Kahvi sat on her furs, her legs folded over each other in an odd display, yet somehow still seated. Her headdress was discarded along with her boots and leggings, dressed only in her knee-length dress and gloves. Her hair was limp, unbrushed save for the double pair of braids that escaped over her ears and touched just above her bosom. Her eyes, a shade of green that only the surrounding pines matched in the climax of spring, were dark and heavy with thought. Thought. Flaming buck scat. She hated thinking. This wasn't to say that the War Chieftess never thought anything out, but hers was a life of fire and ice, of the heat of battle and pleasure. She lived to live, and hated to dwell over anything more than once. It made her head hurt and made her stomach twist with worry. She rarely worried, even over battle. If they won, they won. If they lost, then they would fly to the Palace and wait for those left behind to win. Never any reason to worry over -that-. But this was different. Kahvi was faced with a choice: Race in with teeth and sword bared, risking life and love over the heat of battle, as she had -always- done.. or make sure none of her kin suffered and be reunited with the Palace of High Ones in a somewhat mild fashion. Kahvi's blood cried out for battle, to leap on to the spears of the trolls and hope she gutted them in return. To lose herself in the songs of blood and war, to become like the animals that her folk shared with this world and think of nothing but the present, of the danger on all sides and yet still coming out as victor. To live and let live. To fight for what they were, what was rightfully theirs, and claim the Palace as a trophy. But her heart sang softly of finally letting go and resting, of claiming the Palace of High Ones as the home of homes, the final haven the olders had always spoke of before giving their lives for its cause. Her heart whispered of the lovers that would never touch again after the battle, of the children that would cry for their mother's breast and be greeted by a stranger, of the warriors that would grin at her knowingly and salute her as their chief and die alone in the cold of the after-battle, crying out in pain and anguish as life was torn from their bleeding fingers. Kahvi's eyes closed and she curled into a ball, her knees tucked to her chest and her arms wrapped about them. A good roll in the furs would clear her head, but she didn't -want- to clear her head. She had to think about this, curse it, or she would slip and something would go wrong. Her jaw clenched, her eyebrows digging furrows into her forehead. Curse that Wolf Chief and -curse- that Bird Elf for bringing this upon her. Everything would have been fine if they had never come. Life would be the same, living as they always had, fighting for the purpose for until they died for it. Tears stung at her eyes as she remembered the last great battle, before the Black Hair and his rambling Rock-shaper had come. Kahvi knew, and accepted, that elves would always die, and like every Go-Back her dream was to join them, but pain.. pain was a different matter. It was one thing to die, but another to be put out of one's misery, to give up life willingly rather than feel life stripped from you slowly by pain's tearing teeth. She was not afraid to die, but like many, she was afraid to die painfully... ... They were losing. Curse the luck. Kahvi gritted her teeth and rammed the brunt of her spear against the troll's jaw, hearing the satisfying sound of its jaw shattering beneath the blow. As it doubled back, spitting teeth and blood, she glanced over her shoulder and growled softly, spitting out, "By the Great Ice Wall, Urda! Can you stitch that any faster?!" "I'm working as fast as I can, Chieftess!" the older Go-Back spat back, struggling to with bone needles and frayed thread to stitch together a splintered arm. Urda was not one for the battle, but with her talent with stitching and wounds, Kahvi had deemed her the 'battle healer'. She was the one that ran back and forth in the midst of battle, tending to those injured and bleeding, but well enough to continue fighting. "This cursed thread keeps breaking!" "So fix it!" Kahvi whirled back around to find the troll up and running again. Gritting her teeth, she jerked her spear forward and met the point with his gut. As his mustard eyes bugged out, she managed a sneering grin at him as he choked on his own blood and grasped at his gut. Careless to run in without guarding his middle. Trolls weren't mindless, but this one was stupid. "Die," she growled at him and rammed the spear in further. With a splutter that gave both saliva and green-red blood, his eyes rolled back into his head and his knees gave way. Irek, the Go-Back that Urda tended to, winced and flinched away, his fingers split and bleeding as they clenched at the red-stained stone floor. Her needle