HOMECOMING

by Joanne Papin

(DF 1 Summer)

Nostrils quivering delicately, the stag tested the air. He could scent nothing out of place, yet still he hesitated before entering the glade. His large upright ears flickered back and forth, listening to the forest sounds. All seemed normal, the night softly alive with its usual rustlings in the undergrowth, the hunting call of an owl, the gentle gurgle of the brook in the clearing before him. Lulled by the lack of threatening scent and by the familiar sounds of the forest night, he stepped daintily into the open.

Snick – Snick – Snick

With no discernable pause between them, three arrows buried themselves in the stag’s vulnerable points. He shuddered once, and then fell, dead from the first of the precisely aimed shafts.

Ow-ooo…  The mournful call of a wolf pierced the night’s calm, coming from within the concealing branches of the tree from which the arrows had been shot.

Ow-OOO… came the distant answer. OW-OOOO…

At Deerstalker’s reply, Ferret dropped from the tree and approached her kill. The big wolf’s howl had told her that he would return at once to share the choice parts of the stag. She was glad to have him back; they had split up after midday to hunt separately and no matter how long they were away from the valley of her birth, she would never get used to being so alone.

Back in the valley, Ferret had often gone hunting alone, even occasionally on the Upper World plains, though she had been careful to keep that a secret, especially from Mooncrest.  However, she had always known that the rest of the holt was near. She had thought to enjoy this extended trip on the Upper World as she had the short hunts, but she had been wrong. It had been fun at first, but after a time she missed having someone to talk to – even Mooncrest to fight with. And she had discovered no wonders, no strange elves still living out of the valley or trees or plants of different colors. To be sure, she had seen some animals that did not live in the valley, but she had seen them on the plains of the Sea of Grass before. But the only signs she had found of other elves had been old, a shaped rock or tree here or there. Nothing that had been made within her parents’ lifetimes at the least. She was ready to return home, if she could just figure out where home was.

Deerstalker arrived to take her mind from her musings. She shared the rich liver with her wolf friend as she sent to tell him of her intention to stay in this clearing for a while, at least until the stag’s meat was gone.

A few days later, Ferret decided that it was time to be moving on. The stat’s carcass had meat for only one meal more and she wanted to return home. Ferret now knew where the valley was located. Though she had been aware of the directions she had traveled during the two years since leaving the holt, it had been difficult to keep up with all the twists and turns her path had taken. She had not been sure where she had ended up, until now.

After killing the stag, Ferret had been struck by an odd sense of familiarity with the area. Knowing she had never been in that part of the forest before, she had searched for the cause of her feeling. First she had found a tree shaped by elven magic – incredibly old, older even than the holt’s Father Tree, with much of the shaping overgrown, but once it had been a hometree. Then she had found more hometrees, including one that had died and toppled over.

It had been many years out of living memory since Silverstone had led the tribe from the Holt of Hollow Trees to the safety of Timber Valley, but Ferret was certain these were the same Hollow Trees. She had found the original home of her tribe – and the way home.  Memory-sendings and stories handed down through generations of the Timber Folk traced the way from the Hollow Trees to the valley. All she had to do now was follow it.

It did not take Ferret and Deerstalker long to leave the Great Wood behind for the seemingly endless expanse of the Sea of Grass. Stopping only to hunt, they made it to the blue river after four days of travel. Soon after, while following a herd of what Ferret dubbed Thunder Runners on the hunt, they moved far enough away from the river to come within sight of the Watchtower, a pillar of rock shaped out of the plains by the powerful rockshaper Blackthorn during the tribe’s flight, to check for pursuit. The sight of the Watchtower gave Ferret an odd feeling. Partly it was relief that she and Deerstalker were going in the right direction, and partly it was awe at the power that had raised the pillar. Could Clearfox or Twill do such as that?

Except for the sight of the Watchtower, the journey downriver was uneventful. Ferret was particularly grateful to have avoided any contact with human tribes. During her travels, she had seen several human groups at a distance, and they had all made her homesick for the humans of her valley.

From the drying of the grasses, it was autumn when Ferret finally heard the roaring of the twin waterfalls that fed the valley. Soon elf and wolf were looking down at the blue lake from atop the sheercliff rim. Of course, she was on the wrong side of the valley to reach Sheercliff Pass. With sudden dismay, Ferret realized that she would have to travel almost all the way around the valley before reaching the pass. Another three or four nights at least!

