Following the Forest House Wars, Hilltop dreams up a plan to encourage friendship between the elves and the Sky People. This story takes place after Chief Sharpwit died but before his twin brother, Wolfrunner, returned from a long journey. In the interim, the pureblood Yharren tried his hand at chieftainship. This tale gives a fair indication of the results...

When the late sun gilded the rim of the summer sky and the fires of cloud spirits were kindled, Shrea liked to linger on the mossy carpets around the stream and sniff the air and listen until her mother's insistent calls were followed by the heavy footfalls of Shrea's oldest sister. Then, with a heavy sigh, the human girl would drop from her seat on her favorite boulder and amble off toward the path, practicing her best excuses: "I didn't hear anyone calling... I was coming, but my dress got caught on a branch... I thought I heard a long-tooth or a bear and I was hiding... "

No one, of course, believed her excuses, but that didn't matter. They had the same effect on her mother that her mother's punishments had upon her -- that is to say, none at all. Why she tried making up excuses at all she really did not know, other than a child's usual hope that this time might be different. Everyone believed her to be lazy, hiding in the forest to shirk even the few chores a chief's youngest daughter had to perform. The truth was far from that, but the truth might get her laughed at, and Shrea would do anything to keep from being laughed at.

It was a warm evening of Shrea's seventh summer. She knew it was her seventh summer, because her mother had told her so that morning, and her sister kept harping on it as the two of them walked back to the village.

"You're only seven, you know," the vastly superior Annalenn scolded, shaking her finger at the errant child. Shrea made a face, keeping her head down so her sister could not see.

"What are you grinning at, you tree-wee? Don't you even know the kind of trouble you're in? Disobedient girls like you lose their status fast. Keep this up, and you'll hardly be fit to find a mate in any house. No son in Chief's house will ever have you. Life's mysteries will never be yours."

"Good," Shrea mouthed. It was the blossoming Annalenn whose head was full of flirting and mates, not skinny, strange little Shrea. She touched her neck pouch, and thought about what it contained, a single object that was her sole clue to the only mystery in life she wished to solve.

"Remember, your mother is a Second Wife. My own mother may be dead, but I still hold the status as the daughter of a First Wife. So besides being older than you, I have far more status than you'll ever have, so you have to listen to me and obey me in all things if you want the gods to smile on you. But look at you! Streaked with dirt and glaring at me as if this is all my fault! When are you going to learn to put on a sweet face? My mother always taught me to wear a sweet expression if you want to be loved. No one is ever going to want a disobedient imp like you. Even your own mother despairs of you. Someday she'll just leave you in the forest, and then we'll see what happens to you."

"To whom are those words meant to bring comfort, child?"

The gentle voice came from behind them. Shrea turned to see the eldest Shamaness from the Mage's House standing quietly by the path, though no one certainly had stood there just moments before when her own feet passed that spot. Shrea made a gesture of respect, but still wore her petulant expression like a mask.

"How you glare at me, little one," the Shamaness said. "You think that I overheard your sister's words, perhaps? I must admit that I did, but I was not the only one."

Another figure stepped from behind the Mage's ample robes. Annalenn gasped --

"Darien!"

"This is a side of you I had not seen before, Annalenn," the young man said evenly. "How strange. Just yesterday you said I knew you better than you knew yourself, and yet I see this today. I should have liked you better if you had been honest with me." He patted Shrea on the head, and strode quickly away through the village gates.

Annalenn stood fuming, her lower lip puffing in and out like a tree frog's throat. "This is all your fault!" she finally burst out. "Why did I have to end up with a crazy little sister?" With a well-practiced flounce, the older girl stormed off to the lodge.

"Night is falling quickly child, and the gates will soon be barred," the Shamaness said. "Let us go in now, and talk as we walk."

Shrea obediently followed the Shamaness, but kept her head lowered and her mouth shut.

"I highly doubt your sister will believe that the scene we just played out was entirely accidental," the elder woman said quietly. "The gods speak to us in many subtle ways, if we have the ears to listen. Your sister would be wise to heed their words, but few her age care for wisdom. Here, now, we approach the gates. Before we go in, I must speak with you."

The woman turned toward Shrea, gathering her goat's wool robes in a graceful gesture as she squatted by the child. "They tell me you go off to the forest nearly every day. I have watched you and I have seen this is true. Yet do you run away to shirk your duties? No, you fairly fling yourself at your chores that you might be off all the sooner. There is something there that draws you, is that not true?"

Shrea nodded, then remembered that she had not spoken a word to the Shamaness. Nor anyone else that afternoon, not that anyone noticed. "Yes, Shamaness. But I don't know what."

The Mage smiled as she stood up. "Someday you will. But you must listen. Always listen. Not just with this," she tapped her ear, "but here as well," she touched her heart, "and always here." She tapped her forehead. "Sounds and words come through our ears. Our hearts listen with the ears of our souls, but our minds sift the grains of truth from the chaff of folly."

"Yes, Shamaness," Shrea acknowledged, though her face wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Now, go to your mother. Do your duty by her, but remember not to let the fearful words of the ignorant turn you from the path the gods have put your feet on."

"Yes, Shamaness. Restful dreams, Shamaness."

Shrea hitched up the shoulder of her old doeskin dress, and scampered into the lodge.

Darien and the Shamaness were not the only witnesses to the disgraceful scene just played out. Near Shrea's rock nest, in the deepening shadows that rested in the branches of a moss-laden oak, a slim fragment of the darkness detached itself from the rest and leaped like a flying squirrel across the impossibly wide empty space between the mossy oak and a tall cottonwood. The shadow leapt from the cottonwood to another oak, swinging wildly as it caught only slender twigs, then found a firm branch. It slithered down the trunk, in a smooth gesture that defied gravity, and its knees flexed when small feet hit the forest floor. A pale red shock of hair flashed as the figure shook its head. Brilliant green eyes flickered in the moonlight. A thin voice piped out the name of a young wolf that lounged under a berry bush nearby.

