HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

by Melissa Ackroyd-Livingston

(DF 20 Summer)

I knew we would have to go out there sooner or later, but I would never have admitted it in an eight of nights.

The plains stretched away in their dizzying monotony, empty of tree or stone, only wave after wave of thigh-high grass bending under the slight breeze. The sky was bare, cloudless, far away as the High Ones themselves, enclosing emptiness. It was… horrible. Terrifying. But that, too, I would never have confessed to anyone for my life.

But fortunately there were two whom I did not need to tell. They knew my insane fear of open places as well as their own fears, as well as they knew my soul name. They were as sisters to me, and their concern was infuriating.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” Oriole reminded me with a hopeful look, as if those words could save the world. She was always the optimist, even in the direst of dilemmas.

“That will only help for a small while,” I said tightly. “And it will take more than a small while to cross that… that… waste!”

“The plains are not a waste,” Woodblaze pointed out wearily, tired of the same old argument. She squeezed her daughter’s hand comfortingly. I had been gruffer to the child than I’d intended, but it didn’t matter. She was used to me. “We don’t have any choice, Shrike, and you know it. Each day we delay here at the edge of the forest those bloody humans come closer—”

“Our trail out there will be a hundredfold more obvious than it is here!” I exploded, backed into an imaginary corner. “They want nothing less than our ears skewered on a roasting stick, and they won’t stop at a sea of grass to get them!”

“It was your idea to steal food from their camp,” said Oriole quietly.

“Hush, Oriole, there wasn’t anything else we could do in a situation like that,” Woodblaze reprimanded her. “The only thing we can hope for is for those humans to outsmart themselves. They’ll know that going out onto the plains would be the most foolish thing we could do, and look for us elsewhere. We can cover our trail.”

“Or I could fight them,” I put in sourly.

“Neither of us doubts your fighting abilities,” she replied gently, “but there are just too many of them. It would be suicide to do anything else.”

I contemplated this, groping desperately for some new argument, however unreasonable. I couldn’t go out there – I couldn’t – but I had to. It was a matter of life or death…

“No,” I said aloud. I wanted them to hear this. “Death or sanity. If it were myself, alone, I would choose death.” I finally turned from where I had been standing rigidly at the forest edge, and faced them. “But the decision is not mine to make. We leave by midday.” Refusing to meet their eyes, I quickly began to shove our supplies into my carryall. If I was going to get it over with, I was going to get it over with now. They said nothing, knowing not to when I was in one of my bullheaded moods.

The only one who could not understand this was Steelbender, of course. Or perhaps he did understand but refused to allow it. I know very little of animals’ ways, still less of the loyalty of the dog-kind, even though I am bonded to one. At any rate, he whined plaintively and pushed his nose into my hand. Of course, there was no choice but to scratch his large, sensitive ears and send comforting thoughts to calm his confused, vaguely worried mind. A coyote is a good friend; he may not have the power of his kindred, the wolves, but he has the same compassion.

True to my word, we departed from the shelter of the forest just as the sun had reached the very center of the sky. Oriole walked on one side of me, carrying her rabbit friend Dapple in an open satchel on her back. Woodblaze was on the other, her squirrel Scampernut riding securely enough on her shoulder. It had taken some time for me to teach Steelbender the difference between those two and any other animals – to his mind, if it was smaller than he and it moved, it was food. He trotted ahead, occasionally vanishing in the long grass to seek out some little animal whose scent he’d caught. He never came back with anything in his mouth, but looked as satisfied as if he had killed a brightfeather.

I took little notice of my bond-friend’s antics, of course. I was too busy keeping a grip on my rationality. My mind seemed to expand, trying to encompass the infinity of my surroundings. Failing that, it began to collapse, folding inward, trying to escape the feeling of vulnerability, the nakedness… smaller… smaller, like one of the grass-mice Steelbender was endeavoring to catch… so small as to be hidden amongst the blades of grass, protected from the nothing of the open sky… but I couldn’t escape… endless reaching upward, outward, racing, diffusing, each heartbeat extended into a thousand…

I screamed. There was no holding it back for much longer, and although the only emotion I have ever been loathe to show is fear, fear seemed only a small fraction of the encroaching madness. But even the scream was lost in the void, echoing silently through space, useless, heard by none save myself.

Or so I thought. Somewhere in the midst of my private bedlam was a voice, a mental voice calling me. Soon another joined it, a younger and more inexperienced one.