The journey around the valley seemed to last twice as long as the crossing of the Sea of Grass. As she traveled, Ferret took time occasionally to look over the cliff edge. It was good to see the green of the valley again. At least, the leaves were already turning to other colors with the coming of the autumn, but some green remained. She had never realized, though, how different the forest looked from the human’s side of the valley.

As Ferret rounded the far end of the valley and neared Sheercliff Pass, she began to realize something was wrong. She had hunted along the Upper World rim enough to see the erosion of the cliff edge. Sheercliff Pass was different from memory, too, for it had become straighter and less rough. Either it had become suddenly more traveled, or something had cleared it.

The valley floor had changed as well. Trees were uprooted, mostly saplings, but a few older trees were damaged as well. Fallen trees were buried beneath mounds of dirt overgrown with yellowing grasses. She could see no seedlings taller than her ankle – this summer’s growth, but none older. Dead branches were wedged between trees and rocks all around, a few still hung from their trees by strips of bark or splinters of wood.

Sensing his elf friend’s unease, Deerstalker pushed his head against her with a quiet whine. The wolf’s touch seemed to break through Ferret’s sudden torpor. She vaulted onto his back, urging him in the direction of the holt with fear-edge sending.

**Hatfeather!  Sister, answer me!**  As they had gotten nearer the holt, Ferret had begun to call her parents. Their lack of response had increased her fear and now there was a ragged edge of panic in her open sending as she called to her sister.

**…Ferret?  Wha--?**  Faintly, she received the reply. Was her sister hurt?  **Aw, let me sleep. It’s still daylight!**  That was much stronger and sounded quite normal. Realizing she might have been panicking for nothing, Ferret allowed Deerstalker to slow his pace. She was about to send to Hatfeather again when her sister’s sending burst back upon her.

**Ferret!  You’re back!  Where have you been—you missed everything—where you?**  Before she could reply, Nightstep broke in.

**Ferret. You have returned – we had stopped hoping.**  The chief’s sending seemed strained. **We will prepare a welcome for you. Much has happened while you were away.**

**What has happened?  What’s wrong here?** Ferret sent after him, but he did not reply. Again worried, she urged Deerstalker to move faster.

A shrill whistle cut through the forest before her. A moment later, Hatfeather appeared, her red hair blazing as brightly as ever. Deerstalker stopped at a thought from his rider, who then slid down to face her sister.

“What happened?” Ferret eyed Hatfeather cautiously. Could she trust her to give an unexaggerated version of the story? Her sister had a habit of doing that.

Hatfeather’s huge purple eyes widened with sudden tears. “Oh, Ferret – it was horrible! The flood water was all around us.”  Dramatically, she flung her arms to emphasize her words. “We had to run for the Pass – many didn’t make it. Mother and father…”  Suddenly she buried her face in her hands. “I saw them,” she whispered. She continued, her voice regaining volume. “They never had a chance. The wall of water hit and swept them away. I… reached out for them…” Here, she lifted her face and half-extended her hands. “…but they were too far away. I felt their cries in my mind, then they were gone.”  She slumped to the ground, face back in her hands. “No one saw what happened to Twig,” she whispered again, referring to their younger brother. “It was as though the water swallowed him.”

As Hatfeather spoke, Ferret bit back a cry of horror. Their parents and brother! Her legs felt weak and she clung to Deerstalker to keep from falling.  “How many others?” she asked, her voice a barely audible croak.

“What do you care? You weren’t here – you left them – us – to explore the Upper World.” Mooncrest had emerged from the forest behind Hatfeather. “Was it worth it?  Did you see what you went to see?” There was a leaden quality to his voice, as though he had no real conviction to his words.

“That will be more than enough.” Another elf had followed Mooncrest. Ferret recognized Two Star gratefully. Normally, the elder annoyed her with his – to her – air of self-importance, but right now, she was glad of his steadying manner. “Hatfeather’s story is essentially correct – many died during the flood, including your parents. No one knows what happened to Twig. He may be dead… or maybe not.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”  He was aware of this cub’s antagonism toward him. It confused him, but he did not hold it against her. Perhaps someday…

At Two Star’s words, Mooncrest had turned angrily. Now, he stalked back into the woods, heading away from the holt. Hatfeather had watched the exchange between her sister, the elder, and Mooncrest with curiosity, her tragic air shed as quickly as it had been assumed. Now she jumped to her feet and explained to Ferret, “Newfur was killed by the humans –” she stopped as Two Star cleared his throat. “Alright. She was drowned by one of the large water snakes in the lake, before the flood. But, Clearfox and Dewdrop were both killed by humans before the flood.”