"Come on, Flirt," Hilltop said. "Let's hurry back to the holt before anyone notices we're gone."

Hilltop leaped onto the back of her comely young wolf and the two flew through the forest with hardly a glance at the markers that fairly shouted they were in forbidden territory.

"She's not so different from me," Hilltop murmured to her wolf. "We're almost the same age. We both like the forest. And something tugs at her, too."

Her wolf snorted.

"Oh, be quiet. The only thing that ever tugs at you is the smell of your next dinner. And all the he-wolves in the pack."

I remember the old one, the voice inside her said, the Hilltop-that-was-not-Hilltop, the soul within her soul, the memory of walking the earth before. I remember her by the amulet she wears. Did I weave it for her? I think I did -- for both my sister's children I did. Yes, I was the one. I delved for her name, too. Lalloneh, Shining Lark in the forbidden tongue. Another Mage from our blood? Salmon House must be proud. Ah, but the village grows old, and soon there will be none that I remember from those times.

Hilltop smiled to herself, at the thoughts she could not voice to anyone. Her parents, who knew her soul name and all that it meant, had carefully taught her to keep her rememberings to herself, lest anyone guess her secret name. Tilvah suspected something, but did not know what. Yharren knew there was something different about her, but would never know, not if she could help it. Allim was both curious and subtle. She had to be most careful around him. And Whitefox -- yes, grandmother Whitefox knew something, but kept it to herself.

She slowed Flirt to a leisurely pace as she neared the holt, stretching and yawning as if she had just gotten back from a short, pre-dusk jaunt. The holt was just waking up, cubs tumbling out of dens, grownups yawning and pulling on their leathers, wolves snuffling around for mice and woodrats. Starfall, grown long and gawky as she slowly bloomed into adulthood, came bounding out of Whitefox's den and ran toward Hilltop.

"Your mother is looking for you, you know." Starfall called.

Hilltop chuckled as she compared this scene with the one just played out near the human village. Starfall was nearly a match for Annalenn in age. At least her own mother didn't yank on her ears and yell at her.

"Where did you go?" Starfall asked.

"Oh... just riding. You know," Hilltop answered.

"Yes, I know. Sometimes I like to just point my nose in some direction and go and see what I find on the way. But I didn't do that when I was your age. Why is it that I'm older than you, but sometimes you act older than me?"

Hilltop only shrugged as she got off her wolf and walked toward the Grandfather Tree with Starfall.

"Don't shrug at me," Starfall scolded. "That's not an answer. They say," here she narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper, "that you have a secret."

Hilltop smiled. "So?"

"So what is it?" Starfall asked, excitedly.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it? So there!"

Starfall pouted. "But you do have a secret... right?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, be that way!" Starfall huffed. "I suppose you told Soulsinger, but you can't tell me?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I... I don't know. Are you being irritating on purpose?"

"Oh, Starfall," Hilltop said, consollingly, as she thought fast, "it's just that... that... well, there's things in me that I don't understand yet, so it's hard to tell anyone. Mother and Father help me with them, and maybe someday... " She left the thought unfinished.

"Maybe you have magic after all!" Starfall exclaimed.

"I guess we'll see." Hilltop started guiltily as she heard her mother's stern send. "Uh, oh. I think I'd better get up to my den."

She and Starfall both rolled their eyes as if to say "grownups!", and Hilltop clambered up the Grandfather Tree to the knothole near the top. Her mother was waiting for her, standing with her arms crossed on the limb outside the entrance.

"And where have you been, cubling?"

"Oh," Hilltop paused, wondering how much to say. "Just riding."

"Riding where? How far?"

"Um... just... riding."

Kestrel put her hands on her cubling's shoulders and pulled her down to sit on the branch. Hilltop swallowed hard as her mother's steady, grey-eyed gaze met hers.

**Now, answer me with the truth, cubling. Where did you go to?**

Hilltop swallowed again. In sending there could be nothing but truth.

**I... went riding. I wanted to see... **

**Go on.**

**Well, the humans.**

Kestrel's lips pressed together and her head turned sharply away for a moment in an angry gesture.

**By yourself? Haven't we been through this before? Three times?**

**I know, but I wanted to see. And there's a girl, my age, who sits alone in the forest, and her sister isn't very nice to her, and the village boys tease her, and I wanted to see... I just wanted to see.**

She met her mother's gaze with huge, guilty eyes, and wondered what her punishment might be.

**Just like a cub. When I say be quiet, she says 'I was just talking.' When I say sit, she says 'I was just standing,'** her mother sighed. **What is it that pulls you?**

Hilltop felt the doorskin of her soul draw aside again. Her eyes grew intensely green as she answered from the Old Voice far within. **What was it that pulled you?**

Kestrel's grip on her daughter's shoulders loosened. Her eyes closed and her face bore the mark of old memories relived. Her answering send was directed to the Old Voice. **But... you must be careful. You, of all of us, should know the dangers. Forest House has been rebuilt. Who knows what they're planning?**

Hilltop was herself again. "Oh, I'm sorry for worrying you so. I don't want you to be mad at me. Don't be mad, mother. Please? It's just that I... he... we, or whatever, have an idea. I promise I won't do anything dangerous, and I'll think real hard before I do anything at all. C'mon, mother. Please?"

"What kind of idea?" Kestrel's eyes narrowed.

"Well, it's just the beginnings of an idea, and I won't do anything if it looks like it's at all dangerous. I promise!"