pierced his leg again and again, stitching up the gash that ran clean to the bone thanks to the troll's sword. A few inches higher and he would have probably lost a bit of him that he would have rather not. "Quit moving!" Urda snapped, moving to grip his leg in an iron-hard hand, holding him still. "The faster I finish, the sooner you can go and spit yourself on some mud-grubber's spear!" "Heh heh.." Irek grinned at her, then flinched away from her as the needle pierced his pain-sensitive leg again. "..or win this battle and see you in my furs, eh Urda?" That earned a smile that she quickly pushed away. "Just be quiet and let me do my work, you fool-headed elk-snuffer." Irek's grin widened and he winked at her, but his brown eyes flicked to their corners and widened as movement caught his attention. His jaw slackened and he jerked forward, earning a sputtered curse from Urda, and waved a hand, shrieking, "Chieftess! Look out!!" "Eh?" Kahvi turned to blink at him, then whipped her head around to see the sword arching down at her head. Growling a guttural curse of her own, she whirled around with sudden speed and shifted her weight, her foot coming up to slam into the troll's chest. With a grunt the troll stumbled back a step, blinking at her confused, yet the sword still came down. With a grin, Kahvi turned the full circle and flicked her spear up, deflecting the sword easily and knocking it from the troll's loosened grip. She then yanked her spear back down to bang it against his shoulder, the sharpened point slicing through the pimpled green flesh, crimson leaking out the sides. As the troll warrior fell, it was only then that she saw the real danger. Kahvi had barely time to duck as the bolt flew from the troll's crossbow, squealing past her ear. She rolled to the side and met Urda who had done the same. The two barely had time to share a glance when the squall of pain stole both of their attentions. Irek's eyes were squeezed shut, his fingers curling over the section of his chest, now punctured and giving up his life-blood to the stone ground, his gray-blue tunic staining crimson and his muscles going slack save for his hand and the clench of his jaw. The bolt had pierced near the center of his chest, slightly to the side where it could touch his lung. He gasped out loud and moaned a curse, then opened his eyes to stare at Urda and Kahvi, straining and frightened. Urda's voice was barely above a whisper. "O-Oh, Chieftess.. I.. I cannot repair this.." Kahvi nodded once, numbly, then moved forward, muttering to Urda something about watching her back and knelt beside Irek, her eyes dark. "Irek.." His eyes stared blankly at her. "K-Kahvi.. it hurts.." She bit her lip and forced back the want to turn her face from him. She reached out a hesitant hand to touch his shoulder, her fingers gingerly touching him, then squeezing him in some echo of reassurance. "Irek.." she repeated softly. "Can you go on?" He looked at her unthinkingly for a moment, then turned his face from her, sucking in breaths shallowly. "N-No." Kahvi cast a glance to Urda, who shrugged, then back to Irek, biting her lip. "Do you want me to..?" "Y-yes.." His voice was hoarse, barely audible above the roar of battle. "Do it, Chieftess. I'm not afraid to die." Kahvi tasted blood and knew that she had bitten through her lip, splitting it, but she neither took note of it nor cared. She had let Irek out of his pain, sent him to the Palace of High Ones, and hadn't forgiven herself since. She had never EVER been called upon to do something like that. It was one thing to kill a troll. It was another to have a loved one killed. But to kill one herself, even if it was only for mercy? That was something entirely by itself. Her eyes closed and she felt the trail of wetness cross her cheek, darting past the slope of her nose, and coming to rest at the corner of her lips, casting a salty taste in her mouth. Sniffing, she lifted a hand and brushed her cheek dry, but didn't lower her hand, instead just holding it to her eye, rubbing at the edges of it. Shameful to cry for a warrior that chose death instead of a few moments more of life that could only serve to distract two other warriors further. She danced out the grief long ago. Mourning was for the weak and easily distracted. She wasn't any of those. But sometimes she wondered if it was Irek she was crying for. She lifted her head from her knees and stared at the fur blankets that covered her 'bed'. It had been some hands of moons since then, but she had forgotten to count. She really hadn't thought of Irek - which was good - until now, when she was called upon as a Chieftess to do something she didn't particularly like - which was bad. Kahvi stood and paced the length of her furs, her feet sinking down among the blankets and weighting her strides, but she paid little notice, her hands clasped behind her back. Her