Several hundred years before the Now, back in the Redwood Holt, the pureblood healer Aleetan sired a son...

A tall, lean form skirted the edge of the holt. A swath of silver hair gleamed briefly in the moonlight as a narrow face turned upward to a den hole halfway up a Redwood tree. A cubling had just been born in that den. Aleetan smiled to himself before he disappeared into the dark underbrush. A male cub. His son. And the child carried his gift.

Not that this had been the first, he recalled. There had been another male cub, Hawkwing, who carried the gift, but that reckless cub had been killed in a hunting accident just before his healing powers awakened. Then there had been a female -- what had been her name? The years passed so quickly. Otter, that was it. As lithe and happy as her namesake, her powers had blossomed for a brief time, but they weren't strong enough to keep her alive when she was trapped in the undertow in the swift part of the stream. And Aleetan had reached her after it was too late. There had been a handful of other cubs over the years who didn't bear the gift, now long dead and nearly forgotten. Wolfriders were so tough and yet so fragile at the same time. They came and went, their brief lives snuffed out by accidents or battles or, for a lucky few, old age. If he thought long enough, he could recall the names of all his cubs. If he thought even harder, he could even remember the names of the Wolfriders who had borne them. Aleetan paused at the mouth of the small cave that served as his den, when he chose to inhabit it. Whitefox was the mother of this newest cubling. She had her own mate and was content to stay with him. That suited Aleetan just fine. He was the loner, always at the edge of the tribe, never quite one with them.

He pushed the door skin aside and went in. He reached for a candlebowl in its niche and struck a light from a pair of firestones. The yellow glow revealed a tiny, clean, sparsely furnished den. A wooden frame covered in furs occupied the back wall. Another wooden frame served to hang unused cloaks and leathers on. Three knives rested in a niche behind the bed. That was all. The slender pureblood threw himself on the furs and stretched out, tired though he had done little all that day. Whitefox had borne the cub with no help from him, insisting that he would only be in the way. And so it always went. Unless he was needed in a great hurry to heal someone's grievous wound, he was only in the way.

"So, healer," a brisk voice shook him from his thoughts with a start. "Here is where you've hidden yourself."

Kyleria stood in the cave mouth, bedecked in the feathers she so loved to ornament herself with.

"The tribe is dancing at the birth of your cub, and here you are all alone. At least come out and see what Whitefox and Tallspear have decided to name him."

Aleetan smiled a slow, lazy smile. "What they name him now is of no importance. I know what his name will be when he is grown and in his power, and becomes the rock the tribe will lean upon."

"Well, he 's just a pebble now," Kyleria said, "so come enjoy him while he's still young. Cubs grow up in a flash, you know."

"And then more follow. It's the way of the Wolfriders."

"You know what Yharren has been saying about that."

Aleetan looked away. He'd been over this ground many times with the others, and didn't care to go over it again.

Kyleria persisted. "How many hands upon hands of turns has it been since two purebloods Recognized? You could make it happen. Allim has been after you to make it happen. It's been his dream ever since I can remember."

"It's not easy..."

"Certainly Allim isn't the only one willing to take part," Kyleria said, sidling closer, her eyes deepening in color. "How shall we make the process easier for you, hmmm?"

Aleetan looked up at her nervously. "I'll...I'll get to it," he said, lamely. "When the time is right."

"Oooh, you're impossible!" Kyleria huffed, and stomped out of the cave. "You might at least come out at dreamberry-tale-time," she shouted back over her shoulder.

"His name is Greysquirrel," Whitefox announced, holding her newborn high. The cubling wriggled in his skin wrappings, gazing with bleary, unfocused eyes on the howling tribe before his face went purple and he yowled back. Whitefox cuddled him soothingly and stroked the silken silver veil of curls that thinly disguised his scalp.

"Good lungs!" someone shouted, and Tallspear beamed with pride as though he himself were the cubling's true sire. Aleetan sighed. He might as well be. Tallspear was the one who slept by Whitefox's side, who stayed close to home when her belly swelled, who held her on his knees while she birthed the cub. Tallspear would be the one to whom the child would first lisp "father." Whitefox barely shot a glance Aleetan's way as the quiet pureblood skirted the edge of the clearing and threaded his way through the brush back to his cave.

"Haven't you noticed how Greysquirrel is growing?" Kyleria asked one summer twilight.