Kestrel thought long and well. **I remember that once before you had an idea concerning the humans,** she sent to the Old Voice. **We know how that came out.**

**Do we?** the Old Voice answered. **I seem to remember it resulted in a wonderful new life for me. And this one, too.**

**You know what I mean.**

**Of course I do. And I know to be far more cautious this time.**

**Then I trust you as a guide. But please, please be careful. I have but one cub.**

The two hugged, and Kestrel nuzzled her daughter's soft hair. Hilltop wondered what she was thinking.

Shrea dumped her full little berry basket into her mother's larger one. "That's ten," she said. "Can I go play now?"

Her mother sighed. "All right, all right. But don't you wander far, and come the first time I call, do you hear?"

"How come she gets to go and I don't?" Annalenn whined.

"Because you are more grown up and it is expected of you. Little ones have to run and play to become strong. If they work too much they get sickly."

"My mother would have let me," Annalenn muttered.

Shrea's mother whirled on her. "Don't ever let me hear you say that again! I am your mother now! Your mother let you play because you were still a child when she died. Now you are becoming a woman and must work like one."

"The boys get to play."

"You are not a boy."

"Well, sometimes I wish I were one!" Annalenn yelled, and ran sobbing behind the nearest tree.

Shrea traced patterns in the dirt with her bare toe. "If you still need me, mother... "

"No, no," her mother said impatiently. "Go on with you."

As Shrea ran off into the forest, she heard her mother mutter, "At least that one doesn't throw fits when she is crossed. At least there is something good about her strangeness."

The cool air of the forest wrapped itself around her like a comforting cloak. Shrea stopped brooding about how intolerable her sister had become and began drawing the breath of the trees into her lungs. How good it felt to be alone with the trees and birds and rocks, her familiar friends! They never teased her. They never thought her strange.

From time to time her eyes stopped on something: an overturned leaf, an oddly placed stick. The forest held clues if she only had the eyes to see them. She had found little in her searches, just some wolf paw-prints now and then. A much-rusted arrowhead in her neck pouch was her only tangible clue so far to the knowledge she sought. She had found it last spring when she walked too far, nearly to the markers that she was forbidden to cross. She knew only Spirits had weapons made of such materials. She stroked the pouch, and looked for more clues.

Happily, she wandered and daydreamed until she was tired and thirsty. She sought and found a little stream and drank from it, then followed the stream to her favorite nest of rocks. There she sat, absorbed in her own thinking, while the sun drifted downward toward its lodge.

If I were a Spirit, she thought, I could live in the forest always and not have people yelling at me and teasing me and calling me crazy. I wouldn't have Annalenn telling me how to look and walk and sit to attract boys -- as if she were an expert! But, she added ruefully, if I were a Spirit, people might still hate me and try to hurt me. Like in the War when I was little.

She knew all the stories her father, Chief of the village, had told her time and again. But she still wondered what it would be like to meet a Spirit. Even more, she wondered what it would be like to be a Spirit. Could a person's soul really be born again into the body of a Spirit?

"Shrea!" Annalenn's shrill voice seared her ears. "There you are! Why didn't you answer when I called? When mother called?"

"I didn't hear," Shrea said meekly.

"So you always say, you crazy little thing. And I don't care who overhears us today. You're crazy. Everyone says so, and that's why the boys snub me. Because I have a crazy little sister."

"Hush. The Spirits will hear you," Shrea said, and gasped at her own boldness.

Annalenn's hand smacked her the smaller girl's cheek with a slap that echoed off the rocks.

"I should leave you in the forest!" the older girl yelled, grabbing Shrea's wrist and yanking the smaller girl to her feet. "That's what I should do. Leave you here. If I have to come hunting for you once more, that's just what I'll do. I'll tell your mother that you're visiting someone, and she'll never know you're missing. Maybe I'll get lucky and a longtooth will eat you."

"But you'll be punished for lying," Shrea responded logically as she rubbed her stinging cheek. "They would know. They would get you."

Annalenn shook her finger in Shrea's face. "And that's the only reason I didn't do it this time. But when I have a better plan, I'll do it, mark my words. You'd better obey me now, or I will leave you here when the gates shut."

The Spirits did hear, Hilltop thought to herself, as she dropped from a tree and called for Flirt. And the Spirits can make plans, too.

She rode back to the holt, silently contemplating the scene, wondering when the time would be ripe. The Old Voice lent its counsel as well.

The young one is unhappy with ordinary toil. They call her crazy. They always do, and those deemed crazy are either driven to Tick House or made into Mages. It's an odd connection. The Mages, of course, are adept at winnowing out the mere lazy, protecting the truly crazy, and taking in the inspired. This child is closest to the latter, to be sure.

"Hilltop!"

"Starfall!" Hilltop gasped. *Shush! This is a dangerous part of the forest! We've got to get back to the holt.*

*Dangerous for me, but not for you?* Starfall asked, turning Sternwatch back toward the holt. *Hilltop, is this the secret?*

*Yes... no... well, a little of it, but not all of it. C'mon, Starfall, let's get back before we're missed.*

*Hilltop, tell me! If you don't, I'll... I'll tell your mother on you.*

*She already knows.*

*Your father. Whitefox. Allim. Someone. I'll tell, really I will.*

"Starfall!" Hilltop was aghast. "You can't! Please. You have to understand. There is something I'm doing, but I can't tell anyone. I don't even know if I'll do it yet, but it's important, and I don't want to mess it up. I have to do it myself."

"Are you looking for your soul name?" Starfall asked, a little abashed.

"No," Hilltop reassured her, "but it's almost that important. Please understand. I'll tell you everything when it's all over. I will, really."

"Well... all right. For now, anyway. I'll race you back to the holt!"

