October 2015 Grab Bag.

This month's grab bag only contains 4 elements.

A Frightful/Scary Event
Inverted
love interest
Something Odd


EDIT: Don't know how I missed your submission of an element! Edited and now included! Thank you!

I suggested a fourth element yesterday:

Something Odd

Inspired by your and TrollHammer's talk about odd numbers.

A Frightful/Scary Event
Inverted
love interest
Something Odd

As the others arrived to the cave, all sharing in their joy, Stream remained leaning against the floor of the cave; both because she was exhausted, but also for another reason. She stared at her hands. It was gone. She could feel it. Her magic to heal had burned itself out trying to save this human child.

And yet, she would have it no other way.

She listened to everyone’s joy and laughter.

She would give up her powers.

She would even give up her life.

To hear the joy and laughter she heard in the cave.

Buren gazed down at the wound that had once been in his abdomen. He tried to sit up and winced. Stream smiled and looked at Shadow. “Tell him that though he is healed, his body will still take time to mend itself.”

Shadow nodded, “Parest fartune de’nama.”

The boy looked strangely at Shadow. “Pala deliase foortunga?”

Shadow nodded and looked back at Stream. “So it would seem the language he speaks is slightly different than the human tongue I know. Many words are the same, but there appears to be some differences. He understands what I said. He’s surprised I can speak as much of their tongue as I am able to.”

Shadow could not help but smile, as he heard Snowspring still cooing in her mother’s embrace. “Bare’akal denise?” Shadow asked if he needed an escort back to his tribe.

“Bare’asin defeen toonada,” Buren retorted.

“What did he say?” Stream asked, questioning why the boy’s look had gone from a smile to a stern, firm look.

“He says he does not want to go back to his people,” Shadow said. “They have cast him out.”

“But his father clearly must want him back,” Stream said. “What father could throw away their son like rotten meat?”

Shadow turned to the boy, “Parential defian sureen?”

Buren shook his head and gestured wildly with his arms, “Para foon pak tenial steph oknee.”

Shadow looked at Stream. “Their witch-woman has turned his father against him. His father is bound to this witch-woman’s words.”

“Palla fortoon denal?” Shadow asked.

The boy looked at Stream, then back at Shadow and nodded emphatically.

“What did you ask him?” Stream asked.

“If he wanted to stay with us then,” Shadow smiled. “We would be his tribe.”

Vineweaver stepped in. “You can’t be serious. A human in our tribe?”

Shadow smiled. “If we’re to, one day, make peace with them – we must be willing to embrace them. This boy has no home. This boy saved my cub. This boy deserves to be with us.”

Vineweaver thought he had more of an argument; but after Shadow’s words, he found his argument crumbled like a fallen leaf.

Spearclaw stood next to Shadow. “I agree with Shadow. Now what do we do about the boy’s tribe who has made our den their home?”

“We drive them out,” Shadow said firmly.

“How?” Foxhair asked, holding her child closely; the idea of war too fresh in her mind.

“They took us by surprise when they came the first time,” Shadow replied. “Now it is our turn. And we will call on old friends to help us.”


As the sun set in the distance, and the snow continued to fall, the clouds covered the moon and stars, bringing darkness across the land. A distant chill blew through the wind, and Sherala approached Balgar, “Something is amiss! I feel it in my bones,” she growled. She looked up at the sky, “Kuraul can not see us! He can not protect us!”

Balgar laughed, “Old woman, while I do appreciate your wisdom, and though you gave your eyes, and can still see beyond our own eyes, there is nothing – nothing! – in this land to be afraid of! We have conquered demons!”

“Something is very wrong,” Sherala repeated.

Almost as if on queue, a wolf’s howl chanted through the dark skies. Shortly after, another wolf’s howl. Followed by another, then another, then another, until the entire night seemed full of the song of the wolves. Then other howls joined in; sounding much like the wolves, but the pitch and tone was different. More voices joined in the song.

“The demons!” Sherala hissed. “I told you! They know that Kuraul can not see us!”

As if melting from the very shadows, like his name sake, Shadow stood, perched on a stone, his weapon in hand. Several others came to stand next to him. Around the human encampment, eyes glistened menacingly, though there was no light; fangs, like tiny daggers appeared in the shadows.

