think we are, humans? A fire would scare away the best game, and draw the humans in like moths. Besides, I can see much better without a fire getting in the way."

"Really?" Kaylamale shook his head. Plainly, there was much to be learned about these Wolfriders, much that wasn't obvious on the surface.

There seemed to be an air of merriment to the gathering below. When the time seemed right, Kaylamale floated out of the hole. Glow followed him out.

"I wonder if the other strangers will show themselves tonight?" the Wolfrider said.

"Other strangers?"

"Yes, for a few hands of nights, now, we've found traces of strangers nearby. A few tracks, a whiff of a scent, just enough that we know they are there, but not enough to tell us who they are."

"Could they be dangerous?"

Glow shook his head. "There are only two or three at most. If they were dangerous, we'd know it by now. I think they're just shy. Maybe seeing you come to the holt will draw them out of the woods. Here we are."

The Wolfriders had gathered in a ring at the base of the Grandfather tree. A basket was being passed around, and whatever they were eating from it seemed to please them. Silently, Kaylamale stepped to the center of the ring. Best to get it over with, he thought.

"First of all," he said, "I want to thank all of you who have welcomed me to the... holt. I'm not sure my own village would have welcomed one of you as openly. Before you come to think of me as one of yours, however, I would have you know my story. I will start with the events that led to my arrival tonight.

"It begins five nights ago. I was returning from a hunt, when I came upon a stranger in the woods, an elf who was badly wounded. Someone had beaten him and left him for dead, or so it appeared. He cried out for help, and I took pity on him, for, though he was not a Glider, and I do not know where he came from, he was a brother elf and had been badly misused. He said his name was Zen'tear, and that he had been set upon by humans who had beaten him and left when they thought he was dead.

"I picked him up, finding he was quite light, and rose in the air, thinking I would fly him quickly to the village. But as we left the ground, the he began trembling, and begged me to walk instead, claiming he was afraid of heights. So, to prevent him from any harm fear might cause, I walked with him back to the village. This was our undoing, for though this elf was light, he weighed me down enough that I left footprints that even a human could follow.

"And follow they did, for this Zen'tear, as he called himself, was a lure, in league with the humans. True, they had beaten him, but only enough to give the appearance of injuries worse than he actually bore. My footprints, and, perhaps, something or other he tossed on the trail as I walked, led the humans straight into the village a few days after the stranger's arrival."

Kaylamale paused in his narrative. The images were too fresh, still full of horror. "My people," he said, in an attempt to continue, "All of them... even..." He took a deep breath. The story was too important to let emotion stop him. "I fought with them, and saw friends and family fall. We were taken by surprise, too sure that there were no humans in the area, too sure they could never reach us in our village high in the trees. We had been foolish enough to build ladders for visiting strangers to use, as well as the convenience for certain of our villagers, and the humans took full advantage of them. They brought fire, as well.

"I was wounded, and beaten. I expected to be killed, but Drakareth, the true name of the one who called himself Zen'tear, thought it would be a great joke to leave me wounded, to die a slow and painful death in the ashes of my ruined village. They left me, and I fully believed I would die, thinking the wounds I bore to be greater than they really were. I hoped I would die, so I would not have to live with the pain, knowing that it was my own actions that brought a traitor to my village. I lay there as night passed, and a day, and another night, before I found I would live and had strength enough in both body and will to rise, and search for survivors. The search was short. I was the only one.

"Some of you may want proof. If so, I can show you." With that, he pulled open the front of his shirt, and heard the hisses and gasps as the Wolfriders saw his wounds. "So there you are. I flew away, unable to stay in the ashes of my home, hoping to find friends to rest among for a time. But I will tell you now: my business with Drakareth is not over. I will find him. And there will be justice."

There was a long silence after Kaylamale finished speaking. He sensed some private sendings amongst the Wolfriders, some shared thoughts he was not to be privy to. Whitefox gave him a long look that was filled with pity, which was the last thing he wanted. She sent something to Stone, who looked taken aback. Kaylamale guessed the frost-headed healer would be no friend of his. Whitefox turned back to the Glider, and seemed to be about to say something, when a pureblood, clad entirely in black and white, sidled up to her.

"Now what, have you two Recognized?"

"Volaan, don't be silly." Whitefox slapped him playfully on the cheek, as Glow moved in on her other side. With a sigh, she settled down between them, and accepted the basket that had been passed to the trio.

Kaylamale took the silence, and Whitefox's distraction, to mean the Wolfriders had abysmally short attention spans. They appeared to have forgotten him already. Disgusted, disappointed, he turned his back on the tribe, and walked off into the night. Perhaps they would stop him. Perhaps not. He wasn't sure which to hope for, and he wasn't going to allow himself to get attached to anyone before he knew.

A voice, close at hand, arrested him. "You know, the stars are beautiful this time of night."

Slowly he turned. Kyleria was directly behind him, hands on her hips, close enough to touch. She had traded her long robes for a Wolfrider's hunting leathers. "Are they any closer when you fly?"

"Would you like to see for yourself?"

Kyleria smiled broadly, and walked into his arms.

"Still nervous?" Quickbolt asked.

"Yes," Mistweaver answered, "But not so much as before. At least I see that strangers are welcome in this holt."

"And this one has just flown off with my mother!" Quickbolt laughed, "I'm sure she's enjoying every second of it, too. Come, you two."

Mistweaver motioned to her sister, Moonblossom, to follow her. She had watched the holt for hands of nights now, well before these Wolfriders knew she was there. They had not hunted her down as she had expected, which she saw as a good sign. Rather, they waited patiently for the newcomers to show themselves. Having seen the Glider accepted into the holt, Moonblossom took a chance and showed herself to this young Quickbolt who now led her to his people. A Glider, a Go-Back -- it was plain this holt collected oddities. Even misfits like herself and her sister. She hoped.

"Look what I found!" Quickbolt was already calling to his tribemates. Mistweaver smiled wryly, recalling just who had found whom. "This is Mistweaver and her sister, Moonblossom. They're the ones who've been camped outside of the holt. They've finally gotten over their shyness enough to come and see us."

The Wolfriders rose to greet them. Mistweaver was overcome by their oddly familiar scents, and knew they all shared a common ancestry. Moonblossom, behind her, looked terrified, but held her ground as the Wolfriders crowded around them. It was Moonblossom who spoke first:

"Um... We beg your welcome, as we have traveled long and far without gift, or knowledge of where we would end. We come from a distant lake, Moon Lake... A holt full of turmoil, we... " Moonblossom paused, finding all of the staring faces overwhelming.

Mistweaver stepped in and took up the tale. "We searched out elves, others who might be like us. A great ancestress of the holt, Nimor, stayed with us for a short time before passing... before moving on, and she told elders of our elders that there were others. When my brother Riverrage and our father Breathtaker started to fight, we feared of the end of the Holt. We only seek others of our kind, and a holt where a home can be made... "

"Nimor?" questioned Whitefox, "Our tribe's first chieftess was Nimor."

Mistweaver looked at her, eyes wide. "Nimor belonged here?" She dropped to her knees and looked at the tribe of people around her. Had she found a home where they would understand the love of life as she did, where a wolf was more than friend to touch, but was friend to soul? She could only hope... and would they welcome such strangers?

Softly, Tilvah spoke: "Nimor was the daughter of Anlari, the last of the High Ones. She was our chieftess, our very first. From her came all our chiefs, and all the Wolfriders. Our chiefs, Wolfrunner and Sharpwit, are the sons of Starwing, who was the daughter of Darkarrow... "

Tilvah recited the chief's lineage, giving Mistweaver a chance to look at the Wolfriders closest to her. Their scent told her they were of the same race, the same lusty heritage. Yet her nose also told her these elves were even more allied to the wolves than her tribe. She hadn't expected that.

"Thank you, all of you. It is good to know there are other children of Anlari in the world, who follow the Way. I don't suppose," she said, noticing the basket of dreamberries on the ground, "Do you sing and dance here? I... I love to dance."

"Dance?!" Windsong jumped up at the mention of the word. "Do we ever! Come on, Whitefox, let's have some music!"