Shrea couldn't stand it any longer. She ran into the forest, the scratches inflicted by thorns and twigs only adding to her tumultuous feelings of hopelessness and helplessness. She ran down secret paths that only she knew, until the clamor of mocking voices was left far behind.

The little boys had actually thrown rocks at her. Her! Daughter of the Chief! And Annalenn had only stood by with that horrid "I told you so" smirk on her face. The words the boys had flung at her stung as much as the pebbles they hurled. Crazy one. Stupid one. Tick House girl. Throw her on the night soil heap.

Oh, cruel sister, to stand and watch her disgrace and do nothing! Shrea flung herself on her rock nest and sobbed. How dare she! How dare those boys! What had she ever done to any of them? Where was the Shamaness who had spoken kindly to her? Where were the Mages? Where was her father? Where was anyone who could protect her, help her, convince her and the others that she was not crazy, that she would not be sent down to Tick House?

She cried quietly while self-pity blackened her mind and turned her will into clay. So what if she ended up in Tick House. Who cared? Maybe she would catch lung fever out here alone and die young. That would make everyone happy. Then no one would have to worry about her any more.

By the time she became sensible of her surroundings, dusk was gathering in the corners of the forest. Had Annalenn done it? Had she really done as she had threatened? Had she pretended to look for her sister, and then left her alone in the forest? Surely others would come looking for her. Surely they would open the gates for her if she were to go back on her own. Wouldn't they? Wouldn't they?

On the other hand, what if she spent the night in the forest, and everyone worried about her? And they came and found her curled up in her rock nest where Annalenn said she had looked? What then? Who would they believe?

Shrea looked around her, eyes widening at the sight of the deepening shadows. She couldn't go back on her own, not if those boys were waiting. But to stay here alone with the shadows, the night sounds, the hunters of the darkness... could she do it? Her seven-year-old heart failed her, and she began to cry again.

"Oh, Spirits!" she wailed. "Help me! All I wanted was to know more about you!"

There was a soft thump on the forest floor behind her.

Shrea turned and squeaked in surprise.

She hadn't expected her prayer to be answered quite so literally.

Hilltop draw herself up with as much nobility and grace as a seven-turn cubling can -- which is to say she succeeded primarily in looking cutely pompous. But a seven-year-old human is seldom so discerning, thus Shrea drew back in awe. Hilltop sent to Flirt, and her wolf friend came gliding into the ring of trees, brushing against her before settling at her feet. Shrea scrambled backwards and huddled behind the poor protection of a rock.

"Will... will it hurt me?" she stammered.

"Only if I tell her to," Hilltop answered, casually. "Actually, I thought your sister would make a good snack for her."

"Oh... oh, my! You know about all that?"

"Of course I do," Hilltop said, inspecting her fingernails. "Spirits know all about what happens in the forest."

"And you're young. Like me. You understand, don't you?" Shrea rose from behind the rock, and took a few tentative steps forward. "You do... you... you're... ohhhhhh"

She drew in her breath with one long, drawn out gasp and pointed to the amulet and crystal Hilltop wore.

"You're her! The one father told me about! The Spirit that the Mad Mage came back as! You are... you are young and old."

Mad Mage, indeed! the Old Voice said. Yet see how quickly the child grasps what even the tribe cannot know.

Shrea fell to her knees. "Oh, will you help me, Spirit?"

Hilltop put her nose in the air gave the human girl a long look. "What is it you want?"

Shrea sat back on her heels and looked puzzled. "I don't know exactly. I just... I'm tired of always being teased. Of Annalenn always nagging me. Everyone thinks I'm strange. Do you think I'm strange? Am I really crazy?"

"Do you think it's crazy to be interested in us Spirits?"

"Nooo... the Mages are interested in the gods and magical things. Why shouldn't I be interested in Spirits?"

"Shreeeeaaaa... ." A far-away call drifted through the forest.

"Oh! They're looking for me. I suppose I'll have to go back." Shrea hung her head.

"Do you want to go back?" Hilltop asked.

"No." Shrea surprised herself with her answer.

"Then you won't. Not like this, at least. I have an idea. First... " Hilltop pulled out her troll-knife, the rugged blade that old Kruuk had made for her for some mysterious reason, and applied the point to the nearest alder tree. White inner bark gleamed against the grey outer layer as she carved. Red sap oozed gruesomely. In moments, a wolf symbol glared down from the trunk.

"Now, climb on the wolf's back. She'll carry you if I tell her to."

Shrea tiptoed toward the wolf and carefully laid a hand on the thick ruff. "Nice wolf," she squeaked.

"Go on, get on her back."

"Will she bite me?"

"Only if I tell her to. Now get on. The searchers are getting closer."

Shrea took a deep breath and eased herself onto the wolf's back.

"Get a good grip on her ruff, but don't pull her fur. She hates that."

"I won't!"

"Let's go!" Hilltop gave Flirt a slap on the rump and bounded away like a fawn, racing through the darkening forest. Flirt kept up a graceful, steady lope to match Hilltop's quick running stride. They ran steadily, dodging, doubling back, laying a complex and nearly invisible trail, until they were well past the human markers and deep in the part of the forest Hilltop knew best. Hilltop signalled the panting Flirt to slow her pace.

"What now?" Shrea timidly asked. "Where are we going?"

"Here will be fine," Hilltop said. "You can get down now. Your people will never find us here."

"Where are we going? Are we going to the Spirit nests? Am I to live there?" Shrea asked hopefully as she sat down in the forest litter.

"Weeelll... I don't think they'll allow that," Hilltop said. "Not living there, anyway. You'll have to go back to your village very soon. But don't worry," she added, seeing Shrea's downcast look, "by the time I'm through with you, they won't be laughing any more." Hilltop settled herself down on the ground with Flirt as a backrest.

