<“This is important,”> Hoodwink insisted. <“It concerns the whole valley – both of our tribes are in danger.”>

Tana listened to the slow heartbeat drum and willed it to continue. It would do so as long as Deta was on his deathbed and would only stop if he either died or managed to stand up on his own. He was very old, however, and no one in the village expected him to linger much longer.

<“If you must talk to me,”> she said at last, <“let me first collect my roots and take them to Ariv. We will talk after he dismisses me.”>

<“Okay, I will help you gather your roots,”> Hoodwink told her. Mooncrest nodded his approval.

<“Tell your friends to meet us at the corral.”>

Hoodwink turned to his party and described the horse and sheep pens in a grassy clearing a little ways from the village where he often met with her in the past. The two of them then left and Mooncrest led the others away to the meeting place.

An hour later, Tana walked into the village nonchalantly and went straight to the large central hut. She passed the hunters who had stripes painted on their cheeks to honor their chief and all seemed lethargic. In his day, Deta had been an excellent hunter and tracker, and there were several songs about his exploits. He had also been the most well respected leader in their remembered history, and his passing would be felt by many.

The heartbeat drum was still sounding, however, so at least for now he still lived. Deta had already appointed the tribe's chief hunter as his successor, a tall man with broad shoulders, a deep bronze tan and hair as black as the night. He was dressed in tan pants with fringe along the seams, knee high moccasins and a simple vest of woven dark green cloth. He wore a necklace with three dangling gold nuggets that rested upon his chest. Seralle was flattered to be selected to lead his people, but not at the expense of their father figure's life.

He nodded to Tana as she came into the hut, but paid her little attention. The shaman stood beside Deta's bed, and it occurred to her that he resembled a carrion bird waiting patiently for his prey to die. His long, hooked nose and small dark eyes made him look oppressive in the heavy shadows thrown by the single torch in the room. He was reed thin and the muscles of his neck stood out even when he was not upset about something. He was clothed in a simple brown tunic, pants and a pair of sandals.

The shaman's eyes missed nothing and he immediately noted that the girl seemed apprehensive. That could be her emotion over their leader's health, however, he mused. He thought well of his apprentice, and was pleased with her learning progress, but there was always something about her that made him suspicious. Then again, almost everyone made him suspicious; it was his nature.

<“The tipweed roots you gathered earlier have worked well,”> he told her in a grumbling voice. <“He is no longer delirious.”>

<“Then he has come back to himself?”> she asked. Ariv nodded his bald head and walked toward the door.

<“Watch him carefully, Tana,”> he said. <“I am going out to relieve myself. I knew I should not have eaten that tarito.”> The gangly shaman left the hut without waiting for a response and Tana sighed in relief. She moved to Deta's side and took the old man's hand. He opened his deep blue eyes and smiled when he saw her.

<“Dear child,”> he said in a voice that still retained its strength, <“Ariv tells me you have been a great help in caring for me.”>

<“Indeed?”> she said with a wide smile of her own. <“He gives praise so sparingly.”> She leaned closer to him. <“Deta, there is something I must tell you.”>

<“What is it?”>

She glanced quickly at Seralle, but he was gazing thoughtfully out into the morning light. She lowered her voice and spoke quickly to the old chief. <“I have seen the Small Ones in our forest. They spoke to me.”>

Deta's eyes grew wide and he pulled in a deep breath to shout a command to Seralle, but instead had a coughing fit. Before he could try again, Tana moved closer to his ear and continued. <“They want peace between us,”> she said earnestly, <“and they want our help to fight against a greater enemy that threatens the life of everything in our valley.”>

Deta looked at her with hardness in his eyes. <“You are mad, girl.”> He spat out the words as if they tasted of bile.

<“No, my head is clear,”> she told him.

<“Did they have weapons?”>

<“Yes, but they were sheathed. I was never threatened.”>

<“What are you whispering about?”> Ariv said irritably as he stepped in through the door past the chief hunter.

<“Ke L'Rhatan! Ke L'Rhatan!”> shouted a voice loudly from outside. Seralle bolted out the door and Ariv followed him in haste.

Tana glanced back at her leader and said, <“It is them.”> She knelt beside his bed again and began talking quickly while she had the time alone with him.