Aleetan looked up from his seat in the dust by the cave mouth, face bathed in dappled blue of the darkening sky. "Ah, is he walking already?"

"Walking!?!" Kyleria burst out. "Walking three turns ago! He's running like his namesake and running Whitefox ragged to keep up with him!"

"Oh..." Aleetan's gentle smile fell. "Oh, I see. Time has passed."

"Yes, it has, and Greysquirrel has outgrown hands of new leathers in the meantime. You hardly notice him, walking around as you do with your head full of thistledown. Wake up! The cub will have cubs of his own before you know it!" She reached down and grabbed his wrist, hauling the slender healer to his feet. "Come, fuzzbrain. Come and see what you've wrought!"

He stumbled along behind her, his brow creased in a frown. He didn't like being manhandled... but who could say "no" to Kyleria? Yharren glanced at him, eyebrow cocked arrogantly. Tilvah looked mildly amused. The Wolfriders who bothered to look his way smirked and snickered. The rest yawned luxuriously and smacked their lips, thinking of fresh food.

"Greysquirrel!" Whitefox's voice blared from the Redwood tree. "Hold still, you little tree-wee!" she laughed. There was a flurry at the den hole, then a small form dropped like a streak and went bounding away while Whitefox yelled the name again and waved a leather tunic and boots. The cub, clad only in breeches, ran as though pursued by trolls. His face was serious, not mischievous. He had places to go, things to see, and did not intend to miss a moment. He bounded across the clearing to the amusement of the nearby Wolfriders and nearly collided with Aleetan.

The cub skittered to a stop and peered up. His small mouth formed into an "O" and his blazing grey eyes regarded Aleetan through a fringe of silver curls. The healer smiled down at him and opened his mouth to speak, but the cub was off again, pelting away into the forest.

"The least you might do is lend a hand now and then!" Whitefox scolded Aleetan as she ran by, still clutching the leathers. She called for her wolf and sent her bond-beast in merry pursuit of her cub, just so that she might get him dressed and fed.

"There, you see what you've been missing out on?" Kyleria asked.

Aleetan wavered, swaying on his feet. "He's...he's still small...still needs a mother's care. I'll be sure to have a hand in his training when he's older."

"If he still recognizes you!" Kyleria huffed. "You are hopeless, you know that? Absolutely hopeless!"

"They say you're my sire!"

Aleetan looked up, his smile slow, his hands draped limply over his knees as he soaked up the warm sun in front of his cave. Two summers had gone by and the cub had grown faster than dreamberries under Allim's treeshaping hands. Now he stood with his fists on his hips regarding the pureblooded elder through suspicious eyes.

"That is so," Aleetan replied, simply.

"But you don't live in our den. Tallspear does. He's the one who has raised me with mother."

"Yes, he has."

Greysquirrel's eyes narrowed. "Then where have you been?"

Aleetan spread his hands. "I've always been here. I've been waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

"For you to reach the age where I could be of use to you."

"Huh?" Greysquirrel cocked his head. Aleetan sighed, and wondered what the cub had been told about his sire.

"What has Tallspear been teaching you? To ride? To hunt?"

"Of course!" The cub jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I killed a rabbit all by myself just yesterday. And a duck two days before. I'm going to be as good a hunter as my father. He said so himself."

"And so you shall," Aleetan said, sensing the cub's glowing pride in his abilities and ignoring his own pang of regret at the child's concept of 'father.' "But you will be something more to your tribe someday. Not for a long time yet, for that seems to be the way with my line. But someday your gift will blossom ."

"Gift?" The cubs suspicions were fully roused. "What gift?"

"You," Aleetan said, reaching up to tap the cub on the chest, "bear the same gift of magic that I do."

"Magic?" Greysquirrel cried in a scornful voice. "I'm a Wolfrider!"

"Yes, and quite a ferocious one. But Wolfriders, too, can have magic. Not as powerful as one with pure blood, but often very effective. And, too, in my line the onset of your gift seems to be delayed by the presence of wolf blood. I can detect its presence, though. Someday you will be a healer as I am."

The cub's brows drew together sharply. "Do I have to?"

Aleetan laughed. "There have been some in your tribe who would give anything for such an ability!"

