At Hilltop's birth, Stone reflects on his past. This is another tale written very early in the holt's history -- these characters have grown and changed in the meanwhile.

When Hilltop first emerged from her mother's loins, she howled out her indignation, flailing her tiny arms and balled up fists, kicking so hard that Stone thought the slippery cubling would slide from his hands. Quickly he laid the cub on Kestrel's belly, and set to work closing off the bleeding as the afterbirth separated itself from the flaccid womb and slid out. He carefully laid the afterbirth aside, for the wolf in him knew the blood-rich organ was the best food for a new mother recovering from birth.

"Perfectly done, beloved," he said, as he laid a soft doeskin over mother and cub. "She's strong, and so are you. You'll both be frisking about and howling at the moon before another night passes." He slid into the furs beside her, and curled his body to fit against his lifemate's. As he ran one finger along the edge of the cub's small, shell-like ear, he took in her scent, and fixed it permanently into his memory.

"She's perfect, too," Kestrel sighed, absorbed in exploring her cub. The bonding process had always fascinated Stone, and he was glad to be a part of it at last.

"I suppose," Stone said, reluctantly pulling away, "that the rest of the tribe is waiting to hear. If I don't go out and tell them soon, they'll all come charging up here to see what's the matter."

"I'd like a little time with her alone," Kestrel said, "And I certainly don't feel like having the whole tribe intrude. Go tell them."

Stone knew why she wanted time alone with the cub, and felt a slight sting of jealousy. The cubling's extraordinary soul name had echoed in his head at the moment she was begun. He didn't know how it was done, but it was done, for better or worse.

"Just don't be gone too long," Kestel added, and her smile soothed the sting. Stone smiled back, and, gathering up the birth-soiled deerskins, hopped out of the knothole.

"Well?" the twin chiefs demanded in chorus, causing a ripple of laughter in the gathered tribe.

"She's here, and her name is Hilltop. She'll be the boldest, feistiest huntress any of you have seen in a pureblood's age."

A single, joyful, unified howl ripped through the forest as the tribe congratulated the parents in their own way. By the way some were already dancing about and chasing after their lifemates, Stone wondered if there might be a new cub or two in two turn's time. He chuckled to himself as he headed into the woods to discard the soiled skins well away from the holt. The wolves, or other predators drawn by the scent of blood, would soon devour them.

"Let me think, that howl would be for a birth, I believe?" The low voice stopped Stone mid-stride, and he turned to see Allim strolling our from the trees. The pureblood's long, black hair floated back on the autumn wind, with a purple sheen like the wings of a blackbird taking flight. His angular features drew together in thought.

Allim. The sight of the morose pureblood appearing so soon after a birth brought back a flood of memories, pouring over the falls of Stone's own mind. Memories of another birth. Memories of Fringes.

Pelting through the forest on Moonchaser's back. The dark night wind streaming behind him. His blood pounding in his head. His breath hard and swift. Behind him, Stone could hear his chieftess and half his tribemates charging just as recklessly as he. From ahead came the terrified sending of a Wolfrider.

*Humans! Humans! Humans!*

Over and over the sending came. Terror may have frozen Stone's gut into an icy pit, but it made his blood burn and his muscles surge as he urged Moonchaser to fairly fly through the forest. The ice sang it would be too late. The fire swore it would not be.

As they neared the edge of human territory, Stone heard an elfin voice lifted in song. Human song.

*She's still alive!* he sent.

*What's she doing? What's she singing?* Starwing demanded.

*Fringes is being clever. As usual.* Stone sent back.

"Ayoooooaaaahhh!" the entire party howled when the humans were sighted. Moonchaser hurled himself into the clearing, and Stone felt a wolfish satisfaction as his short sword connected with a human torso. The body was quickly flung aside, and Stone leaped from Moonchaser's back, and onto the human that was struggling with his lovemate. His short knife, normally used for the benign purpose of gathering herbs, now sliced neatly through the human male's jugular vein. Another stab put an end to the life of the human.

"Fringes!" Stone gathered her up in his arms. "What have they done to you?" Stone had seen the obsidian pendants most of the humans wore. He didn't know why the humans of that particular House, Forest House, hated elves so. Men from the other houses were at least respectful toward the elves they beheaded. Forest House humans delighted in torture.

The small party of humans, their Mage with them, had been outnumbered one to four at least, so were quickly routed. Stone had time to begin a healing on Fringes where she lay. "Beloved," she moaned, and rolled her head against his chest, too far in shock to say more. The flowers that were twined in her bright hair were bruised and crushed. A gash on her throat revealed that the human she had been struggling against had made on last attempt to have her head. He turned his attentions to the gash, but felt the cries of internal wounds. It was more than he could handle alone.

