DEATH FLOOD

by Ted R. Blasingame

(DF 1 Spring)

Little Moon was rising over the rim of the valley, just as the sun went down over its opposite edge. Dark, scattered clouds floated lazily overhead as the twinkling stars became visible one by one between them, and a slight breeze began to filter down through the trees. Over the Blue River at the Rock Span, two shadows moved cautiously using silence with great care, for the humans’ territory was just on the other side.

Rock Span had been shaped long ago by elves when the Timber Folk first settled in the valley. The stone bridge was made so they could cross over to the other side of the river that split the valley in half, but was seldom used for its original purpose. Humans claimed the territory for their own, and were bitter enemies of the elves. Fortunately for all, game was plentiful on both sides, so Rock Span seldom saw use. It was generally forbidden by both tribes to cross over into the other’s territory.

Although rarely used for its intended purpose, two elves came regularly to the bridge. Bluetree and Twill did not make their trips to the archway to cross over, but to stay and use their rockshaping abilities for shaping intricate designs into the stone. It was not essential they do so, but they thrilled in the use of their talents and felt that Rock Span would be an ideal place to work, as had other rockshapers in the tribe’s past.

Clearfox, another rockshaper, had died six months of the Greater Moon earlier while shaping steps into the cliffs beside the twin waterfalls of the valley. She had shaped the steps up to a solitary ledge high up on the sheer wall, though while rejoicing in its completion, a human had spotted her from his lake raft, and had shot her down with an arrow. Revenge had indeed been taken, and it had taken moons for both tribes to relax again. The small ledge was now known as Fox Perch in her honor, though it was rarely visited by anyone.

Twill looked up from his work and could see Fox Perch in the moonlight. He had been shaping a small wolf-like outline into a place that had been broken off by humans. They hated this bridge, thinking it was an evil manifestation since it had been made by the beast-eared folk.

Time and again, the Tall Ones had tried to destroy it so that the elves could not cross over, but the elf who had originally made it generations ago had chosen good, dense rock and it sustained most of the attacks. So far, nothing the humans had done had been able to destroy it.

Although the rockshaping abilities ran strongly in both he and his father, neither of Twill’s children seemed to possess it.  Softwill was a child of twelve and had shown no signs of the talent as yet. His two-year-old son, Season, was yet too young to tell. His lifemate, Dawnwatch, would sometimes come with them just to sit and watch the old powers at work.

Twill turned back to his work and began to shape the likeness of Two Falls and the blue lake into the stone, enjoying the cooling breeze that had picked up along the river.

*** 

Nightstep, chief of the Timber Folk, was assembling the night’s hunting party. Some of the hunters were still in their beds of soft furs when his sending touched them. Twilight eased off Silverleaf’s arms from around him quietly so not to disturb her. He did not want to disturb his lovemate. She slept peacefully and looked lovely among the furs.

Glistenfire was already up and away. Four months earlier, her lifemate had mysteriously vanished from the hunting party one night. The search for him had broken off after the passing of the Greater Moon. Chestnut had been presumed dead, likely at the hands of humans. Despite this, Glistenfire never gave up. Since she had never felt her Recognized lifemate die, she believed him still alive somewhere in the valley, and had been up at dusk every night since to search for him on her own.  Nightstep was unable to stop her from going, so had assigned Silverhair, the father of Mooncrest and Twilight, to go with her to search for the missing Chestnut. It was generally felt as folly, but no one dared mention this to Glistenfire.

The hunting party for this night consisted of Nightstep, Twilight, Freshwind, Grassy, and Sandstorm. Before the glow of the passing sun on the valley rim above had completely disappeared, the hunters were mounted on their faithful bonded wolves and were heading out along the hidden path through a large barrier of thorns that surrounded their Holt.

*** 

Sweetwater looked up at the Little Moon from where she knelt in the garden of food plants and noticed the enormous amount of heavy clouds gathering overhead. She and her fellow gardener, Darkwell, had been out in the garden harvesting ready vegetables since the hunting party had left the Holt half the night ago.

The air had been humid most of the night, and moisture was in the air as the breezes began to turn cooler. Rain was coming.

*** 

Back at Rock Span, Bluetree and Twill rested from their work. They sent to one another in the silence of the night, and Twill commented on the water level of the river. It seemed to be higher than normal, and had visibly rise while they had worked. Bluetree had already recognized the signs of impending rain, and suggested that rain to the north might be feeding the river far away in the Upper World above the valley.  The clouds had grown thicker and the light of Little Moon was now all but hidden behind them.