“<You have killed my people,>” Shadow spoke the best he could in their tongue. “<Murdered men, women, and even children. Your father can not see you,>” Shadow improvised, having over heard the Shaman speak. “<Your father can not protect you. And if you do not leave these lands, me, my kind, and our demon wolves will bleed you, and soak the land in your blood, until the very river you and your men came sailing from, bleeds a deep red.>” (1)

One of Balgar’s men, grabbed his sword and charged, but only made it three feet, before three arrows filled his chest and he collapsed to the ground, bleeding.

“<Are there more of you who wish to fall before us? Your father will not witness the shame of your death, dying before us,>” Shadow growled.

Sherala pleaded with Balgar, “We must turn back. We must! The demons have somehow turned Kuraul’s gaze from us! Without his gaze, he will not be able to empower us!”

For a brief moment, Balgar thought of his son, Buren. He thought of running to the cave to fetch his son. As if reading his mind, Shadow lied, “<Your son is dead. I killed him myself. The blood of a chief’s son, on my blade, is why your father turns away from you. He feels shame. Shame that you murder the defenseless. Shame that you turn on your own. Forsake your own. Your father is ashamed. Just as you were ashamed of your son, Human-Chief. Now go. And never come back, for the only thing that will ever be waiting for you here is death.>”

Shadow knew he had to lie; or else Balgar might one day seek to return and recover his son.

Balgar blew the horn and summon his men. The wolves forced the men into a narrow passage, back to back, stumbling over one another, as they made their way back to the ship. Shadow watched as the men pushed their ship into the river’s current, and began to row back from which they came.

Foxhair stood next to Shadow, holding their child. “Do you think they will come back?”

“If they do,” Shadow replied, as he turned and faced Foxhair. “We will be ready for them. We will never be surprised again.”

Shadow watched Buren stood on the shore and inverted the flag that the ships each bore, on the shoreline. “<What does that mean?>” Shadow asked in the human tongue.

“<That they came and found great evil,>” Buren explained. “<It’s a warning to others that this area should be avoided.>” Buren turned around and ran back with the others, looking until he found Stream. He slipped his fingers into hers, and Stream gasped; but did not pull away. Her cheeks flushed a deep red.

Foxhair looked at Shadow. “It would seem that he has taken a liking to the one who saved his life.”

“Indeed,” Shadow smiled.


1. Because Elves do not truly understand the concept of a “god”, Shadow interprets “Kuraul” to be the human’s version of the “High Ones.”

The main humans:

Balgar - father
Sherala - shaman
Kuraul – the human god
Buren – son


REGULAR SURVIVING STONE HOWL:

Shadow (Male Soul Name: Tyru) – Black Hair, Tanned, Green Eyes (Elder brother to Purespring, Chief)
Foxhair (Female Soul Name: Loun) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Hunter)
Snowspring (Female, Soul Name: Tylo – Black Hair, Green Eyes) - Infant. Daughter of Shadow and Foxhair.

Spearclaw (Male, Soul name: Lren) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Scout)
Vineweaver (Male Soul Name: Reyk) – Auburn Hair, Blue Eyes (Tree shaper, Soul Mate of Stillbreeze,
Plant Shaper)
Stillbreeze (Female Soul Name: Hewl) – Brown Hair, Brown Eyes (Soul Mate of Vineweaver, Tanner)
Echo (Male Soul Name: Ayav) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver, Magic)
Windfetcher (Female Soul Name: Burm) – Auburn Hair, Brown Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver,
Next Potential Chief… If She Has Her Way!)
Stream (Female Soul Name: Vree) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Healer)
Snowcloud (Female, Soul Name: Mill) – White Hair, Green Eyes (based off white lions)

The Call

Listen
now, a call rings out.
Fills the air with promise.

Lifemate, should we follow it and find some peace at last?

Yes.
Let us go where it may lead,
whatever there may come.

Off they went,
those lifemates brave,
with promise in their hearts.
They found it strange,
and very odd,
to be alone no more.
To know that others of their kind,
were reaching out to them.

Danger stalked their every step,
as if to stop their path.
Bravely,
still, they carried on;
though the cost was high.

One dark night they stopped to rest,
and heard a scary noise.
All thoughts of rest were quickly gone;
fast to their feet they sprang.
Never caring to look back,
they fled in wild terror.
Their journey felt like wasted time;
was it worth it still?