"Sniff?" he said, uncertainly. He and the exotic half-Go-Back had been rivals in the past, rivals over the very elfin maid who lay bleeding to death in Stone's arms. If that was the reason Treesniffer left the tribe to find his father's people, he never said it was.

"Of course," Treesniffer said. The need was too grave to allow petty rivalries to come between the need and the provider. Treesniffer knelt in the sticky leaves, heedless of the red stains soaking into his leggings. Together the healers felt the flow of blood slow, then cease. Fringes was soon stable enough to be carried home on wolfback, where she could rest, and the healing could be finished properly. Stone gently lifted her onto Moonchaser's back. Bristlefur, her own wolf friend, lay in a mangle heap on the other side of the clearing.

There was no triumph on the procession as they silently drifted through the forest, back to the holt. A battle with the humans did not carry with it the thrill of the hunt.

"What I don't understand," chieftess Starwing said, "is what was she bellowing when we rode into the clearing? It sounded like a human song."

"It was," Stone replied. "Fringes has watched humans enough to learn some of their songs. That one was especially useful. It's a prayer song to one or another of their gods, a very sacred song. As long as she was singing it, they thought she was praising their gods, maybe thanking them for being captured or something. Whatever they thought, it worked. It bought her time. Hush, beloved," he said, as Fringes moaned out from her healer-induced sleep. "We're almost home."

The hunting-party-turned-rescue-party sent to the holt as soon as they were in range. The rest of the tribe rushed to meet them in the forest, joining them when the hunters were nearly back at the holt.

"My cub! My cub!" In a flash of green and russet, Orelan was at Moonchaser's side, lifting Fringes in her arms. "Look what they did to my cub!" She pressed the sleeping Wolfrider to her breast, and shouted out her rage. "I'll burn their village, by the High Ones I will!"

"At least she lives, pureblood," said Starwing, "which is more than I can say for the three humans who went down in her place. Let the humans howl over their dead. Between Stone and Treesniffer, there was enough healing to keep Fringes with us."

"She's not healed yet, chieftess," Stone admitted. "We did as much as we could to stop the bleeding, and to get her to the holt safely. There's more to do. Much more."

"Then both of you, come to my burrow," Orelan commanded. "Oh, cub, if I have to pour my own blood into your body to save you, I will. Come, you two, do what you must to heal her."

The healing was long and exhausting. Both Stone and Treesniffer knew the limits of their powers, and stretched themselves to those limits and beyond. How Fringes had lived through the brutal treatment the humans had applied to her they did not know. They wondered at her strength, and found a new respect for the slim elf maid who played with flowers and didn't stand any higher than Treesniffer's nose. At last, their own combined strength was spent, and they were forced to allow Fringes' own body to complete the healing that might never be fully completed.

"Is it done? Is she well?" Orelan asked.

"As done as we can make it now," Stone said, wearily. "What they did to her may never be fully healed. It will be turns before she'll have all her strength back."

"Thank you," Orelan said, gathering Fringes in her arms. "I know you've both done all that you can. I'll care for her here until she's up and about again."

Treesniffer nodded and left, but Stone hesitated.

"You pause, Wolfrider? I know, you've had my cub for some time now. I'd like to have her back for awhile. I nearly lost her forever."

"Yes. Of course." Stone laid a hand on the face of his sleeping lovemate, then left the burrow.

Three nights passed before Fringes joined the tribe at a kill brought back to the holt. She walked slowly, unsteadily, but by herself, though Orelan offered her arm in support. She ate little, but cozied up to Stone's side and smiled at him. Sadly, he saw the fire was gone from her golden eyes. The wounds Fringes had endured weren't all physical. "Beloved," he whispered, as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm here, and alive, thanks to you and Treesniffer. Mother has done everything she can for me."

"And the nightmares? She said you had nightmares."

"They're still..." She choked back a sob. "I can't talk about it."

Another change. Since when had Fringes ever held anything back?

"You will heal. I promise you that. And," he bent his head close for a private send, **there's that most particular dreamberry patch we found. I'm sure it misses us.**

She smiled, but he smile was full of sorrow, not anticipated pleasure. **In time, dear Stone. In time.**

"I know." He stroked her bright hair. "Healing takes time."