"Show them, sister!" Quickbolt laughed, as the music began and Windsong began leaping in time with it, adding to the music with her own chiming jewelry. In moments the whole tribe had joined in, howling and singing, twisting and swaying. There wasn't a sour face in the crowd, for even Volaan had joined in, and Allim, having swallowed far more dreamberries than he was normally wont to do, was sitting at the base of a tree, humming to himself and looking rather glassy-eyed.

As the music started, Mistweaver let herself go, and all tensions faded with the movement of bodies and souls. She paused long enough to laugh at her sister, who had joined in the merry making.

**Home?** she questioned her sister.

**Home** the elder laughed and the two smiled, though only briefly, before the music swept Mistweaver back to the dancing.

It seemed much later, though she always lost track of time when she danced, but she had to stop when she looked in the sky at the glider and the one who rode with him.

"He's as graceful as you are," Moonblossom whispered to her sister.

"Ah, but he could dance with the mist... and the stars... " Mistweaver shook her head. "That is one thing I could never do."

"Unless..."

"Moonblossom," Mistweaver blushed, but thoughts had already been pounding through her head, "I could dance with the mist... "

Mistweaver sat next to a tree and mindlessly picked up some twigs to weave them together.

**What's happening sister?** Moonblossom questioned slyly.

**I... I don't know.**

**What's his soul name, sister?**

Mistweaver smiled. **Do you think his kind have soul names?**

"That newcomer, the one with the fiery hair," Kyleria said, "How she stares at you! Hmm, I wonder why?"

Kaylamale shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

Kyleria smiled wickedly. "Then perhaps it's time you came down out of the sky to find out."

"I was rather hoping you wouldn't say that."

"Coward!" Kyleria cried, giving the Glider a playful slap, "Go to her, and let the mists be your guide."

"I'm not... not ready yet."

"Who is? Go on. You need this."

Gently, the Glider set the pureblood on the forest floor. He walked slowly toward the red-haired elf maid, debating within whether to fight or welcome the feelings that clamored in him. For the first time in his life, Kaylamale was speechless. Fortunately for him, the newcomer spoke first.

"I've never seen an elf fly. I was certain that ancient power was gone forever. I'm sorry about your people. I heard part of your tale before Quickbolt took us into the holt. Please, are there other tribes like yours? I couldn't bear to think you are the last of your kind in the world."

He sat beside her. "That is a tale for another day. You know my story, but I don't know yours."

"My tribe calls me Mistweaver now. My tale will wait. Yours is harsh enough, one of humans against elves. But mine... oh, when elf turns against elf, it is a terrible thing."

"Then you know why I must go after Drakareth."

Mistweaver nodded.

"Would you... like to fly with the wind?"

Mistweaver turned her round eyes to him "Oh, would I?"

"Then come." And he carried her high above the treetops, high above the troublesome world.

The night spun itself out, and Kaylamale was alone again, aloft in the pale morning sky with its dimming stars. Mistweaver, after her long flight with him, was safely asleep in one of the dens that had been offered to her. For a moment he frowned, for her presence added a complication to his plans. Then he smiled again. He rather liked this kind of complication. He performed some lazy acrobatics with the swallows as they chased their morning meal.

**Kaylamale** came a sending, icy and hard.

The Glider stopped, mid-loop, hanging upside-down against a silver sky. Stone was standing on a slender branch near the top of the Grandfather tree, balancing as easily as if he were a few hands above the ground.

**What?**

**Come.**

**Why?** Kaylamale asked, warily.

**You are wounded.**

The Glider righted himself. His head cocked to one side, like a bird's, as he regarded the healer. He drifted to the slender branch. There the two stood, taut, quivering, wordless. Kaylamale returned Stone's cold stare. If the healer wished to heal him, it has obviously been at someone else's insistence.

"Would you two quit your silly male posturing and get on with this?" Kestrel's normally quiet voice rang sharply from their knothole.

A smile quirked at the healer's mouth. He tried hard not to show it, but it was too late. The smile was catching.

The healer and the glider collapsed into peals of laughter.

"Come," said Stone, "Let's see to that wound."

And so the healing began.

It was well into morning before a weary Stone declared the wounds healed. The healer sat on the branch, his back against the slender trunk of the tree, this arms around his knees, looking tired and vulnerable. Kaylamale studied him.

"I didn't think I would find a friend in you, healer."

Stone shrugged. "I jumped to conclusions."

Kaylamale sighed. "The hurts of the flesh are smoothed over, at least."

"The rest I can't heal. That's up to you. And if I were you," Stone said as he stretched and yawned, "I would let time heal the hurts of the heart."

"No," Kaylamale shook his head slowly, "That won't be enough."

Stone fixed him with a penetrating gaze. "I know you better now that I have healed you. And you know me. You know you can trust me. Believe me when I say that revenge won't fix the hollow you feel inside. It will only make it larger. Revenge is not the Way."

Kaylamale smiled, and rose to his feet. "I came here thinking that all I needed was healing and food. Then I thought to find allies to go with me to take my revenge. Tonight I found an ally of another sort..." He bowed his head, but still he smiled. "When Mistweaver wakes, tell her I'll be back for her," he said as he floated into the air.

Stone was right about the hollowness. Kaylamale knew that these Wolfriders were so perceptive, he would have to get away and carry out his plans alone, before they could persuade him otherwise. There was still a pain deep in his heart. He felt incomplete as if a part of him was still missing, hidden not only from his new friends, but from himself as well. No, a part of himself he had never known and did not want to know lay there. He carried demon deep within him, a demon he needed to confront by confronting the demon that had placed the pain deep in his soul.

Mistweaver sat below the tree. A lump in her throat stopped her from calling out to the Glider as he drifted away. She knew there was a spark between them, she felt it when he promised to take her to the falls so she could dance with the mist. She sighed and looked up to where Kaylamale sat in his own world of thoughts. She felt a closeness to him, one that could be compared to only one other friend she had been blessed to have... "Leaf" she whispered softly to herself, an image of a small ten-turn old cub went running through her mind. "We were so young... "

Mistweaver glanced up at the tree, her courage finally gathered, and yet just as she was ready to call out to him, he floated off in a mad flight, heading directly toward the falls.

**Paw... Shadowpaw, let's go.** Mistweaver called, a feeling of protectiveness filled her body. She wasn't going to let anything happen to her new friends. One loss was more then anyone should have to suffer.

Flint absently swept the packed dirt floor of his scantily furnished home. The small cave had served as his shelter, and the center of his world for fourteen years.

"Well, I guess it could be worse." He leaned on the broom, staring moodily out the cave mouth. "It could always be worse. Drakareth could be here with his torturing smile," Flint spoke harshly, and brushed the floor fiercely with his broom. His wolf whined softly. "I know, every day I tell you I won't talk about him and that we will go and find a new home, one with other elves. Every day I tell you that what he did doesn't matter anymore. Every day I tell you that I am a whole person, and I can get on with my life." He knelt down and took the beast's muzzle in his hand. "I have spotted the elves who live below the falls far to the west. I have hidden from their hunts, kept quiet when they searched, remained quiet when they called. I could go, talk to them, approach them, they would accept us perhaps." He stood and looked absently out the cave mouth again. "Every day I think of how wonderful it would be to talk to someone again."

The wolf turned his head away as if he was hurt by the comment.

"What? You only answer back when you feel like it, and you only send. I want someone who will talk to me, someone who will answer my questions, will let me hear sound come from within them. I have dreams of what life would be like if I actually did approach the Holt below... Could you imagine what a life would be like if there were other elves? People who would talk to me..." Flint walked over to where he stored his food. "So, almost bare again? Hmm, and the pot is empty. I guess that means that we'll have to hunt today."

Flint smiled as his wolf jumped up and headed toward the door. Grabbing several daggers and a sling with a pouch of stones, Flint looked around the cave one last time. He placed most of his daggers in his belt, including one that his father had given him on his first hunting trip. Sighing, he drove the thoughts from his head and opened the door to the small cave. Walking silently beside the beast, he left the cave, one dagger held tightly in his hand. He turned toward the forest path just in time to see a Glider land on the ground before him.