The humans were in a panic. Never before had a party of the Small Ones come directly into their own village. So bold was the action that all but three hunters retreated away from the intruders behind and inside their huts. Seralle rushed to join his hunter-guards and his heart was beating wildly from fear. This was his first real encounter with the legendary creatures and his mind was numb.

<“Do not stand there gawking like idiots!”> Ariv shouted. <“Kill them! Kill them!”>

Mooncrest stood with his feet planted firmly and his hands on his hips. Sandstorm stood on his right and Hoodwink was on his left. Two Star stood behind them just slightly inside the morning shadows. The humans started forward as one, but a new voice called out in a deep booming voice. <“Stop!”>

Gotcheye and Dopper stepped out of the shadows, both with their right hands raised to shade their night-tuned eyes from the sunlight. To the humans, the hand gesture was a friendly greeting and they stopped in their tracks at the sight of the short green men. Legends of the masters of the lands under the lands were older even than those of the Small Ones. The humans did not know what to do, and even Ariv had frozen in his tracks.

The shaman's memories of the old legends were dim, but all he really seemed to remember was that his people had once served the green ones and were rewarded with tools of curious metals for obedience. No one had seen them for a hundred generations, and none had even thought them still around. Ariv's brain could not comprehend the ancient legends alive and in the company of the ones he hated, so he did the only thing he could; he fainted.

Gotcheye chanced a glance over his shoulder at Two Star and whispered, “What now?” The word he had shouted to the humans had only been taught to him a few moments ago; he knew nothing more of the language.

Two Star answered quickly. “Go stand next to Mooncrest when he talks and just stand there looking important. Sandstorm will whisper translations to you.” Gotcheye nodded and did as suggested as Two Star sent instructions to his daughter. Dopper faded back into the shadows and waited behind the elder elf.

<“Ke L'Rhatan,”> Mooncrest repeated. <“We come now as friends, not enemies.”>

Seralle took a step closer, his spear ready to fight, but he hesitated so he could hear more. He was also aware of the legendary green men, and as the one who would soon lead his people, he wanted to know more before he would attack blindly.

<“Who is the leader of your people that we may talk with him?”> the elf asked.

Seralle swallowed and dimly heard that Deta's drummer was still at his task despite the situation. He pulled himself up slowly to his full height and said in a voice that was stronger than he felt. <“I am Seralle. I am leader while our chief is ill. Speak to me.”>

Mooncrest began talking in the simplest words of their language he knew. <“Our two tribes have been enemies a long time,”> he said, <“but with a boundary between our territories, we have each lived in a kind of peace.”>

**Don't remind them of our feud too much,** Two Star advised him.

Seralle listened quietly while others behind him talked between themselves. He turned and barked an order of silence and then turned his attention back to the elf.

<“In our own ways,”> Mooncrest continued, <“each of us has a great love for this valley. My companions and I have come to warn you of a great threat to every living thing in this valley.”>

Ariv regained his senses in time to hear the last of the elf's words. He sat up quickly and pointed a shaking finger at the elves. <“The Small Ones are the threat!”> he shouted. <“We must kill them! Now!”>

<“Stop!”> the troll said again. Ariv's words failed him, especially when Gotcheye stormed forward and stuck his glaring face up close to the shaman's, both of his meaty hands curled up into fists at his sides. Ariv's breathing became rapid, and he almost fainted again at the troll's proximity and foul breath.

<“Ariv!”> Seralle shouted, <“Let the talk continue without your interruption. I want to hear.”> The shaman slunk away from the troll and retreated to a safer distance. Gotcheye returned to his place beside Mooncrest so Sandstorm could translate for him in soft whispers.

<“What is this threat you speak of?”> Seralle said in an annoyed tone. Strangely enough, his irritation was not for his enemies, but toward his own medicine man.

Mooncrest swallowed and took a step forward slowly. He gestured toward Gotcheye and began again. <“Long before either tribe of ours came into this valley, the land beneath us was the domain of trolls like this one.”>

<“Trulls?”> Seralle repeated in his tribal accent.