Another three nights went by. Fringes looked a little less hollow-eyed, but was still suffering the effects of the humans' torture. As she ate from a fresh deer that Greywolf had downed, Stone noted that she was eating a little more than she had before. That was a good sign. A return of appetite usually signalled a return of health. "You must be feeling better, beloved."

She hesitated. "A little."

Stone lifted her chin. "What's haunting you? You're so quiet now."

"It's... oh, Stone, it's those nightmares. Ever since I was captured... please don't ask me about them. I can't talk about it yet."

"And don't push her, Wolfrider," Orelan warned. "You can heal the body, but what do you know about healing the mind? Oh, I don't mean to snap at you. I know you wouldn't hurt her on purpose. Just let her be for a little while."

Dawn was already breaking, and the tribe was heading toward knotholes and burrows. Weary, Fringes allowed Orelan to help her up, then suddenly stiffened.

"Cub! What is it?" Orelan demanded, her eyes bright with worry.

"It's... it can't... my soul name... noooo!" Fringes buried her face in her hands.

"Her soul name!" Stone felt his throat close off.

"Recognition? Who?" Orelan shook her. "Speak, cub! Who? Sho would you dread recognizing with?"

Stone turned and glared at Treesniffer.

"Don't look at me," Sniff said, backing up. "That was settled a long time ago."

A tall figure strode toward them from the stream, a figure as welcome at that vulnerable moment as skyfire in a dry summer.

"Not again!" complained Allim. "Not another Wolfrider!" Through long, narrow eyes Allim glared down at them, an expression of repugnance tightening his delicate features. "Well, cub, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I'll have peace again. Come along."

"Allim, you can't." Stone stepped between them. "She's still weak from wheat those humans did to her. She's not whole yet. You and your precious peace will have to wait."

"If you half-breeds weren't so inept with your puny magic, you'd have healed her properly in a trice," Allim said, his voice growing softer and more dangerous the angrier he got. "To delay the demands of Recognition will make her even weaker."

"So will bearing a cub. Wait a few nights, at least. Let Sniff and I try to do more for her."

"No," said a firm voice, which startled Stone. That was the Fringes he knew! "Allim is right. It's best to get these things done with right away."

"You sound positively gloomy about the prospect," complained Allim.

"You don't sound exactly overjoyed yourself," Fringes countered.

"As if you didn't know why, half-breed," the raven-haired elf snapped. "All my life it's been an endless string of Wolfrider after Wolfrider after Wolfrider. By the High Ones, when shall I at last have the honor of Recognizing someone worthy of..."

Allim's features refolded themselves once his eyes caught the sight of the dozens of pairs of lupine eyes glowering down upon him, as the Wolfriders, drawn by his outburst, peered out of the Grandfather Tree to see what the fuss was all about.

"Come, then," he said placidly, and led Fringes away.

Stone watched until they were out of sight. He threw back his head and howled fiercely, then dashed off into the forest in the opposite direction.

When Fringes returned, alone, she made for her mother's burrow and stayed there for nights without coming out. Stone pretended to understand. He sat alone, dejected, in his own burrow, surrounded by his herbs. Her scent, still clinging to his furs, nearly drove him mad, as did the sight of Allim stopping by Orelan's burrow from time to time, and spending an inordinate amount of time there.

Autumn was fading before Winter's frost, and still the pattern continued. Fringes seemed to hide in Orelan's burrow, avoiding not only Stone, but most wolfriders as well. Allim visited the burrow once every few days. Stone could only speculate morosely on what he did there, even with Orelan present. Finally, when he could stand it no more, Stone climbed up the Grandfather tree to the hole he hadn't visited in much too long.

Whitefox was there, all crimson and white, her long hair like moonlight flowing over her shoulders as she combed it out, something Stone had liked to do in his cubling days. "Mother?" he said softly.

Whitefox put down the teasle she used as a comb. "When trouble strikes, cubs always come back to the den for comfort. It's Fringes and the fix she's in, isn't it?"

Stone felt his throat closing off. He could only mouth wordlessly, until an anguished "WHY?" tore loose. He flung himself forward, and buried his face in his mother's lap.

"Dear cub," Whitefox murmured, and Stone felt her long fingers lifting his hair, the strands silvery like hers, but duskier, like the livid edges of storm-swollen clouds. "In Recognition, there is no 'why' about it. You, of all the tribe, should know that. You're a healer, which is as close to Recognition as you have been."

"But Allim hates her, hates all of us. What can she be feeling?"