brows were heavily furrowed on her face, small wrinkles appearing about them, and she paced for a handful of moments before her weight caught up with her and she tripped, falling into the soft, warm-smelling furs. She hur-rumphed softly, then folded her arms, resting her chin on them. She didn't feel like moving. The War Chieftess heard the soft brush of the folds of leather as the curtain was gently pushed aside, heard the quiet footfalls as he stepped in and softer brush as the folds of leather curtain fell back into place. She knew who it was without seeing him, without smelling him, without paying him any notice, yet she knew he was there and who he was. He stood in awkward silence until he cleared his throat, lifting a slender hand to his chin. "The Wolfriders.. and the Go-Backs.. they told me I would find you in here, War Chieftess." She studied the individual furs on the gray-flecked white bear-fur she lay upon. "Point?" He was startled by that, standing in another moment of awkward silence, then stepping forward again, the folds of his own cloak gently touching the floor. "You are faced with a difficult choice, aren't you?" "Yeah." She turned on her side, then on to her back, folding her arms behind her head and regarding the Lord of the Gliders mildly. "Point?" Voll's lips thinned and he moved forward another step until he could sit upon the furs if he wished. "I came here in hopes of assisting you in your making of choice, small one." He flinched as she cast him a Look at being called that. He steepled his fingers and straightened his stance. "I know very little of your people's ways, brave Kahvi, but I know that you.. relish throwing your lives into this unneeded danger." His gray eyes were faded, quiet, and new lines had etched themselves about his eyes. "I.. I implore you.. choose the path of least violence. We.. we have lost so many already.." A stray silver hair escaped from behind his crown of feathers, falling over the edge of his eye. "..we cannot lose more." Kahvi regarded him gravely, then sat up, her arms and hands resting on the furs, her legs folded about them. "You're really serious about this, aren't you," she stated flatly. Voll let out a soft sigh and nodded, moving to take a seat on the furs, glancing down at her. "I am. I.. I have already lost two in these past few moons.." His eyes closed. To think he thought that he and the others were forever. "..I cannot bear to lose more." It was then that Kahvi made her decision. With a smile that was not entirely bitter, she leaned forward, reaching to touch his arm with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You think too much, old bird," she said softly, adopting the red-haired Wolfrider fawn's nickname for the aged Glider. "No wonder you've gone so gray." Voll looked to her at the touch and smiled bitterly. "I am the eldest of my folk, brave Chieftess," he murmured. "Lord, Leader, and Elder.. it is a heavy title that I bear in my age." "Hmf." Kahvi moved to sit beside him, resting her chin in her hand. "We Go-Backs rarely grow old. Me, I'm not that old and I'm still older than most.." A shadow appeared in her brow. "..I've already forgotten how many turns I've counted in my life.. but Go-Backs.. we live strong and fast, and live young." Voll studied his hands. "At times, I think, I would wish the same upon my people," he confessed softly. "I.. have struggled to keep them safe.. sheltered.. from the dangers of the Outside. To let ourselves grow without its influence, without its pain, and I have failed.. we have grown old.. and unchanged." A hand reached and placed itself upon his, drawing his attention up to meet the pine green eyes of the War Chieftess. She smirked, but not unkindly, and tilted her head slightly, a single braid falling over her face to touch the pair on the opposite side. "Sometimes.. everyone needs a little change, old bird.. every once in a while." His return smile was awkward. "..Indeed." She lifted the hand from his to touch his cheek, brushing back to touch the feather headdress resting upon his brow. "I'm up for a little change, old bird. Are you?" For a moment, he thought of Winnowill. Her obsidian eyes smiling at him, the soft sound of her laughter. The days when their love was still young and he could still weave flowers in her hair. When he could still hold her, touch her, and smile at her without worry. Before she turned cold and bitterly tongued. His eyes shadowed, then cleared, smiling into Kahvi's eyes, reaching a slender hand to rest on her shoulder. "I am.." "A crossbow," Rayek repeated, arching a single eyebrow at the Go-Back that offered him the weapon. "You wish me to use.. a crossbow." Mekka blinked, her eyebrows coming together, then a scowl settled on her features as she withdrew the crossbow and lowered it, aiming it at the floor though she didn't ready to fire it. "Yeah. A crossbow. You