<“They had a vast underground territory, and their magic with metals was great.”> Gotcheye smiled with pride at Sandstorm's whispered translation. <“However,”> Mooncrest continued, <“a war divided them, and the destructive results of their fighting caused the creation of this valley.”> Murmurs broke out among the humans and Seralle took a step closer to the elves. <“The fighting ended and their true king retained his leadership. The one who started the trouble escaped and was never seen again — until now.”>

Seralle raised an eyebrow and set the butt of his spear staff on the ground at his feet. He leaned forward on it and asked, <“This bad trull still lives? My people have lived here a hundred generations!”>

Mooncrest nodded and smiled. <“You speak true, Seralle, but so do I. Trolls live lives that are long indeed. However, there is a bad troll here under the valley who is just like the one who escaped. She may or may not be the same troll, but she intends similar trouble. Her name is Catgut.”>

<“How does this concern us?”> Ariv called. <“The trulls have been unseen for a hundred lifetimes. Our legends say nothing of the lies you tell.”> Seralle held his own tongue and waited for the reply.

Mooncrest was nervous from being within range of their spears, but the humans were listening to him, at least. <“Catgut plans to kill your people as well as mine, leaving none of us alive.”>

<“Why?”> Seralle asked. <“We have made no fight against trulls. We did not even know they still existed.”>

<“Do your legends say why you fight my tribe?”> Mooncrest asked.

Ariv answered angrily. <“Because you came into our lands and took game food that was to be ours! We had the whole valley and all the food in it for ourselves, and you stole away half of it!”>

Mooncrest nodded. <“That is the way Catgut thinks of your people.”> The murmuring stopped immediately. Seralle took another step forward.

<“What are you saying?”> he asked.

<“This valley was created by the trolls. Your tribe moved in, occupied their land, and ate its food. Catgut thinks both of our tribes stole the valley from her, and now she wants to kill us all to get it back.”>

Seralle looked shocked and stared at Gotcheye. <“Why is this trull with you if they want us dead?”>

Mooncrest sighed and took another step closer to the man. This was the opening he had waited for. <“A war is dividing the trolls once again. A great number of them do not want Catgut's evil rule. They believe the valley has plenty of food and room for us all without having to fight one another for it.”> He turned and gestured toward Gotcheye. <“This troll represents those who do not mind if our two tribes continue to live here as we have done for so long. His people want our help to defeat Catgut and restore peace in the valley.”>

Ariv uttered a growl of contempt and darted to the central hut. He disappeared inside and Seralle barely gave him a glance.

Two Star had watched the entire proceedings from the shadows, quietly sending occasional instruction to Mooncrest and wondered if they honestly had a chance of turning their ancient enemies into allies. That Nightstep would suggest such a thing surprised even him, and the elder believed he knew his best friend better than anyone else. The chief had wisdom enough to try to keep his folk from openly fighting the humans, but he had made it clear enough to the tribe in times past that he had a deeply rooted hatred of the Tall Ones. Was Nightstep really desperate enough to ally himself with humans to fight Catgut because of what she had done to his tribe, or had he gone mad from the stress of leadership?

**Two Star!**

The elder looked up at the locked sending and concentrated on a long distance reply.

**Dawnwatch? What is it?**

**I'm on my way there with a small fighting party. What is the situation there?**

**Believe it or not,** he replied, **the humans are actually listening to Mooncrest. I'm not sure if the humans will agree to help us, but they seem to be swallowing his words. He's doing a good job.**

**How much of what he's telling them is truth?**

**All of it. He has embellished nothing.**

**Amazing! We should be there shortly,** Dawnwatch told him. **I have Diver, Shadowstar, Longknife and Talon with me.**

Two Star glanced back at Mooncrest's continuing negotiations and then sent back to Dawnwatch, **Why the fighting party? Is it in case the humans turn against us?**

**That's a possibility, but not our reason,** she replied. **Apparently there's a spy in our holt who tipped off Catgut to what you're trying to do. The resistance trolls dispatched word to us that Catgut hadn't anticipated an alliance between us and the humans and is furious. She believes you may be successful, and has sent out a raiding party of her own to wipe out the village before they can organize to help us.**

**Wait,** Two Star sent, **both Longknife and Talon hate humans. Why are they with you?**

**Both are excellent fighters, and like our dear Nightstep, have agreed that Catgut poses a greater threat. We left the holt as quickly as we could.**

**Any idea where the troll warriors are?**

**None. They're probably advancing on your position now through some underground tunnel.**

Two Star frowned as he looked back at Mooncrest and the others. **Get here as quick as you can,** he urged Dawnwatch.