"It's not that Allim hates us," Whitefox said. "I used to think so, too. I've known him for much longer than you, and I've come to the conclusion that Allim has a heavy pain of his own somewhere deep inside, making him as prickly as a thornapple. That doesn't excuse him, of course, but at least I've learned a little about dealing with him."

"But Fringes..." Stone lifted his head, and looked into his mother's golden eyes. They hurt, those eyes, for they were so like his lovemate's.

Whitefox sighed, and gazed out the doorhole of her den. "I've seen it happen before. It's the same story told over again. Allim has a talent of Recognizing exactly the Wolfrider you don't want him to Recognize. Always coming between lovemates, or even lifemates, is that meddlesome pureblood. Then he keeps the poor thing cloistered away, pretending attraction to her, in hopes that somehow his influence will make the cub less wolfish. Yet as soon as the cub is up and waddling around on it's own feet, he looses interest, and ignores it." Whitefox shook her head. Then she took Stone's head in her hands.

"Do you want Fringes back?" she asked him.

"With all my heart!"

"Then you must be patient. Three or four turns will go by, and the cub will be running circles around the tribe. Allim will wander off and forget he ever sired a cub, and who will be there for Fringes?"

Stone managed a small smile. "I will?"

"Don't sound so uncertain!" Whitefox chided. The growing more serious, her hands pressed against each side of his face, "You are Stone," she said. "Be what you are. Sollid. Dependable. A rock for the tribe to lean on. That is how you got your name. What you say you will do, you do. Now, prove your name to Fringes."

Stone left Whitefox's den feeling a little better, but not much. Three for four turns seemed too long to wait for the return of his lovemate, the only one he'd ever had. For her sake, though, he resolved to wait as long as it took.

For the rest of the winter, Stone buried himself in his chief talent, healing. He processed the herbs he had gathered all summer long, meditating long hours over them in a mind quest for possible new uses. He probed deep within himself for the font of his healing powers, working at making the stronger. He spent hours in the forest, sitting at the top of a tall tree, listening only to the quiet voice inside of himself, learning about himself. Within, he found a measure of solace.

But spring quickens the blood.

Stone saw little of Fringes that spring, and summer as well. Every time he did see her, his pulse raced, and he felt the familiar ache deep within, but there was always Allim, jealously guarding her, and Orelan looking puzzled and discontent. Fringes only looked sad, and the few times she did look at him, Stone could not tell what she was thinking. He tried this best to only look patient, to give the appearance of waiting quietly for her return. He hoped that was enough.

"Why don't you do something, instead of looking so everlastingly placid?" Orelan complained to him one day. "If I were you, I'd be foaming at the mouth trying to get at Fringes. Why don't you... I don't know, kick Allim in the shins, or just barge in and tell him you're taking Fringes out to look for dreamberries, or something!"

"He holds her soul name," Stone answered, gloomily, for he had once again watched Fringes and Allim disappear down Orelan's burrow. "She doesn't come to me willingly, which makes me afraid that somehow he's using her soul name to keep her. But he holds on to her like a cub holds on to a pretty rock it's found. One day he'll forget he's holding something, he'll drop her, and I'll be there to catch her."

"I envy your patience," Orelan said, though with a trace of sarcasm in her voice, before she stalked off.

When Fringes grew as round as a ripe melon, and labor finally set in, Stone was only mildly surprised that it was Treesniffer who was called for to aid in the delivery. Stone sat on a limb above the burrow and gritted his teeth every time he heard Fringes cry out. The labor was long, and the cub slow in coming, yet he was still not called for. The sun rose, set, and nearly rose again before the wail of a newborn finally pierced the air. an urgent send came from Orelan.

*Sniff can't do it alone. There's too much blood.*

Stone bounded down from the limb and into the burrow, rushing to his lovemate's side. Treesniffer looked up in startled surprise when stone added his powers to the healing circle.

*What have you been doing with yourself?*

*Nothing you couldn't do also. I'll show you sometime.*

With the aid of Stone's new-found powers, the blood flow was staunched in short order, and Fringes seemed to glow with new health. She put her arms around her new cub, and gazed lovingly into the miniature, wrinkled face. "She's perfect, isn't she?" Fringes murmured, as all new mothers do. "Her name is Kestrel, and she'll be as brave and bright and good a huntress as the little falcon she's named for."

"Fringes..." Stone murmured, in spite of himself. Allim overheard, and stepped between them.

"If you are quite through playing healer, little Wolfrider, I'll thank you to go now and leave my family alone."