*** 

Sandstorm’s shoulder-length, sandy-colored hair was in her eyes from the wind as the hunting party strung up a fat buck on a game pole. As scout, she was in a nearby treetop keeping watch as her friends worked below. She turned quickly as a distant flash of lightning caught her eye far beyond the Two Falls. She thought she had seen something in the flash, but it was now too dark to tell what it might have been. Little Moon had retreated behind the storm clouds and nothing of its full light could now be seen.

**Sandstorm,** Grassy sent to her. **We are ready to return to the Holt. Nightstep wants to get back before the rain begins.**

**I will be right down.** her thoughts replied. Just as she started to descend, the wind gusted suddenly and the branch she stood upon nearly dumped her out into open air. An out-flung hand grabbed a random branch and saved her from the fall. She took another look toward the north as a bolt of lightning sliced through the air, lighting up the entire sky. She gasped and shouted out an exclamation when she saw what she had only glimpsed earlier.

**Keep quiet, lass!** scolded Nightstep’s urgent thoughts. **What’s the trouble with you?**

Sandstorm dropped to the ground, fear showing clearly across her face, and then gave the hunting party sending pictures of what she had seen.

*** 

Silverhair looked up at the sound of thunder as he and Glistenfire emerged from a small cave they had found in the sheer cliff wall. Gusts of wind blew his shoulder-length hair around his face and he raised a hand to brush it from his eyes.

**Looks as if the storm is going to be a big one!** he sent to his companion. **It might be best if we returned to the Holt!**

Glistenfire glanced back at the small cave and sighed. The sheer cliffs were full of little caves such as this, but practically all of them were barely large enough to walk into. None could really be called caves – holes would be more appropriate. They had checked over thirty of them, but of Chestnut there was never a sign. Their wolves paced nervously at the approaching storm.

“Let’s go,” Glistenfire said gloomily as she hopped up onto Newdune’s back. Silverhair was already mounted and turned to leave, but something caught his eye.

**Glistenfire!  Look at that!** he exclaimed in his thoughts to his companion.  Her gaze followed his pointing toward the north, and with a gasp of sudden anxiety, she and her wolf took off through the forest underbrush. Silverhair was not far behind her, for fright held him tight on Smokering’s back, and speed was suddenly of vital importance.

*** 

Two Star smiled at the new sword he had just gotten from the trolls. It was made of strong brightmetal and had a good cutting edge. He’d broken the tip from his old blade and he had traded two good fox furs and leather water skin for the new one. He thought that had been a bit much, but had felt it was probably worth it for the quality of weapons the trolls created.

The doorkeeper to the trolls’ underground domain let him out into the forest, idly munching on a bit of jerky the elf had given him as an extra morsel. A red wolf named Firefield waited in an alcove of the sheer cliff wall for his elf-friend. The trolls did not permit the wolves in the Underground, so he had to wait outside for him.

Two Star looked up at the booming thunder and saw the treetops waving madly in gusting wind and realized he could barely hear the rumble of the Two Falls over the din. He and Firefield were right beside the north sheer cliff wall, so he was unable to see what others in his tried had seen. Had he been able to behold the sight, his heart would have skipped wildly.

As it was, the wind had strengthened to a gale that threatened knock him from the back of his wolf friend, despite the cover of nearby trees.

**Back, hurry! To the Holt!** Two Star sent to his wolf. Mixed with the wind, rain began to fall and it felt like tiny needles pricking his exposed skin.

*** 

Mooncrest and Nightway were nearly out of breath when they reached the relative safety of their treehome. They had been out in the forest together when the storm sent them back to the Holt in haste. Nightway was almost in a state of panic, but Mooncrest helped prod her on until the thorn barrier was in sight.

Mooncrest’s lovemate had drowned in the lake not more than a month earlier and the loss had hit him hard. Nightway had done her best to help her close friend through his sorrow, and they had been out on that night, reminiscing about Newfur’s sense of humor, until the storm arrived.

“Mooncrest!  Nightway!” a voice yelled to them over the wind. They looked back in unison to see Goldenbraid running across the Council Clearing toward them.  When the healer stepped inside the shaped tree’s interior, she saw the moisture on Nightway’s face was not rain, but tears.

“What’s the matter?” she asked with wide blue eyes. “What is it?”