got a problem with that, Black-Hair?" "Maybe." Rayek's arms lifted to cross over his chest, a slight frown breaking his stone-cold features in response to the Go-Back's expression, looking both annoyed and impatient. "I thought we were to use Lord Voll's suggestion of choosing the path of least violence. I will have no use for such a weapon." Mekka's scowl, if anything, darkened. "Feh!" She spat at the ground. "Chieftess Kahvi won't let us use the magic-mucking way of things! In the heat of battle, trolls on every side, -fighting- for what's ours by right! That's the way it should be done!" Her expression twisting, she glared at the Airwalker, meeting his golden gaze with her own darkening brown. "Not flitting about like cowardly birds, following the words of some stuck-up bird-elf instead of following our own rights in taking something that we've fought for since our great-great-great grandsire's and granddam's time!" Rayek's eyes narrow to thin golden slits, a yellow fire rising in the depths of his irises until his gaze seemed to spark. He leaned in close until his nose nearly touched his, matching her scowl with one of his own. "So you would risk blood and lives for a way that has -failed- since your 'great-great-great grandsire's and granddam's time' just so you can keep up your petty traditions? Fool! You're too stubborn and hard-headed to realize that magic is the High Ones gift to us! Not your close-minded ideas of war and killing and.. and -death!" "Who are you calling 'close-minded', Black-Hair?" Mekka's eyes widened, flinging the crossbow away in a single violent gesture, her fingers curling into fists as she thumped one to her chest and jabbed the other at the Airwalker's. "Dung-balls! Magic just fouls everything up! We use that and try to fly up over the mud-grubbers' heads, and they'll just pluck us from the sky like they did the Gliders' birds!" Rayek bristled. "You're a fool to think that simply because a mistake was made, it cannot be changed later.. for the better!" "Oh yeah?" Mekka bared her teeth, all but snarling at him in a gesture not unlike the Wolfriders when they first met him. "Well, I think you're a dung-headed, bear-poking, magic-mucking MEDDLER, Black-Hair!" She leaned in even closer until he could feel her breath on his face. "What do you say to -that-?" Rayek clenched his jaw, stifling the urge to jerk his head away, instead choosing to narrow his eyes further, if that was at all possible. "I say you're a foul-tongued, barbaric, close-minded fool-of-a-half-zwoot's-child!" Mekka's scowl suddenly shifted to a grin, her brown eyes glittering with sudden mischief. Her fingers sneaked to his waist, moving in -very- close to all but press against him, and whispered softly in his ear: "I like you, Airwalker. You've got a fiery temper there, well-suited for a warrior. If you ever want someone to match that fire and maybe make another fiery warrior for the War, my furs are always open." Rayek's eyes widened, his expression fading as his jaw went slack. He stared at the Go-Back maiden for a moment until she laughed, pulling away from him. Mekka gave him a knowing grin before winking, moving to retrieve her crossbow before finally jogging away. The tips of Rayek's ears started to turn a vibrant red as laughter started to trickle in from the surrounding parties that had observed the exchange. His jaw clenched, he muttered something foul before stalking away, kicking a sleeping fur out of his way. Treestump watched Rayek move off, his light blue eyes a'sparkle with amusement. Chuckling softly to himself, the elder returned his gaze to his axe, applying the sharp-stone to the flat of its blade. This was not the throwing axe he had carried with him for years. That one had been smaller, meant for throwing and, really, could have been handled by many of the Wolfriders besides himself, though they chose not to. This was one forged and made for a troll's grasp, a troll's strength, and a troll's use, but Treestump being who he was, he was able to handle it with more ease than many others. The Go-Back youth that had traded it for his throwing axe had been eager to do so. He had been too small to handle it and the throwing axe was more suited for his build and size. The figure beside him made a small, strangled noise and pulled at the furs, drawing his concerned attention. Clearbrook was having another nightmare, tears wetting the sleep-furs that had tangled about her, her cropped hair unbrushed and in need of washing. Treestump had finally been able to lull her to sleep, humming softly and stroking her hair until she had finally relaxed against him, giving him time to lay her down on the sleep-furs beside him. It had only been a short time, but she had already twisted and turned, getting tangled with in them. Treestump bit his lip and suppressed the urge to awaken her, instead sighing inwardly as