The Glider was tall and slender, with skin tanned dark. Odd. Since when had Gliders lived in the sun? His hair was as black as the night sky and his eyes seemed to be pools of reflection, the light bouncing off of them revealing nothing. Though Flint knew they were both descendants of the High Ones, he was wary. There were elves, and then there were elves. He had studied the Wolfriders long enough to understand their nature, but he knew precious little about Gliders. He planted himself firmly, looking up at the Glider, ready for anything. The Glider dropped his weapons, a sign of friendship, but Flint kept his grip on his own.

"I am Kaylamale, of the Gliders. I seek an elf called Flint," the stranger said resolutely, "His brother once told me that I would find him, far above a falls..."

Flint sprang, his face red, as his wolf snarled and charged. The Glider only drifted swiftly, easily, tantalizingly out of reach.

"If you came to finish his job, do it swiftly, though I'll not go without a fight. It hardly seems that you will do much good from there," Flint growled at the intruder. "Could he not even face me after all of this time? I always knew he was a coward."

"I do not seek to harm you, perhaps not even your brother. But I do need to find him. I thought if I could find you... I need to get the pain out of my heart, I need to pass the pain he left in me back to him." Kaylamale stopped and floated back to the ground. "I need to be whole again."

"Pain? He caused you pain and still you seek him?"

"Because of the pain I seek him. My village is dead because of your brother. We offered him shelter, and he betrayed us. While he was with us, he spoke once of his brother who lived above a falls. I will only take a short amount of your time. I just need to know where I might find him." Kaylamale moved to get his weapons, but remained in a non-threatening position as best he could.

"Come inside. I think that we must talk."

Kaylamale followed the elf and beast into the dark cave Flint called home. At Flint's table, Kaylamale sat and recited the tale he had told the Wolfriders. Flint nodded absently. The tale sounded all too familiar. The tales that followed Drakareth stank of humans, blood, and death. Cleansing the Humans called it when they came and destroyed entire families of elves.

"Yes," Flint said, "Drakareth has a long history like that. His friends are humans. He has become one of them, and believes as they do. How that came about is a long tale. He is theirs, now, and they send him to kill the evil of the world, as they see it. To cleanse himself of his evil blood he must rid the world of the blood that created him. A Cleansing is necessary, they say, to heal the world."

"Yes, I too heard their chants," Kaylamale added, "'The point-ears are signs of evil, and anyone who lives near them without killing them is evil.' They kill elves, and humans who do not harm elves. They travel the land in a war band, looking for blood to cleanse the earth, to make their spirits happy. They believe that Drakareth can help them to save their land. But he will be their final sacrifice when they realize that there are no more to kill, unless someone stops them from finding others." Kaylamale looked at the table, holding back the tears that had never left his body. "Will you help me find him? Is there anything you know about this band of humans that will help us discover where they have gone to, where they will go next?"

"I will help you," Flint said quietly. "I have nothing keeping me here, and what he did to mother and father... I will never be able to forgive them."

"And, if we survive, I will bring you back to the Wolfriders I have found. They are kind and welcoming."

"Do you have one or more waiting for you?" Flint laughed, the thought lifting some of the tension that filled the room.

Kaylamale shook his head sadly, though not in denial of Flint's guess. "That I can not think of until I have rid myself of this pain. I would not want her to share in this. She is far too gentle. She would not understand my need to confront your brother. I don't think she can see anything unnecessarily hurt."

"Even an elf that killed your family?"

Kaylamale shook his head again. "You will understand if we make it back. She is gentle and free. She couldn't possibly see as I do. She doesn't understand the pain. She couldn't understand, but if I can rid myself of the pain, then I can love her with my whole heart, not just part as I do now."

"Ah," Flint laughed. "The innocence of the young. You may be surprised lad. What will she do if you do not return?"

Mistweaver sat at the edge of the forest under a small shelter of branches which she had woven around her. She and Shadowpaw watched the cave where the Glider and the other elf were hidden from the rain. She closed her eyes and sighed, as a memory washed over her.

"Leaf," she called in a small giggly voice. The youngster's green eyes sparkled as she and Shadowpaw ran into the meadow. "Wait for me."

"Well hurry up Raindrop, you go too slow," the lad called back to the younger cub who ran after him. Her red hair bounced in the night sky, the wind blowing gently into brilliant streamers.

"Raindrop! Leaf!" an older cub called from the forest edge. "We're not suppose to be out this far."

Raindrop looked back at her sister and sighed. "But it is so free out here."

Raindrop stopped and looked at her friend who was heading deeper into the sweet night blossoms of the meadow, and her sister who stood hands on hips, at the edge of the forest. She plopped on the ground in fretful indecision, knowing what her parents would want her to do, but the call of the unknown was strong. It always had been.

Her ears perked when she heard a whimpering, then a scream come from the direction Leaf had gone. She jumped up and ran full tilt toward the sound, ignoring her sister's frantic sending. **Get help!** she sent back, **It sounds like Leaf!**

Riverrage stood at the other edge of the meadow, laughing, until a band of night-hunting humans drew near. When he saw his younger sister running toward him, he laughed a mad, yelping laugh, and bounded away. Raindrop's face fell when she saw what had lain at his feet: Leaf's body, pierced by a human arrow. And the night-hunting humans were upon him before she could snatch the body away. Madness seized her. She screamed, and would have charged at the humans, had not a pair of elfin hands held her back, dragging her to a hiding place among the briars in the meadow. The humans passed without seeing them, and Raindrop passed into darkness.

When she awoke in the holt, she fell to crying, unable to stop, for the image of Leaf's body was burned into her mind. She could hear her father reprimanding Riverrage for allowing the cubs to wander so far.

"I dared the brat," Riverrage boasted, "If he was stupid enough to take a dare, too deaf to hear the humans, and too slow to escape them, then he deserved to die."

"Riverrage!" Raindrop screamed. Leaping out of her furs, she pounded him on his chest with her small fists, "I'm not your sister any more! I won't be Raindrop any more! By the High Ones, I won't live here any longer than I must. You'll see!"

"Aah," Mistweaver cried as she awoke to loud thunder. "Oh Leaf... I promised I would take part in no more death. If I had been more like Moonblossom was as a cub, we never would have been in that meadow. I won't let it happen to Kaylamale. Nothing must happen to him."

Shadowpaw nudged her head into Mistweaver's hand as the elf maid looked out at the cave. There was no movement, so she settled back under her shelter, waiting for signs of the Glider.

"Ready?" Kaylamale awoke to see Flint squatting on the floor, watching the Glider awaken.

"Yes." Kaylamale rose and went to the door to look outside. "I want to thank you, if nothing else comes out of this venture I... I don't feel alone anymore."

Flint looked up and smiled. "Yes, I feel as if there is something new in my life, something that has been missing for a long time. Although there is one thing that I need, and I know you can not give it to me."

Kaylamale laughed. "Mistweaver might take care of me, but you're on your own, friend."

"I still don't understand why you didn't talk to Mistweaver before you left. She may not be waiting for you when you get back. Who knows, she might have helped us." Flint raised his eyebrows at Kaylamale and smiled. "Let's go."

Kaylamale hesitated as the other elf let the door skin shut behind him. The rain that had soaked the ground the day before left clear crystal drops on the ground. Kaylamale leaned down and ran his hand over a bush, causing the water to spray to the ground. Sighing he turned back toward Flint's questioning eyes.

"Where do we start?"

Flint looked northward. "The humans that Drakareth lives with are wanderers. They never stay in one place too long. They make camp only when they need to hunt, or have found some elves, which amounts to the same thing." Flint looked at Kaylamale. "The best place to start would probably be the forests in the direction of the everlasting cold. They like to hunt up there, beyond the deep forest, sometimes following the wandering elk."

"Good. Will it take us long to get there?" Kaylamale asked as Flint and his wolf headed up a path behind his cave.

"A few days and we'll be in their territory, unless they've pushed farther this way than usual. Wouldn't surprise me. Drak knows in which direction I live."