"I've always wanted to talk to a Spirit," Shrea said. "Do you mind if I ask a lot of questions? Mother always gets mad at me if I ask too many questions, but do you mind?"

"I guess not. We can talk while Flirt rests."

"What is your name?"

"In your language, Hilltop," she answered, then spoke the name in her own language.

"Oh... " Shrea struggled with the unfamiliar sounds until she could pronounce them almost understandably. "Is that close? That's the first word in Spirit language I've ever learned!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "And that. The amulet. Is it true what they say about the Mad Mage? Did he really come back to live again as you?"

Hilltop fingered the amulet and crystal thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes, it's true. I don't think it's ever happened before, but it happened to me." She leaned back deeper into her wolf's fur and closed her eyes, probing with the eye of her mind deep into her memories. "I can remember the village long ago, before your father was born." Strange how the words of the Old Voice were difficult to speak aloud, how they preferred sending. "The Shaman... once apprenticed to me... I made symbols." The name, of course, had to protect itself, lest it be spoken aloud.

"They killed the Mage. They said he was blasphemous."

"... sang his death chant, but he did not starve... lived in the care of a kind spirit... when he died much later, she made me... my spirit came into this... "

"Oh, you're remembering, aren't you?" Shrea shrieked excitedly. "You can remember the life before!"

"... life was good in the cave on the hill... " Hilltop sat up suddenly. "But you can't tell anyone any of this! You have to swear not to tell anybody! It's a secret!"

"I won't! I won't tell a soul!" Shrea crossed her hands over her heart. "You have my word!"

"Good," Hilltop said, "because it's an important secret. It will be... "

A faint rustle caught Hilltop's ears. She cocked her head to listen. Not a human scent on that breeze, but..

**Starfall!** she sent, and dashed in the direction of the sound. A figure in green leaped well ahead of her.

**Starfall, wait!**

**I'm telling!** came the answer.

The Old Voice rose up in Hilltop. **Starfall!**

Starfall froze and stared. Hilltop closed the distance between them.

**High Ones, it's true! Everything you told that human girl is true!** Starfall's private send was no more than a whisper.

**It is.**

Starfall flinched. **Don't use that voice! It scares me! That's why you're so different. That's why you seem older than you are, and speak human so well. Is this the secret?**

**It is,** Hilltop sent in her own mind-voice. **Starfall, what did you have to go and spy on me for? You just about spoiled the whole thing. Now you know everything, and you're going to have to give me your soul name, you know.**

**What? Why?**

**Because you know mine, or pretty close to it, anyway. We have to be soul sisters. It's the only way for me to know for sure that you'll keep my secret.**

**Oh. But I won't tell. I won't, I promise. Whitefox told me his name once, though I can't remember the exact sounds. Well, some of them.** Starfall scuffed the dirt. **All right, I admit, I know the name. All right, then, I am... Zeyn.**

**And I am Alyssar.**

"Oh, please don't use that voice. Not until I'm used to it, anyway."

Hilltop put her fists on her hips. "How can you get used to it if I don't use it?"

"I don't know... I..."

"Well, never mind that." Hilltop turned and beckoned Starfall to follow. "Come and help me with the human girl."

"How did you ever capture her?" Starfall asked as she walked alongside Hilltop. "And why?"

"I didn't capture her. It's part of the plan. It's a great plan, and it'll keep the humans off of us for a good long time. I'll tell you as we go along."

Shrea jumped up when Hilltop returned. "Where did you go so fast? I... oh! Oh my!"

"This is Starfall," Hilltop said, translating the name into both human and elfin tongue. Shrea struggled with the new name while Hilltop helped her up on Flirt's back."She's going to help us. I'm going to show you the place where Spirits live, but first I'll have to blindfold you. I can't let even you know how to get there."

"Well, all right. You can use my belt."

*What did you tell her? I don't speak human as well as you.* Starfall asked, as Hilltop bound the belt around the human girl's eyes.

Hilltop told her.

*You're going to what? How can you think of such a thing?*

*You'll see,* Hilltop said, fairly dancing with excitement. *I'll explain as we walk.*

To say their appearance in the holt caused an uproar would do a grave underservice to the chaos that erupted when Hilltop and Starfall led their blindfolded charge right up to the Grandfather Tree.

"You captured a human, Hilltop!" Whitefox called. "Good job! Now what are you planning on doing with her?"

"I can think of only one thing to do with humans," Nighthawk growled.

Though his eyes betrayed his seething anger, Yharren coolly sent, *Unusual quarry. The meat is not altogether to my liking, however.*

"It's just a young one," Kestrel snapped, as she thrust aside the leathers she was working on and went to her daughter. "Perhaps our chief would like to hear Hilltop's story before anyone draws a blade?" She was soon joined by Stone, who had come out of their den to see what the commotion was about.

By that time everyone was staring, then shouting at Hilltop, then shouting at each other to quit shouting.

*Silence!* Yharren commanded. He did not shout, but his send cut through the thick of the confusion. The clamor died down. Yharren strode over to Hilltop, and examined her blindfolded captive. Hilltop drew herself up proudly. Starfall stood behind Flirt, holding back a disrespectful grin.

*Did you go into human territory to catch this?* Yharren asked coolly.

"Yes, but I..." Hilltop began.

*And you know it's forbidden for even the most experienced hunters to travel alone into human territory with out my permission and a good reason?*

"I know, but... "

*And of course you know that disobedience to your chief can only result in the most severe of punishments.*

"But I..."

*And the only reason you'll be facing punishment is that you were lucky enough to escape being captured yourself, and you lived to return to the holt.*

"WILL YOU JUST LET ME TALK?!" Hilltop shouted.

