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 Redlance: The past never stays in the past - Part One

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Wiseshaman

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PostSubject: Redlance: The past never stays in the past - Part One   Fri Jul 28, 2017 9:20 pm

So, after a long wait, here is the next part of our treeshaper's Saga’s. I won't set out my usual rules and such this time. I'm pretty sure everyone understands this an AU, the characters won't be acting as usual, and dare I say some will not be here at all. I hope you all enjoy, but if you don't, I more than understand.

Now, please keep all hands and arms inside the ride at all times. It's time to let our treeshaper do what he does best.


Redlance: The past never stays in the past - Part One

‘The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future’ – Oscar Wilde

The white cold fell in a slow, and seemingly never-ending pace, as if this Death Season meant to cover and bury the whole of the Holt in a solid white wrapping, much like preserver silk he thought with a smile.  Out of these last five turns of the seasons at Father Tree, this Death Season was by far the coldest of all Redlance thought as he headed out this evening, and maybe the coldest of all he had experienced in his long life.  The Death Season was always harsh on the tribe, what with the loss of game due to the white cold making any kill precious and every root he found a necessity to stave off starvation, but here at Father Tree, this one felt worse than any other the Wolfriders had seen.  The Dark Holt, the Forbidden Grove, and even the woods they roamed waiting for his beloved healer, Suntop and Ember to return, all had Death Seasons, but not as cold as here the treeshaper noted.  The white cold here at Father Tree was deeper, almost to his knee now, what with his small stature, and as he walked the growing mass of white cold surrounded him in every direction.  Redlance moved along with his head bowed, crunching and shuffling with a high step, heading in a direction he didn’t need to look up to know where he was going or where he would end up.  He knew this path too well and he found himself walking it often, on those nights when he needed to think, when he needed their guidance.  Only this night wasn’t one of those times where he sought their council.

Then, before he knew it, Redlance was there where the unseen path ended.  He looked up as the large flakes of white cold glistened in his hair, like little stars from the night sky above.  The treeshaper shivered as he saw the small opening in the woods, not big enough to call a clearing or even close to being a dell.  It was just a break in the trees, a small separation where a circle had formed around a single conifer, an opening just big enough to make one think this tree was special, just like Father Tree.  

It used to be the treeshaper thought as he approached slowly, if it were their tree.

The tree was covered in the white cold.  Its branches were bent and weighted down from the amount of the falling flakes.  Redlance reached out and gently brushed away a pile covering a small branch, enough to reach the green needles there, caressing them with a soft touch.  There was no immediate connection, no ‘talking’ as there was with his trees during the Green Growing Season, but this was not something that scared the treeshaper.  No, he knew his friend here was only asleep, something all his trees in the Holt did once the Death Season was among them.  Redlance only brushed more of the white cold away as his nose picked up a familiar scent, just a moment before he heard his voice.

“I thought you were going to get stones to warm.”

The treeshaper turned to see his chief standing just an arm’s length away with a concerned look.  Redlance shook his head sending the white cold in his red hair falling as he smiled and spoke low.  “I was, then I found myself here, being drawn by something.”

Cutter smiled with Redlance, walking up to his treeshaper, knowing well what this spot was and why it drew Redlance here, what is used to be before the humans burnt the forest down so long, long ago.  He gave his head a shake to rid his blond mane of the growing white cold there as he stopped.  All Wolfriders could feel the presence of their families at Father Tree, of sires and grandsires and mothers and grandmothers and loved ones, the grand oak was more than just a home to the tribe.  Father Tree was the Wolfriders ‘Palace’, a single living connection to all the spirits of their beloved dead who stayed and watched the tribe grow and thrive from the other world.  The spirits of those stolen too young, and those who had lived till called to cross, watched over them, to never lose touch with their loved ones.  Cutter had seen his sire and mother, long since taken by Madcoil, come to him in their shimmering spirits before entering Father Tree the night Redlance woke the grand oak.  He had talked with them both so much since that night, long silent conversations that helped guide him and his tribe, but it wasn’t till almost a full turn of the moon that he realized he hadn’t seen one mated pair return to Father Tree that night.

He hadn’t seen the sire and mother of Redlance, his beloved treeshaper.  He had seen all the others, old Wolfriders he knew by sight and those he had never seen before that night, but he did not see Talltree or Starshower.  When he asked his treeshaper later why that was, Redlance only smiled sadly and said because they were somewhere else.  The wolfchief didn’t understand what that meant till he learned of this spot, what it was, and then he understood with simple clarity.  Cutter stopped by the treeshaper’s side and whispered, “This tree, it’s too young to be the one you put their bones in so long ago?”