he lay the axe and sharp-stone down, and hugged a knee to his chest, resting his chin upon it, watching her. He had always been fond for the silver-tressed maiden, even when Rillfisher had been alive, though his caring for her had strengthened since he had lost her. One-Eye and Clearbrook.. they had been the ones that comforted him the most, allowing him and Dewshine to tree with them until the grief passed. At one point, there had been talk about a three-mating that could evolve between the three elders, for more than once the burly elder spent a day or two with them. Those had been gentle times. But it didn't happen. One-Eye and Clearbrook loved each other fully and, though they were kind and loving in the joining, theirs was a love that he had lost with Rillfisher's and he eventually returned to his den alone. Dewshine still lived with him for a while, but she eventually left as well to pursue a love-mating with Scouter. Treestump bit back another sigh as he gazed at Clearbrook, crying softly and murmuring in her sleep. Ach, lass. You and One-Eye had been so kind to me then I lost Rillfisher.. Now I have to repay the favor, but I have naught a clue in the world as to how. Leetah pursed her lips as she watched Treestump and Clearbrook quietly, her jade green eyes dark and her eyebrows drawn together. The desert-born took quiet note of the pain lined in Clearbrook's features and the gentle, almost wistful look in Treestump's eyes. Faint expression curled the edges of her lips as she lifted a hand to touch her chin thoughtfully. Interesting. Could he actually be..? A pair of strong arms encircled her waist suddenly and held her tight. Leetah's eyes widened and she swallowed her gasp, instead jerking her head around to blink into the wolf-blue eyes of her life-mate. "Cutter!" "Leetah?" Cutter chuckled softly, amused, then smiled, leaning in slightly to nuzzle her neck. "I couldn't find you. Was looking for you." He paused a single heart-beat's moment. "Kahvi's come to a decision. She and Lord Voll spoke with me.. we're going to hold a Council once the Daystar disappears." Leetah blinked, then oh'ed softly, turning so that she could face the Wolf chief, though his grip didn't slighten. "That's not too long from now," she said after a moment. Cutter shook his head, nose wrinkling for a moment. "No, it isn't. Actually, I came to tell you that we should meet by the fire-pit soon." Leetah nodded and finally pulled away from him, instead choosing to intertwine her fingers with his, squeezing tightly. "Then we shall go now." Kahvi fidgeted as she stood by the fire. Her head-dress discarded and left in her furs, her brown strands of hair felt damp against the back of her neck. Her spear was clenched tightly in both hands as she stared into the fire, the red and yellow flames casting shadows across her face, giving her a strangely frightening look. She could feel Voll's eyes on her back, but choose not to turn and meet his gaze, instead mulling over the decision she had come to. Some wouldn't like it. In fact, a lot wouldn't like it. Some wanted to follow Voll's way and others preferred the heat of battle instead. There would be arguments. Kahvi mustered a half-grin. There were -always- arguments; this wouldn't be anything new. The thing that was new was the fact that, had things been different, she would have been one of those arguing against it. Someone cleared his throat, drawing her attention. Kahvi glanced up to see Cutter step forward and gave strength to her grin, straightening her stance so that she could look out over those that had gathered. With some amount of sheepishness, she noted that many were already here and that, in general, they all had been waiting for her. She cleared her throat, gathering their attention, and caught the movement through the corners of her eyes as Lord Voll rose to his full height. "Well. I'm sure you can all guess why we're here. If you can't, then the lot of you are even more dull-brained than I thought." The crack was weak at beside. There were a few half-hearted snickers, but it was mostly greeted with the silence it deserved. Kahvi smirked, more to herself than the rest of them, and shook her head, continuing. "I've thought and thought and thought about it, and, quite frankly, I'm sick of thinking about it when the answer's sitting there right on the tip of my nose. I've talked with Lord Voll on it, and I've talked with the Wolf Chief on it, and now I'm going to tell you what we decided on." She paused. Nothing. "We're going to go on the Bird-Elf's idea. We're going to fly high above where the trolls can't reach and get to the Palace before they have the brains to look up." The silence was tangible for one.. two.. three heart-beats. Then all hell broke loose. "What?!" Vaya, a Go-Back, leapt to her feet, her eyes widening as her fingers curled tight about her dagger. "You want