Silence settled like a thick fur. The Wolfriders drew back a trifle. Hilltop glared up at the interrogating pureblood, her fists perched on her hips.

*I see,* Yharren mused. *This isn't entirely your fault. This is what comes of...* he turned toward Kestrel and Stone, *...a poor upbringing.*

"A cub is raised not only by the parents, but by the whole tribe," Stone countered. "Will you hold us all responsible? Yourself included? Perhaps, my chief, we should deal with the immediate problem before we go pointing fingers. What are we going to do with this human child?"

"This first," Hilltop said, whipping the blindfold from Shrea's eyes.

The tribe gasped, growled, and shouted at Hilltop's recklessness. "You've let a human see the holt, you idiot cub!" Nighthawk shouted as she drew her knife. "We can't let her go back now."

Shrea's eyes were wide with amazement, her hands clasped over her mouth. "There are so many," she gasped. "What a beautiful place. Is this your home?"

"It is," Hilltop answered, "and this is my tribe. That's my mother. And that's our chief. You don't have to like him," she added in a whisper. "Not many of us do."

"She's speaking human!" Yharren barked in astonishment. "When did she learn to speak human?"

"I taught her a few words, and the rest seemed to come naturally to her," Kestrel quickly countered.

*Well, we must do something with this human whelp, and quickly, before Hilltop divulges all of our secrets to her.*

"Calmly, old friend." Tilvah glided forward, and laid a hand on Yharren's shoulder. "The leadership of the tribe is not as simple as you once thought, is it? You never know what surprises await. Let me look at this little captive." Tilvah touched her finger to the human girl's chin. "What is your name, cubling?" she asked in human tongue.

"Shrea," the girl said, timidly.

"And what do you know about your being brought here?"

"Well..." The words came out in a rush, and Hilltop clenched her fists as she hoped the human girl wouldn't say too much. "I was unhappy in my village because I wanted to be in the woods and learn more about the Spirits and everyone thought I was crazy and my sister was always mad at me and saying mean things to me. Then today I ran away from some boys who were throwing rocks at me and my sister just stood there and smiled and I ran into the woods and soon night came and no one came looking for me and I prayed to the Spirits and this one... Hill... top," she struggled with the elfin word, "she came to me and said she'd help me. And she told me some things and made me promise not to tell and that's part of her plan. And the other one met us... Star... fall... and she was going to help us, too."

"What kinds of things did she tell you?" Tilvah asked in a soothing voice.

"I can't tell." Shrea looked startled at her own words. Hilltop suppressed a sigh of relief.

Tilvah quickly translated what the child hand said for those who would not learn the language of the humans.

"Starfall," Whitefox came to her granddaughter's side. "Why didn't you tell me this was going on?"

"I didn't know until now," Starfall answered. "I'm sorry. I was just following Hilltop to find out where she goes in the morning."

"You knew she was riding out into the forest and you didn't let anyone know?" Whitefox cried. Turning to Kestrel, she said, "Did you two know?"

"We did," Kestrel admitted, "But we had reason to trust her."

*Then the blame is far more yours than hers,* Yharren said. *What were you thinking, letting a cub of seven turns ride out alone into human territory?*

"I'm thinking," Stone said, firmly, "that we should listen to what the cub has to say about it. Then we will all understand."

Hilltop was hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. "I have a plan," she burst out. "It's a good one. You see, one of the reasons humans hate us sometimes is because they see only the differences. We look kind of like them, but not quite, and that scares them. They think the gods made them perfectly, so there's something wrong with us. Or they think we're special Spirits made by the gods. Either way, they're too scared most of the time to actually talk to us, so they don't really know anything about us. They make up stories about us and believe them because they don't know any better."

*And you think capturing a human and keeping her in the holt will improve things?* Yharren asked.

"No, no, no." Hilltop shook her bright head emphatically. "We can't have humans in the holt. They'd never fit in any more than one of us could live in the village."

"At least she shows that much sense," Yharren muttered.

"But if one human were to be chosen by us to be a Mage and tell the humans what we want them to know about us, like some talk to the gods... "

"Of course!" Tilvah cried. "The child could be the voice of our tribe to the humans!"

*And tell them our secrets?* Yharren rebuked.

"I said," Hilltop countered smugly, "that she would tell the humans what we want them to know about us."

*And what makes you think she'll go along with your scheme?* the pureblood asked.

"She's my friend," Hilltop replied. "She likes us Spirits better than humans. Especially," she added, glowering, "if we treat her better than the humans do!"

Yharren's eyes narrowed in thought. *It has merit...*

"Of course it does!" Kestrel cried. "She'll need proof she's been among us, though. One of Hilltop's necklaces, and some leathers... " She ran to the skins she'd been working with and held one up while she eyed Shrea critically.

"And we won't have to dress a new Spirit-toucher each time," Hilltop babbled. "The new ones would just have to know certain secrets and tell them to the old one."

In moments, tribemates who were fired with the idea were searching their dens for discarded trinkets. Kestrel and Tilvah took Shrea down from the wolf and took up the job of fitting her with serviceable leathers, while Mistweaver measured her for a woven headband and belt. Starfall and Hilltop excitedly discussed which of their least-favorite ornaments they could part with.

*And how is it,* Yharren said, in the midst of the bustle, *that this cub knows so much about the way humans think? Before we proceed in earnest with this charade, I think we have a right to know. As your chief, I demand to know.*

Hilltop froze. "I... um... just do," she said, lamely, "I watch them a lot. Yeah. And mother tells me stories... so, I... um... just know a lot." She flashed a nervous grin.