The pair headed into the green of the forest that Flint had hunted in for the past fourteen turns. A few moments later, Flint stopped and looked at Kaylamale, his eyes telling the Glider to listen. Flint squinted back toward the path that they had been traveling on. "Hmph," he grunted, and walked on. Kaylamale stood for a moment longer, looking back down the path.

"What was it?" Kaylamale asked, after gliding up to where Flint wolf was walking.

"Nothing I guess. I thought we were being followed, but there doesn't seem to be anything behind us."

"Hmm." Kaylamale looked back again, then shrugged.

"Afraid?" Flint asked.

"No," the Glider replied.

"Should be."

They traveled on, wary now, for they were heading into territory even Flint knew little about. Even humans could be stealthy when they wished.

"There, did you hear it?" Flint wolf whispered and the two stopped.

"No," Kaylamale said and floated up to see if he could get a glimpse of who or what was following them.

"Did someone follow you?" Flint wolf asked with anger tinting his voice.

"Not that I know about."

Flint wolf looked at the Glider, then sighed. "Tension can make you hear things, but could swear we're being followed. Stay alert."

Mistweaver followed behind quietly, sometimes walking next to Shadowpaw, other times riding her. She stayed off the path, only venturing near it, to make sure the two male elves hadn't disappeared into some unknown area. She paused the first time, remaining still as Flint searched for some movement, some glimpse of her.

"I'm too close," she realized, "Should have followed a scent trail."

She couldn't risk discovery. They might send her back to the holt if they knew what she was up to. No, Kaylamale wasn't going to get hurt. She didn't know what she could do, but she knew she had to think of something.

"For Kaylamale, or for Leaf?" she asked herself, as she melted into the forest, "Or does it matter?"

The night's starry glow gave way to the day's light. Kaylamale and Flint made camp high in a tree, where they could get some rest.

"You need sleep less than I do," Flint said, yawning, "So keep an eye out. We shouldn't travel by daylight when humans are about, so we'd best rest while we can."

Kaylamale nodded in assent. "We've much to do. Rest will help." He settled down on a branch, his back against the trunk of the tree, and kept careful watch, wondering what eyes were watching for him as well. He peered deeply into the shrubs below. Even if he could see nothing, that did not prove there was nothing. Before the sun reached its zenith, he, too, was asleep.

The two woke early, as the colors of the sunset turned the sky to hues of violets, purples and blues. They watched for a few silent moments as the dim stars slowly began to twinkle in the sky, and the light of the moon began to shine its silver rays down onto the path that would lead them closer to the relief that they both sought.

Two more nights passed in the same manner. On the third night, with the journey well underway, Flint once again grabbed onto Kaylamale, this time pulling him off the path.

"Listen," he hissed.

Together they huddled, as the sounds of the five fingers grew louder. Two men were laughing, talking together.

*It's Drakareth's "family",* Flint sent, his mouth twisted with the irony of the word.

*I thought so. They have an obsession with bone and shell ornaments.*

*They have some superstitious meaning, I'm sure. Seems to be a mark of this particular band.*

*So, where is Drakareth? I'm ready to have at him.* Kaylamale sent fiercely.

*Can't tell. I'd bet those are guards of some sort. They look like they've been fed recently, and they aren't loaded with gear, so camp can't be too far away.* Flint said as the five fingered humans walked back by their clump of bushes.

*Stupid humans. Here we are almost in plain sight, and they don't even see us. * Kaylamale laughed to his friend.

*Don't underestimate them. They aren't all as dumb as they look.* Flint warned. *This band is not only after elves, they make themselves enemies of all other humans as well. They have to be crafty to survive.*

The two elves watched as the humans headed back toward their camp. Slowly with practiced silence, the two followed at a safe distance, toward the fire light that filled the path within their view. They could hear voices speaking in hushed tones. On the perimeter of the camp were more guards, stationed in trees and beside fallen logs. Even Flint had trouble seeing them, and had to rely on scent to avoid them.

*Here, if we wait here we can watch, observe their movements for awhile, then tomorrow in the middle of the night we will make our move.* Flint sent as he climbed a tree and disappeared deep into the greenery.

Kaylamale glided lightly up to a place in the trees just a small distance away from where Flint made himself comfortable for the long evening of observation. Turning his attention away from the human camp, Flint looked back into the dark greens of the forest night toward a familiar scent and rustling of plants that had seemed to follow them all the way from his small cave.

*Flint, how many do you see down there?* Kaylamale questioned as his eyes focused on a cage close to the edge of the camp near him.

*One, small, female* Flint growled to himself.

*What?* Kaylamale whipped around to look in direction that Flint was watching. *No!*

*Elf, nearly pureblood, but with a wolf.* Flint turned to glare at the Glider. *I thought you came alone.*

*I did. I swear I did.* Kaylamale sent back, *I told no one where I was going, only my purpose. I thought I left unseen... but I... *

*But what? Did you make a mistake young elf?* Flint continued to glare at Kaylamale who stared deeply into the dark forest floor. *Give me a minute, I'll find out.* Flint sent, and slipped silently to the ground.

Closing his eyes, Kaylamale sent what he hoped was a private send. **Mistweaver?**

Mistweaver sat high in a tree, taking stock of the human camp and the two elves who watched it.

"High Ones, I'm too close again," she thought, as she saw Flint's gaze slowly turn her direction. She sent Shadowpaw into the forest as a decoy. She had always been taken care of, controlled, having people tell her what to do without letting her make her own decisions. She wasn't going to let these two send her away. Besides that, she was determined not to loose anyone to humans again.

**Mistweaver?**

He knew. It took her whole will to refuse his send, but she could not give herself away, not so early. She was there to help, not to be a burden. As a silent observer, as the unknown factor, she felt she could help best. She shut off her mind to the sendings that teased her senses.

**Mistweaver... **

Flint peered around and sniffed the air for the elf that he knew was there. Still she eluded him. A clever one, that little elf-maid. Sighing, he headed back to the tree where he had first been sitting. Kaylamale remained looking into the forest, sending.

*Did you reach her?* Flint asked as he turned his glance toward the human camp.

Kaylamale shook his head. *No response. She has shut herself off so completely, I can't tell for certain if she is who I think she is.* Kaylamale replied.

*Hmm,* Flint said, unconvinced. *Never mind. Let's get our plan set, and we'll just have to hope that she doesn't interfere.*

Kaylamale sighed, and kept his thoughts well guarded. He looked closely at the human camp. Near the spot where he and Flint squatted in the tree branches was a large cage, half-shrouded with stiff skins. Inside something moved now and then, and a glittering eye looked between the spaces in the skins. A human strolled by the cage, lifted one of the skins, and poked at the captive creature with a long stick. The creature let out a startled screech and the human laughed. Kaylamale gasped. The screech was of a bird of prey, but the creature in the cage was much, much larger than even an eagle. The Glider drew in a hissing breath between his teeth. Tentatively, he sent to the bird. Astonishingly, it sent back.

Kaylamale almost fell off the branch as ancestral memories flooded him. He knew that in the dim past of his bloodline, when his ancestors still lived in the Mountain, Gliders had flown with these great birds, and that somewhere in the world they still did. That the gift might be his had never occurred to him.

**Quotal! Quotal!** the bird sent repeatedly, until the Glider sent back, **Kaylamale. I am Kaylamale.** At his send, the bird quieted. It seemed to wait expectantly for him to release it. He knew he would have to. The bird was a part of him now. He couldn't imagine not being able to glide, to float freely, and watching a fellow flyer trapped in a cage seemed almost harder to bear than the pain that held his own heart captive.

*Kaylamale?* Flint asked, as the Glider concentrated fiercely on the cage.

*I have to free the bird,* Kaylamale returned. *I have to catch Drakareth, and then free the bird.*

Flint rolled his eyes. *I was rather hoping you wouldn't say that. Between the she-wolfling lurking in the woods, and now the bird in the cage, you've managed to complicate things fully, my friend.* Flint went back to watching the humans in the camp. A few moments later, he tensed, his eyed fierce.