"Well, I'm going to be a Wolfrider, and a great hunter!" Greysquirrel's lip stuck out, perilously close to bringing on angry tears. "I am!" he repeated, with a stomp of his foot, and dashed off in the direction of his den.

The seasons turned rapidly, bringing on new hurts to heal and an occasional new cub to birth. Aleetan went about his work with slow patience while keeping half an eye on Greysquirrel. The cub grew fast and fine, blooming under Tallspear's tutelage into a skilled hunter. He and his half-brother Gale now dashed through the forest together bringing in small game almost daily and demanding praise as they shared it with the tribe. Tall, proud, Greysquirrel was already earning his place among the adult hunters of the tribe.

Then he crashed headlong in adolescence.

Aleetan leaned on his walking staff and watched his cub huddling miserably on a branch one misty spring twilight, glaring down at a golden-haired female who had just spurned him for one of the older hunters. Greysquirrel's arms and legs were growing too long, too fast, and it was hard for him to keep track of where their ends were. Awkwardness had set in, and the Wolfrider lass had laughed at him over it.

**Tark,** Aleetan called, naming his son by his soulname that had sung in his own head at the cub's conception. The lad's head whipped around, his expression both startled and angry.

**What do you want?** he demanded.

**Get your wolf and your spear,** Aleetan replied. **It is time.**

**Time for what?** Greysquirrel snarled, looking away from his father and back at the maiden he yearned for. He sighed in frustration as he saw her disappear into her own den with the hunter she'd chosen.

**Time for you and I to go walking.** Aleetan glanced at the den that so disturbed his son. **When you come back, perhaps Fringes will see you in a different light.**

This lit a spark of interest. **Where are we going?**

**Away for a while,** Aleetan answered vaguely, as he watched the cub climb down from the tree.

**How long?**

Aleetan shrugged. **However long we decide. Days. Or moons. Or turns. It doesn't matter.**

**I'd better tell mother and father.**

**I've told them.**

**And they say it's all right?**

**Would I ask you if I didn't have their approval?** he said, which was no answer at all, really. **Now get your things. We'll set out as soon as you are ready.**

A frisky young wolf named Thaw answered to Greysquirrel's whistle. Gathering belongings didn't take long, for the youth kept only the few things he needed for hunting -- a spear, a knife, a sling, a few furs for sleeping, a water skin. No sword yet, though he admired the swords others carried and longed for one himself.

The went forth in silence, and Aleetan preferred it that way. Quiet and contemplative, conversation was not his gift and he found silence comforting. Greysquirrel seemed agitated by it, but appeared not to know what to say. He kept his attention on Thaw, who frisked ahead and then behind, covering three times the distance of the elves.

And so it went for the first night, and the second, and well into the third before Greysquirrel grew impatient and demanded to know why they were out there in the first place. That was when Aleetan began his teachings.

"You are more than this," the elder said, taking a gentle pinch of the youth's sturdy flesh in his fingers. And in words and sending he taught his son how to go deep into his mind for the storeholes of tribal knowledge and self knowledge that lay there. The journey within took many long days, with time taken for rest and hunting and eating. Greysquirrel provided the meat, but the lad's hunger soon went beyond his body. Aleetan firmly reined him in as he threatened to outpace his teachings as he had once fled half-dressed from Whitefox, too eager to know the world to wait.

"Patience, my son. There is much that can harm you, even in here," Aleetan said, tapping the lad's head. There were many memories to share of the turns and turns that had gone by, the good and evil the tribe had done and that had been done to them. The elder taught bit by bit, and so the lad learned to wait and watch to be rewarded.

"But what about my gift? You said I was to be a healer, didn't you?" Greysquirrel asked one summer twilight. So Aleetan guided him with knowledge, teaching him with words and shared memories and feelings what signs would show that his talents were blooming and how he should coax them forth.

"Like a spark blown upon gently," Aleetan said. "Like a flame rising up from the spark and glowing, but without the heat."

"Like a star," said in another lesson, "first shining in the purple twilight sky. That is how you will first notice it. That is what your powers will feel like when they first bloom. And the pleasure it will give you will be nearly like joining."

Stone looked at his hands and smiled. Aleetan sighed with satisfaction to find that his son had not only accepted the magic that lay in him, but seemed eager to try it out.