us to.. what?!" Kureel sniffed. "Finally. At least one of your kind has brains enough to know that this sort of conflict is vulgar and unneeded." "Stuff it, feather-brain!" came Pike's snapped reply, despite himself. Leetah's expression could best be described as perplexed. "But.. shouldn't we try to avoid as much bloodshed as possible? If we fight.. elves will -die-!" "Dung!" The flute-player Vok scowled, his fingers threatened to crush and splinter the flute he held in his grasp. "I'd rather die with a troll's spear in my gut and my sword in his heart than use some fish-poking magic and flutter about like some cowardly sparrow!" Reevol's eyes sparked. "And who are -you- to call us 'cowardly', barbarian?" Krim swore softly and glared daggers at Kahvi, her fingers tight on her dagger as well. "Curse this. You're going soft on us, Chieftess. One roll in the furs and suddenly, everything that magic-mucking, troll-poking BIRD-elf says is what we do?" Behind her, another Go-Back, the dark-haired Skot voiced his agreement. "Aye," he growled lowly. "Dung to this, Chieftess. Dung to all of it." Something inside Kahvi snapped. "Look." A hand darted out and gathered a handful of Krim's tunic, jerking her forward. With strength that dared not betray her, and an anger that ensured it wouldn't, Kahvi slammed the straw-haired Go-Back to the floor and, green eyes flashing and lips curled back from her teeth, all but snarled at her: "You got a problem, Warrior?! I think you do, but I don't give a flying-bucket-of-rotten-troll-guts what you think! I'm your Chief, you hear me? Chief! You think you can question me, then you got another think coming!" Somehow, a dagger got into Kahvi's hand, and it was pressed to Krim's throat dangerously close. "Maybe you want to spend another eight-eights-and-eight years working your rear off for something that refuses to come, but I don't! We fight and fight and fight, but nothing happens! We're still fighting, curse it, and we'll keep on fighting until there's none of us left to fight! We have a way to get to something that belongs to -us-, got it? Us! And if we have to use bear-poking-world-fouling-gut-stinking-mucking-magic to do it, then we'll do it!" Krim gasped, her eyes wide and her face pale as a single thread of crimson started to show around Kahvi's knife. No one said anything, no one intervened. This was between a Chief and her tribe-mate. "C-Chieftess.." Kahvi's green eyes bored into hers. "You're barely off your mother's teat, Warrior. Don't even think you got brains enough to Challenge me." "A-Aye!" "Good." Straightening up, Kahvi released Krim, and turned on her heels, glaring at the rest of them. "Well? Anyone else going to decide and be smart tonight?" Lord Voll shared a glance with his Chosen. Pike averted his gaze, his grip adjusting on his spear. Skot made a small noise as he went to help Krim up, but said nothing. "Good." That said, Kahvi tossed her head, her hair falling back behind her instead of over her eyes. She planted her spear next to her, letting her other hand slip of its grip over it, the other clenching it with only a fractional amount of slight. "Then we'll attack at dawn." Tyldak awkwardly adjusted the protective cloak with his single finger-talons. With a grimace, he did as he occasionally did and wished that he still had fingers. They.. had their uses. Because of the added strength his wings gave, he was to fly two Warriors over the mountain instead of one, and one of them wasn't exactly small in size. Nor was he on the best of terms with him. Tyldak suppressed a frustrated sigh as he glanced in the direction of the axe-wielding Treestump as he spoke with the Wolf Chief, Cutter, and failed to notice the delicate figure as it approached until he felt her slender fingers on his arm. With a blink, he glanced down into a pair of enormous blue eyes and somehow summoned a smile. "Tyldak.." Dewshine's smile was warm, but quiet, her bright blue eyes flickering with reserve. "Please.. be careful." Her name sang in his heart. His heart leapt to his throat. Tyldak swallowed and looked away. "I will. They tore my wing once already and.. it was not a pleasant experience. I doubt the second time would be of much merit." Dewshine allowed a soft chuckle, but shook her head. "You know that is not what I meant." Tyldak tucked his chin to his chest, his sending touching her mind, singing a note of privacy. ** Lree, I.. ** "Almost time to go, Bird-Elf." Both heads darted up as the gruff voice interrupted. Treestump stood, his arms crossed over his chest, a suspicious expression frozen on his face. He cleared his throat once he was sure he had their attention and added, "Clearbrook's almost ready. Make sure -you're- ready." His eyes flicked to Dewshine and narrowed slightly before he turned, moving away, not so much as a farewell said. A muscle in Tyldak's cheek twitched and he