Hear our thoughts,
you travellers.
Know we speak the truth.
Here you will find rest at last;
your fears will turn to hope.

Their strength renewed they reached their goal,
their bodies healed from hurt.
Still the dangers that they faced
mean they have to sleep;
in timeless slumber,
free from harm.
To awake one day,
who knows?

Humans were amusing.  The dreams of mortals were hot and vibrant with the fragile hopes of fleeting things. Gliders had no reason to ponder such things as old age, or the immediacy of progeny, love, fighting, or any other of a dozen things that crowded every thought of the mortal mind.  The closest thing Gliders felt to anything a Human felt was a sense of the need for protection, and even this feeling was muted by thick stone walls and doors that were impenetrable by the dangers of the outer world.

But it was dull.  Painfully dull, even for Hoykar of the Chosen Eight, who could leave Blue Mountain and explore, or hunt, or any of the other various things he could do from high above on his mount.  Countless ages had worn any thrill there might be from these activities, and the unending sameness of existence wore heavily on the Glider's sanity.  Some had found solace in focusing on a job to the exclusion of all else, became something new that never knew the passage of time.  This was one of the few things the Chosen Eight were not free to pursue. It took eight hunters to feed the others-no more, no less, and risking this balance was not to be considered.

For Hoykar, and others, this meant that one had to actively think about things at all times… and time was unending for the immortal.  He felt as though it did not matter whether he stared at a blank wall or rode his mount, there was no thrill, no reason to feel engaged.  It was rumored that if you blind and deafen a creature, and suspend them in the air unable to touch anything, they will quickly go mad… What was to keep the Chosen Eight from doing the same?

But Winnowil had devised a method by which the Gliders could remain healthy and happy, by feasting off of the dreams of humans.  Through these simple, brutish, short-lived mortals, eternity became bearable.

Quite often, all those of Blue Mountain who were not otherwise occupied would gather around their human pets as they slept, for many could feast as well as one, but of late Winnowil was seen little, and the other seven were out gathering foodstuffs for winter.  Hoykar found himself alone and felt the oppressive weight of all his years as he wandered the pathways of Blue Mountain, and presently he wandered into the pet-humans' sleeping nest.

There was a newcomer among them: an unusually young male, slender compared to his brethren in the village below.  Hoykar mused at the situation: The humans were nearly worthless tools to a degree, merely prey animals to be used and controlled, yet the Chosen Eight were becoming increasingly dependant on them.  The humans had their own standards by which others were deemed "useful"-the strong, the clever, those that showed usefulness as hunters, gatherers, makers, or otherwise useful as breeders of more of the same.  Hoykar was certain that his man would fit into none of these categories, though there was no blemish or deformity on him.  He was roughly the same build as a stocky Elf, which meant that, for a human, he would be weak.  If he were to be shown to be clumbsy as well, Hoykar would feel that his feelings were correct: the humans discarded their own misfits and those useless to them as offerings to the Gliders.  

It was indeed very amusing to think that the undesirables of the undesirables would have any use here, but Hoykar found himself longing to feast on this one's dreams.  The old and the sick, the broken, the deranged… they did not dream of much excitement, usually only recounting the memories of old.  The young, on the other hand, still had intangible wants, savory dreams full of lust for life; of proving one's self, of gaining mates and status.  Dreams of wonders!

Hoykar nearly shuddered as he lowered himself onto the bench next to the sleeping five fingered creature, anticipating the vibrant sensations reverberating in its skull.  For as stupid, stubborn, and superstitious as they were, humans could dream like no other, and today, he would enjoy this sustenance alone, able to revel in it without having to worry about his actions.  He would get quite involved, letting go of his body's reactions the others found odd and focus on the moment!

He prepared himself, getting comfortable on the stone bench, propping himself up so he wouldn't have to waste mind-power on holding himself up.  A tendril of his mind crept out: a mental sniff to tell if, indeed, this human was asleep and dreaming.  As he had been taught, he mentally stroked the nerves of a gland in the center of the human's head to sustain the effects of deep sleep, where vivid dreams would occur.  He lacked the gift Winnowil had, where she could directly affect glands, change them so the creature would never wake up without help, or completely reform the brain to whatever she wished…. But he could dance along the nerves in an ever so slight way, tickling them to the point the human would at least keep dreaming for longer than normal.

The appropriate measures taken, he reached out hungrily with his mind, ravenously devouring the human's dreams without any more hesitation.