**Lela!  Lela, come back!  Don’t let go! Lela!**

I was conscious of hands holding me, laying me down. (Had I fainted? How embarrassing!)  There seemed somehow to be too may, but I didn’t pay much attention to that. In the state I was in, I was likely to imagine just about anything, multiple-limbed companions being no exception. I tried to clear my mind and answer their anxiety-ridden sendings.

*…Brahna?  Leeral…?**

Amazingly, I heard voices – real ones this time, not the thought-voices of sendings.

“Mighty High Ones, she’s all right!  She’s all right!”

Had I actually regained enough sanity to hear, or was this another delusion caused by my unnatural and irrational fear of open places?  I had to chance it and find out. I opened my mouth, or imagined I did, and tried to speak. My throat was cracked and aching from the scream and it wasn’t easy, but I managed one word at least. “Wh… where..?”

“Did you hear that? She said something! Did you—”

“Yes, yes I did… Shrike, open your eyes, sister. We’re off the plains now. You’re safe, open your eyes, open your eyes…”

I did as Woodblaze told me.

Trees.

Great evergreen trees, soaring to heights of many elves. Carpeting the forest floor with needles, shielding from the sky with boughs, close, comforting.

I never thought I would be so glad to see trees.

Mind spinning crazily from an ordeal that seemed to take but moments and had taken much longer in reality, I surveyed a ring of faces around me.

I arrived at the decision that I had not yet fully regained all my senses. Otherwise, why else would there be four strange elves in addition to my beloved soul sisters?

I concentrated on them, trying to make them go away. There were two with blazing red hair, one male and one female – if they had stood with the sun directly behind them, it might see as though their heads were afire. There was one with deep blue eyes, wearing a brown tunic and a short sword tucked in her belt. She had her hands on my forehead, gazing intently down at me, and I realized that if not for the healing energy streaming from those hands, I might not have regained my grasp on reality.

I shifted my eyes, somewhat painfully, to the fourth. Or rather, what was strapped to his back. I had never seen such fine workmanship in an axe… they are perhaps some of the most difficult weapons to make properly, besides crossbows, and I had spent many a sleepless hour beating and melting and trying again… I never could get the cursed things right. Especially the double-headed type. Suddenly, for no particular reason, it struck me as foolish to forge such a beautiful and effective weapon from something that looked as soft as… “Silver?” I said weakly. “What dolt made that thing out of silver?” Of course, that was before I knew what a troll-alloy was.

Oriole laughed at the axe-bearer’s consternation and turned to the healer beside me. “She’s fine, Goldenbraid. You don’t need to… to do that anymore. Don’t worry, she’s always rude like that. You’ll get used to it.”

I struggled to a sitting position, unwilling to lie prone like an infant any longer. I could get a better look at Woodblaze from this vantage point, and what I saw dismayed me. She was relieved, certainly, at my recovery. But there was another emotion underlying the relief.  Fear?  No.  Fear was too general a word. Hesitation?  Regret?  All of these?  Yes, and something I couldn’t name. Poor Woodblaze, I thought, these are real elves, too real, and she is positive that they will reject her. I cursed her tribe of origin, those who had exiled her because of her once-uncontrollable talent of firestarting; and the tribe that was home to Oriole’s father who had turned her out simply because she was not one of them. I had done this many times before, but never so vehemently as now. Both holts had alienated her, and she bore the marks of that alienation even now. Poor Woodblaze.

The one with the silver axe spoke. “I will go keep a lookout. You never know when those double-crossing humans will decide to take advantage of us…”

As he stood, the red-haired female scrambled to her feet and grasped his arm. “I’ll come with you,” she said eagerly with an inviting tug at the bottom of his tunic.

He seemed undecided for a moment, then gave his consent. “All right, Hatfeather, but this isn’t a game. We’re in dangerous territory.” Hatfeather merely winked, flipped up the good of her green vest to conceal her flaming mane, and followed him into the trees.

High Ones preserve us, I thought. I haven’t seen such a blatant flirt since… since… well, no sense in thinking about my erstwhile tribe. They were a thing of the past, and what should be concerning me is the present.

I blinked. The two had vanished among the trees, without any sign of their passing. I admired that; anyone who could move without making their presence known was in a good position to learn things. It had taken me many a year to perfect such skills.

Finally deciding I had complete control over myself, I stood and brushed myself off. Noticing they had removed all but the smallest of my weapons (probably to make me more comfortable), I began to strap them in their proper places. It may sound strange, but I feel naked without at least a longsword across my back.

“They say we’ve come near a holt, Shrike,” Woodblaze said quietly. She still had that almost unperceivable air of sadness about her.