“By the High Ones… how many have died while I was gone?” Ferret felt as though she were in a nightmare.

Two may, but Twill and Dawnwatch’s cub was born right after you left. They call him Season. They survived the flood, as did Freshwind, Goldenbraid, Grassy, Foxvine, Trace…” As they walked toward the holt’s protective thorn barrier, Two Star continued to fill in the details of all that happened while Ferret had been away from the holt.

As Nightstep had promised, a welcome party was waiting back at the holt. There was a feast of fish, meat, and autumn fruit, and many joyous tears and hugs for the returned Ferret. Those who would not be joining the night’s hunting sampled from Foxvine’s dreamberries.

Ferret was shocked by how few of the Timber Folk were left after the flood, and also by the damage that had been done to both the thorn barrier and the hometrees. The treeshapers, Silverleaf and Nightway looked even more exhausted than the others in the tribe did. Ferret wondered how much damage had already been repaired in the moons since the flood if this much still remained. No wonder they looked tired.

Before the hunters left, they howled in memory of those who had died in the Death Flood and from other causes. They also howled in honor of new life in the child Season, and then they howled for Ferret’s safe return.

Mooncrest did not return to the holt until the howl, and then he remained stiff and aloof from Ferret. As the last of the howl sounded, she approached him hesitantly. “They told me about Newfur. I am so sorry.  You and I had our differences, but we both loved her.”

With a muffled sob, Mooncrest’s defenses crumbled. He hugged Ferret tightly, whispering, “I… it wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you returned safe.”  Turning away, he ran to join those who prepared for the night’s hunt.

**No,** Nightstep’s sending interrupted her wistful sigh. **You have just returned. Tomorrow, join the hunt. Tonight, rest. My orders.**

Reluctantly, she nodded to show her compliance, then turned to find her parents’ hometree. Mooncrest may have forgiven her – perhaps – but she could not forgive herself. How could she have left the valley – they had needed everyone. She sat at the base of her hometree, back braced against its trunk, thinking how best to make up for her desertion.

“What a big sigh.”

Ferret looked up, startled. Trace stood before her, his dark eyes seeming serious, for once.

“Not now, Trace. I’m not in the mood.”  What she remembered most about the younger elf was his love of pranks and parties. She was not in the mood for his brand of flippancy now. In the past, she remembered also, the only reason Trace had ever talked with her was when he had tried to involve her in the planning of one of his elaborate capers. He was almost as bad as Mooncrest with the pranks when the hunter was in a light mood.

“Be fair, now. I lost my family in the flood too.”  She did a double-take, again seeing the serious look in his eyes. “I just wanted to say… there was nothing you could have done if you were here. Except maybe died like the others. Now you can help with the cleanup,” he made a face, “You know, the best part.”

Against her will, Ferret giggled. He smiled back encouragingly at her. “That’s it. We’ve had enough of the long faces – you can’t help by feeling guilty. You already helped Mooncrest. The only thing that hurt him as bad as Newfur dying was when we had to wait on the Upper World from the flood waters to go down. He would not eat for days, and Two Star finally had to strong-arm him into it. Of course, if Nightway gets her way, he’ll be a lot better off.”

Swept along on the tide of Trace’s patter, Ferret found herself nodding with him despite the ache of sorry she felt. “What way is that?” she heard herself ask.

“Well, so far, he’s the only one who doesn’t consider the two of them lovemates, but it’s getting close.”  He smiled then and his eyes twinkled. “And, speaking of getting close…”

“Yes?” He could not be about to suggest… but this was Trace, after all.

“Well, it occurred to me that you might not want to share a tree with Hatfeather. I’ve heard the two you of you in a bramble. And…” he tried to look soulful, and came quite close to succeeding, “I’m all alone.”

“What a shame,” she answered softly, indulging him.

“Uh-huh. Of course, this would only be a temporary arrangement,” he added hastily. “Until you get settled back into holt routine.”  Again, he smiled.

“Well, my sister and I get along fine, thank you. And we’re the only family we’ve got now.”  For a moment, she almost let the sadness back. Pushing it back firmly, she struggled to retain the light mood Trace had established. “But, there is something about your offer. All right, Trace. Show me this hometree of which you speak.”  She held out a hand and he pulled her up, into his arms.

“Who said anything about a hometree?” he murmured, looking up. Ferret was half a hand taller, but that did not really matter for anything important. At her raised eyebrows, he laughed. “Just kidding. C’mon.”

Arms around each other’s waists, they walked toward Trace’s hometree. For a little while, at least, Ferret could forget what had happened.