Nightway buried her face against Mooncrest’s chest and wept. She was very frightened and shook with each new peal of thunder.  Mooncrest stroked her long ponytail of dark grey hair to help soothe her.

“In the north,” Mooncrest said after catching his breath, “in the light of the skyfire, we saw a huge black cloud over the Two Falls!”

“A cloud?” repeated Goldenbraid. “You were frightened by a cloud?”

Mooncrest shook his head sternly. “Not just that, but rain poured from it in such great quantities that it looked like a wall of water! It is coming over the north rim so hard that you can’t see separate Two Falls anymore, and it looks like it might be getting stronger!”

Goldenbraid’s deep blue eyes widened further at the sending pictures the young elf showed her and her lips parted as she also felt his fear.  She started to reply, but at that moment, they all received a frantic open sending from Twill.

**He’s gone!** he cried, **My father is gone!  He’s dead!**

Mooncrest gasped aloud and put Nightway in Goldenbraid’s arms before he burst outside to fetch the grieving rockshaper.  He found the elf as he emerged from the hidden pathway through the thorn barrier and grabbed him tightly.

Twill felt the arms around him, but the agony of the grief blinded him from seeing whom it was who held him.  **This way, hurry!** he heard in his mind.  Twill let himself be led, having no will left to make it on his own. As they made it to the steps of Mooncrest’s hometree, hard rain fell with the gusting winds.

Once inside, Twill fell to the rug-covered floor sobbing. Goldenbraid knelt beside him and placed her hands on his heaving shoulders. **Twill?** she softly sent to him. **Twill?  What happened to Bluetree?**

Twill took a deep breath and struggled to regain some control over his emotions. He no longer sobbed with heaving shoulders, but still did not get up from his prone position. After several moments where thunder echoed across the valley, he slowly explained the loss of his father.  They had been shaping designs into the Rock Span when they noticed the visible rising of the river. Rising winds drove the water into a torrent and the rockshapers decided to return to the Holt.

The elf had to stop for a moment to regain his emotions before he continued. Nightway’s dark eyes slowly spilled over in little rivulets of tears as Mooncrest held her close.  Goldenbraid put a gentle hand on Twill’s shoulder and the rockshaper finally nodded quietly and cleared his throat.

“We were in the middle of the bridge, just starting to get up to leave, when we saw it in the north,” he said.

“The wall cloud of water?” Mooncrest asked.

Twill lifted his aquamarine eyes and nodded. “You have seen it too,” he said with a nod. “Then you know the terror we felt when we saw its intensity in the skyfire’s light. The cloud has not yet arrived, although water is already pouring over the edge of the sheer cliff rim. We both panicked at what we saw and I ran instantly. When I cleared our end of the bridge, I noticed my father was not with me, so I turned around. Bluetree stood in the middle of Rock Span, frozen in fright as tree debris in the lake rushed toward him and the outlet of the river.”

At this moment, the tribe’s eldest elf entered the tree, soaking wet from the rain that now fell heavily outside. Two Star had seen the candlelight in Mooncrest’s hometree and rushed inside. As he had mounted the shaped steps, his ears had picked up Twill’s story despite the falling rain. Mooncrest tossed him a towel to dry off with.

Two Star wiped his face dry and then nodded to the rockshaper. “Please continue,” he said.

Twill closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest. “I called to Bluetree in voice and in sending, but could not get him to move. He was too frightened.  When I started back for him, he finally found his feet and turned to run toward me.” He looked up into Goldenbraid’s eyes and felt his throat tighten up. “Rock Span was wet from the spraying river,” he said. “Bluetree slipped and fell into the river!” Nightway let out a small gasp and Two Star knelt down next to Goldenbraid, still drying himself off.

“The river carried him away swiftly. I… I followed alongside on the river banks, nearly to The Bend, before I lost him.”

“Pulled under?” Two Star asked quietly.

“Yes, but not in the river itself,” Twill answered as he fought the images in his memory. “The river was already high from the rains we had a week ago, so now it was overflowing its banks. Bluetree was… pulled along through that area when the river turned. I could see his cuts and bruises by trees and other debris, but he was on the other side, opposite from me.”

Lightning flashed outside and the thunder rattled the tree.  Someone outside ran past the door, splashing in the rain, but kept going to gain the safety of some other hometree.

“I saw the current taking him toward a low hanging tree limb and sent instructions for him to grab it. Before he could reach it…” Twill paused to swallow, his eyes closed in mental anguish, “a vortex in the water sucked him under the river!”