"Momentarily, Oh Higher Than the High Ones." Stone stepped around him and laid the healer's touch to Fringes' stomach, checking her recovery, and using the opportunity for a private send.

**My furs are cold without you, beloved.**

**He holds me here. And the dreams still haunt me.**

**He won't hold you forever. I'll be waiting.**

Stone broke off the send, though it feld like tearing off a piece of himself, just as Allim grabbed him by the arm and fairly dragged him to his feet.

"Enough of your meddling, Stone! Get out of here and take your puny wolf's blood with you!"

"Exactly whose burrow is this, Allim?" Orelan cut in. "And whose cub lies there, alive for the second time because of what this Wolfrider can do that you can't?"

"Orelan, it's all right," Stone said, looking placid. "But you really ought to do something about that cold draft that's blowing through here."

"Maybe you can help me fix it, Stone."

Stone smiled. "Maybe I can."

The cub grew fast, as Wolfrider cubs do. She could howl before she could crawl, and howled mightily if her mother stepped so far as three paces from her side. Clinging to her mother's sun-bright hair, she beamed her toothless smile at the whole tribe every time they gathered around a kill. Fringes had a peaceful, patient look about her, Stone feld a secret contentment that must have showed, and Allim paced restlessly about the holt with a stormy expression. One could nearly see skyfire bolts crackling in his eyes every time Fringes glanced Stone's way. But it wasn't until Kestrel was walking and talking and nearly weaned that the storm finally broke.

"What do you mean it's not big enough?"

"I mean, I want it big enough for both my cub and me. As it is, it's hardly big enough for Kestrel by herself."

Stone poked his head out of his burrow and watched the argument with glee.

"What does it take to please a half-breed?" Allim roared.

"Try listening for a change. You hustle up to the very top of the tree and wave your hand around to make a stingy little den and you expect me to be grateful? When I way I want a tree den, I mean a den, not a knothole a treewee would be ashamed to raise a litter in." Fringes was sitting on a limb nursing her cub, one leg tucked up under her, the other dangling in the air, as she glared down at the pureblood. "Besides, it's so far up. What in the world were you thinking? What if Kestrel should tumble out?"

"One less half-wolf to pester me with this endless whining!"

"She's your own blood, you ice-hearted son-of-a-human!"

"You dare..." Allim huffed wordlessly, as his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You know what I could do with you."

"I think you can't or you would have already. Face it, Recognition has faded, and there's certainly nothing else to make me stay anywhere near you. If that poor excuse for a tree-shaped den is the best you can do any more, old thing, then fine. Go back to your mucky cave and leave me in peace." She pointed with the toe of her fringed boot.

"I'd like nothing better. Go back to your inept healer. I've had my fill of you." Allim turned on his heel and stalked away.

"As for that," Fringes shouted at his retreating back, "the healer filled me a lot better than you ever did!"

A chorus of hoots and howls from every den in the Grandfather tree followed the retreating pureblood back to his den. Stone watched him go, with a grin of satisfaction completely lacking any touch of sympathy. He saw Fringes clamber up the tree the long fringes of her fawn jacket and skirt swinging enticingly as she proceeded. He waited as patiently as possible for the send he knew would come. She made him wait, of course, before she finally sent the invitation.

**Stone, beloved.**

The send was hardly finished before Stone was halfway up the tree himself.

"Where are you goooiiinggg?" Orelan sang out, good naturedly.

"Shut up," Stone growled, through his grin, without bothering to turn around.

The den was small, little more than a knothole as Fringes had said. Her cub lay on a pile of furs on one side. Fringes welcomed Stone to the other side.

"Beloved," he sighed, as he took her in his arms. "There's so much to talk about, so many things to ask."

**But now is not the time,** she returned, nuzzling him and drawing him into the furs.

No one disturbed their joyful reunion. Even Kestrel slept peacefully. While other Wolfriders welcomed the dawn by retreating to their dens, the lovemates remained holed up high in the Grandfather Tree, drawing knowing chuckles from the rest of the tribe.

"Mama!" the alarmed squeal woke the pair just before noon. Kestrel was banging on her mother with the flat of her pudgy hand. "Mama! Mama!"

"Don't panic, cub," Fringes said with a laugh. "I'm still here. Come, you soggy thing, let's change you."

"Mmm," Stone murmured, half awake. "Does she always do this?"

"She hasn't for a long time. I suppose it's just the change."

Stone smiled a slow smile, admiring the glow of his lovemate's skin and her skilled, gentle motions as she cared for her cub. When Kestrel was in a dry changing rag, Fringes settled back into the furs to nurse her back to sleep.

