July 14, 2001
Duskwater distracts a pouting Clover with a story about the cub's great-grandsire.
Duskwater watched as Clover ran as fast as his chubby little cub legs would carry him. He was obviously chasing after Lionheart and Beechnut who were running off to play some game. Clover's lower lip came out in a huge pout as the older cubs slipped out of sight behind some bushes. The tall elder strode forward and scooped up his adoptive son just as his small chin began to quiver.
"Poor cubling," Duskwater said. "Feeling left out?"
Clover nodded with his thumb in his mouth and tucked his head under Duskwater's chin.
"Let me tell you about your grandsire's sire, Runewood. When he was young, he felt left out too. All his friends had already found their soul names and moved on to more adult activities." Duskwater sat down, bracing his back against a tree trunk and settling Clover in his lap. "Now this happened a long time ago before even I was born." Clover's green eyes widened at that. Duskwater nodded. "It's true. I'll tell you the story as my mother told it to me. It all started before Runewood was Runewood, back when he was still Redleaf and desperate to keep up with his friends..."
A young elf ambled along a faint game trail, brushing aside low lying limbs. Crickets chirped all around him, undisturbed by his passage. Frustration and hunger pinched his face, making his usually sharp features seem stark and gaunt. He had not eaten well in the past two weeks. He had huge dark circles under his emerald green eyes as he was not sleeping well either. Weariness made his long thin hands shake. He eyed every bush he passed looking for anything remotely edible.
Abruptly, the undergrowth gave way to a small clearing. A long, flat boulder covered with moss lay to one side of the clearing under the shadow of a tall tree. Across from the boulder, framed between two ancient gnarled trees, was the most beautiful view Redleaf had ever seen. The ground sloped away sharply from the trees for a wolf's length and then it dropped off into a canyon. The two moons were just peeping over the rim of multicoloured rock covered with a green carpet of trees and plants. The canyon seemed to go to the edge of the world.
"It's perfect," he sighed. "If I can't find my soul name here, I won't find it anywhere."
Redleaf quickly settled himself on the boulder, sitting with his legs crossed under him. He looked at the canyon one more time. Then, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began to think. He tried to find the center of himself but he couldn't focus. A few loose strands of his auburn hair seemed intent on tickling the end of his nose. He tried to brush them away but they kept coming back. He opened his eyes and stared at his nose. He blew at the hairs. Puff. The hairs wiggled a little. Puff. They floated up a bit then fell back onto his nose. Puffff.
"What am I doing?!" He exclaimed. "I should be trying to find my soul name but instead I'm sitting here cross-eyed with my cheeks puffed up like a greedy treewee!" He jumped up and paced around the clearing.
"Maybe Quillflash is right. Maybe I'm not ready yet. Maybe I am still 'just a cub'. I mean, one of the first things I do this trip is shatter my new spearhead against some rocks while hunting. Then I lose my knife crossing the river. I'm hungry. I'm tired. And now I'm so lonely I'm talking to myself." He stalked over to one of the ancient gnarled trees and sat down on one of its roots with his back to the trunk. "Maybe I should just go home."
He looked up at the tree behind him. "I guess I'm not talking to myself, am I? You're here after all, old one." He spied a small crook in the tree branches where three limbs forked. It was the perfect spot for a nap. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take advantage of that little spot up there."
Redleaf scrambled up the tree and curled up. Laying his head down on the main branch, he sighed. He had a sense of warm closeness like when his mother had wrapped him up in his sleeping furs and cuddled him as a small cubling. He could almost hear her crooning a lullaby as the wind set the branch to swaying. His long lashes fluttered once before giving up to sleep and a dream.
Grey-green clouds swirled around him. The fog was filled with creaks and groans. It became a delicate song of patience but it carolled with the joy of growth, too. The mist thinned as sunlight poured down on him. He turned to the warmth, a smile blooming on his face. His dream self lifted long thin arms to the sky. He seemed to be growing taller by the moment. There was a brief flash of pain in his foot. He glanced down and saw a tiny being dancing and gesturing around his knees. He reached down to the small one and took the gift it offered. He slid the treasure into his belt pouch and pulled the laces tight.
The wind shifted suddenly, sending Redleaf's makeshift bed into a riot of shivering. He shook his head to clear away the sleep fuzziness. The young elf slid out of the tree still puzzled by his odd dream. But all thoughts of the vision quickly left his head when his stomach growled loudly.
At that moment, a shaft of moonlight pierced the canopy of leaves, illuminating the broken shaft of a spear imbedded deep in the thick root of the old tree. Redleaf dashed to it. He ran hopeful fingers over the stone spearhead to see if it was still whole. If it was he could make a new spear and hunt for the first time in weeks. The spear had been there so long that the tree had started to grow around the head while the shaft was rotten and worm-eaten. He pulled on it and the dried out leather holding the shaft and head together gave way. He tossed the worthless wood away. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind a delicately curved ear, he gripped the stone and yanked. Nothing. He tried to wiggle it some to loosen it but it wouldn't budge. He braced one foot on the root and pulled, gritting his teeth against the strain.
"Please let it go, old one," he whispered. "I need this spearhead but it's nothing more than a thorn in your side. Let me have it." His fingers began to tingle as his grip slipped.
Thump. Redleaf landed on his rear about three paces from the tree. Startled, he stared at the spearhead in his hand, noticing a multitude of strange scratches on it, and then he looked back at the tree. Where the spear had been was now a round, perfectly smooth divot. He stood and walked closer, absently rubbing his sore posterior as he gaped at the horrible scar. The soft pulp was exposed. On a major root like this even a small open wound could lead to a disease or insect infestation that would kill the tree. Without thinking, Redleaf reached out to the tree as if to wipe away the ugly mark. His fingers glowed with a green fire. As his hand passed over the divot, bark grew and sealed away the delicate heartwood.
With an almost audible snap, he found his center. He felt the towering pillar of patience, strength, and kindness that was his own heartwood. He knew who he was. Redleaf knew his true name!
He turned his eyes, burning and blurred with tears, skyward. A few stars peeked through the blanket of greenery above him. He smiled as the leaves began to dance on a gentle breeze, welcoming him. Crickets sang around him. Joy bubbled up inside of him until it burst forth.
Ayooooooah!
"When Redleaf returned to the tribe, he named himself Runewood in honour of his new-found plant shaping skills and the strangely marked spearhead that guided him." Duskwater smiled at the cubling sitting in his lap. Clover stared wide-eyed back at him with his thumb hanging forgotten from the corner of his mouth.
"Runewood kept the spearhead in a pouch he wore on his belt for the rest of his long life. Whenever he felt especially impatient or lonely, he would pull out the stone and run his fingers over it. The he would smile and tuck it away again. It was his own special treasure."
Duskwater set Clover down on his own feet and stood up himself. Only then did he notice Lionheart and Beechnut sitting nearby with rapt expressions on their faces. He chuckled.
"Did everyone enjoy the story?" Three small heads nodded. Then the two older cubs sprang up and ran off, whispering to each other about treasure. Both called their thanks back over their shoulders just before they disappeared behind a huge redwood tree. Duskwater grinned.
"Come on, Clover," he said holding his hand out to the cub. "Let's go find your Mother." But Clover was already gone, chasing Lionheart and Beechnut as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him.