“They have? Good.” I feigned nonchalance. If Woodblaze knew I was worried about her she would pretend that nothing was the matter. “Perhaps we might stay for a day or so?” I asked the two remaining elves. “We have been traveling without rest for several moons.” I did not voice the fact that I was going to try, yet again, to get Woodblaze to accustom herself to others of her kind. I didn’t intend to be a nomad forever, and I believe Oriole agrees with me, that her mother’s fear of not being accepted is unhealthy.

“Certainly,” said the male with a sly grin. Was he trying to pull the same thing that… what was her name?  …Hatfeather had?  I wondered if they were related in some way. “I don’t see why our chief wouldn’t let you stay as long as you like. High Ones know we’ve plenty of elves in the valley who were wanderers once; there’s no reason not to welcome more.”

My ears pricked up at one of his words. “Valley?  We’re in a valley?”

“Oh yes, we didn’t tell you!” Oriole said excitedly. She stroked Dapples head (he was in her arms now) while she talked. “Woodblaze and I had just about given up, you were whimpering and stumbling so badly with your eyes shut like you were walking in your sleep, when suddenly we saw this valley!  The plains around it are so flat and the sides of the valley are so steep you couldn’t even see if from a distance, but anyway we got hopeful because a valley is closed in so we hurried you over to its edge and it took us so long to find a safe way down, but we finally did and we took you into the woods – aren’t they pretty? – and Woodblaze thought she felt a sending so we both sent and sent and then Goldenbraid and Big Axe and Redlace and Hatfeather came and they had been out hunting and Goldenbraid’s a healer, and she saved you!”

Looking quite proud of herself for not pausing once during her narration, Oriole replaced Dapple in his traveling pouch and threw her small arms around my waist. “I’m so glad,” she added in earnest.

I was unable to hold up my businesslike façade any longer at that point, and returned her embrace. **I’m glad too, Leeral,** I lock-sent to the child. Had I actually come that close to going insane?

I heard Woodblaze saying something to Goldenbraid behind me. I wasn’t sure of the exact words, as they were so soft, but I was sure they were thanks of some sort. My cheeks burned. Oriole was entirely correct in saying that I am rude. Well, considering the company I kept for two hundred years, you can hardly fault me.

**Humans!**

The sending came from Hatfeather. Goldenbraid and Redlace instantly went tense as I dove for the underbrush. But my “sisters” and I had hadn’t ever been under any real threat from human attack – until just before we crossed the plains, of course – and while Woodblaze and Oriole stood petrified I thought only of the fact that I had degraded myself before these strange elves by fainting. Oh yes, I get more bullheaded than a branchhorn in a rut when I’m embarrassed. Let these elves run for their lives, I thought proudly. Shrike will protect her own! I really am a fool at times.

I hissed at my companions to get into hiding, and when I’m in such an aggressive mood they usually obey me. In retrospect, I believe they knew what I was getting myself into, but mutually decided that it was best if I learned my own lesson. Why else would Oriole have had that… that pitying look on her face?

So there I was, longsword in hand, and seven humans came bursting into the clearing. I’d wager they’d have passed us right by if Woodblaze and Oriole hadn’t made such noise in reaching cover. But find us they did – rather, find me – and predictably they thought it would be a good idea to skin me alive. I have no knowledge of the human tongue, but their intentions were obvious enough.

I switched into my fighting mode then, and I remember little of what happened next. When I fight, I do not think. My weapon becomes an extension of myself and I simply let it do what it will. I have never had any training, but I remember Silverbirch, one of the elders, saying that I had the potential fighting ability of a great-cat cub. I didn’t pay much attention to him, or anyone else in the Fox Hollow holt for that matter. But he was right, and I don’t mind saying it myself. I was never one for modesty.

I do recall flashes of the fight, though, images and sounds as from a dream. Redstream, brightblade, blackterror, whitepain. Not much else. In some ways, I am grateful for that.

When I regained my normal rate of thought, there was a gash along my uncovered shoulder, five dead humans on the ground, and no sign of the other two. One of their deaths was not my doing, however. The arrow in his back was fletched with striped feathers. Mine are grey.

I realized abruptly that I was being dragged bodily away from the clearing by Redlace – oh, his arrows matched the one that had killed the human – and Big Axe. I was in no mood to be wrestled around like an untamed grasseater, so I wrenched myself free. That proved to be an abysmal mistake, as the healed wound on my shoulder was still tender. I sometimes wonder, now, why Goldenbraid had bothered to tend it. I don’t believe that foolishness is a thing to be rewarded.