Autumn had set fire to the green of summer all along the streambanks of the Redwood forest when Aleetan smiled gently and said it was time to return home. He looked closely at his son. The awkwardness was leaving his limbs, replaced by a surety of motion. The crackling energy of cubhood had mellowed into self-assured glow. Greysquirrel now stood with an easy grace and firmer expression. He knew himself and was satisfied.

Aleetan rose and put his hand on the lad's shoulder. "You will be going back changed. You are no longer a cubling, so how can we call you by a cubling name? You no longer dash about the forest like your namesake, so Greysquirrel no longer fits you."

"But... what shall I be called?" the lad asked, and Aleetan felt his own heart leap at the new, deeper resonance in his son's voice.

"Someday the tribe will come to depend on you for your wisdom and clear sight as much as your healing. Then you will be the rock your tribe will lean on. Be what you are, my son. You are solid and dependable as stone, thus Stone you will be from now on. You are no longer the cubling Greysquirrel. Now you are Stone."

"Stone," the lad murmured, as though tasting the name on his lips. "Yes, I like it. Come on, Thaw!" he cried. "Let's go home!"

"How goes the training?" Kyleria asked as the setting sun cast a pale, cool pink across drifts of crisp snow.

"Slowly," Aleetan said, after some hesitation. "But it goes." He pulled a cloak lined with rabbit fur around his shoulders as he leaned against the opening of his little cave.

"Fringes has his head in a whirl again, doesn't she?" Kyleria sniffed. "Honestly, I can't decide if she's doing Stone any good or not. She's had him dancing to her tune for what -- twelve turns now? If he'd turn his eyes on any other maiden... but no, it's got to be Fringes. Not that she exactly returns his fidelity."

"She's still young," Aleetan said, vaguely. "She may still settle down someday. And Stone is... well... he's just that way. Once he's set his mind to something, there's no turning him away from it."

"And he's got his mind set on Fringes, and she still thinks of him as a cub. Well, I guess there's no helping it. He'll just have to muddle his own way through. But what about his training? Any signs of his powers blossoming?"

Aleetan shook his head slowly. "Not yet. These things take time."

"You know what Yharren's been saying."

"Yes," Aleetan said with a heavy sigh. "I know what Yharren's been saying."

"It's the wolf blood, isn't it?" Kyleria asked. "Just like Hawkwing and Otter. With the wolf blood in the way, it takes ever so long for their powers to mature. But I don't suppose there's any way around that, is there? Sometimes it's hard even for purebloods -- look at Kirrah and her latent firemaking."

Aleetan looked down at his hands, studying the palms minutely, then the backs. He let Kyleria's questions go unanswered.

"What we really need in this holt," she went on, "are some fresh young purebloods with magic of their own. Just think -- a pureblooded cub with the healer's gift! It would be healing even before it was born, as you did! And what a relief that was to everyone, they say! The tribe had been without a healer for so long."

"Purify the blood..." Aleetan murmured, still staring at his hands.

"So what keeps you from doing just that?" Kyleria asked. "You could do it, you know."

"What? Oh... that. We've been down this path before, haven't we?"

"Haven't we? Haven't we!? More times than I can count, fuzzy-brain! With all those among us who are willing, why won't you make it happen for us?"

Aleetan's brow creased. "It's not that easy..."

Kyleria sidled toward him, arching an eyebrow. "Practice makes perfect."

"Ah..." Aleetan looked away nervously. "You never know how it might come out, meddling with such things. Let me work with Stone a while longer. Then we'll see."

Kyleria sighed. "I don't understand you," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I really don't. Where is your bloodsong, Aleetan? Why can't you grant yourself the simple pleasures everyone else indulges in? Even Allim succumbs to female charms now and then outside of Recognition."

The furrow between Aleetan's brows deepened, and his hands clutched the edges of his fur cloak more tightly. "I... I hardly know myself," he said at last. "I suppose... save for Recognition... I simply haven't had the time."

"Well," Kyleria said, her mouth curving into a full-lipped smile, "I have the time. What about you?"

Slowly, as a mud bank shifts before it collapses, Aleetan's head and shoulders slumped downward and he turned away into his small den.

"What?" Kyleria yelped, her hands spread. "What? What did I say?"

Aleetan paused, then turned as an aged, rheumatic human might. His grey eyes rose slowly until they met hers. What lay there in the depths of those eyes, hidden to all but naked for her to see for that moment, nearly made her cry out in pain.

*Out of pity?* he asked.