"She's a fine cub," Stone said, looking at the cub who was simultaneously nursing and eyeing him suspiciously. "I think she's a little jealous of me."

"I'm not surprised," Fringes said. "She's clung to me like a burr from the day she was born. That drove Allim crazy. He was hoping she'd take after him."

"She has your looks, doesn't she?" Stone reached over and stroked Kestrel's cheek. The cub detached herself from her mother's nipple for a moment.

"Mama," she said firmly, patting her mother before resuming her meal.

"No one could deny that, cub," Stone replied.

"Allim tried," Fringes growled. "He played his games with our soul names. I was afraid for both of us, but especially for her. I didn't know how he might twist the cub with his folly. At least," she sighed, "I'm not afraid of him any more. That was his downfall. When I wasn't afraid of him any more."

"And when was that?"

"At her birth, when you came in to help Sniff. I sensed how much stronger you had become, and I thought that if you could do such a thing yourself, so could I. And when you sent that private send to me, I knew I had to try. It took time, but Kestrel helped by showing herself to be all Wolfrider, and bawling like a stuck bear every time he tried to take her off alone into the woods. When Recognition faded completely, I knew I was free."

"And the nightmares -- you used to say sometimes you had nightmares."

Fringes shuddered. "They've faded, too, but I still remember them." She grew silent, withdrawn, and studied the face of her cub. The bright, suspicious eyes were slowly closing. When the lids finally shut and the cub's breathing became slow and regular, Fringes laid the cub in the smaller pile of furs.

"Tell me about the nightmares," Stone persisted.

Fringes sat in the furs and sighed. "When you killed that human that was trying to kill me I... I felt his soul leave him. I'm sure of it. I felt a shriek of rage, and then... I don't know how to describe it, but there was a long quiet. The soul wasn't destroyed, but I don't know where it went, or if it was at peace, or anything." She fell silent again, chewing at her lip. "Where do humans to after they die?" she finally asked. "That's what the nightmares were about. Every time I'd relive the moment when soup parted from body and thne... and then... oh, something different each time, but every one worse than the last." She shuddered over the remembrance. Stone wrapped her shoulders in a soft fur and drew her close.

"Do you still dream these dreams?"

Fringes shook her head. "Allim was awfully interested in knowing about human souls for one reason or another. When I had a dream, he'd send to me, and try to draw the dream to himself. He must have succeded, as I haven't had any bad dreams since. I don't want them. I don't want to know what caused them or where that cursed human went to. I don't care!"

"What have humans to do with us, anyway?" Stone murmured, nuzzling his lovemate's neck. "They're nothing but a nuisance. I'm glad I've put two out of our way."

"Don't be!" Fringes grabbed at his hand, her eyes wide. "I don't want anyone to go through what I went through! Who knows if it was my own mind haunting me, or the human?"

"Now you're being as superstitious as the humans," Stone said, pulling Fringes back into the furs.

"I suppose I am. Do you have a cure?"

**A perfect one.** Stone silenced her with a nip.

Every day after their reunion had a golden, glowing feel to Stone, and he understood why humans were so fascinated by the warmth and glow of a fire. The feeling was the same for him when we was near Fringes. As Kestrel grew, she presented a bit of a problem, for she was so close to her mother that she was jealous of anyone who sought her mother's affections. Finding the knothole was rather small anyway, Stone chose to live in his burrow while Fringes lived in the tree, but they came together often enough that they were content. Life was sweet again.

When Kestrel grew old enough to show a talent, and began to spend time with Orelan, learning to tan and sew, Fringes could finally get away from the holt alone. Stone took her back to their special dreamberry patch, to the tiny cave near the waterfall, to a special tree they'd found with a nest-like hollow near the top. Happily, they rediscovered all the old hiding places in the forest, returning to find the fast-growing Kestrel waiting impatiently for her mother to return.

"Why are the flowers in your hair all crushed?" she would demand, and Stone and Fringes would smile secret smiles at one another.

"No one tells me anything," the cub would grumble. "They just look goofy at each other."

One winter, when the snows were deep, Fringes and Stone went out with a hunting party. When an opportune moment came, they broke away, laughing, and headed toward the falls.

"Greywolf will have our hides," Stone said.

"We'll be back before the old wolf notices," Fringes responded, wrapping her arms around Stone's neck. As he looked deep into her golden eyes, Stone was drawn into them, and into himself, and heard himself called from a distance in another world.

**Tark...**

A name rose up unbidden in him, and he returned it.