"Really?" Tilvah knelt beside her and took the cub's chin in her hand. "You don't sound very sure of your answer." She looked deeply into Hilltop's eyes. **I've always sensed there was something different about you, cubling. Will you share it with me?**

**Tilvah!** Kestrel sent privately. **Please don't.**

*Probing the cub?* Yharren said. *Good. There is more here than the eye can see, and I intend to find out what it is.*

**Wait.** Tilvah's send held him gently back. **A probe is needed, yes, not a sharp blade. Allow me to do this. She flees from me like a frightened bird.**

**Tilvah, please!** Kestrel begged, fighting lest her face betray her deep concern to her chief.

**I'll not go any farther than she will allow,** Tilvah assured her privately, then turned to Yharren. "I'll take the cubling and her parents to my cave. If I find any thing of note, I'll tell you. Come along, you three."

"I should come, too," Starfall said, hesitantly.

Tilvah looked at her curiously. "Why?" she asked. "I know you're close in blood, but... "

"We're soul-sisters," Starfall blurted.

"Starfall!" Hilltop cried.

"Well, we are!"

"We'll soon learn that story, too," Tilvah said. "Very well. Come along." She led the two to her own cave, firmly insisting that Yharren stay behind, insisting that the tribe's well-being was foremost in her mind as well.

She seated them on the furs in her cave, and took Hilltop onto her lap.

"Tilvah, must you do this?" Kestrel pleaded. "Isn't it enough that we, her parents, know what is in her, and that we trust her?"

"Don't make me show you," Hilltop begged. "Starfall knows only because she overheard... um... something I said and figured it out."

"Well, you told the human girl," Starfall said. "I don't see why you can't tell Tilvah."

"I can't tell everyone," Hilltop insisted.

"But I must know something to assure our chief that what you have said about the humans is true. Will you trust me?" She looked into Hilltop's green eyes. **Will you show me, cubling?** she asked.

Hilltop retreated, and the door curtain of her soul remained firmly tied.

**You know so much,** Tilvah went on. **I only want to see where it comes from.**

Tilvah probed further, and Hilltop's innermost being fled before her. **No! Don't!** she sent back, and instant too late she realized that it was the Old Voice. Tilvah recoiled in surprise.

**How is it... ** she sent to both Kestrel and Stone, reaching for the most delicate way of asking, **...can it be that a human and an elf... their blood... **

**The cub is mine,** Stone stated firmly.

**It's not the blood,** Kestrel added, and Tilvah understood. From the depths of her vast memory she plucked a name she had not heard spoken since Kestrel's return to the tribe.

**Then I know who you are, and I won't reach any further without your leave,** she assured the trembling cub, and withdrew.

"What are you going to tell Yharren?" Kestrel asked, as she took Hilltop onto her own lap.

"Only that we can trust the cubling," Tilvah said with a smile, "and that I found something wonderful inside of her that gave me the utmost assurance."

Seasons and turns of seasons pass with little notice to the Wolfrider, save that a wolf friend grows grey in the muzzle and soon wanders into the forest for the last time, then a round-bellied cub replaces it. Were the Wolfrider to care about time at all, and find a way to peer into the future two or three or four wolf-friend lifetimes away, he would find the forest much as he knew it, save for this alarming scene:

"Oh, I am a poor, lonely child," a girl intoned as she wandered among the trees near the creek that brought water to her village. "I do hope that someday the Spirits will see how I am so terribly misused and will have pity on me. Oh, no one understands me. I am so lonely. Oh, dear."

"Will you hush, Nolana?" another girl hissed as she crashed through the brush. "Do you really think they'll fall for that tripe?"

"Well, it's better than just sitting over in the rock pile looking around with big limpid eyes like you were, Mava. At least I'll get their attention."

"And scare them all over to me, you mean. That's fine with me. I'll take all the status I can get." Mava said.

"Oh, you think you will?" Nolana leaned forward, with her hands on her hips, and stuck her tongue out at her would-be rival.

"Look, it's getting near sunrise, and the gates will open soon," Mava said. "Why don't we go in and just say we've seen the Spirits. After all, we know everything there is to know about them already. Why let a night spent out in the cold and the dark be wasted?"

"She'll know," Nolana warned.

"Not if we're clever. Besides, just about everyone tries to fake it. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"We might as well," Nolana sighed. "We're not getting anywhere this way."

The two girls found the forest path, and walked side by side to the village. As they approached the gates, they assumed the most ecstatic expressions they could muster. They assured the gate guards that they had, indeed, been blessed by a visitation from the Spirits, and insisted upon going to Mage House immediately.

"So, you have seen the Spirits?" the old woman asked gently, as she accepted a hot morning drink from an apprentice.

"Yes, Spirit-Toucher," Mava said, and clasped her hands to her breast. "Both of us at once. It was the most beautiful experience of my life."

"Was it really?" The Mage adjusted her robes and settled down on her high-backed seat to listen. "Tell me about it. What did they say to you?"

"Nothing at first. They just beckoned us to follow. They were small and slender... "

"Like the one Father saw when he was out hunting," Nolana put in.

Mava kicked her. "Let me tell it. You nearly fainted. I saw it all." Mava sat up straighter and waved her hands enthusiastically as she invented her tale. "Yes, there were some like those the hunters sometimes see, but they are the hunters and the guards of their village, so they have to take on forms like ours. When we went to their village... "

"Oh, so they took you to their nests, did they?" the Spirit-Toucher asked encouragingly.

"Yes, and it was wonderful! They nest in beautiful caves lined with sparkling colored stones, and in trees made of gold with leaves of the deepest jade. Their nests are lined with soft clouds and they can float up to them like thistledown on a breeze. In one nest I saw gurgling babies that had just hatched out of a magical egg."

"You saw many beautiful things, indeed," the Spirit-Toucher said. "Did they tell you anything more?"