"No!"

He turned back to his den and shuffled away into its darkness. *To force a Recognition, then.*

"No!"

Darkness hid him from view, but Kyleria heard the wooden frame under his bedfurs creak as he lay heavily on it. *So you say,* he sent. *Come back when you mean it.*

"And did she?" Stone asked, as the tale was told turns later.

Aleetan smiled softly. "Now and again. You ought to know that."

"I guess I haven't been paying attention."

"You've had other things on your mind."

Stone grinned and lay back, his hands clasped behind his head as he stretched out on his father's sleeping skins, pushing aside the sweat-soaked tunic that he had stripped off. "I have been a little occupied."

"Fringes finally chose you?"

Stone's mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "More or less. She is what she is, and likes to take her pleasures where she will."

"As she willed herself elsewhere tonight?" Aleetan curled his hands around his knees as he sat on a rock ledge in the wall of his little c ave.

"I don't like it much," Stone admitted, "but what am I to do? I can't put her on a leash."

"You could find another to love," Aleetan said, knowing the reply already.

Stone shook his head. "There is no other like her. I've waited a human's lifetime for her to come to me. I can wait even longer for her to settle down. Maybe she will, maybe she won't."

"I can see why you are feeling so low tonight."

"That, and I miss Thaw." Stone sighed heavily. The loss of his first wolf friend was far too recent for the grief to have abated much. "Poor Thaw. I had no idea he was that sick. If I'd had my healing powers, I might have helped him last long enough to bring him back to the holt. Or at least I might have lessened his pain."

Shadows darkened Aleetan's face, hiding the intensity in his eyes. "It's the wolf blood that interferes, you know."

Stone lifted his hands and examined them. "I know. Not much I can do about that, now, is there?"

"What if there were?" Aleetan's voice was cautious and measured.

Stone yawned widely. "Don't talk to me in riddles. I've been on the hunt all night and I'm too tired to puzzle over them. I'm a Wolfrider and that's that. I'll have my powers eventually." He rolled over, one arm flopping off the edge of the bed. "I suppose I ought to go back to my own den before I fall asleep right here."

"Rest, lad. I'm not in the least bit tired," Aleetan encouraged him.

"If you're sure," Stone said, his voice already thick with oncoming sleep.

"I'm sure."

Stone's breathing grew deep and even moments later. Poor lad, Aleetan reflected. He'd been out on the hunt wolfless and on foot, valiantly keeping up and pulling down his share of game. No wonder he was so tired.

Aleetan lifted his own hands and stared at them, watching the trembling in them increase the longer he stared. Could he do it? Should he do it? He glanced quickly over at Stone and bit his lip.

No, he should talk it over first.

But what if he didn't have the power? Why get the lad's hopes up?

This would involve changing his very nature. He should say something first.

But just to test it -- where would be the harm in that? Just a test. That was all it would be. Just a test. Then he'd talk it over and see if Stone wanted him to go on.

Aleetan rose on cat-like feet. Two steps separated him from the bed. He knelt by his son's side and spread his hands over the sleeping Wolfrider.

Was it right?

Oh, but it was just a test. Just to see if it could be done.

He took a calming breath and slipped into a healing state of mind. His powers radiated from his hands, probing deep into Stone's body. Yes, the wolf essence was there as he had felt before. What then? Gently he probed some more. This would be easier than he thought. Like straining turbid stream water through a woven mat, his wolf essence could be gently separated from his true elfin nature. He lifted a few strands and they came away, dissipated, and were gone. He reached for another.

This was easy. Too easy. In a moment he'd done far more than he intended. He drew a sharp breath as Stone murmured in his sleep. Would he notice?

"Father!" Stone jolted awake.

He knew.

His body tensed and his eyes went wide is shock. "Father, what have you done?"

Aleetan backed away, his hands upraised in an innocent gesture. Useless to deny, of course, but could he explain? "Stone, I..."

"What have you done?" Stone demanded, leaping to his feet. His eyes cast rapidly over his own arms and body, as though he could see a difference. Rage left no room for words but his expression seared Aleetan's heart.

"It wasn't to go that far... I meant only to test... to see if it could be done..."

"Is that all I am to you?" Stone burst out. "You couldn't tell me first? You couldn't ask? You think I'm yours to experiment on?" He spun on his heel, pressing his hand to his forehead and clenching his teeth.