“Let go of me, you oafs,” I grated. “I am no cubling to be steered here and there as you wish!”

“But you are hurt and you did a very stupid thing, Woodblaze told me frankly. I hadn’t noticed her behind me.

“That you did,” Big Axe agreed. “Redlace had to think twice before he stopped that roundear from backstabbing you. Like it or not, Shrike, we’ve got a truce with the humans in the valley and you just broke it. That’s not to say that the humans are always true to their word, but we pride ourselves in ours.”

“But I thought you said the valley was divided by a river that neither of you could cross,” said Woodblaze. “The trail we found down here is on your side. Those humans should have expected they’d get back as good as they gave!”

“True…” Big Axe looked thoughtful.

“But those were the humans that were following us, weren’t they?” Oriole asked softly.

Her mother looked down at her for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right, Oriole, they were. I remember the one with the hawk feathers all over his hair.”

“So you’re not going to get in trouble!” Oriole said happily. Then she added, a bit more hesitantly, “Are you still mad at Shrike?”

“It isn’t a question of being mad, Oriole, it’s a question of safety,” Redlace explained. “They humans who attacked us still know we’re here, and will almost definitely want revenge.”

This sobered Woodblaze’s daughter somewhat. “Oh.”

Hatfeather snorted. “After the way your blade-happy friend here skewered those four? I highly doubt it.”

I glowered at her, but said nothing. She was probably right, though, as humans are notoriously superstitious. If we were lucky, the tribe that had pursued my comrades and I would regard the valley as a place of misfortune.

“But if it’s all right with you,” Redlace said dryly, “I’d like to return to our holt.”

“Good idea,” Big Axe nodded as he spoke, then unexpectedly let loose with a resounding howl. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck shiver, and wondered what manner of tribe this was. Steelbender’s howls are high and plaintive, never so hauntingly resonant… or beautiful… as the one issued by the axe-wielding hunter.

My skin seemed to crawl off my scalp when I heard the howl answered. Woodblaze looked stunned, and Oriole was fascinated. I didn’t know what to make of it, until I suddenly realized I had not seen my bond-friend since I passed out. I was afraid for him; he almost never leaves my side.

I soon found out why he had. Four grey wolves, silent as shadows and disconcertingly large (or maybe they just seemed to be), emerged from the dense forest and moved toward the four native elves. One of them noticed us and came over to investigate. I realized by now, as had Woodblaze and Oriole, that the elves were bonded to them and they would do us no harm.

Scampernut and Dapple, however, believed otherwise as is their nature. The squirrel took a leap for a low-hanging branch from which he proceeded to scold us all, and the rabbit froze in Oriole’s satchel. The wolves scented him, as they inevitably would, but paid him little heed. Instead, they inspected us as Steelbender would any strange elf, examining our scents and sizing us up. This task completed, they returned to their bond friends.

What happened next, I am not ashamed to admit, came as a surprise. After mounting his lupine friend, Big Axe turned to me and told me to get on. I was not prepared for that. I had ridden grasseaters tamed by my former tribe, but wolves?! There was nothing for it but to obey. I suppressed a grimace and flung one leg over the wolf’s back.

At Redlace’s direction, Woodblaze did likewise. Goldenbraid lifted Oriole onto Hatfeather’s wolf, then mounted her own. At the worried look on Oriole’s face, Hatfeather grinned. “Don’t worry, Shadowpacer’s big enough for us both. But hold on tight anyway.”

Once we were situated thus, the three wolves took off. They probably would have been quicker still if not for our extra weight, but the ride was fast enough for me as it was. It was an incredible experience, indescribable… I found myself wondering what it would be like if Steelbender were large enough to ride. Ridiculous, but I thought it nonetheless.

It was obvious to me why the coyote had deserted me. He had smelled the wolves on their riders, and was frightened away. Animals respect each other’s territory to some extent; he was probably figuring out how to slip past the wolves’ guard to return to me. That wouldn’t happened; wolves are every bit as clever as their smaller kin. But I was confident I would see him again soon.

I was roused from my thoughts by a sending from Hatfeather.  **Shrike?**

I looked sharply over to where her wolf ran abreast of Big Axe’s. Her sending was terribly acute; it nearly made my head ache with its intensity. **Yes?**

**Where the flood did you get all those weapons? You look like a quillpig!**

**I made them,** I answered shortly.

**…?!...**

**I spent most of my life in a network of troll caverns, watching and learning,** I explained. **When you want something badly enough, there is little won’t do to get it. True?**

**Uh… if you say so.**  I couldn’t see Hatfeather’s face, but it was amusing to imagine what it must have looked like just then.