<“If the trulls had magic enough to make the valley,”> Seralle said to Mooncrest, <“then why do they need our help?”>

<“Those who want to stop Catgut are too few in number. With your warriors and mine fighting together with them as allies, we can win our lives and our freedom to go on living here in the valley.”>

Seralle became quiet as he thought over what the elf had told him. He only stood three paces from Mooncrest but he was no longer afraid. Suddenly the heartbeat drum stopped and Seralle's blood turned to ice. He turned around quickly, and was about to run to the central hut, but what he saw caught him by an even bigger surprise.

Deta stood in the doorway of the structure on his own two feet.

Ariv was at his leader's side whispering into the old man's left ear. Deta surveyed the situation and his dark eyebrows were drawn close together in displeasure. He took a step away from the door frame and almost fell, but Tana was there in an instant to keep him steady. He took her hand for support and walked slowly toward Seralle. Everyone was in awe of their leader's strength and courage to leave his deathbed for an important meeting as this. A few of the women began to weep openly.

Nothing was said as Deta, Tana, and Ariv slowly approached Mooncrest and Seralle. The old man stared long and hard at the elf and cleared his throat to speak. <“I have heard your words,”> he said, <“and I am touched by your attempt for peace for our two peoples. But, a disagreement between you and the trulls is of no concern to us. If you must fight them, do so in your own territory and leave us alone in ours.”>

Mooncrest's heart sank. He had been sure that Seralle was listening and believing, and that the resistance would have the help they needed. He opened his mouth to try again with their chief, but the old man held up a shaking hand.

<“We will hear no more of your words, Small One,”> he said. <“However, since you came in peace, we will let you go in peace. My warriors will escort you unharmed back to the rock across the river. So long as your people remain out of our territory, we will have no fight with you.”>

Mooncrest saw the look in Seralle's eyes as he turned to face him. The man's expression was apologetic toward the elves, but showed that he would follow his chief's decree. Sandstorm put a hand on his shoulder and he turned to go. Hoodwink traded glances with Tana, but neither spoke. Only Ariv seemed to be pleased with the results of the meeting. Gotcheye shrugged his shoulders and walked with them toward the place Two Star and Dopper hid in the bushes.

“We're all gonna die under Catgut's swords,” he muttered to no one in particular.

A spark of hope rekindled in Hoodwink's heart, however, when he heard Deta's words to Seralle. <“I do not know if anything the Small One said was true,”> the old leader said gravely. <“But, we will take no chances. Put the women and children at the center of the village and all warriors are to be watchful for any action against us, whether it is by trull or the Small Ones”>

Hoodwink nodded to himself. Even if the humans would not become their allies, at least Tana’s people might have a fighting chance against a surprise attack from trolls. He chanced a last look back at his human friend, but all he saw was the chest of a large human behind him. The man saw his expression of sudden fear and leaned down to speak to him. <“Do not worry, Small One,”> the brutish-looking man said. <“We will obey Deta and will not hurt you.”> He then lowered his voice to a whisper. <“In my heart, I think your intentions were good. It is too bad we cannot be friends.”> Hoodwink looked up at the human and gave him a thin smile.

<“Me, too,”> he replied.

Two Star stayed out of sight so he would not alarm the human escorts, but he remained in sending contact with the party. Mooncrest became apprehensive at the news the elder gave them and he put all his senses on the alert.

**We have yet another problem,** Two Star told them. **Dopper has vanished into the forest.**

**That's not good,** Sandstorm replied. **Where is Dawnwatch's group?**

**They're already here, up in the trees. I told them to stay hidden. There's no use alarming the humans into thinking we brought a war party to fight since they refused us.**

Since none of the humans knew the common language spoken by trolls and elves, Mooncrest spoke openly to Gotcheye. “Catgut is sending warriors to attack the human village.”

The troll looked at him as they passed beneath a huge oak tree. “How would you know that?”

“Two Star whispered it to me as we passed that last large bush,” he lied. “Dopper has also taken off alone.”