Nightway had barely lived more than sixteen summers, but started sobbing as if she were a small child. Bluetree had been a close friend of her father’s, and had been like an uncle to her.

Mooncrest’s own hazel eyes were moist as he pulled her close in an attempt to comfort her somewhat. Twill buried his face in Goldenbraid’s arms and wept.

**He was sending to me when he went under.  Then… his sending just… stopped.**

Two Star stared at the rockshaper for a moment, then got to his feet and stepped back out into the rain, his heart pounding hard with emotion.

*** 

Foxvine cursed beneath his breath at the gale wind and hard rain. He had been in the dreamberry patch when the storm hit. He hated to leave his precious bushes unprotected, but the wind and rain were threatening to drive the swelling lake over them. He cursed the storm for its winds, the lake for its water, and the bushes for growing too close to the shore. The dreamberry keeper was drenched completely before the rain had even begun.

It seemed that with every passing moment, the rain fell hard than before. Standing under a dense tree no longer provided him with adequate shelter, and lighting had begun to strike the treetops of some near him. He would have to make a try for the Holt.

Foxvine could not see the approaching wall cloud due to overhead trees and driving rain. It was just as well, for he ran along the trail through the trees and puddles quickly as if he had known about it.

Foxvine muttered more curses as he tripped and fell into a puddle of mud, leaves, and grass.  His natural brown garments could not hide the mess that had been made of them and were sticky with clay that had been shoved up into his sleeves. With disgust, he got up and ran again.

*** 

The rain fell so hard that Darkwell could not see Sweetwater before him, just a few strides ahead of him. He gasped in alarm as a flash of lightning lit up the valley, revealing a fallen tree in his path. Sweetwater stood under the protection of a dense fir tree, waiting for him.

The two gardeners stood close to one another as they discussed their course back to the nearby Holt. Darkwell pointed toward another large tree across a small clearing when a bolt of lightning touched its trunk in a blinding arc of electricity. The blast knocked them both to the muddy ground and showered them in splintered bits of wood.

They helped one another up and began running. Sweetwater’s long, shadowy grey hair was burden when it was wet. It was now soaked with rain and the extra weight caused her to stumble more than once. Others in the tribe had often chided her for having long hair while living in a forest, but she had been fortunate that it had never been caught in thorns or tree branches while moving through the valley underbrush.

Darkwell’s own white-gold hair seemed naturally to shed water. Even in the midst of the storm, it seemed to be dry, although he could feel it soaking to his scalp. His two daughters, Freshwind and Silverleaf, also had hair with this quality.

Sweetwater held onto her friend’s hand as they raced along the path back to the Holt. With a flip of her free arm, she hoisted the weight of her long hair up onto her shoulders. In doing so, she wasn’t watching her path and stepped into a water-filled tunneldog’s hole.

SNAP!

The healer Darkwell knelt down to help her. Sweetwater cried out in pain as he pulled her broken foot free of the hole. It was compounded. Darkwell knew it would be dangerous to go into a healing trance in this type of weather, but he could not let his companion suffer.

*** 

“Twinfire! Come on!” Webstring urged as he pulled on his lifemate’s arm.  “The river is way over its banks, Twin!  I have never seen it this far out, and we are too far from the Holt to make it in a day!” They were trying to keep dry in a shallow cave in the sheer cliff wall on the far south end of the valley. “We are in a low spot,” Webstring continued. “It will not take long for the water to back up in here. We have to try to make for Sheercliff Pass as quickly as we can, before the water overtakes us!”

Twinfire’s deep blue eyes met her lifemate’s own pale blue ones and she sighed audibly. Their recent joining had been sweet, but it had been interrupted by the sudden flash storm and she still felt weak from the exertion.  She put on her boots and stood up next to her mate.

“Let’s go,” she said.  Webstring held out a hand and led her out into the stormy night.

*** 

Darkwell sneezed. He was almost finished with Sweetwater’s ankle. He no longer worried about getting wet. Both he and his companion were completely soaked. He had managed to get her under an overhanging tree bough, but the rain whipped around with the wind so it really was no shelter at all.

It will not be much longer, he thought. The wall of water should be here soon, and then what kind of chance will we have?

Loose debris pelted them with the increasing wind, and Darkwell’s skin was numb. A moment later, Sweetwater’s leg was completely healed and she could finally stand. She gave the healer a quick hug in appreciation and then grasped his hand.