*There,* Flint cried, and then grabbed the tree as he began to slip. *There, did you see him? He is part of the night guard.*

*Yes, ten asleep, but where are the women and children? Where are the rest of the men?*

*This is a watch camp. The warriors usually set up four watch camps around a large family camp in the middle. Since they are heading toward the falls, this is the watchers main camp. We are lucky. There are about twelve human men here, and that is all we will have to face,* Flint replied. *There is a scout that runs between the camps all night. He checks in each camp, and is usually fed, then runs a circular pattern to the next watch camp. Several times each night, he will go to the family camp. That way messages and reports can be kept alive all during the night. This way they lose fewer men in an attack, and they are difficult to fight, since no one knows just how many men they have. There are several men who rotate positions sometime during the night. They move with the runner. I think that we will have a fairly easy time getting to Drakareth, causing him a bit of trouble, giving him his justice and leaving without any killing.*

Kaylamale grinned. His excitement could not be contained. *These humans are clever, but your scouting will turn their cleverness against them. They have but ten or so men in this camp, most of them tired and ready for sleep. Getting to Drak should be easy, then we will free Quotal.*

*Who?*

*Oh... Quotal, the bird.*

Flint frowned. *I don't know. Getting Drak will raise enough of a ruckus. We may not have time for the bird. Drak is what we came for, anyway.*

*I am not leaving without helping the bird.*

*If you get into trouble over that stupid bird, I will not help you.* Flint growled.

*If it was Wana'pa, would you leave him there?*

Flint glared. *That's different. Wolves and Wolfriders are almost kin, they... if it were... oh, owl pellets!*

Kaylamale grinned, and glided gently down from the tree.

*She moved.* Flint sent.

*What?*

*I caught a glimpse of her. I know she's there now.* Flint glowered as he stared deep into the branches of the trees behind them. *She'd better not come any closer, that's all I have to say. Getting to Drak was all I had planned. Now you want to free the bird, too. And if the lass gets herself caught by humans... puckernuts, she won't answer my send, either, though I know she heard mine.*

Kaylamale turned his attentions to the human camp. He watched as Drakareth was handed a large piece of metal, the function of which he couldn't conceive until he saw larger, shaped chunk of metal hanging from the door of the bird's cage. Both were obviously of troll manufacture. These humans weren't settled enough even to learn to work the soft copper that some humans were said to fancy. Plainly, the metal piece Drak held in his hand went with the metal thing on the door. When Drak grabbed the larger metal thing and shook it violently, its function became clear. A portion of it held the cage door shut. The piece Drak held perhaps had something to do with releasing the hold the larger piece had on the door. His eyes widened as the elf went and sat next to the cage, as if on guard duty. Spotting a chance to confront Drakareth and to free the bird, Kaylamale wasted no time in making his plan.

Briefly, he glanced up at Flint, and noticed that the elf was gone. He drew in a hissing breath. Flint had gone without saying or sending a word. Was he going to face Drak himself? Or, more likely, had he gone to track down Mistweaver? There was no time to find out. Drak was momentarily alone, and if he went after Flint, he would lose this chance to confront Drakareth, to free the bird, and to leave all of the pain far behind. He had no patience to wait for another chance. Besides, the humans might break camp any time, and who knew where they would head to next?

The cage itself was at the edge of the camp. Silently, he floated to the back of the cage, keeping to the shadows so that he went unnoticed by the watch. Including Drakareth. Sighing, he reached his hand in to calm the giant bird.

**Quotal.** the bird sent quietly.

**Kaylamale,** the Glider returned, keeping his eye on the elf that guarded him. **You must be quiet and calm, my friend. You will be free soon.**

Flint glared at the female elf.

"I am here only to watch. If I can help, I will, but I had no intention of getting in the way. I wanted only to see that Kaylamale lived. I'm sorry if that bothers you." She said and then turned to walk away.

"And who is going to make sure you survive if things get messy?" Flint growled, seizing her by the arm. "You are stupid if you think that Kaylamale and I are going to leave you alone here in the woods. Now, you can come with us, or you can head back, but you can not stay here in the forest, alone."

"You sound like my father. I'm not a child anymore. I can take care of myself. Now, if you don't mind, I have a tree to climb so I can keep an eye on Kaylamale. I have lost one friend to humans, and I will not let you or anyone else stop me from saving this one." Mistweaver turned to walk away, when both elves looked up to see Kaylamale within the boundaries of the human camp.

"Stupid elf," Flint wolf growled and put a dagger into Mistweaver's hand. "Well you may just have your chance. I told him not to act without consulting me."

"You weren't exactly there to consult," Mistweaver returned.

The bird remained still as Kaylamale silently made his way to where Drakareth was sitting. He stood behind the traitor, not daring to breathe. He might slip a knife in this elf's ribs, and the elf would be dead before he had time to react. No, that wouldn't do. Killing one's own kind was an evil thing, but if he must do it, he must look Drak in the eyes while he did. He tapped the elf on the shoulder. Drakareth spun around in surprise. Swiftly, Kaylamale grabbed a handful of the elf's coarse shirt and hauled him high into the air, startling a scream out of his enemy. As they both rose high above the camp, Kaylamale deliberately ignored the the now angry humans on the ground, and easily dodged a thrown spear. Drakareth continued to scream down at the men on the ground, but Kaylamale only looked into the elf's eyes.

"Drakareth! You are still alive!" He exclaimed in mock pleasure.

"And you are still foolish. Put me down."

"Really? Shall I just let go right now?" Kaylamale laughed aloud at the terrified head-shaking of his captive. "I thought not. You expect me to let you go after what you did to my family... to my village?" Kaylamale laughed no more. The merriment was gone from his eyes. He soared higher. "Don't try anything. It's a long drop from the tops of the trees."

Drakareth swallowed hard, looking down at the gap between the soles of his boots and the stony ground below. He stopped yelling to the humans below. "Wise," Kaylamale said, "If they shot me, where would you be?"

Drakareth bared his teeth. "Do you really think you are going to get away with this? They will kill you, follow you the moment you put me on the ground. And you must come down some time. Even Gliders can't sleep in the clouds." Drakareth spat, missing the Glider's face and succeeding only in adorning the head of one of the humans far below. "You are stupid."

"Maybe. But I have a friend with me. Someone you might want to talk to," Kaylamale said and turned his unwilling flight companion toward where Flint was standing as the two of them glided swiftly to the treetops.

Kaylamale's grasp on Drakareth faltered momentarily when he realized that a wide-eyed Mistweaver was perched on the branch next to the Flint. He saw a shrewd look cross his enemy's face.

"I will put you down if you will tell me how this metal thing works to open the cage. And distract the humans long enough that I can free the bird." Kaylamale ordered. "Or I can just turn you over to your brother now."

"Do you take me for a fool? I know that bird isn't what you came for."

"Maybe not. But if you want to live, you will tell me what I want to know. I know you value your own miserable life."

Drakareth looked back at Flint who had his dagger pulled. Kaylamale knew there was nowhere that Drakareth could run that Flint wouldn't be able to track him down. Flint was the best tracker and hunter he had ever seen. Drakareth nodded slowly, and drew the metal piece from his pocket, putting it in the pouch at Kaylamale's side. "It's called a key, you ignorant slug. And it fits in the hole in the lock. You turn it, and the pieces inside open the lock. It's metal and mechanical, so I don't wonder that you, an elf, don't understand it. Now put me down, whelp."

"The humans?"

Drakareth glared, and yelled some misdirections to them. "They will turn up the northern path. You come along the southern. That's all the help I will give you, and little good that will do. You are destined to fail."

Kaylamale pondered the tableau below. The humans were, indeed, going in the direction Drakareth had pointed them. But the were stealing glances in the direction that Flint and Mistweaver were hidden.

**Flint, go!** Kaylamale sent, but the distraction was just what his enemy had needed. Drakareth sunk a fist into the pit of the Glider's stomach, then rammed his head against a nearby tree trunk. Quickly, the black-hearted elf dropped from branch to branch, calling out to the humans as the stunned Glider drifted to the forest floor.