“Dopper!” Gotcheye spat. “He's probably one of Catgut's ears! When I get my hands on him...”

A terrified scream pierced the air and everyone jumped. <“That was Wilsa!”> one of the humans exclaimed. <“Back to the village!”> Everyone began running back the way they had come, including the elves and troll. The humans outdistanced the others with their long strides, though one of them, a man named Trin, looked back in surprise to find the elves following them. He stopped suddenly and brandished his spear.

<“Do not,”> he said. <“Go away!”>

Trin nervously touched the silky blue headband he wore and then looked back toward the village as more screams sounded out. He hesitated between running to the screams and staying to warn away the elves, but then they all heard Seralle's voice yell out, <“It's the trulls!”>

Trin locked eyes with Mooncrest and then said, <“Come on!”>

The elves drew their weapons and ran after the man. They burst into the clearing and saw nearly fifteen trolls running through the village trying to kill anything that moved. Some of them had crossbows while others were armed with spiked clubs, maces or spears. Three were hurling torches at the grass huts and the fires spread rapidly.

Mooncrest saw the humans at their fighting best and had no doubts as to why Nightstep wanted their help. One was involved in a punching match with a hearty troll and he was doing well. After the initial surprise of the trolls firing off bolts from their weapons, the man had rushed the invaders and impaled one troll through the throat with his spear. He had then swung at the nearest troll and was pounding him repeatedly with powerful punches.

Another man hurtled stones from a sling at trolls, and while they did nothing more than anger one attacker, he was distracted long enough for another human to smash his head with a thick log.

Mooncrest saw a troll bearing down on a wounded man with his spiked club, but he had no time to react. Another troll jumped for the prankster out of the bushes and his instinctive reflexes whipped up his large double-edge blade and neatly severed the attacker's right arm from his body at the shoulder joint. The troll screamed in agony and Mooncrest silenced him with another thrust.

He looked back at the human he had seen wounded and was surprised to see Gotcheye standing in front of the man, fighting off the troll with the club. He saw movement to his left and he ran to Talon's aid. A troll swung his mace hard with the power of his well toned muscles and the impact caught the elf on the left arm, shattering it immediately. Mooncrest hurled his blade, and with shear luck, it impaled the troll cleanly through the heart. He went to retrieve his sword and knelt next to Talon.

The wounded elf was in agony and Mooncrest reached out to him. He felt the air move past his right ear, and the club that just missed him hit Talon's skull with a tremendous impact. The troll backhanded the prankster before he could react and Mooncrest suddenly blacked out.

The warrior laughed and raised his bloody club for another strike, but all he managed to do was drop it and claw at the wide slice that had just appeared deeply across his throat. Longknife swung his lengthy blade again and the headless body collapsed at his feet. He knelt beside his friend and saw the prankster was merely knocked out. He was about to try to wake him, but a human male child ran across the village screaming, pursued by a grinning troll with a huge war club. Longknife grit his teeth and ran to the child's aid.

Sandstorm had just put an arrow through an invader's heart when she saw Mooncrest's body. She stifled a scream of her own, thinking him dead, but a troll archer came at her with a crossbow in one hand and a torch in the other. Sandstorm was no coward, but she ran from him toward the central hut. The troll hurled his torch, not at her, but into the structure's grass walls. The flames caught instantly near the door.

Sandstorm felt a sudden thud and she looked down at her side as pain suddenly spread. The bolt of a crossbow was in deep just beneath her lower rib and blackness claimed her quickly. Dawnwatch yelled when she saw Two Star's daughter collapse inside the burning hut's doorway. With sudden strength, she beheaded her foe without another thought and rushed to the hut. The one who shot Sandstorm laughed and then ran after a woman who fled the burning structure. When Dawnwatch got there, a middle aged woman with brown curls was holding Sandstorm in her arms. She looked up at the elf and said, <“Help me get her out into the woods!”>

Dawnwatch did not understand the language but saw the message in the woman's eyes. She took Sandstorm's feet while the human took her arms. They carried her swiftly out of the fighting and set her down a short distance into the concealing underbrush. Dawnwatch left her in the human woman's care, silently hoping she could trust her. She ran back into the melee and clumsily tripped over a body riddled with cross bolts. It was the huntress, Shadowstar. Dawnwatch set her teeth together with a low-throated growl, and got back up to find someone to kill. 

