HE'S GRASSY

by Teresa Arellanes

(DF -17 Winter)

**It’s a boy!**

The joyous sending spread throughout the holt with skyfire speed. Although it was daylight and storm clouds were beginning to form overhead, the Timber Folk gathered around the Father Tree to greet the newest member of its tribe. The child’s father, Cliff, along with the midwife Dawnwatch, and Chief Greylock, stood at the tree’s entrance. The hunter lifted his newborn son for all to see, and as the cub gave a lusty cry, the Timber Folk cheered.  Elven children were rare, but what made this birth so extraordinary was the fact that the parents were unrecognized lifemates. After the congratulations were over and his tribe folk had returned to their homes, Cliff reentered the Father Tree with the midwife to give the infant to its mother Dustwren.

“He’ll grow quickly with that appetite,” chuckled Dawnwatch as she glanced at the baby feeding hungrily. “Have you thought of a name to call him?”  The blond midwife winked at Goldenbraid the healer who sat nearby. She then set about cleaning up the room, arranging some dried flowers in a newly-made vase, and placed a pitcher of cool water near Dustwren.

The new mother looked first to her lifemate, then shook her head. “It hasn’t come to us yet. He does have a leaf-shaped birthmark on his left side, and I was thinking Leafmark might be good.”  She paused at Cliff’s reaction; he rolled his eyes skyward, a grimace on his lean face. “But as you both can see, my lifemate isn’t all that fond of the name.”  Her honey-colored eyes twinkled merrily as she snuggled the infant closer.

“Don’t’ worry, you’ll come up with one in time. Just try not to wait too long; we children born outside of Recognition seem to get stuck with odd nicknames until our parents make up their minds on what to call us.”  Goldenbraid smiled, knowing from personal experience, since she was the only other living elf born outside of Recognition in the valley. She patted Dustwren on the shoulder and stole another glance at the child.

“Yes, as I recall, Chestnut called you Fuzzy for nearly three moons,” Cliff laughed as he sat on the furs near his mate, golden eyes dancing with mischief. Dawnwatch shook her head, a bemused expression on her face.

“It was Fluffy, and only for one moon,” the healer corrected, a smile in her eyes.  She lost her semi-righteous tone and all dignity when she stuck her tongue out at Cliff. Dawnwatch, still shaking her had at the madness around her, urged Goldenbraid out of the room. Then together, they lowered the leather door flap, leaving the little family alone.

“What’s his name? He looks funny. Can I hold him or will he spit up on me? When can he come and play?  I promise I won’t break him.”  A two-year-old Nightway stood before the fur-lined cradle near Dustwren, looking down at the fuzzy-haired pink form of the newborn. This was the one of the first times he had been allowed outside, and since the weather had begun to warm, it was safe to have him in the still-crisp air. Nightway’s mother sat nearby, shaping a wooden web around a large earthen water container. It was to be a Coming of Life Day gift for the treeshaper’s friend, Berryscent, mother of the young Redlace. Moonshine gave her daughter a reproving glance, but Dustwren laughed at the little she-cub.

“He’s still too small for games right now, Nightway. Maybe in a few seasons he will be more active, then he can be your friend and play with you,” said Dustwren as she shelled nuts and smiled down at the dark-eyes child. Moonshine then interrupted by asking her soul sister what she thought of the gift, and while the two were deep in conversation, they ignored Nightway.

The little cub skipped over to a nearby patch of snow and picked up a strand of dead grass. She put the end in her mouth, chewing gently on it as she walked back over to the cradle.

The infant’s milky-blue eyes had turned into a yellow-gold since his birth just two moon ago. The tiny cub tried to focus on Nightway’s face as she smiled down at him. “This is grass,” Nightway informed the baby. He cooed happily, as she brushed the tip of it against his chubby cheek, let it blend with the pale curls on his head. Suddenly the infant made a grab for the grass blade, fingers twining lighting around it. Nightway frowned. She tried to get her tasty morsel back from the babe, but he clung tighter, face screwing up and getting ready to cry. A small tug of war ensued.

Nightway gave a startled squeak as the delicate blade snapped, crumbling into brittle pieces across the infant’s furs and in his hair. At the sound, Moonshine came over and picked up her little daughter, balancing the child on her hip. The cubling looked her mother in the eyes, pointed rather sheepishly to the mess saying, “It’s grassy, mother.”

Dustwren immediately went to quiet her son’s cries, staring at the bits of old grass in his hair. It blended perfectly, her son’s pale curls and the pieces of pampas grass. Dustwren sat down on a tree root, cradling the baby to her, and started to laugh. She had thought long and hard to find a good name for her boy, but then a cubling came up with one in an instant. The young mother sent quickly for her lifemate. Cliff soon rounded an entrance from the thorn barrier and headed directly for his mate. He too felt the irony of the situation, the evidence all too clear before his eyes. Cliff chuckled as he beckoned Nightway to him, seeing her confused expression.

Sitting down on Cliff’s lap and staring at the babe in Dustrwren’s arms, Nightway asked, “What’s wrong? It is grassy, isn’t it?”  She glanced quickly at her mother, and then brushed at the grass in the baby’s hair. She turned round, liquid black eyes on her elder, waiting, confused still.

“Yes,” laughed Cliff as he hugged the little she-cub. “He’s Grassy!”