"Drakareth!" Kaylamale roared as the elf ran into the forest in another direction.

There were heavy feet crashing through the underbrush behind him. Kaylamale searched frantically through his pouches trying to find the key that would release the bird. As soon as the key was in his hand, Kaylamale dashed to the cage. There was a hole in the lock, as Drak had said. He jammed the key in, twisting it until the mechanisms within gave way. He wrenched off the lock, and flung the cage door open. He stood back and watched as the giant bird launched itself into the air.

Flint watched the entire dramatic scene, from Kaylamale's abduction of Drakareth, to the his fall to the ground and his desperate act to free the giant bird. He turned to grab Mistweaver only to find that she was gone.

"Arrgh!" He growled to himself, "I'm surrounded by mush-brained, impulsive cubs!" He dashed into the woods, following after the band of humans, hoping to lure them even farther from camp.

Mistweaver slid into the woods, finding a tree to climb that was out of the humans sight, but perfect for her to keep watch over Kaylamale. Flint might draw away the humans for a short time, but Mistweaver knew they would soon return. The best thing she could do was find a safe place to sit until both elves were safely away from the humans. If they got caught, she would still be safe, and could find a way to release them. Mistweaver remained still as the humans hooted when they spotted Flint. It was then that she realized she still held the dagger that he had placed in her hand.

"I don't use these." she whispered and thought about dropping it, but she didn't, turning her attention toward Kaylamale.

She watched as Kaylamale threw open the cage door, and bird soared high into the air. She waited for Kaylamale to do the same.

**Kaylamale** she cried as a human burst out of the woods.

Kaylamale turned, but not swiftly enough. The large human grabbed him tightly by the throat, cutting off his breath. He couldn't afford to look in Mistweaver's direction, lest he alert the human to her presence. He fought against the human, but feared this was his last battle. At least Mistweaver was safe. At least Quotal was free. But Drakareth still walked the earth. Anger gave the Glider strength. He tried to pull away from the human, and to glide into the forest. Mistweaver was there, he knew, and gliding away with her, to the safety of the holt... oh, that would be sweet.

Kaylamale turned in his captor's arms, trying to squirm free, but the human was huge, far stronger than he. Gasping, Kaylamale went limp, hoping that perhaps if he was lifeless they would drop them. It worked. The human shook him in disappointment, like a child with a broken toy, then threw him in the cage and locked it. He remained motionless on the ground, catching his breath, and trying to regain all of the strength that seemed to have been lost along with his breath. He also began to collect his thoughts, trying to decide his best plan of action before his fast-growing despair overtook him.

**Kaylamale?** Mistweaver's call came softly.

**Why are you here?** Kaylamale groaned.

**Because I knew you were going to need my help. If I were not here, you would have no hope.** Mistweaver's determination rang through her call.

Kaylamale remained still, several thoughts began floating through his mind. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to decide just how he was going to make it out of the cage. More of the humans were pouring into the camp as some returned from their hunts of the "evil demons", while others made their way from the different watch camps. When the sun began to rise there were fifteen warriors gathered around the cage, anger and rage quivering their bodies.

Mistweaver jumped when Flint put his hand onto her shoulder.

*He's in the cage,* she sent and remained staring at the cage.

*I am Flint,* the elf sent, *Sorry to get so fierce, but it is my brother that caused all of this trouble. I just didn't want him to hurt another.*

Mistweaver said nothing as she stared down into the cage.

*We'll get him out.* Flint sent.

*I'm not going to let another friend die in the hands of the five fingers.* Mistweaver argued.

*So you are the sweet little elf he spoke of?* Flint smiled.

Mistweaver turned to look at him. *And, I will not let him die.*

*He said you wouldn't understand.*

*He doesn't know everything about me. We never had a chance to talk.*

*I didn't think so.* Flint smiled. *We'll get him out some how.*

As the sun grew brighter, Mistweaver and Flint watched in fear as one of the humans entered the cage armed with a club. Kaylamale looked up, then stood up. The human came at him swinging the club and yelling fiercely. Kaylamale glided easily out of reach, floating to the other corner of the cage. The humans called out in cheers and jeers as the elf and the human carried their mad dance. Again and again the human swiped at the Glider, but each time he missed his moving target. Kaylamale could have eluded him all that day, without any significant loss of strength, but the game bored him.

"I came here to get my hands on you, Drakareth," he said to the traitorous elf with the sneer marring his face, "And get you I will"

"I think not, you gullible fledgling." Drakareth translated Kaylamale's words for the humans. The warriors muttered to one another, and shouted threats at the Glider. Two more entered the cage, each carrying nets. Three climbed to the top of the cage, as others handed them rocks. Now the game began in earnest, for while the humans below threatened with entangling nets and killing clubs, the ones on top of the cage dropped rocks each time he glided out of the reach of the nets. A rock struck him from behind, and he whirled about in the air to see the youngest warrior, outside of the cage, who was crowing at his own daring. The distraction was enough. A net wrapped around his foot. He was yanked to the floor of the cage, and the human with the club put an end to the game.

Kaylamale wrapped his arms over his head as the blows pelted down.

The humans roared, as Mistweaver and Flint groaned. Flint wolf held tightly to Mistweaver, stopping her from rushing down to save the elf.

*They won't kill him, not yet. Their chief isn't here, and that is to be his honor. Especially since Kaylamale freed the grand bird. It will be tomorrow, so we can get him out tonight,* Flint assured Mistweaver.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the human continue to beat Kaylamale. He still clutched at his head as blood trickled from the wounds the human was delivering. She trembled as the stick hit him in the stomach, the legs, and the arms. She prayed that the human knew what he was doing, that he knew how to do such a thing and still keep an elf alive. She hoped he wasn't driven by rage. Finally, when Kaylamale dropped his arms from his head, and fell limp onto the cage floor, the humans cheered and pulled their warrior out of the cage.

"I hate those stupid five fingers." Flint growled. "I don't understand why they must harm elves and humans alike. It's like a game to them."

Mistweaver glared at the humans, then turned her eyes toward Kaylamale. The blood on his head was bright, his body still as death.

**Kaylamale** she cried desperately.

**I'm alive.** he sent back weakly.

"We have to get him out." Mistweaver turned to look at Flint.

"We have to wait until it is dark. Close your eyes, and soon it will be time to get the Glider out of the cage."

Realizing that there was nothing else that she could do, Mistweaver closed her eyes and tried to let sleep overcome her body. Anger and fear kept her awake and restless, but well after noon fatigue finally overcame her. She gave in, knowing she needed to keep her strength up, for Kaylamale, who had no strength left for himself. As the sun sank behind the treetops and the fire began to rise high in the middle of the camp, Mistweaver awoke and slid down the tree to the ground. She looked back up at Flint and nodded as she moved as close to the cage as she could get without being seen.

**Kaylamale, don't move, just answer me if you can hear me.** Mistweaver called from the bush closest to the cage.

**Mistweaver, you're still here? Go, go before they kill you.** Kaylamale said but didn't move, not wanting to draw attention to himself, or Mistweaver, whom he knew was close.

**No, I left one friend for dead, I will not lose you too... Now listen, do you have the metal thing to open the cage?**

**Misty... yes, I still have it.** Kaylamale said and sat up, moving toward the back of the cage, as if needing support.

Mistweaver froze, as still as only a Wolfrider can be, as the guards looked up and into the cage. They chuckled and jerked their thumbs at the Glider as he tottered toward the other side of the cage, and appeared to fall down in a dead faint. The humans merrily banged around the cage with sticks, pounding out a tuneless rhythm as they did so. Satisfied that he was just trying to sit up, and was using the cage as support, the guards headed back toward the fire.

**Can you get it out without causing too much commotion?** she asked.

Kaylamale squinted his eyes together in pain as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He dropped it close to his side at the back of the cage, the glimmer of bright metal catching Mistweaver's eyes. With her eyes fixed on the guards, and her toes feeling for the most silent passage, Mistweaver drifted, shadow-like, from her bush. She snatched the key, then returned to the bush to wait. The guards heard the leaves rustling and turned to look toward the cage. One of the guards got up and headed over to look around. Mistweaver sighed in relief when he headed back toward the fire.