A new mental voice broke into our conversation, Redlace’s. **Remind me to introduce you to a certain friend of mine, Shrike. This name’s Thunderfoot. You two would get along marvelously together,** he added cryptically.

I didn’t bother to wonder who this Thunderfoot character might be, for my mind was instantly occupied with something more demanding.

Such as the wall of thorns straight in our path.

I thought I heard Woodblaze gasp, but it was hard to be sure. I was about to cry a warning when we all simultaneously swerved aside and ducked through a concealed opening in the barrier…

…and stopped. It was an elven holt, unmistakably; I notice shaped trees here and there, and more apparent, well-worn paths.

“Welcome to the Timber Valley holt,” said Redlace.

I wasn’t sure what to make of the Timber Folks’ chief, Nightstep. He welcomed us as had the four hunters, but seemed to hold aloof from us at the same time, taking in everything with solemnity. Blast it, I thought, why do all chieftains have to take their positions so cursed seriously?  It isn’t as if we were going to contaminate his hold with some dread disease!

Oriole was openly enthusiastic, as is her nature, but her mother acted quite the opposite, as is her nature. The sociable Hatfeather introduced us to any elf who happened to come our way as she led us to what she called the Father Tree. It was difficult to remember all the names. Ivory, a deep red-haired elf with the build of a fighter… I’d have to get to know her! …Windrush, whom Hatfeather said lived up to his nickname Diver admirably… Blackfire, who had the same magical talent as Woodblaze… Tempest, who rode the sky like a bird without wings… there were so many of them, such a change from the solitary life with my two sisters of spirit.

And I love it. I hadn’t realized how I missed the company of many other elves, the things to learn from them and to do with them. I missed it dearly, and I said so to Woodblaze when we settled into our temporary room in the Father Tree at the center of the holt. Oriole had already gone off exploring.

She looked at me in shock. She had been hunting through her pack for an embroidered cloak she was working on for her daughter. “Shrike… you’re not suggesting that we –”

“I most certainly am!” I said vehemently. Instantly I was sorry; she looked like Steelbender after he’s been scolded. “Look, I didn’t mean to be so harsh,” I amended, “but we’ve been wandering like hermits long enough. You’ve had two terrible examples of holts to deal with in your past, but this one seems perfectly normal as far as I can see. The elves here bear us no animosity; in fact most were entirely trusting and amicable. I don’t see why you treat them as if they are going to turn you out the way those… those…”

Woodblaze sighed. “No need to get worked up, my friend. I think you’re angrier at them than I ever was. But I don’t think you understand the fact that I like being alone, with just you and Oriole. And it’s not just because of my tribe or Oriole’s father’s.”

“Send it,” I challenged her grimly. We had passed or traveled through other holts before, and always Woodblaze refused to stay more than one night. I would not allow it to happen again, not now. “I don’t believe you.”

“Shrike…” she looked pained, and it tore me to go through with it. I had to.

“No,” I said through clenched teeth. “I can’t let you continue to treat yourself like you’re not fit to live among your own people when they are willing to accept you!  Send it!”

“You know I wouldn’t be able to,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes. Then I saw one shining drop of water fall to her sleeping-furs.

I rushed over to embrace her. **I’m sorry Brahna!  I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to! I just wanted you to see that our lives with each other weren’t perfect, and they won’t be until we learn to live with others as well. Both of us, and Oriole too.**

“Oriole…” Woodblaze’s tear-glistening hazel eyes looked worried.

“Have you ever known her not to be happy wherever we went?” I continued. “Please, Woodblaze, just try it. Just for a little while. If not for yourself, then for me.”

She sighed again. “No, you’re right, Lela. I have been deceiving myself, and you, and Leeral, and it’s time I saw the light. It figures that someone else would have to show it to me, though…”

“Oh, will you leave off?” I cried, aggravated. Then, calming down just as quickly, “When will you realize that you are not helpless or worthless or whatever other dung you’ve got yourself convinced of?”

“Yes, mother,” she said with a smirk.

Delighted to see her smiling at last, I forged ahead. “Then shall I ask our new chief if there are any empty tree-homes in this holt?”

“Unless you had your heart set on sleeping in those thorns.”

I made as if to swat her, but was arrested by Oriole’s voice in the doorway. “What are you talking about?”

I turned around and asked the child seriously, “What would you say to having this valley as a permanent home?”

The light in her eyes was all the answer I needed.