***

He snuck a sniff as she walked by, searching for any sign she had the slightest interest in him, and somehow she knew he had.  Feay had not been allowed to hunt long, and had no other way to make an impression on the object of his attention.  Her name was Osar, and they had grown up together.  She turned to him and looked into his eyes before taking his hand to lead him to her hide-wrapped sleep-space. He felt as though he floated on his way there, his mind full of joy at this sudden and desired attention.

She drew him into the darkness of the hut, and pulled him to herself.  He quivered as she kissed his face passionately, and as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to himself, he returned the affection with the same intensity. His body flushed with the attention he had so longed to receive, and he felt like would melt like the white-cold melted in the time of newgreen.

The field where they lay was as bright and colorful as could be, with the rain-clouds drifting off behind Blue Mountain. The grass was new and soft, and just tall enough to touch his sides without blocking his view of everything around him. She laid on top of him, and continued to kiss him as though he was the only thing in her life. Her lips tugged at his, even as her body pressed him against the ground.  The weight became noticeable, and her kisses became more forceful, driving him into the field with increasing urgency.  The storm clouds were back, now, and the sun was gone, leaving him cold and wet as she started to devour his face….

***

Hoykar pulled himself back from the human, reeling from the intense nightmare that had wracked his mental senses.  Nightmares were uncommon, but happened from time to time, so it was nothing new to him. But this was so vivid!  He found himself brushing the back of his hand against his lips to reassure himself they were still there before recomposing himself. The human's ("Feay", he reminded himself) mild sleep-thrashing from the nightmare was passing, and Hoykar decided to try again. The last dream had been so delicious up until the end; perhaps the next one would be even better!

He sighed deeply to relieve the tension left over from the last dream, and plunged in again, seeking to find the vibrancy of life his own existence lacked….

***

He would return to the village empty handed again.  How could game be so plentiful, yet dodge every spear-throw and rock?  There was no denying it: he had no skill at hunting. Perhaps he would try fishing.

…but as his net failed once more to pull a fish from the water, disappointment settled on him again.  He even tried flipping the net over to try the other side, quietly danced the dance of good fortune in hunting, and even tried closing his eyes, hoping the Bird Spirits would bless him, but yet another time, the net remained empty.  A gorgeous fish poked its head out of the water and laughed at him.  Even as he swung the net at the fish, it seemed to be just out of reach, no matter how far he strained.  He finally started to wade out into the pond after the fish, who didn't seem to move, but was never within range of his net. It continued laughing until Feay's toe caught on something underwater and he stumbled, drenching himself. The fish then flipped backwards and swam away.

Soaking wet, he entered the village a failure.  Unable to sneak in without being seen, the tribe's younger Seer was quite obviously disappointed with him.  Words would be said at the meeting tonight.  The darkness was only brightened by the fire as the elder Seer began to ramble on about the Bird Spirits and how they needed another tribute: a villager would be honored and selected to go to live with them.  He left this up to his apprentice, and Feay was selected, to his surprise and the astonishment of the rest of the tribe.

He was whisked away to be prepared in a ceremonial robe, and it was mid-day, time for him to be presented to the Bird Spirits.  Music played, the mountain opened up, and Feay was pushed into the gaping maw of the mountain before he could even have a chance to say goodbye. The opening seemed hungry, slick with drool in anticipation for the snack it would consume.

He found himself inside, alone, scared, and in the dark. He hadn't even dried off from the pond, and his feet made wet sounds on the slick floor, which began to tilt. He fell and slid down the mountain's gullet head first, rows of stone protrusions like teeth closing in on him as though to eat him. Down he fell in to darker and darker pathways seemingly forever, but he finally dropped out onto a platform, the light of the bonfire lighting the area. A pair of glinting eyes approached him. They were far too high and too big already, but still they came closer… until the light of the fire illuminated a face around the eyes, looming over him, impossibly bigger than him. The younger Seer's face hung above him with an evil smile, and a pair of hands started reaching for him. Fingers started tearing at his stomach in an attempt to turn him inside out….

***

Hoykar found himself on the floor, bruised from thrashing around in his attempt to flee the hands off the Seer.  His heart raced and his body shook from the shock and horror he felt within the mind of the human.  The dreadful thoughts that existed within that mind!