**Shree.**

"Beloved," he breathed, "All my life I've wanted this."

"When Allim took me away, believe me, I wished it was you instead."

He smiled. "An now you're mine."

"Oh, am I?" she said, with mock tartness. "Only if you can catch me!" Laughing, she bounded across the snow. Stone yelped and chased after her.

Suddenly, she was gone.

Stone was stunned, and an eyeblink later he felt her hit something solid. He ran to the spot where she had disappeared. There was a hole in the snow at the edge of the cliff, where the drifts had obscured the solid edge. Fringes lay on a rock outcrop just a short distance below, perhaps a height of two or three Wolfriders. So small a distance. Maybe...

But there was no response to his send. A sense of unreality swept through him as he slithered down the cliff face, heedless of the bruises he got in the process. He knelt beside her and sent again. No response. He put his arms around her and lifted her gently. Her head fell back on an unnaturally limp neck.

**Shree! Answer me!** he demanded frantically.

He found only emptiness.

"No..." he whispered, "No!" he growled, "NOOOOO!" he howled to the empty winds swirling around him.

When the hunting party found them, coming in response to Stones desperate send, he was still on the outcrop, still holding his lovemate as though he could keep soul and body together by clinging as tightly as possible. They nearly had to pry her body from his arms.

Stone rode back to the holt, silent, wide-eyed, with the rest of the hunting party. Greywolf carried the body on the back of his own wolf. Halfway back to the holt, Orelan came running toward them, Kestrel on her own back.

"My cub!" she shouted. "Tell me this isn't true!" She gathered the dead Wolfrider in her arms, and sobbed, kneeling in the snow. Kestrel clung to her back, weeping with uncharacteristic silence. She seemed afraid to touch her mother. Orelan turned to Stone, who was still motionless, staring, on the back of his wolf.

"Oh, Stone," she cried, "What happened?"

"I... I Recognized her," he murmured.

Orelan's eyes widened. "Then she carries..."

Stone shook his head slowly.

"No. I Recognized her, and she scampered away to tease me, and then she... was... she was gone."

The Wolfriders fell silent. They knew what delaying Recognition could do to an elf, but never in their collective memory had death ever interfered with Recognition.

Stone slumped forward on his wolf.

He did not remember being guided back to the holt, and laid in his own furs, alone. He remembered very little of the next few days. He lay curled in a tight ball, shaking uncontrollably, as wave after wave of grief and unrequited need swept over him. So urgent were the demands of Recognition that time and time again he imagined Fringes was there, standing before him. only to vanish at his grasp, leaving him in agony. The unment needs of Recogniton festered inside of him, and he wished to die, to be with his beloved in another world. He didn't remember snapping like a mad wolf at those who came in to comfort him.

In the end, the healer's instinct to preserve life won over his grief. He discovered that a departed soul could not hold the soul of the living, for only the body had need, while the soul went free. The final farewell was not as hard as he imagined. Indeed, it came as a relief. He wrapped his furs around himself and drew on his own powers to heal himself. When Treesniffer came in to check on him, he accepted the half Go-Back's help in finishing his healing.

When he finally emerged from his burrow, the first place Stone went was up the Grandfather Tree to the knothole. He found Kestrel there, curled up miserably in her furs. The cub had eaten a little of the food that Orelan had brought to her, but refused to come out. Her golden hair was matted, and her eyes were red and swollen.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

Stone felt suddenly awkward. This was Fringes' cub, but with the time he had spent basking in his lovemate's affections, he had given little time to getting to know her cub.

"I can help you, if you'll let me."

"Go away! I don't want you here. If it weren't for you, my mother would still be alive. Go away! Go awaaaay!" Kestrel's sobs began anew. Stone teetered on the threshold, unable to decide what to do. He couldn't just leave the cub. He came forward and attempted to comfort her, but she shoved him away.

"I said go away!"

"All right, cub, if that's what you want." He sent for Treesniffer, and left the knothole.

The greatest healer of all, of course, is time. Stone found that the sun continued to rise and set, whether he wanted it to or not, and the stars still traveled in the paths they had traveled ever since he could remember. The tribe had needs of its own to tend to, and fixing the bruises and woulds and illnesses of his tribemates brought Stone back into the world of the living. When she felt the time was right, Leafdance came to Stone to offer her physical comforts. He accepted, but found little solace with her, and found that he had nothing to offer in return. She was soon distracted elsewhere, which he found to be more of a comfort than her presence.