“Let’s go!” she yelled into the wind. The healing effort had drained Darkwell and he did not feel that he could go on.  He hesitated when she tugged on his hand and she turned to look at him in concern. “Come on!” she shouted.  She let go of his hand and took off running in the direction of the Holt.

Standing where she had left him, Darkwell gathered his strength and then headed out in the direction that Sweetwater had taken. Before he had gone four strides, both light and sound flooded his senses. Lightning hit a tree just ahead and the concussion knocked him onto his back. His ears rang from the noise as he wearily rolled over onto his hands and knees.

**Sweetwater?** he sent into the darkness. **That blast has deafened me and I cannot hear anything!**

There was no answer.  Suddenly afraid, the elf with white-gold hair gained sudden strength as he got to his feet and ran toward the blown wounded tree. He stopped suddenly in the flash of overhead cloud lightning and felt his throat constrict. There, amidst the splintered and burnt timber, lay his friend. A large section of the trunk lay across her back, here white tunic stained dark with red. Her eyes were still open in surprise, but there was no life in them. Sweetwater, lifemate of Duster, and mother of Two Star…

Darkwell’s green eyes closed tightly as he concentrated on getting his sending through to her, but from his friend there was no answer.  The healer stretched out a hand toward her, but then drew it back as he tilted his nose toward the sky and let out a long, mournful howl.

*** 

Season began crying as the echoing sounds of a nearby lightning strike faded in the wind. Dawnwatch tried to quiet her two-year-old son with little success. They were all afraid and Season’s wails did not help their nerves. Outside, the rain bore down in thick sheets, but the wall cloud of water had not yet hit. This was but its forerunner.

Most of the tribe had gathered here inside the huge Father Tree with Dawnwatch and Season. Her son finally quiet, Dawnwatch looked up at the worried faces around her. The tree had been shaped long ago by Nightway’s ancestors to hold many elves in need. At present, there was little more than a handful in its central chamber. It could easily hold the entire tribe, if need be, and had often been used for council gatherings in inclement weather.

Mooncrest and Nightway were there, as were Goldenbraid and her lifemate, Two Star. Twill sat quiet and stared off into empty air as Silverleaf and the youngsters Softwill and Wildwood tried to console him. Goldenbraid and Two Star were discussing what to do when Foxvine burst into the tree. Mooncrest immediately produced a towel from a shaped alcove and tossed it to him.  Foxvine sputtered and coughed as he collapsed onto the wooden floor. Clutched in his right hand was a leather pouch. He handed this to Mooncrest.

“Dreamberries,” Foxvine explained. Mooncrest nodded and put them aside as Softwill moved to the gardener’s side and began to pick out the debris clinging to his matted and dirty silver hair.

Two Star explained the demise of Bluetree to Foxvine through sending, and the dreamberry keeper’s eyes grew moist. He glanced over at Twill, who seemed not to have even noticed his arrival in the tree.

“Where are the others?” he asked quietly.

“Nightstep had a hunting party out before the storm hit,” Goldenbraid said from across the room. “We do not know anything about them.”

“Who was with him?”

“Twilight, Sandstorm, Grassy and Freshwind.”

Foxvine was about to ask of the whereabouts of his brother, but he did not have to. Windrace and Redlace came in through the door, carrying a limp Darkwell between them. Silverleaf ran to her lifeless father as they laid him on floor, a scream of denial caught in her throat.

“No!” she cried out in a loud voice after checking his life signs. She began to shriek incoherently and shook her father hard.  Mooncrest and Foxvine were instantly at her sides. Each grabbed her arms and held her rigid until she stopped shaking the dead elf.

Sending to that everyone but Silverhair could hear him, Two Star wanted to know what had happened. Redlace answered in the same manner.  **Windrace and I were on our way back to the Holt when we came upon Darkwell.  We found him lying face down in a pool of knee-deep water. It looked like he might have stumbled over something and fell into the pool.**

**There was a large rock with a sharp edge on it near his head,** Windrace added. **He probably knocked himself out and drowned in the pool.**

Sobs wracked Silverleaf’s body as she draped herself over his chest.  Twill looked over at her crying and seemed to come out of his own withdrawal. He moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, sending gently to her. She turned to him and the pair of grievers clung fiercely to one another.