folded his wings, finger-talons crossing and touching his collar-bone. ** He still does not care much for me, ** he commented dryly. Dewshine's gaze lingered after her father, then shifted to Tyldak, a sad smile on her face. "Would you, were you in his place?" she queried softly, then gave him no time to reply as she, too, turned his back on him. ** Please be careful, Tyldak. Scouter is the father of the cub, but -you- are his blood. ** "You attached all right, lass?" "Mm-hmm. Stop worrying about me." "Will you two please stop chattering? The others are ready to go." "Close it, Bird-Elf, or I'll close it for you!" "Treestump.." "Hmf!" Theirs was not the most elegant of lift-offs, but somehow the Chosen Seven, Rayek, and Tyldak lifted up into the air. Tyldak's wings strained to keep aloft as he bore the extra weight of two others, and he found himself calling on magic he had not had to in years to keep gliding. Using it felt bitter, rusty, like a machine meant to work after being left to rot for years on end, but he gritted his teeth and said nothing. No doubt the fur-faced elder would make some irritable remark about it. Nearby, Rayek struggled to keep pace with the Chosen and Tyldak. When he had first adopted the skill, he had been so proud! Now he found himself straining to keep up with those that made his use of it seem like a shallow imitation. Inwardly, he was actually glad that it was Ekuar's slight weight that he carried rather than someone else's. Kureel, leader of the Chosen, carried Cutter, the Wolf Chief. Yeyeen carried Pike and Reevol carried Strongbow. Aroree, of course, held her dear Skywise in her arms. The rest of the Chosen bore Go-Backs. Except for a few, noticeably Yeyeen, whose expression was rather detached and forlorn, the Chosen looked irritated with having to bear the smaller elves. Lord Voll, though, held a light expression, his arms firm and supporting as they carried the War Chieftess, Kahvi, whose only reaction was to try and -not- look down. At first, it seemed as if it -would- be as calm and uneventful a journey as first thought. Cutter gritted his teeth as his fear of heights leapt and danced in his guts, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach down. Somehow he doubted that Kureel's reaction would be very pleasant if he spilled last night's meal all over him. No one saw the handful of trolls that suddenly appeared on the edge of the mountain, scattering out of a hidden exit, and squinting up towards the elves high above. No one saw their archers as they readied their crossbow and took careful aim. No one saw the bolts as they were fired until it was too late. The sky suddenly erupted into chaos as a bolt hit Yeyeen and embedded deep into her shin. Pike squalled and clung to her as her grip on him gave way, the female Chosen crumpling midair. Kureel swore aloud and glided intricate paths through the air, paying little heed to the Wolf Chief's protests as he glanced to Lord Voll. High Ones, if his Lord was harmed..! But Voll was fine, despite having to deal with a shouting Kahvi, intent on being dropped down into the middle of them and spilling the lot of their troll-guts to the snowy ground while the others continued on. No one looked to Tyldak and the two elders he bore until it was too late. The largest of the targets, two bolts found him, one tearing through the delicate fabric of his wing, the other driving itself into his shoulder, missing Treestump and Clearbrook by inches. He let out a soft, strangled cry before he quite simply started to drop, the two elders clinging to him for their very lives, squeezing their eyes shut as the ground rushed up to greet them. Back in the Lodge, Dewshine cradled Suntop in her lap, a small smile on her lips as she soothed him. "Don't worry. Cutter will be back soon and then we'll all get to be back in the Palace.. won't that be nice?" Suntop sniffled and rubbed the back of his hand against his nose. "I.. guess.." he mumbled unhappily. The blue-eyed life-bearer laughed and tousled his butter-yellow mane affectionately. "I -know- he will, cub! Just wait, he'll be back, I.. what?" She stopped, her head jerking up as her eyes widened. The blood slowly drained from her face and, regardless of Suntop, rose to her feet. Her voice was hoarse. "Oh no. Oh, please, no." Scouter was at her side in a moment's time, his hands reaching for her shoulders. "Love-mate?" Dewshine's head slowly turned to gaze at him blankly. Numbly, she whispered, "Tyldak?" Scouter blinked. "Dewshine..?" Dewshine slowly lifted her hands, eyes lowering to stare at them. They began to shake noticeably, then her knees gave way as she crumpled, clutching at the floor. "Oh.. Oh.. Oh.." "Dewshine?" Slowly, she lifted her hands to her face and she started to shake uncontrollably. "Tyldak? Oh no.. Tyldak.. C-Clearbrook.. Father! Father! Oh, no! Father!" To be continued.