"It went wrong... it was too easy..."

"You!" Stone spat. "I thought you were different from the other purebloods. Well, you're not. You're no better than Allim. No better than Yharren!"

Stone snatched up his tunic and bolted for the door.

"Wait!" Aleetan called. "Let me explain!"

Stone paused at the doorway, his eyes bright and lupine in the dimness. He did not wait for an explanation, but instead snarled, "I was right as a cub. You're not my father. Tallspear is. He would never have done such a thing to me!" He flung aside the doorskin and dashed out into the misty dawn air.

"So Aleetan's new cub is female," Fringes' voice floated lightly into the cave through the brittle dawn air. Aleetan hunched on his bed, his furs wrapped around his shoulders though he wasn't particularly cold -- it had been hot and dry for half the summer.

"Do you think she'll have the gift, too?" Fringes asked.

Stone's voice was a low growl. "She'd be better off if she didn't."

Aleetan could see them through a part in the doorskin, though they could not see him in the dark recesses of his cave. Stone was balanced upright on a narrow branch, stepping slowly down it with his hands spread. Fringes lounged on a rock nearby, while Gale rested on a higher limb.

"The tribe needs its healers," Fringes said. "Why if there'd been a healer on Tallspear's last hunt, he wouldn't have died of foaming sickness."

Stone grimaced. "I'd like to have him back, too. But sometimes magic is just meddling. Look at how Yharren guards Firelark and the new cub. He just can't wait to get at her magic and bend her and shape her himself. And look how Kirrah's been stalking around, threatening to use her fire-making talents against the humans."

"What is it with you?" Gale said. "You'd think magic was a curse, listening to you!"

"Sometimes it is," Stone said, evenly, his full concentration on his feet as he walked the slender branch.

Aleetan hung his head, and clutched the furs tighter.

"Not that you'd know," Fringes said sourly. "You won't even try to bring your talents out. Aleetan could help you, but you haven't talked to him in a human's age."

"What ever did go wrong between you two so long ago?" Gale asked, propping himself up on one elbow. "You never talk about it."

"He broke my trust," Stone said, shortly, and wavered. Recovering his balance, he said, "It doesn't matter why any more, so don't ask me about it."

"You're way too serious, brother," Gale laughed, reaching down to yank on Stone's hair. Stone batted his hand away, lost his balance, but leaped free of the branch and came down on both feet.

"Hah!" Gale cried. "Sure-footed as ever! Hey, Fringes, what's wrong?"

Fringes had risen to her feet, her posture tense. "I smell smoke," she announced.

"So do I." Stone was on the alert. "I wonder what's going on?"

Gale clambered up the tree for a better view, but chieftess Starwing came dashing wolfback into the holt, followed by a grim-looking hunting party. Whitefox broke off from the group and raced over to her sons.

"What is it?" Stone demanded.

"Kirrah! She's found her firemaking talents with a vengeance. Whether she intended to destroy the human's village in the process, we'll never know, but she caused some pretty bad destruction there, besides which she's set fire to the Redwood forest and died in the attempt. The fire is headed this way. Grab whatever supplies you can, and fast. We're all taking refuge in the beaver ponds upstream."

"Meddling in magic again," Stone growled. "See what comes of it?"

The forest was crackling dry after two moons of drought, and the fire tore through it like a wolf at a deer's throat. The tribe, huddled and shivering in the beaver ponds, wept as they watched the fire dance from tree to tree, consuming each in turn. Blackened limbs and trunks dropped in explosions of sparks, and the continuous roar was nearly deafening. Skyfire lashed across the rising smoke. Ash choked the elves through the wet wrappings around their faces. Stone could hear the newborn Shycloud crying. In his heart he wanted to comfort his half-sister, but both Yharren and Firelark repelled him, and to acknowledge her as his sister meant to acknowledge Aleetan as his own father. He clenched his teeth and glowered through the smoke that hung over the ponds.

He did not know where Aleetan had gotten himself to, nor did he want to care.

The worst of the fire was over by sunset of the next day. The tribe crept out of the ponds and into the sizzling ashes that had been their home. Nothing remained but blackened trunks of trees, including their Grandfather tree, and fire-scoured rock around the remains of the pureblood caves. Two caves had collapsed. The rest still held the supplies that had been stowed there, now gray with ash.