Seralle was tiring from the fighting, but he was determined to defend his people. He launched himself from the ground with a running start and landed with both feet in a troll's gut. Before the downed adversary could regain his balance, Seralle snatched up a discarded crossbolt from the ground and shoved it deep into the troll's eye. The troll screamed only a few heartbeats before he fell twitching to the ground. The human stood up beside the corpse, panting heavily and took a few seconds to look around.

He heard a terrified shriek and saw the bony Ariv running hard from a pursuing troll. The shaman was not fast enough on his feet, and the troll caught the back of his tunic in a massive hand and hurled him to the ground. The troll stomped on the human's foot with a crunch and lifted his spiked mace. Ariv screamed from pain and terror and raised his hands, but he was quickly silenced when the weapon descended with a sickening thud.

Seralle clutched his stomach weakly and vomited onto the troll he had just killed. When he raised his watery eyes, he saw Two Star hacking the arms off the one who had just slain Ariv. The gentle storyteller was methodical and seemed impossibly calm as he removed his opponent's head, and then casually wiped the blood from his blade onto the troll's shirt.

Trin ran past him with his spear upraised, and Seralle watched with pride as the younger man matched skills with another invader, also armed with a spear. Trin stepped in, faked his opponent twice, and then swung the staff around quickly to take the legs out from under him. Once the troll was down, Trin pinned him to the ground through the lungs and watched panting as the invader gurgled and died. He stood up and wiped sweat from his face, looking around at the mad fighting.

On the far side of the village, Gotcheye was pleased with himself. He had just beaten a troll he had hated for years, and they both had put up a good fight; better yet, he had killed his opponent with his bare hands. He grunted in satisfaction and looked up at movement off to his right.

Dopper held a crossbow in his hands as he approached a pile of boulders that had long ago fallen from the cliffs above. Gotcheye did not know what the runt was after, but he had not yet been seen. Gotcheye muttered traitor under his breath and picked up the mace of his fallen opponent.

Dopper scrambled up on top of a boulder and searched for a way to climb upon another. Gotcheye walked boldly up to the rocks and cleared his throat. The small troll spun around and saw his companion, but he did not raise the weapon. “You startled me,” he said.

“I'm gonna do more to you than that, little squealer,” Gotcheye said. His squinting eye quivered in anger as he raised his mace to throw.

“Squealer?” Dopper exclaimed. “I'm no squealer!”

“Yeah, then why'd you disappear on Two Star?”

Dopper started to speak, but instead flipped up his crossbow and fired its bolt. Gotcheye did not have time to react, but the dart passed him harmlessly. He uttered a curse, but then he heard a thud behind him. He spun around and saw a troll warrior lying in the grass at his feet, the crossbolt between the eyes. He looked back at Dopper and saw the runt reloading his weapon.

“You missed me and shot your own warrior!” Gotcheye growled. “Your time is over now.”

Dopper glanced up as he struggled with the weapon's tension band. “What're you babbling about?” he said irritably. “I just saved yer neck, you ingrate!”

Another warrior burst out of the bushes and hesitated when he saw the pair of trolls. He raised his spear quickly and hurled it at the one struggling with a crossbow up high on the rocks. Dopper screamed out as the serrated blade pierced his leg above the knee; he toppled off the boulder and landed hard on one shoulder.

Gotcheye roared and hurled his mace forcefully at the intruder. The warrior dodged the missile and laughed as he pulled a curved knife from a belt sheath. Gotcheye rushed him with his own belt knife, but try as he might, he could not get past his opponent’s slashing blade. Both trolls circled the other in search of an advantage, but they both looked up in unison at a loud yell. Seralle jumped out onto the warrior with his flint spear in front of him. Both went down, but the human was the one who stood up after a brief struggle. He pulled his spear from of the body and saw that the tip was broken.

<“Are you okay?”> Seralle asked Gotcheye.

The troll did not understand his words, so he patted the man on the shoulder and then turned back to Dopper. He trotted over to the runt, who held his leg in severe pain. Gotcheye knelt next to him, but was unsure what to do for him. “I thought you were a traitor,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Seralle knelt down and examined the troll's wound. He fought back another wave of nausea at the sight. He had never seen troll blood before this day, and its difference in color and texture repulsed him. These two trulls were the ones who had come with the Small Ones to warn them and, repulsive or not, the smaller one was severely wounded.