**Did you see Sweetwater?** Nightway asked. **I saw them both in the gardens earlier.**

Redlace shook his head. **No, we did not see her,** he replied. **We may have missed her in the rain. You can barely see beyond your nose at times out there.**  He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the door and shook his head again.

*** 

Nightstep growled at Grassy and gave the youth a hefty shove.  **Move! You are holding us up!** the brown-haired chief sent.  **The river is backing up fast and that wall cloud of water is almost here to the valley!**

Grassy nodded his head of curly, buff-colored hair and plodded on. Sandstorm came up beside him and gave him a hand. Grassy had twisted his right ankle as they rushed through the forest underbrush. Nightstep usually wasn’t so gruff to his people, but speed was vital and his patience was growing thin. The chief’s lifemate, Freshwind, also lent Grassy a hand along the trail.  Twilight brought up the rear as Nightstep took up the lead.

**Nightstep?** Twilight sent when he realized the direction the chief taken. **What about the others in the Holt?**

Nightstep wound his way around a small copse of trees and overhanging vines and sent his reply back to the young archer. **Two Star will have taken charge, and we have discussed the possible event of a large flood in the valley before. He knows that the only safety is to get to Sheercliff Pass, and if need be, the Upper World.**

Twilight fell silent and continued to run through the hard rain and high winds behind his chief, looking back occasionally to make sure the others were still with them. His thoughts were on his lovemate, Silverleaf and the others of the tribe.

*** 

“Silverleaf, I know it’s hard for you right now, but we have to leave Darkwell here.” Two Star told her quietly. “We have to go now.  The lake is far over its banks and we have to make it to Sheercliff Pass before the whole valley is flooded.”  He wrung his hands briefly and said more slowly, “We can’t even wait on my mother.  Sweetwater will have to make her own way to the Pass.”

Silverleaf said nothing, did nothing. Two Star stared at her for a moment and then got his feet. He brushed his dark grey hair from his eyes with a finger and then put his hands on his hips. Two Star was an elder of the tribe and expected his advice to be taken. A stern, but compassionate stare at Silverleaf caused her to shift uncomfortably.

Windrace and his brother, Foxvine stepped back inside from the rain. They had tried to survey as much as they could, but it was not much. The sky was too dark to see by.  “Two Star,” Foxvine reported, “The lake water is backed right into the Holt. It is only ankle deep, but I think it is only going to get higher.”

“We need to leave now!” Windrace added.

 “All right,” the elder replied. “We will have to carry Silverleaf if she will not come on her own.”

“No, I will not be carried. I will come,” the treeshaper said tersely. She took one last look at her father and then she got up and walked to the door.

“Okay, everyone, we have to make it to Sheercliff Pass,” Two Star announced.  “It is a long trek, but it is the only place we can go where the flood waters cannot reach us.  Everyone help one another and try not to get separated.”  He looked around to each face and then added, “We have already lost too many this night. I do not want to have to howl for anyone else.”

*** 

Wavesong and Joycaller were nearly there. Sheercliff Pass was just ahead and both elves were eager to stop wading and get to higher ground. **Nightstep!** Joycaller sent with hope.  **Are you near, my son?**

From the objective ahead, the chief of the Timber Folk answered her thoughts instantly. **Yes, mother. We are a little ways up the Pass. Where are you?**

**Wavesong and I are at the foot of the Sheercliff just now.**

Wavesong pulled her foot free of sucking mud and leaned against the cliff wall to make sure her soft-sided boot was still in place. **Who is with you?** she asked her nephew.

**Most of the tribe and a handful of the wolves,** Nightstep replied. **Two Star just arrived with a group and there have been other stragglers like yourselves.**

**We’re still missing Silverhair, Glistenfire, Webstring, and Twinfire,** Freshwind’s sending added to the open conversation. **There have been animals from the valley escaping the waters up here too.**

Joycaller took her friend’s hand and they started up the Pass. Nightstep’s party was at a relatively flat spot in the trail about quarter of the distance up the sheer cliffs. Even though Joycaller and Wavesong were now out of the floodwater itself, they still had to watch their footing. Little rivulets cascaded down the path that make walking difficult, as did the continual wind and hard rain. Despite cloaks or other garments, there were none of them with anything that was dry.

**By the two moons!** came Twilight’s thoughts in an open sending. **Here it comes!**

Joycaller stopped and looked back into the north as Wavesong continued up the path to the others. The sight she beheld pierced her heart and made her turn to scramble frantically up the slope.