"They sang a great deal," Mava said, as she frantically thought of a suitable reply. "I've never heard such singing. Even the birds would sound coarse next to them. Many of them spoke to us and to one another, but it was in the language of the Spirits, so we did not understand what they said."

"None of them spoke our language?" the Spirit-Toucher asked curiously.

"Um, one did!" Nolana added brightly.

"And what did that one say?"

"Um, that we were to become the next Spirit-Touchers," Nolana said with a squeak.

"And what did they tell you to do?"

Mava cut in. "They told us to come tell you all the wonderful things we saw, and then we would rise to our rightful place."

The Spirit-Toucher smiled, set her drinking cup down, and folded her wrinkled hands in her ample lap. "My daughters," she said in gentle tones, "thank you for your tale. Now I shall meditate on what you have told me. After much meditation and communion with the gods and with other Mages, I will be able to tell you if you did, indeed, travel with the Spirits, or if it was a wonderful dream they sent you in a gust of sleep-wind. Show them out, Plia," she said, beating a few strokes on a tiny drum to summon her apprentice.

"Is there anyone else to see me?" the old woman called mildly, for she had heard the departing girls voicing sounds of disgust.

"Only this one," the apprentice replied, and led a very young, very bony, very frightened little girl into the Spirit-Toucher's private chamber. The Spirit-Toucher took in the child's huge eyes ringed by dark circles, her sharp knees and elbows thrusting out of a too-small dress, and asked the apprentice to bring something to eat.

"You are rather young to be a Spirit-seeker," the old Mage commented.

The girl burst into tears. "I didn't mean to! Honest, I didn't! I just like to go into the woods and think about them..." She covered her face with her hands and sobbed noisily.

"Now, child, we'll have none of that." The Spirit-Toucher handed the girl a soft strip of rabbit skin to wipe her nose on. "The Spirits choose who they wish to bless, not those who insist they are worthy. Who are you, child, and what House are you from?"

"I'm Minel," the girl sniffled. "I'm not sure what House I belong to. Father stole things and had to go live in Tick House. Mother was supposed to go with him but she broke her leg and it never healed right and Salmon House said they supposed they would take her in since she can weave baskets and fish traps well. But I was scared of water and wouldn't learn to swim, so they sent me to Root House to learn to plant. But I kept mistaking food plants for weeds, and now they want to send me down to Forest House, since I spend so much time in the Forest. But in Forest House you're not allowed to talk about Spirits, so I don't want to go there."

"You like Spirits, do you?" the Spirit-Toucher asked.

"Oh, yes!" The child's face brightened. "I like to go in the woods and listen to the birds and imagine it's the Spirits singing to me. I like to look for any traces they might have left behind."

"And have you found any?"

"Once I found footprints, and once I found a few strands of hair. But then tonight... " Minel looked uncertain.

"Go on," the Mage urged. "We're quite alone here. This chamber is divided off with planks instead of curtains, and the hangings muffle sounds. The others in the House know better than to eavesdrop, anyway, so you may say anything you wish."

"There was a Spirit!" the girl breathed. "A real one! Not too much taller than me, and she had hair the color of sunset, only lighter. She wore beautiful leather clothes of green and tan, and had lots of bright, pretty jewelry. And she wore a Mage's crystal and amulet!"

The Spirit-Toucher smiled broadly.

"And what was her name?"

The child struggled with the unfamiliar syllables. "Hill... top."

"And what did she tell you?"

"That her soul was once the soul of a symbol-maker in our village, and it came back in her body so that her people and mine could live in the same forest without having to fight each other."

"And where did she take you?"

"To the home of the Spirits... I think." Minel looked puzzled.

"Why do you question that?" the Spirit-Toucher asked.

"Well... it wasn't what people say it is at all," the girl answered, hesitantly. "There weren't any cloud nests or golden trees or anything. There was a great big tree and I saw some caves, but they were ordinary trees and caves. And some of the Spirits were very tall and looked at me like the older girls in Salmon House used to. Like they just wished I'd go away. But some of the tall ones looked kind. There were some smaller Spirits who were singing very loud while they ate purple berries out of a basket -- they looked like the berries only Mages are supposed to use. And then they started throwing berries at each other until one of the tall Spirits yelled at them. It was all very confusing. Was I under an enchantment?"

"All will be explained later. What did the Spirits tell you to do?"

"They said that I should go straight back to the village and enter the gates at dawn, and that I should go to you and tell you exactly what I saw. Then you would tell me what to do next."

The Spirit-Toucher nodded her head and folded her hands across her lap as she sighed a deep and satisfied sigh.

"Go get your belongings, child. You must come and be one of us from now on."

"I am? But... "

"You have seen the truth with your eyes and have reported it faithfully. You did not have to invent and spread fabulous tales. The Spirits have shown you who and what they are, thus you are fit to speak directly to them and learn of their wishes. I think you will find it a light and pleasant duty."

"Thank you, Spirit-Toucher!" the girl cried, and touched her forehead to the old woman's folded hands. "Oh... one thing," she said before she left.

"And what is that?"

"Do I... do I ever have to go back to their home again?"

The old woman looked thoughtful. "I never have. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think I'd rather not. The way some of those taller Spirits glared at me... " the girl shuddered.

"Then do not trouble yourself. Now, go and get your belongings."

The girl scampered out of the room.

"What is the word, Spirit-Toucher?" the apprentice asked, after scratching at the door to obtain permission to enter.

"We have found her," the old woman stated simply.

"That bony little thing?" Plia shrugged her shoulders. "It's just as well. Mages' House will be good for her. Is there anything else I can get you, Spirit-Toucher?"

"Please," the old woman said, holding up her wrinkled hand, "when we have no visitors, you need not be so formal. Do call me Shrea. And yes, I would like some breakfast."