He hoped their bodies were similar enough for first aid for what he needed to do. He whipped off his cloth vest and tied it tightly above the spear point. He did not waste any words and motioned for Gotcheye to hold the other troll down. When he saw that the large troll understood and complied, Seralle took hold of the spear and pulled it out. Dopper screamed, convulsed, and then cried in loud sobs.

When the runt had stopped writhing, Gotcheye pulled off his own shirt and tore it into strips to bind up the wound. Seralle looked at the troll’s bare grey-green skin and noted in alarm the amount of old scars upon the wide chest, shoulders, and arms. Seralle shook himself alert and then took a moment to study the troll-made blade of the spear he had removed. The old legends of true craftsmanship of the masters of the lands under the lands were true. He reluctantly set it on the ground next to the trolls and watched Gotcheye complete the field dressing.

Gotcheye looked over at the human and gave him a brief nod. With a wordless grunt, he picked up the spear and handed it to Seralle to replace the human's broken weapon. Seralle's eyes grew wide, and then he grinned at the fine gift. He patted the troll on the shoulder as he had done to him earlier. Sounds of the battle continued and the future leader of the humans gave the squinting troll a short nod of thanks before he took off with his new spear to rejoin the fray.

Dopper looked up at Gotcheye with tear stains on his face and he calmed his voice enough to speak. “I saw Catgut's warriors sneaking out of a tunnel near me and went to investigate,” he explained. “That's why I left the elf.”

When Mooncrest awoke, it was all over. Two Star shook him gently awake and then helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?” he asked the elder as he gingerly touched his own bruised face.

“That's what I should ask you,” Two Star said with a nod. “I'm fine.”

Mooncrest looked around him at the ruined village. Only two huts still stood amidst the smoldering clumps of the others, and the pungent smell of wood and grass smoke was strong. Troll bodies were stacked haphazardly in a pile near the forest trees, and the human dead were laid out in a row with wailing families or friends around them. Likewise, three elfin bodies were set alongside them, Diver, Shadowstar, and what was left of Talon. Longknife knelt silently beside them, his expression as lifeless as his tribe-mates before him.

“What happened, Two Star?” Mooncrest asked with a tight throat.

“Fighting together with the humans,” the elder replied, “we killed all but three of the attacking trolls. The others fled into the woods with human warriors chasing them like mad bees. We've been helping one another try to straighten up the mess and it hasn't been pretty.”

“What of the human leader?”

“Thanks to Tana and Hoodwink, he still lives,” Two Star answered with a nod. “In the midst of the fighting, they managed to get him out of the village to safe hiding among some boulders.”

Dawnwatch walked over to them and said to the elder, “I can't find Sandstorm. She was badly wounded and a human woman was caring for her the last I know.”

“Have you sent to her?” Mooncrest asked.

“Yes. She's unconscious somewhere, but still alive. I just can't find her or the woman.” Dawnwatch was clearly worried about the elder's daughter.

Seralle appeared at the edge of the clearing, talking with Trin. When he saw Mooncrest, he approached the elves. <“I am glad to see you up and around,”> he told the prankster in a gentle voice. <“Had you not come to us when you did, we would not have been alert for trouble. We have seven dead. It might have been a lot more.”>

Mooncrest's eyes were moist at their own losses. <“We lost three of our own, and maybe another that we can't find.”>

<“You mean the small female?”> Seralle asked. He pointed to one of the remaining huts. <“Moiya cares for her in there. She had to cut your friend to remove the trull dart, but she had skill to sew her back up when it was out.”> Seralle watched Two Star and Dawnwatch leave without a word and run to the indicated hut. <“Do not worry about your friend. Moiya is well experienced in such things.”>

Longknife stood up from his kneeling and approached them. He was spattered with troll blood, but otherwise unhurt. “Are you well, Mooncrest?” he asked.

The prankster nodded and replied, “The left side of my face is numb, and I have a whopping headache, but I'll live.”

Seralle listened to their soft musical speech and smiled. He found he liked the sound of it, even if he could not understand it.