In the ever-increasing light of skyfire, the Timber Folk managed to see through the hard rain. The wall cloud of water loomed massive over the north end of the valley and they could see a strong rotation within its dark, roiling clouds. As it had appeared from a great distance, tremendous amounts of water seemed to pour from the clouds, and a looming funnel shape protruded from its underside replenished itself from the Two Falls and now the lake. Those who stared transfixed at the sight could see huge chunks of rock sheared from the cliffs and hurled upward into the air, carried aloft by the funnel. Within moments, the wall cloud moved ponderously over the valley toward them.

Nightstep feared little, but he could feel his heart in his throat as the wind stung his eyes with every kind of debris that could be swept up in the storm.  A loud, low moan filled the air beneath the wind, rain, and thunder and ears popped with the sudden pressure change in the air.

**Everyone get as close to the cliff face as you can, and grab onto anything that you can!** he sent to his people. **That wall of wind and water is going to hit us very hard!  Joycaller!  Wavesong!  Get up here!  Hurry!**

The two females scrambled up the last few strides and joined the others struggling to become as one with the rock walls of the valley, just as another open sending called out.

**Nightstep?  Glistenfire and I are here!** Silverhair announced.

**Hurry, father!** Mooncrest called out.

**Mother! Thank the High Ones you made it!** Goldenbraid sent in relief.

*** 

A seemingly solid wall of water hit them. Redlace thought that the whole of Two Falls had dropped on him at once, but he knew it was even worse than that. Not only did the Timber Folk have to survive against the deluge of water and violent winds howling up the Pass, they were suddenly reminded of the danger of dirt and rock broken from the cliff face above them.  Large chunks of stone, uprooted trees, and some wildly escaping wildlife rained down upon the tribe of elves.

Nightstep clung to a few roots that stuck out from the cliff and clamped his eyes tightly shut. It was probably better for him that way, for he never saw his mother raked from the ledge and crushed below by falling boulders. Joycaller had no time to cry out or even send. She died instantly.

Silverhair and Glistenfire had not yet reached the others and both were knocked from their feet from the onrush of water. Silverhair was the more fortunate of the two. He was slammed hard into a boulder and he clung to it desperately. Glistenfire was swept past him and off the ledge to the depths below. Her scream was lost in the roar of the storm. Above them, Goldenbraid cried out mutely for her mother.

Dawnwatch held Season close beneath her for protection, with Softwill’s arms around her middle, and Twill wrapped around them all. Twill suffered numerous cuts and bruises from flying debris as he did his best to protect his family.

Each elf held on in desperation for life, but many, whether strong willed or weak, cried in fear or sorry. Nothing of this magnitude had ever hit the valley before and there was no one prepared for its violence. The storm seemed to last an elfin lifetime, but then, against all hopes, the wall cloud, its dangling funnel, and its torrential rains, moved away from them toward the south end of the valley. The wind and rain subsided, though it would be some time before it was gone completely.

It was hard to believe.  It was over.

*** 

Sorrow was deep, but the elves of the valley were all cried out. The sun shone in a cloudless sky over the survivors who stood on the Upper World, looking back down into their valley, which now resembled a vast lake. There were few spots of land high enough to have formed islands, although the many treetops dotted the surface of the water, which was murky and filled with debris from the ruin.

Two days had passed since the Death Flood had hit, and the water continued to drain out through the river’s exit in the base of the southern-most end of the valley. That deep cavernous opening in the cliff had long been called the Black Hole by the valley’s inhabitants, and although the cave could not actually be seen above the current water level, they could see it boil and bubble as it choked with too much water and debris. Eventually, the excess floodwaters would drain out of the valley, but it was anyone’s guess how long that might take. Water still flowed over the northern rim that made the Two Falls into a single waterfall, so this further delayed the speed that water would exit the valley.

Fortunately for the Timber Folk, the skies had cleared off, for the elves had no shelters available to them so far from their homes, but their provisions were few.  The hunters on wolf-back had been successful finding game in the grass prairies to feed the tribe, but there was not much else they could do but wait for the waters to recede.

Mooncrest remained huddled near a tiny hill of rock near the top of Sheercliff Pass, unwilling to venture very far out on the plains. He’d always felt vulnerable in wide, open spaces and wanted desperately to go back to the comfort of the forest. He sat with his back to the Upper World, up against the rocks, and peered out over the expanse of the valley.

