Redblade crouched quietly
in the fireberry bushes. His prey was near and he was eager for the
kill. As he closed in on the snuffling boar he failed to notice the
carefully set snare until it was to late. He cursed himself silently
as he was pulled roughly into the air. He had literally walked into
that one. He had been so intent on the boar that he had acted carelessly,
and he knew his carelessness would probably cost him. Cutting himself free,
he quickly rolled into the bushes as he hit the ground. Once safely
hidden in the bushes he carefully surveyed the area. He listened
to the sounds of the forest and tested the air with his sensitive nose.
He could sense no danger so he made ready to get moving. His leg
was badly sprained, but he knew he must get away from this area quickly.
The crude snare was obviously the work of humans. No elf would ever
use such a contraption. Humans hated elves
for they thought them to be demons. There was no love lost for the
humans among the elves either. Humans were such a large and clumsy
race, and they spoke in a crude and guttural tongue. The thing that
made the elves hate them most was their treatment of the elves. No
elf caught by the humans had ever made it back to the tribe. Thinking
the elves to be demons because they were so different than men, the humans
usually tortured any elf caught to an agonizing death. The going was rough
for his leg ached tremendously. He leaned heavily against a tree
for support and stopped to rest for a moment. It was then that he
realized he had not seen his wolf-friend, Blackfang, for quite some time
now. The elves of his tribe had a special relationship with the wolves
of their area. This relationship dated back to the days of the ancient
ones. It was said by some that there was a bit of elfin blood within
the wolves' stock. It was even hinted that the same might be said
about the elves and wolfish blood. He was beginning
to get worried about Blackfang now that he thought about it. He had
been known to run off on his own at times, but he had a tendency of showing
up just when Redblade needed him. For the second time this night
he let his mind wander too far from his present situation. So deep
in thought was he that he failed to hear the sling whirling softly behind
him. Nor did he hear the stone as it whizzed towards his head.
There was a brief flash of pain, then everything exploded into darkness. Redblade awoke slowly
and painfully. When he tried to move he found he was bound at the
hands and feet. He glanced around taking stock of his surroundings.
He was lying unceremoniously in the middle of a human camp. The camp
consisted of two small poorly built lean-tos, a small unattended campfire,
and various stone tools. The smell of some kind of freshly killed
animal lingered in the air. He briefly thought again of Blackfang,
but quickly put that thought from his mind. Mingled in the air with
this were the smells of the cedar fire and the unmistakable stench of humans. He knew he must quickly
free himself. There was no telling when the humans would return or
what they had planned for him. He knew they would kill him, it was
just a question of how. After a few moments of struggling he had
freed his hands, and his feet soon followed in suit. The humans were
not much at tying knots. He had been caught in worse patches of strangleweed,
the strange plant that wraps itself about unwary victims with a frighteningly
strong grasp. His leg had stiffened
so that he could hardly move it, and his head felt as if it would burst.
When he tried to stand up pain shot through his side. He doubled
over and fell smartly to his knees. His injuries were worse than
he had thought. The humans must have beat him while he was unconscious.
After a few moments had passed he tried slowly to rise again. The
pain was terrible, but he knew he had to get away from this area before
the humans returned. He limped about the camp and soon discovered
the animal he had scented in the air. He was saddened by
the sight before him. It was a freshly killed doe that could not
have been more than a moon away from giving birth. This poor creature
had been on the verge of bringing new life to the forest, before the human
hunters had taken its life. This was something no elf could conceive
of. This was nature's way of reseeding the forest, but the humans
had never been able to see this. And so they killed indiscriminately
regardless of the natural balance. This sight turned
his thoughts once more to Blackfang. Where could he be? Could
the humans have captured him too, or worse killed him? This thought
worried him greatly, for Blackfang was a dear friend to him. They
had been bonded for nearly ten and a half turns of the seasons now.
"Never mind him now", he thought to himself. "Blackfang is a big
wolf, and he can take care of himself. Besides he would kill me if
he knew I let myself get caught again!" He looked about for
his sword, but the humans must have taken it. Humans did not have
the know how to make metal blades, so he should have known they would not
leave something that precious behind. Instead he took one of the
crude stone knives they had left behind. It was not much, but it
was better than nothing. He did not approve of the killing of the
pregnant doe, but since he had to eat he took what he could easily carry. Moving as fast as
he could, he headed back to the spot he had last seen Blackfang.
He did not know what had happened to his friend, but he had to find out.
It was getting difficult to keep going because of the pain now. He
was having trouble breathing and had begun coughing up blood. He
found Blackfang's scent and began to follow it when he was suddenly overcome
with a terrible coughing fit! He collapsed to the ground in agony. As he lay on the
cold ground his thoughts drifted back to the holt and his family.
He could see the faces of his cubs, Quickdart and Nightmist, so clearly.
He had always been proud of his son and daughter. He remembered the
night they where born. The whole tribe had celebrated until they
passed out, either from exhaustion or over indulgence of dreamberries.
His most vivid memories of all were of his life-mate, Raven. He could almost
see her there, with her jet black hair and those piercing green eyes.
He loved her more than anything else in life. These thoughts stirred
his heart and he found some measure of strength in them. He tried
to rise once more and continue on. He was hit by another sickening
wave of pain and fell to the ground once more. He started coughing
more violently than before now, and the blood came out dark and thick.
He realized now that he really was dying, but he was not frightened by
this as he always thought he would be. No, instead of filling him
with dread it just made him feel terribly sad. He was only twenty-three
seasons old and he did not want to go so soon. He felt like he was
going to miss so much. He felt that he had not had the chance to
really live yet, that he had not experienced life to its fullest yet.
He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. He would miss his
family so much. He would miss his dear friend Blackfang too.
As he began to lose consciousness the last thing he heard was the faint
cry of a wolf. He awoke with a slight
sense of confusion. As his head cleared and he was able to focus
his eyes, he realized where he was. Standing directly above him was
Opal, the tribes healer. Beside Opal stood his life-mate, her green eyes
red with tears. Behind them, on two stools, sat Quickdart and Nightmist.
When she saw him stir Raven began crying again, but this time they were
tears of joy. As she held him gently he remembered Blackfang. What
had happened to him? He managed to croak out Blackfangs name, but
that was about all he could muster. "Hush now", Raven
told him, "Blackfang is right here, and a good thing for you to.
If he had not managed to drag you far enough back for us to find you, you
would be dead by now!" He looked to the corner where Blackfang lay.
He looked as if a whole herd of fleet foots had trampled him, but he still
managed to wag his tail feebly when he saw Redblade look up. He must
have found Redblade and dragged him back to the holt, in spite of his own
wounds. He still did not know what had happened to his wolf-friend,
but he would find that out latter. For the time being all he knew
was that it felt good to be home again.