"No point in staying here," Starwing growled, kicking at a charred limb in her path. "We'll just have to find a new holt."

Sadly, they packed their remaining supplies onto their wolves as well as their own backs. No one, least of all Starwing, knew where to go, only that they had to go someplace.

"Of course there are other woods," Starwing said. "Why shouldn't there be? Our tribe has had other holts in other forests. We'll just do it again. And don't snivel at me again about having just given birth!" she snapped at Firelark. "Look around you! Do you think you have any choice? Do you think any of us do?"

"Chieftess," Greywolf said, turning his grizzled head to cock an ear. "I hear drums. War drums."

Starwing glowered. "Of course you do. The humans always have to blame disasters on someone, and now they're going to blame this one on us. If that mate of yours, Greywolf, had only used her sense..."

Greywolf glared. "I'll take the best hunters and hold them off while the rest of the tribe puts as much distance between themselves and this place as they can. We'll catch up to you."

"Done," Starwing said. "Any hunter brave enough, go with Greywolf. I'll take some with me, too, in case any get past. Wolfrunner, Sharpwit, Quickbolt, Crosstrail, stay with me. Where's the healer? Puckernuts! What a time for him to disappear! Stone, you're a good fighter... no, I'd rather you go with Greywolf. Maybe a little crisis will bring out your powers."

"I'll go willingly," Stone said. "I can't sit by idly while my tribe is in danger."

**Be careful, lovemate,** Fringes sent, worry plain in her eyes.

"Good. Greywolf, we'll go out past the beaver ponds and around the mountain where those small waterfalls are. We'll leave a trail that only your eyes can follow. Let's go!"

The Wolfriders wheeled on their mounts, those going to fight tossing their bundles of supplies to those going into hiding. Stone leaped on Frostpaw, his newest bond wolf, and they were off, racing to meet the human warriors and ward them off while the tribe made its escape. Briefly, he wondered where Aleetan had disappeared to.

*We'll try to scare them off,* Greywolf ordered. *Only fight if you have to.*

Stone loosened his foster-father's sword in its sheath. His years in the Redwood Forest had been relatively peaceful. He hadn't had to go out and fight humans like the seasoned warriors and hunters around him, and the thought of jabbing his sword into a sentient being of any kind galled him. Still, if the humans meant to do the same to him and his kind, they had to be stopped.

In the burned-out forest, the humans were easy to find, but not easy to scare or to kill. Their shaman marched ahead of them, declaring all the while that the Spirits were to blame for this disaster, and the Spirits were to pay the price.

"We have paid the price!" Greywolf shouted across at them in the rough words of the human tongue. "The one who set the blaze died in it. And we, too, are driven from our home. Is that not enough?"

"Blood for the gods!" the shaman shouted, waving a staff in the air, and his warriors surged forward. The Wolfriders howled and met them in a clash of arms. Swords met clubs, blades bit into flesh, fangs bit deep. The Wolfriders were outnumbered with no trees to climb and nowhere to flee but through the hot ash and black snags.

Stone was set upon by three humans at once. Though he was skilled in bringing down game, and had sparred with Gale often enough, fighting humans was still too new for him. He was light and swift and able to fend them off while making his mark with his sword. He wasn't ready to kill, however, and the humans seemed to sense that. Stone pulled his lips back in a snarl calculated to make them think he'd been playing with them, and lunged. Soft ash gave way under his foot and he fell. A club crashed down on his ribs and he cried out as he heard them snap. He swung his sword in his right hand, his small knife in his left, sinking both into flesh, but another club battered at him and nearly knocked him senseless. He struggled to regain his feet, stabbing and slashing and biting all the while, struggling against the humans who swung club and fist. He went down beneath all three.

One jerked back as a stunning blow hit his head. A club crashed down again. Stone took advantage of the moment to sink his knife into the human's chest, ending the warrior's life.

Stone looked up, and his jaw dropped.

"You!" he cried.

Aleetan stood there, a pilfered human club red in his hand. He swung again, bashing the club down on the head of one of the remaining humans. The warrior cried out, rolled, and, leaped unsteadily to his feet.

"Look out!" Stone cried, as the other warrior leaped at Aleetan, swinging his club. Both clubs collided, and both human and elf went rolling. The warrior Aleetan had first struck leaped into the fray, battering and cursing at the silver-haired healer. Stone howled and attacked with knife and sword. Both humans surged up at him, but both were met with steel. Moments later, both lay dead.