A child of eight summers brought him some meat and a few shoots of edible plants the gardeners had found. Wildwood knelt next to him and looked at him in concern when he barely acknowledged her presence.

“Mooncrest?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

The hunter lifted an arm and pointed toward the opposite rim of the valley far away. “I can see steam rising from over there,” he said in a quiet voice. “I am wondering what is over there to do that.”

“That is near the place in the sheer cliff wall the humans call the Black Cavern,” said another voice.

Wildwood looked up at Two Star. The elder sat down on one of the rocks behind Mooncrest and gave the child a pleasant smile. “They say the place is bad, that no one who ever enter that cavern ever returned.”

“Maybe it is bad magic making the steam,” Mooncrest said idly. He was okay so long as he did not face outward on the plains, so he kept his attention on the valley spread out below them.

“How are you feeling?” Two Star asked. “We will be having a howl for the dead at sundown tonight. Nightstep thinks we have mourned long enough, so now it is time to honor them.”

“I still can’t believe they are gone, Two Star,” Mooncrest said with a lowered head. Wildwood held out the food to him again, but he continued to ignore it. “So many…” he said.

*** 

Three nights later, Nightway ran her fingers through her long, dark grey ponytail unconsciously as she looked out over the receding waters of the valley. Mooncrest slept on the ground beside her, having barely left his place by the small hill of rocks.

After the cruelty of the storm, the Upper World had been good to them.  Tanners had set to work turning the skins of the treehorns the hunters had killed into makeshift sleeping furs, but without the tools of their trade that were left back in the Holt, there was only so much they could do.

Nightway stared out across the moonlit valley toward the place where their Holt had been, and then let her gaze move across the swollen lake.  Her thoughts briefly turned to the humans and the trolls. She did not wish them harm from the flood. She was a lover of life, life in any form. She quietly hoped the trolls had been able to seal off their caverns, and that the humans had somehow found some kind of safety as the Timber Folk had.

Mooncrest gave several soft groans in his sleep and Nightway looked down at him. She brushed a finger gently across his brow and he seemed to settle back into his dreams. Nightway gave a soft sigh and softly stroked the hunter’s hair. She had always enjoyed his company, but she feared that her time together with him following Newfur’s death was causing her to develop feelings for him that were more than friends. She felt a little guilty. She did not want to move in too fast, so soon after his previous lovemate had perished, but she could not help herself.  She loved him already.

*** 

Almost a full passing of the Greater Moon had gone by before the elves were able to return to their Holt. The sight they found was disheartening. The thorn barrier that surrounded and protected the Holt-proper was all but gone, and some of the hometrees had been blown over or split apart from lightning, water, wind, and debris. The Minnowbrook had changed its meandering course through the Holt somewhat, but at least the water of the nearby lake that fed it had receded almost to normal levels.

Broken limbs, trees, rocks, bushes, vines, and mud covered all areas of the forest. Disarray was everywhere, and it would probably be several years before it all looked clean again.  The Timber Folk started the cleanup of their own Holt, even as the treeshapers worked to restore the hometrees and the thorn barrier. No one would relax until their homes were livable once again.

Being a friend of the trolls, Nightstep had gone down to their caverns to see if King Grubmoss’ domain had survived the flood. As it turned out, the sheer weight of the floodwaters had forced open the door into their caverns, but a secondary door farther up the main tunnel had held it at bay. The trolls had lost no one and were reasonably healthy, although a short while had been tense when it was discovered some of their breathing holes to the surface had been plugged up by mud and debris.

Of the humans, Two Star and Mooncrest gathered that many had died with a greater loss than the elves, but a fortunate few had found caves high in the sheer cliffs near their village. They had reached them with difficulty, and even then, some of their lot died from injuries and starvation while they waited for the water to recede. They had not been able to reach the safety of the Upper World as the Timber Folk had.

*** 

Sandstorm tossed out the last bit of swept dirt from the inside of her hometree. Foxvine brought in a soft, new soft sleeping fur he had gotten from Dawnwatch and placed it inside the small, sunken circle that was her bed. Sandstorm crawled onto it immediately and smiled up at him. Taking that as a sign to rest up from the cleanup efforts, Foxvine crawled in beside her and snuggled up close. They had had enough sorrow. It was now time for a little joy.

As it was, the Timber Folk’s numbers had been reduced by a third. Because of the smallness of their number, this Holt of elves would develop a bond not unlike that of a large family, and this family would long remember the Death Flood.