Redlance shook his head again, “No, that one was lost in the fire when the humans tried to kill us. This one, it’s the grand-cub of the grand-cub of that tree, I think.”

The wolf chief chuckled, and before Cutter could ask why his treeshaper had come to talk with his sire and mother, another familiar voice caught him off guard.  It wasn’t a sound he liked at all, it grated on him actually, but the wolf chief knew who it belonged to and he knew the threat wasn’t physical from this one.  It was the other ‘Way’ of Atok that Cutter was suspicious of. He turned to see the old one squatting by a tree just a few steps away, his old rags he wore and sunken eyes the same as the day Cutter saw them on the trail coming to Father Tree five seasons ago.

“What are you doing out tonight old one, in this cold?”  Cutter asked with squinted eyes.  

It wasn’t long after the night his family had fallen into the stream that the old one had finally come to them, not just him and Redlance, but to the whole tribe. There was a large bear in the Holt, diseased and hurt, which he had come to warn them of, and in doing so to let them know he was certainly more than just an old human in rags. What Cutter learned that night, what he was shown, taught the wolf chief that New Moon was useless against Atok of the Forest.  The old one here was beyond any weapon they possessed, as Redlance had guessed, which wasn’t quite as worrisome as learning Atok had been watching them for as long as there had been a Goodtree’s Rest, the very one burned by the humans.  Cutter didn’t like being stalked like prey, but he had come to grudgingly accept it like the others in the tribe, the old one had been helpful in warning them of unforeseen dangers, like the bear that night, in the Holt on occasion.  Still, having something that left no trace as it passed watching you did not sit well with Cutter, not at all.

Atok shook his body, like a wolf shaking its furs, sending the white cold flying before answering in the voice Cutter didn’t like.  “I came to see what drew our Red Hair to this spot on a night like this?”

“It wasn’t to talk with my sire and mother,” Redlance suddenly whispered, drawing Cutter’s attention away from Atok, as the tree he touched woke up.  It gave a great shake sending white cold falling in chunks, showering the three and blinding the elves both for a moment.  The treeshaper and wolf chief spit out the white cold laughing, that was till Redlance stopped just as quickly as he started and began to slide into the branches of the tree.  “There’s a flower in here.”

“A flower, but how is it alive with the Death Season on us like this?”  Cutter asked quickly, moving the branches to see too.  He watched as Redlance carefully removed the bloom from a single vine growing up and along the trunk of the tree, the color of the flower as vibrant as the dawn of the day star.  The petals were longer than an elf’s finger, nine in all, with a small brown circle from which all grew from.  

The treeshaper slowly pulled it out form its protected spot shaking his head.  “I don’t know my chief, but it’s beautiful, and I think we’ve have seen it before.”

“Yes, we have,” Cutter replied with a low voice as his memory reached back through the fog of his long life, back to a night during the Green Growing Season in another Holt, when he had seen the flower before.  “So why is it back now, here?”

Redlance looked up from where he stood ready to ask Atok why the flower had come back, how it had come back in the middle of the Death Season with the white cold covering everything.  Only the old one wasn’t there, the spot where he had been squatting was vacant now, as if Atok had never been there at all.  The treeshaper saw his chief look over at the spot then back to him with a frustrated look before speaking quickly.  “I hate it when he does that, slips off, leaving me feeling as thick as a tree’s bole.”

“I don’t like it when he sneaks up on me,” Redlance chuckled protecting the flower from the wind and white cold by cradling it close to his thick tunic.  “What do we tell the others why we’ve been gone so long?”

“The flower, we came out here to check on the tree where you put the bones of your sire and mother and found the flower.”  Cutter answered quickly.

“And Atok, my guess is we tell the family we found him?”

“He found us, I like that better because it’s true, now let’s get back with those stones before we freeze to death.”  The wolf chief ordered with a chuckle, and both moved out of the small circle leaving the tree alone to catch the falling white cold on its branches once again.

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G0lden

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PostSubject: Re: Redlance: The past never stays in the past - Part One   Sat Jul 29, 2017 12:46 am

Nice start. Now what is so special about that flower and where have they seen it before

Can't wait to see what happens next.

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