Stone stood, panting, ready for another attack. None came. The quiet that fell surprised him, and he glanced around.

The human shaman stood with upraised staff. His warriors had stepped back out of the fight and stood with weapons ready. The Wolfriders, too, had backed away.

"Enough," the shaman said. "The gods demanded blood, and they have it. Take your dead and leave this land."

Greywolf glared balefully over at him in mistrust.

"Take them," the shaman ordered again.

"Gather up any dead or wounded," Greywolf ordered. "Then let's get out of here."

A few small, elfin bodies lay in the ash. Quietly, with eyes on the humans, the Wolfriders gathered them up and lay them across their mounts.

"Whatever possessed you to come after us?" Stone said to his Aleetan. "You're no warrior."

There was no reply.

Stone went cold inside. Aleetan lay still, face down in the ashes. Stone dropped to his knees by the healer's side. *Aleetan?* he sent, tentatively.

No reply.

He reached out at shook a shoulder, and found the arm had gone limp.

**Aleetan!** Stone demanded, and pushed the body over. Pale grey eyes stared up at nothing. The silver hair around one temple was matted with blood and ash, and shards of bone protruded from the mess.

**Fatherrrrr!** Stone sent, wildly, but the spirit had fled. His head dropped and he clenched his jaw against the first sobs that rose up. It was done. It was over. It was finished, with no chance left to talk or explain or set things right.

"What in the name of the High Ones was he doing here?" Greywolf demanded, as he came striding up.

"I don't know," Stone whispered.

"Then we're without a healer again," Greywolf grimaced, "except for Wolfrunner who has a little ability along those lines, but not enough." His expression softened as he took in Stone's genuine grief. "Come away. I'll have one of the hunters carry him back. Go mount up, quick, before the human changes his mind."

The tight wrappings around his ribs eased the pain a little, but bandages could not be made to soothe the ache in a heart. Stone stood upright despite his body's pain. Whitefox stood on one side, her arm around his waist. Fringes held him from the other side. Gale scuffed his feet in the dust nearby, and glanced back and forth between Stone and what remained of his half-brother's father.

In silence, Stone watched the wolves bear his father's body away into the greenery on the edge of the burn. He could think of Aleetan as his father now, and felt profound shame at having turned away from him. The tribe would miss him, the shy, gentle healer, who only once in his life took up arms and then only to defend his son and lose his own life. As the wolves disappeared into the brush with the last of the dead, the tribe joined in one long keening howl.

"Come and ride with me," Fringes urged. "Bristlefur can carry us both."

Stone nodded mutely and allowed Fringes to lead him away. He mounted the wolf and grimaced at the sharp pains in his ribs. Fringes gave him a look of tender sympathy and mounted in front of him, allowing Stone to lean up against her.

So much time lost, he reflected as they rode, so much time that might have been used to bring his powers forth. With Aleetan gone, the tribe was without a strong healer. The responsibility weighed heavily on Stone. All that time, wasted! He grasped at his ribs, which ached with every step Bristlefur took.

"Like a spark blown upon gently," Aleetan had said, long ago. "Like a flame rising up from the spark and glowing, but without the heat. Like a star," he had said, "first shining in the purple twilight sky. That is how you will first notice it. That is what your powers will feel like when they first bloom. And the pleasure it will give you will be nearly like joining."

It was as his father had said, save that the pleasure was replaced by a deep grief that Aleetan could not share this moment. Fitful, wavering like a new flame, gentle power radiated from his hands. Sharp ends of his broken ribs slid into place and fused back together. Clotted blood dissipated. Bruises and swellings shrank and faded. And as they marched away from the desolation, Stone cou ld hear the wounds of others crying out to be healed. But with the first use of his power came a deep exhaustion which Aleetan had also warned him about. He slumped against Fringes and wished for furs to curl up in.

"Lovemate?" she quavered.

"It's happened," he said, shortly. "And I'm so, so tired. Hold me up while I sleep."

"So it's happened at last," Fringes said. "At least one good thing has come out of all this horror."

Stone could not reply, but only pressed his face against the nape of her neck as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

"Sleep, then, beloved," Fringes said, reaching over to pat his shoulder. "We'll keep this to ourselves until you wake up."

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