A large shadow passed overhead. The guards looked up in fear and superstitious awe. Quotal had returned for his bond-elf.

*The bird is ready, I'm ready, get him out of there, Mistweaver.* Flint called.

Hearing the call, Mistweaver stood up and ran lightly toward the cage, keeping her mind so firmly on her task there wasn't time to be afraid. She put the key in the lock as she had seen Kaylamale do, felt the lock give, then threw the door open so Flint could dash in and get Kaylamale out before the humans could stop them. Mistweaver rushed toward the guards screaming, Shadowpaw and Wana'pa snarling alongside her, creating a distraction as Flint pulled Kaylamale out of the cage. This is impossible, she thought, surely there are too many of them. If we can pull this off while they are too startled to react, we will make it, but a moment too long and we are all dead.

*Quotal!* She heard Kaylamale send, and the giant bird swooped down from the stars, knocking over humans as he reached to grasp his bond-elf in his claws. Kaylamale cried out, but held on, and was carried to the roof of the cage.

The wolves, with Mistweaver brandishing Flint's knife between them, held the humans off just long enough for Flint to leap on top of the cage, grabbing onto Quotal's claws as the bird took to the air. "Mistweaver! Come!" he called, as one human, braver than the others, dashed past the wolves toward the cage.

*Go, I can't get to you without risking his life. Just go,* Mistweaver cried.

*No!* Kaylamale cried out. The human's spear had struck him in the shoulder before Quotal was quite out of reach. *Mistweaver.*

*Quotal has you, and I'm getting out of here,* she sent back.

Mistweaver turned to Shadowpaw and jumped on her back. She clung to Shadowpaw's neck as the beast took off into the woods, heedless of any human paths. She could hear the humans running behind her. Shadowpaw stopped, sniffing the air, seeking direction.

Behind them a huge human warrior burst out of the brush. Before she could call for Shadowpaw to move, the man lunged at her and grabbed onto one of her legs. Crying out, Mistweaver turned and shoved the small dagger toward the throat of the five fingered male. His grasp faltered, and he fell to the ground. She gasped, wondering if she had killed the human. "That was for Leaf," she said, grimly. Shadowpaw whined, nudging her, urging her to climb on her back. Mistweaver clung tightly to the wolf's ruff, as they dashed off into the forest, well ahead of the rest of the pursuers.

Retracing her journey was not difficult. Shadowpaw merely sniffed out the scent trail they had left. The only difficulty was the time. Kaylamale, carried by Quotal, was surely back in Flint's cave by now, whereas she would be lucky to reach it in three days.

When morning broke, a shadow passed overhead.

*Kaylamale?* she sent, hopefully.

*No. It's me.* Flint rode the giant bird. *Wana'pa hates this, but Kaylamale told Quotal to carry me to you and bring you back. Meet me at the ridgetop. He needs you,* he added.

"He's not doing well, " Flint said as the two looked at the Glider who lay almost lifeless on Flint's small bed. His body was hot with fever, and the wound in his shoulder was painfully inflamed. "I think the spear was poisoned."

"I'm going to the holt," she said, determined, "There is a healer there who helped the Glider only days ago. I'm going to get him, and send him here." Mistweaver said, but went over and took Kaylamale's hand first. "You'll be all right, Kaylamale, I promise. The humans aren't going to take you from me."

"He's too far into himself with fever to direct Quotal to carry you. It's almost a two-night's ride. Do you think you can get to the holt in time?"

Without replying, Mistweaver ran out of the door, tears streaming down her face. The memories of one dead friend were all that filled her mind. Again and again she could hear the laughter and then the silence of the night that brought the death of Leaf. She had feared and hated death and killing since that day. Even so, she herself had killed to save herself, to save her friend. Mistweaver rode blindly down the path toward the holt, tears of the unknown, tears of her own pain, as well as the worry that she would have to face another death, streamed endlessly down her face.

She rode all the remainder of the day, all the night, and, as the sun was approaching noon, she stumbled into the holt. Shadowpaw was almost spent.

*Help! I need help!* she sent openly to anyone who would answer her.

In moments, every knothole, tree den, and earth den was filled with curious faces, and a barrage of questions flew at her. She swept them all away.

"It's Kaylamale. He was captured and beaten by the humans, and they've hurt him with a poisoned spear. I need a healer. Stone," she called up to the top of the Grandfather tree, "I know you healed Kaylamale before, when you had no reason to. Will you come to him now?"

Stone was already halfway down the tree, on his way to help. Grumbling all the while, but on his way. Kestrel followed him, handing her cub to Orelan to look after while she followed her lifemate. Kyleria was pulling on her Wolfrider leathers, Glow was calling to his wolf, and Quickbolt was hurtling out of his hole to follow them. Moonblossom came running toward her sister.

"You're not leaving me behind this time," she said, calling to her own wolf friend.

"Treesniffer," Stone was calling, "Will you come, too? I don't know how badly the Glider is hurt."

"Take Greywolf with you," Sharpwit commanded, "I won't send you cubs helter-skelter into the forest with a band of elf-killers out there unless you have someone to keep you all together."

"Cubs, indeed!" Kyleria huffed, "But I will need someone to ride with."

"Thank you!" Mistweaver sobbed, "Thank you all! My own tribe wouldn't do such a thing, I'm sure. Follow Shadowpaw, she knows the way."

They set off at the same breakneck pace, Mistweaver urging Shadowpaw on, hoping her worn wolf friend wouldn't drop in her tracks. Halfway through the journey, Quickbolt took Mistweaver on his own mount to give Shadowpaw a rest. Without a pause, the band rode straight over the mountains that lay between their holt and the cave Mistweaver told them about.

Another night was drawing to a close when the small band of wolfriders startled Quotal out of a nap. At the bird's screech, Flint ran out of the cave. "What did you do, bring the whole holt with you?" he cried.

"Some elves have sense enough to stick together," Greywolf muttered, gathering the wolves around him. Stone was already passing through the doorskin of the cave, Treesniffer and Kestrel close behind him. Mistweaver ran to catch up with them.

"Is he..." Mistweaver hardly dared finish her question as she passed through the door skin. "Will he... live? Please, if there is anything I can do..."

"Hush," Stone said softly, already falling into a healer's trance.

"Short of convincing him to stay in the holt like a sensible elf, you've done everything you can," Kyleria said, soothingly. Putting an arm around Mistweaver's shoulders, she led the weary young Wolfrider to a pile of furs. "Rest here. Let the healers do their work."

The two healers were hunched over the Glider, as the air fairly shimmered with their combined powers. Mistweaver swallowed hard. Kaylamale looked so pale, positively gray, as close to death as one still alive could be. Flint had cut away Kaylamale's shirt to bathe the wound from the human's spear, but in spite of his ministrations, the wound was swollen and fiery red. His many bruises were lurid purple and yellow.

"So much blood lost," Treesniffer murmured.

"Close the wound," Stone told him, "While I draw the poison and fever from his blood."

"Close it? How much power do you think I have?"

"Enough to start it, anyway. Draw on me if you must. Just get the mending going. You have more power than you think, if you'll only own up to it."

Mistweaver felt some of her own travel-weariness lift as the healers stretched their powers to the limit, filling the cave with their soothing aura of healing.

"It's not enough," Stone growled, through clenched teeth, "He won't let go of the pain in his heart. He clings to it, like a drowning human to a sinking boat. If I tend the pain, the poison takes hold. If I tend the poison, the pain takes hold. I can't do both."

"Can you sing, Mistweaver?" Treesniffer asked.

"A... a little." As if a note could pass through her tear-choked throat!

"Then sing for him! Sing him back to this world. Give him something to live for."

"He's lost his whole village, and his own private battle as well," Stone added, "Send to him if you can't sing. He needs a reason to not give up. Help us."