He scrambled to compose himself, control his breathing, and left the human's sleeping chambers.  He never looked back to see if the human was fighting his dreams, waking up, or flat out died from his own fears. He just left as quickly as he could.

Three levels up he passed the rest of the Chosen Eight, back from the hunt.  They urged him to come with them down to the sleeping quarters as there was a fresh human that had just come in today.  Winnowil was among them, and added that she could ensure a nice, vivid experience for them… Hoykar complained about being tired himself, and excused himself.

But later, in his own sleeping chambers, he had to wonder: did he imagine that look he thought he had seen from Winnowil as she made her comment?  Just how far did her abilities reach?

Hoykar didn't sleep.

@Tymber: Wow, you sure pulled back on the reins with that one! Blew away the ongoing major conflict (Humans) and left your tribe open for... whatever! Looking forward to seeing what you have in store for them.

@Redhead Ember: I had to read your entry several times and it still didnt click until rereading #11. Somehow I had forgotten about those two in wrapstuff. Now it all makes sense. Well done!

TrollHammer wrote:

But it was dull.  Painfully dull, even for Hoykar of the Chosen Eight, who could leave Blue Mountain and explore, or hunt, or any of the other various things he could do from high above on his mount.

Is that one of the real Chosen Eight from ElfQuest or one of your creation? (I can't remember all their names!)

TrollHammer wrote:

For Hoykar, and others, this meant that one had to actively think about things at all times… and time was unending for the immortal.  He felt as though it did not matter whether he stared at a blank wall or rode his mount, there was no thrill, no reason to feel engaged.  It was rumored that if you blind and deafen a creature, and suspend them in the air unable to touch anything, they will quickly go mad… What was to keep the Chosen Eight from doing the same?

Like their souls are just as caged as the Elves in the mountain!

-Snip all the text.

Dude. I really liked this story. But it's VERY different than when you write a good ol' fashioned troll story. You seem way more comfortable with the trolls; this story was much more a thinker story! (Not that either is bad - it's amazing that you can write both sides with such clarity!) The one thing I will say with this story - NOTHING felt forced. I have no idea what the five elements are - because nothing seemed like it was forced to fit with the story!

TrollHammer wrote:

@Tymber: Wow, you sure pulled back on the reins with that one! Blew away the ongoing major conflict (Humans) and left your tribe open for... whatever!  Looking forward to seeing what you have in store for them.

Thank you, sir. The major influence to my story this month, was the blood moon that happened. It made me think, "How would a shaman react to a bloodmoon?" So originally, I was going to make it a blood moon in the story; and that was what was going to make the Shaman worry. I have no idea what made me change it to just the moon being blocked out; I don't know if I was going to mention the blood moon in the story, but in my haste of writing whatever came to my brain, forgot to mention it...

But yeah, the Viking humans had done what I wanted; "reset" the elves, so that I kept only the ones I wanted (and remembered, after so long of not writing any Stonehowl stories). Shadow was "in a dark place" more than long enough. So it seemed like the perfect way to exit the humans, restore the elves back to their home, and give them a brand new fresh start, to see what the next few months worth of story elements leads them...

Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting.

Tymber wrote:

TrollHammer wrote:

But it was dull.  Painfully dull, even for Hoykar of the Chosen Eight, who could leave Blue Mountain and explore, or hunt, or any of the other various things he could do from high above on his mount.

Is that one of the real Chosen Eight from ElfQuest or one of your creation? (I can't remember all their names!)

TrollHammer wrote:

For Hoykar, and others, this meant that one had to actively think about things at all times… and time was unending for the immortal.  He felt as though it did not matter whether he stared at a blank wall or rode his mount, there was no thrill, no reason to feel engaged.  It was rumored that if you blind and deafen a creature, and suspend them in the air unable to touch anything, they will quickly go mad… What was to keep the Chosen Eight from doing the same?

Like their souls are just as caged as the Elves in the mountain!

-Snip all the text.

Dude. I really liked this story. But it's VERY different than when you write a good ol' fashioned troll story. You seem way more comfortable with the trolls; this story was much more a thinker story! (Not that either is bad - it's amazing that you can write both sides with such clarity!) The one thing I will say with this story - NOTHING felt forced. I have no idea what the five elements are - because nothing seemed like it was forced to fit with the story!

