May 26, 2002
Clover discovers a family he never knew he had.
A loud splash drew Duskwater’s attention. He cracked open one eye and looked toward the sound. With his brown hair held out of his face by a green fillet, Clover stood bent over in the calm water of one of the many pools spawned by the Rushwater River. The cub held a dripping net in his hands as he stared intently at the water.
Smiling, Duskwater sat up. “Get him?”
“No,” the cub sighed. He turned his bight green eyes toward the shore where the elder was sitting. “Scooters are fast!”
Duskwater grinned. “They sure are. You’ll catch one if you keep trying. Remember what I told you. Keep shining the light on them and they won’t move.”
Clover nodded and turned his attention back to the water. His adoptive father watched from the shore as the cub leaned closer to the water’s surface, picking his target carefully. He carefully positioned the small piece of brightmetal with one slender hand to catch the last of the daystar’s rays and reflect it on his prey. After a moment his other hand darted forward with the net. Water splashed up liberally speckling his arms and face with small droplets. He held the net over his head and examined the bottom of the net.
“I caught one!” he crowed. “Duskwater, look!” He quickly waded to shore.
Duskwater chuckled as the cub shoved the net forward, holding it inches from his bearded face. Sandy mud from the river bottom dripped out of the net onto his leather pants. Keeping the net in place, Clover crouched a bit until his green eye were even with the elder’s blue ones. He poked at the squirming scooter with one small finger.
“See. He’s a big one!” he said.
Duskwater nodded sagely. “He certainly is. I don’t think I’ve seen one bigger in many turns of the seasons. I’m proud of you, cub.” He pulled Clover into a one armed hug, both still watching the creature. “Why don’t you go put him in the basket with the fish. You can show him to your mother before we eat tonight.”
Clover stood upright and strutted over to the fish basket, his thin chest thrust out with pride. He popped the scooter into the basket and closed the lid. Then he took the net back to the edge of the pool to rinse out the mud while Duskwater rose to his feet, gathering his spear and vest from nearby. The cub’s soft exclamation of discovery lured Duskwater to the water where he crouched beside the young elf. Clover, face full of wonder, turned toward him holding a grey shell in one hand.
“Look what else I caught,” he said and flipped the shell over with his other hand. It was one perfect half of a clam’s shell. The dark, slightly bumpy exterior hid the smooth beauty of iridescent blue, green, and pink over white inside. “What happened to it?” Clover asked, pointing to a hole cut into the shell right over where it should hinge with its other half.
“We elves are not the only ones who think these are tasty. There are things in the river that swim up to an unsuspecting clam, bore a hole in their shell, and suck the meat right out.”
Duskwater suddenly grabbed Clover, lifted him into the air, and tickled his ribs making loud slurping sounds. The cub shrieked in laughter, kicking and squirming in the older elf’s strong one-armed grasp. As Clover’s laughter wound down to mere giggling, Duskwater paused in his attack.
“Give up?” he asked with his hand poised over the small stomach, fingers wiggling in threat. Still smiling, Clover nodded and Duskwater carefully set him back on his feet. Both elves’ clothing and hair were in disarray from play so they set about straightening their appearance. They both tugged their leathers into place. Then the elder pulled the thin leather strip out of his hair and handed it to Clover, leaving both hands free to run his fingers through the long waves.
Thoughtful green eyes stared speculatively at the thong in his hand. “Can I have this, Duskwater?” At Duskwater’s nod, the cub quickly strung the shell that had been clutched in his other hand onto the leather. He held up the finished product for approval.
“It’s very pretty, cub,” Duskwater said as he sent to Shadowchaser lounging under a nearby tree. The sleek black she-wolf rose, shook herself from nose to tail, and trotted over to her elf bond.
“Do you think Mother will like it?”
“Of course she will,” he answered. “Women love trinkets like that.” Duskwater knelt to greet Shadowchaser. He was so busy rubbing her head and burying his face in her neck ruff, he almost missed Clover’s wistful comment.
“Do you think she will like it enough to give me a brother or sister? Like a trade?”
Duskwater jerked around to look at the cub, taking in the serious expression on his heart-shaped face. “Back to that again.” He sighed. “Come here, son.”
Clover wound the necklace around his wrist a few times for safekeeping as he trudged to the elder. Duskwater swung him onto Shadowchaser’s back and handed him the fish basket. Picking up his spear, they all began the trip back home. As they walked the elder glanced over at the young elf. Normally a ride on Shadowchaser or Burrpelt, Firemoss’s wolf-friend, brought at least a smile to their cub’s face. Tonight, however, he simply sat there looking glum. After traveling a few wolf lengths in silence, Duskwater cleared his throat.
“Your mother really has no say in the matter, Clover. Only the High Ones know who will Recognize and have a cub.”
“Aren’t you old enough to be a High One?”
Duskwater laughed. “Not quite, cub. Though it may seem like it to you.” He reached over and tousled Clover’s rich brown hair. The cub’s momentary smile quickly faded to vague pouting though. “Why do you want a sibling so badly?”
Clover clutched at Shadowchaser’s fur with one hand, face full of genuine longing. “All my friends have one,” he said.
“Beechnut doesn’t,” the elder pointed out.
“Well…I just want one. The others always seem to have so much fun.”
They continued on quietly for a few more wolf lengths before inspiration struck Duskwater.
“Actually, Clover, in a way you have both a brother…and a sister.”
“I do?”
The elder nodded emphatically causing long wavy strands of hair to catch on his face fur. “Your mother chose to have both Nettle and me be fathers to you, right?” At the cub’s tentative agreement, Duskwater continued. “That makes our families your family as well, right? Survivor is my son, which, since you are also my son, makes him you brother in a round about way. And Nettle, your father, is also one of Tendril’s two fathers, making her…”
"My sister!" Clover exclaimed happily. He thought for a moment about Nettle’s two lifemates, Lark and Foxears, which led to thoughts of Lark’s relatives. He gasped. “I have lots of round-about family.”
Duskwater nodded with a chuckle. Shadowchaser, picking up on the elves' good humour, began to frisk around. Her elf-friend quickly snagged the basket of fish so the cub could cling to her back with both hands as she hopped and twisted playfully. Clover giggled at her antics but his eyes were still pensive. Once Shadowchaser settled into a mere jaunty trot, he said, "Do you think Tendril or Survivor would mind if I visit them sometimes?"
"I'm sure they won't mind. However, if it worries you, ask them."
"Survivor just seems so sad and grumpy all the time," Clover said softly.
Duskwater nodded, concern for his older son creasing his face. "But, maybe spending more time with you will help bring him out of it."
At that moment, the small group entered the holt. Clover, spotting Firemoss at the base of their denning tree, slid off Shadowchaser's back and ran to his mother, unwinding his gift for her as he went. Duskwater strolled slowly toward them watching as the cub presented the necklace to her and then told her about catching the scooter judging from the animated arm waving. Firemoss hugged Clover tightly, pride shining on her face.
Firemoss looked up at Duskwater when he joined them. She arched one delicate red eyebrow at him and said, "Women love trinkets, do they?"
To his chagrin, he felt the heat of a blush creep up his neck. Her light tinkling laughter filled the clearing and she wrapped her arms around him in a soft embrace. Looking down at Clover, Duskwater noticed how the cub's green eye sparkled mischievously. "I think we should change our son's name to Constantcomment or maybe Looselips," he said to Firemoss. Mother and cub both laughed which caused Duskwater to smile, glad to see his family happy and relaxed.