Alone in the forest, Stone sought to understand himself and his healing gift in greater depth, stretching the limits of his powers further and further. With his tribemates at howls, Stone sought friendship and understanding from those who were most like him. As much as he valued companionship, he learned to trust himself, and to value solitude. He still dreamed of Fringes, but while he had to face the inevitable disappointment of waking up, the dreams allowed him to be with her in a small way.

A strange sight interrupted Stone's lone meditations in the woods some years later. He was perched on a branch well above the forest floor, and noticed Kestrel heading back to the holt, looking very much as if she didn't want to be seen by anyone. On the wind, he scented humans. He jumped down from the limb, startling a squeak out of the young Wolfrider.

**Come quickly,** he sent, taking her hand, ready to haul her up the tree.

"I... what? What are you doing?"

**Hush! The humans, cub!**

"What about him?" she said defensively.

It was Stone's turn to be startled. "Him who?" His eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, cub?"

She shook his hand off. "Don't call me cub! I'm old enough to look after myself, aren't I? If I want to spy on the humans, why shouldn't I?"

"Because it's dangerous, that's why. Your mother was almost killed that way, and she was experienced at spying on humans."

Kestrel looked very cub-like as she traced a pattern in the dirt with her toe. "Well, there was only one, and he wasn't carrying any weapons, and he was painting things on a piece of wood, and I wanted to see what he was doing. Besides, I was up in a tree where he couldn't get to me even if he tried."

"Maybe, but you should tell someone before you go spying. Better yet, take someone with you. Or were you afraid the elders would say no? Is that why you were sneaking back, trying not to be seen?"

"I don't see why this is any of your business!" she exploded. "I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I'm old enough to decide for myself!"

She turned on her heel and stalked away. Stone was about to chase after her, but stopped suddenly and stared. Her legs had grown long like a doe's. Her waist was no longer cub-straight, but nipped in over rounded hips. The fringes of her wide breechclout swung enticingly below the curve of her bottom. Stone felt something clutch his insides.

"Oh, Fringes," he murmured, "your cub isn't a cub any more."

"Yes, a cub," Stone answered shortly. "Kestrel's cub. My cub."

"Ah, yes, Kestrel. One of mine, isn't she? And you the sire. That would explain it." The facial angles reformed themselves into a satisfied look.

Stone felt his own ire rising. "Explain what?"

"Well, I didn't think I had Recognized anyone lately. You half-breeds live such swift lives, it's hard to keep track of your breedings and birthings. Yes, Kestrel is one of my blood, so it's highly improbable that I would sire a cub of hers, though your wolves might do such a thing, so perhaps you do as well. I don't suppose the new one is female?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, dear."

"Now, don't you get any ideas. As you said, she's your own blood. Then again," Stone quirked a grin, "she's a feisty one. She just might be the one to put you in your place even better than her grandmother did."

Allim only stared, and Stone chuckled as he headed back to the Grandfather Tree.

When he reached the knothole again, he good-naturedly chased Orelan out, protesting that it wasn't fair for her to get to know the new cub before he'd hardly had a chance. He curled up in the furs beside his lifemate, gazing at the new cub. Hilltop had fallen asleep at her mother's breast but was still latched on, her tiny jaw working spasmodically every time the suction broke. Kestrel finally detatched her, and laid the newborn on the furs where they could both fill their eyes and souls with her.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Kestrel said.

"Newborns always are, to their parents," Stone smiled.

"I wonder what the tribe will think if she... remembers."

Stone shrugged. "We'll cross that creek when we come to it. You know already what kind of personality she has. She'll be able to stand up for herself. I get the feeling that no one would dare cross her anyway."

Kestrel smiled. "She'll be a handful, for certain."

Stone sighed in contentment, settling back on the furs, and stroking the fuzzy head of his daughter. She would be a handful, as her mother said, maybe two or three handfuls at that. He felt up to it, and knew that Kestrel would be, too. He looked at her, at her golden hair and her calm, grey eyes. She wasn't a skittish, clingy cub any more. Nor was she the bubbling, frisky elf maid that her mother had been. No, her years alone th the cave with her human had mellowed her. She was deeper, more earthy, a wellspring of love. Just the mother for a cub like this. Or two. Or maybe more. The possibilities made him dizzy, for he felt that Recognition was not going to fade quickly for them. He had always dreamed of having a cub of his own. He had never dared hope that his den might be swarming with them.

Hilltop opened her eyes and looked into his.

"Cub," he said to her, "I hope you're not the jealous type, because you're only the beginning of something beautiful."