To a degree, one of the elements slipped in without me realizing it-- "love interest", which would have been very hard to work in otherwise.  I was getting close to the end and could only remember hitting like 1-2 of the elements, so I went back to check and found I had already added love interest without thinking.

I may go back and do some Troll stories, Ive been at low ebb for inspiration of late.  I have been working on a rather in depth Troll series,but have had some stumbling points I need to rework.

And big thanks to @Embala for all her help researching this!

TrollHammer wrote:

@Redhead Ember: I had to read your entry several times and it still didnt click until rereading #11. Somehow I had forgotten about those two in wrapstuff. Now it all makes sense. Well done!

Yeah, piece of advice when reading my stuff; it might be really obscure.

TrollHammer wrote:

To a degree, one of the elements slipped in without me realizing it-- "love interest", which would have been very hard to work in otherwise.  I was getting close to the end and could only remember hitting like 1-2 of the elements, so I went back to check and found I had already added love interest without thinking.

That's the best when the story tells itself.

TrollHammer wrote:

I may go back and do some Troll stories, Ive been at low ebb for inspiration of late.  I have been working on a rather in depth Troll series,but have had some stumbling points I need to rework.

Heh - the stumbling blocks are called an infant child. As amazing as they are, they are also draining.

I really don't hop TrollHammer is stumbling over his infant child.
Don't put it on the ground!

If you are interested in reading the sections in the story leading up to this one, I have collected them here.

A Frightful/Scary Event
Inverted
Love Interest
Something Odd

Sunflower kept watch from below as Twinstar released her hold on the tree’s trunk and began making her way cautiously along the branch’s length. They had divided into two groups shortly after rising, Joygleam taking the wolves one way in search of a meal, Twinstar and Sunflower the other. Twinstar had spotted the nest in the outer branches, speckled eggs glowing tantalizing in the evening sun. Now she picked her way carefully, toes grasping the ever thinning support that trembled more with each step she took.

“Almost...there…”

Sunflower looked away for a minute, following a dislodged leaf as it made its slow way down the increasingly empty space between Twinstar and the ground. She glanced around, aware that something was odd. A minute before the trees had been alive with birdsong, but now all was eerily quiet.

*Twinstar...do you see anything?”

Twinstar was gently sliding the eggs into her pouch. She rose slowly, balancing while she scanned the forest around. Her eyes opened wide. *Sunflower, get up here! Now!*

Sunflower responded immediately, scrabbling up to the bottom branches just as a bear broke through the bushes. With a roar, it charged at the tree they were in. Sunflower pulled her legs up just in time as the bear swiped a gash in the bark where her foot had just been. With a bellow, it launched itself at the tree, bark splintering beneath its claws.

Sunflower leapt up to the next branch, then the next as the bear made sure and steady progress after her. Seeing that it was slowed by the closer branches as it went higher, she launched herself sideways out of the bear’s direct path. Satisfied she had a moment's lead, she looked frantically for Twinstar. She was still on the same small outer branch, but was now inverted. The bear’s charge had knocked off her balance and she now hung beneath the branch, arms and legs clasped around it. Unfortunately the bear had noticed her too, and now made its way to her as if she was some strange dangling fruit.

“Twinstar! Climb up!” Sunflower shouted.

Twinstar looked around her. Out so far from the center of the tree, there weren’t any branches above that were large enough to provide safe purchase. The only way out was either back along the limb she was on, or to a larger branch a little more than her height down, towards the advancing bear.

She made her decision and dropped down. She pulled one of the eggs from her pouch and punched her thumb through the top. She yelled at the bear. “You want to eat something, mangy beast?!”

She inverted the egg, letting the contents spill down, gossamer and golden in the fading light, releasing a faint yolky scent that drew the bear’s attention. It abandoned its attempt to move through the close branches in favor of the more easily accessed treat down below.

“Of course you do!” Twinstar threw the rest of the eggs in the same direction as far as she could, the bear lumbering after. For a while all was quiet, the elves not daring to move while the bear snuffled and slurped up the slimy golden nectar. It was enough to satisfy it, and soon it wandered away.

It was still some time before Sunflower dared to move to make her way to where Twinstar was now sitting on the branch, legs dangling as she caught her breath. “Wonder what got him all worked up?” Twinstar asked in curiosity.

Sunflower shook her head. Her thoughts turned to her lovemate Lastlight. Wherever he was, she hoped he was having a better time of it than they were.