Stone slipped back into his trance, leaving a bewildered Mistweaver to dredge up a song, any song. The only one that came to her head was a lullaby her mother used to croon. She sang the first wavering notes, sending at the same time, until her voice found a measure of confidence. As soon as she finished the first song, another came to her mind, then another, and another, one song flowing easily into the next. As she sang, she sent, searching for a glimmer of a response to assure her that Kaylamale had not given up. At last she found him, lost and weak, as injured in soul as he was in body.

**Kaylamale. Come to me.**

Gently she coaxed him forth, into the light of the healer's circle.

**Mistweaver? Oh, Mistweaver, I have lost!**

**Come to me,** she sang, both in voice and sending.

**I have lost. I feel only shame. I should have died in that cage, rather than put you and Flint at risk. You could have been killed.**

**I live, Flint lives. Now you must live.**

**But Drakareth lives too. How he will mock me!**

**Leave it be, beloved.**

**But Drak lives.**

**Leave it be, beloved**

There was a long silence.

**I feel only shame.**

Mistweaver bit back her frustration.

**Kaylamale, come forth. The healers are here, both Stone and Treesniffer. Let us help you. Allow their power and my love to wash you clean.**

She felt something stir in him.

**Oh, Mistweaver!**

**K'teal!** The name rose unbidden in her. **K'teal! K'teal!** She trilled joyfully, for a moment, until realization of what had happened sent a shock of terror through her soul. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she pulled away. She would think only of Kaylamale getting well. She would pretend this thing had not happened.

**Zan!** he returned, before she could leave him, and it was enough.

His whole body shuddered, and he let forth a long and agonized moan as he found the will to fight death. The healers renewed their efforts, filling the small cave with palpable energy as death quietly yielded to life.

"Done," Stone said, at last. "And so am I," he added, falling back into his lifemate's arms, "I'm done for."

"Then I shall tend to you," Kestrel said, stroking his hair.

"Well, what about me?" Treesniffer complained.

"Fend for yourself," Stone said, "Mmmm, do that some more."

Softly, Mistweaver tiptoed up to Kaylamale's side. The gray was gone from his skin, replaced by his natural warm color. His breathing was regular, his sleep natural. Where the spear wound had been, there was only a smooth spot of discolored skin that would soon lose its off color. The bruises were only a memory.

**Zan,** he sent.

She could not answer.

**Zan,** he sent again, **Are you there?**

Though it broke her heart, she still could not give him the answer he wanted. For the moment, she had stopped sending, stopped thinking, stopped feeling. Memories of Leaf -- and of Riverrage -- mocked her. Recognition was not possible, not as long as... but she was too exhausted to fight it off at that moment. All she could do was to close herself like a tortoise.

"Lie down," Treesniffer said.

"What?"

"Go on," he motioned, "Lie down and keep him warm. I didn't think you would object."

"Oh." Though she felt more like running far, far away to hide, Mistweaver, weary to the bone, did not hesitate. Lying beside the Glider, she allowed Treesniffer to cover them both with a fur. She was asleep in moments.

A setting sun filled the doorskin with a warm glow when she awoke from a fretful dream. Kaylamale was stirring at her side. He sighed, and blinked several times as he opened his eyes. As he took in his surroundings, he realized he was not alone in the furs. "Mistweaver?" His voice was tentative.

"Mistweaver!" He took her in his arms, holding her tightly, as though he thought she would be taken away in a moment. "You're alive! We're all alive!"

"More by luck than by planning," Stone's voice came from across the cave, sparing Mistweaver from having to hear Kaylamale call to her by her soul name. "How are you feeling?"

Kaylamale moved. "Tired. Still hurts a little. Everything is fixed, though. You have remarkable powers, for a Wolfrider."

"Oh, thanks," Stone said, sarcastically, "And you're pretty tactful, for a pureblood. You know," he said, getting up from his furs and stretching, "I should have left that scar as a reminder of your foolishness. What were you thinking, charging off to face a whole tribe of humans, practically alone? Did you think you would get no help from us? Did you think you had such great fighting skills that you could take them all on yourself? Did you even," he squatted down beside the Glider, "Did you even think of what you would do with this Drakareth once you found him?"

"I know your pain," Mistweaver said, softly, "Not one among us is free of some painful memory of death. Did Drakareth shatter your trust so much that you could not even trust those who could have helped you?"

Kestrel had risen, and came to sit beside them. "Elves are so few in this world," she said, "Our own holt is large only because of how rich the forest is of game, and the humans who are so afraid of the forest that they seldom go far into it. Humans kill humans, we know, as we have seen it. They separate themselves from the world so much that they even defy its laws. But for elf to kill elf -- madness!" She leaned forward and looked Kaylamale squarely in the eyes. "What were you going to do with Drakareth once you found him?"

Kaylamale looked away. "I meant to find him and to... to talk to him. To ask him... to ask him why. I guess. That's all. To ask why. Why did he do it?"

"And did you get an answer?"

Kaylamale thought again. "I guess I already knew the answer. The humans own him, body and soul."

"Then what were you after him for?"

"I wanted to know why... more than why."

"What were you going to do with him?"

"I don't know. Scare him? Make him stop? Yes, make him stop hurting us."

"How?"

"I... I don't know." Kaylamale shook his head. "I don't know. I thought I would know when I had him, but I don't know."

"Were you going to kill him?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"I don't know," Kaylamale whispered.

Kestrel nodded. "I thought as much."

"Look," Stone put in, "Even if you captured him and brought him back here, even if I could heal the hurts the humans did to him, I can't make him change. You can't make him change. No one can, except Drakareth himself. Even if I could, I wouldn't. It would be wrong."

"But you would be undoing what the humans did to him!"

"How much of what he is today is from the humans," Kestrel asked, "And how much is from Drakareth?"

Kaylamale shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Flint knows. All I know is I've lost. I lost everything that I set out to do. If I hadn't acted so fast, if I had waited for Flint, if I had asked help of the Wolfriders... I set out on a task and it is over before it has hardly begun. And I've lost."

"Leave off with this mad quest," Mistweaver begged, "The Wolfriders have welcomed us both into their holt. The forest there is sweet with game, the humans are few, and life could be so good there. Find a new life there, a whole new family. I know your own can never be replaced, but let the holt heal you of your pain. And if those wandering humans ever come near, they will be in Wolfrider territory, and the Wolfriders will have the advantage. Why, even the humans of Grey Falls would fight against them. We could drive them away, and never have to worry about them again. Please, come to the holt."

**Zan, do you want me there?** he asked, afraid of the answer. Though she lay beside him, she had shut herself to him.

**I... I... I'm afraid, but... yes. Yes, I do. Kaylamale.**

**Why, Zan? Why will you not call me by my true name? Oh, please, tell me I haven't lost this, too.**

She turned her head. **Ask me that later. In the holt.**

Kaylamale's shoulders sagged. "I suppose there is no other place for me, now. There are other Gliders in the world, but... no, no, not that. Not that. It looks like my home will have to be the holt for awhile."

Greywolf, now fully awake, came up to the foot of Kaylamale's furs and stood, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. "I'll speak for the chiefs, since Sharpwit put me in charge in his place. You have been welcomed into the holt. You can come, go, be among us or not be among us as you wish. Wolfriders are free, and we will hold no one among us against his will. If you wish to be with us, you may. But you must know that Wolfriders follow and honor the Way. Killing our own kind is not the Way. Forcing others to be other than themselves is not the Way. Vengeance is not the Way. I cannot make you follow the Way, but you will never truely be one of us unless you do. Before we return to the holt, I must know how deeply our healers have reached you. You set out after this Drakareth, with vengeance in mind, killing, perhaps. If you learn that Drakareth has come into our territory, will you still go after him with the same purpose in mind?"

Kaylamale sat up, resting his arms on his knees, and looked at Greywolf, looking long into the old Wolfrider's eyes. His head sank down onto his arms. Long moments of silence passed. Kaylamale looked up again, his face as hard as granite.

"For Mistweaver, I will leave off my vendetta for now. But as for killing Drakareth, I don't know." He sighed. "Maybe I would. I don't know. We'll just have to cross that creek when we come to it."