November 3, 2001
Living with the terrible loss of his mother is hard for a cub. Lionheart has to learn to accept it and continue on...but can he?
The soft rain blew through the undergrowth of the temperate forest, leaving a silvery sheen on the foliage. It didn't help to cool the high temperatures, it just made everything more sticky and oppressive in the summer heat. It could have still been spring, but I didn't care less.
I barely recognized the change in the weather. Sitting high in a scraggly old tree by the wolf plateau I could see over most of the holt. At least here it was far away from the river. I felt an unconscious shudder travel along my spine at that thought. The river. Before those words had always been associated with fishing and playing and going on adventures. Now they seemed to mock me. The river was death.
It had stolen my mother and my auntie away from me. I opened my eyes, not really seeing. Just staring. The raindrops slid across the cold metal of my sword, leaving no trail. It all seemed so unreal. Sometimes when I woke in the NOW I still expected to see my mother, to hear her laugh as she sifted through the vegetation to find her fragrant herbs or to run across the holt to find Snowbird so I could hear a new story.
But the stories had died along with her.
I sighed, shifting my position soundlessly as I felt my right leg go numb. It stung as circulation returned to it. The pain was almost comforting; it let me know I was still alive.
I haven't cried since that first horrible night. I wonder if I'll ever cry again. I wonder if I can. I just feel so empty. Even surrounded by my friends and my new family, I feel so alone. Being around others makes it worse somehow. I think Beechnut would understand if I told her. She misses Snowbird too but she's always had her family around her, I haven't. My father left for years for his old tribe, and even though I'm glad he's back and he says he'll never leave again, can I really trust that? Beechnut would normally growl at me or slap me across the head, telling me to think like a wolf, to live in the NOW, to forget and move on.
I want to but I can't. I don't think I can live this way.
My hair is plastered to my forehead and my back. I can feel the rain across my shoulders, I can feel the humidity and the barely there breeze that keeps taunting me. But I can't forget. I don't want to. I can half remember other elves that have died. Not well, though. They are like shadows. Sometimes I remember something…a faint smile, a flash of grayish hair, but I don't remember if they are dreams or reality.
Does it matter?
I just don't want my mother to disappear that way. I don't want her to become more distant with each day. I don't want-
I sigh again. It's no use. You can't change the past; you can live in it. But in a way that's like dying. I should be asking about my first hunt again. I might soon. But right now I have no energy. It just feels useless. I know Snowbird and Clearheart were both hunters, but the tribe seems to be getting along fine without them.
That's another thing that bothers me.
Sometimes it's a relief to find Wise Elk staring at my mother's heart necklace, or Surefire playing with her dagger. It means they haven't forgotten either. When I wake up I'm wondering if anyone else will remember them today. If I am the only one who does. They don't understand why I'm still sad.
I feel like I've been torn into pieces and left to rot in the sun.
A soft growl beneath me makes me look down. Trolltracker, my beautiful golden wolf is standing by the base of the tree. I let my lips curl into a fake smile as I slowly moved again, letting the water that had pooled on me run down my limbs as I climb the tree. Each step shakes more rain onto me but I dodn't lose my grip.
I sink to my knees in the soft moss, letting my fingers run through Trolltracker's thick, course fur. She puts up with the hug for barely a moment, then she steps away with a low growl.
Away from me. She pads off through the undergrowth, disturbing the raindrops that still cling futilely to the leaves, ignoring my sending to come back. She's too independent, not like the playful little pup she once was. She doesn't like to cuddle anymore and trying to bring her into a den now would result in disaster. I start to shiver again and I wonder how I can be so cold in the oppressive heat.
I have been living mostly with my father the past few…Timmorn's Blood, I don't even know how long it's been. Days. Maybe moon dances. Everything starts to blend together after a while. Like one of Honeyhue's symbols in the rain; fading, twisting, falling into something no longer recognizable as art. In those blissful moments between sleep and waking the memories seem strongest. Dirk said that I once even called Surefire "Baba," like I had before I could talk properly. She said I reminded her of Boldscout.
The daystar has broken through the canopy above and dances across the rain soaked ground. Can it already be day? Time to sleep? With barely a shrug I start walking back to Surefire's den. My den now, but it still feels strange to me. Boldscout's cries help with that. It seems so unreal. Even with all the new cubs, I can't believe that one is really my half brother. A rarity to be sure, especially combined. Most of the adults say that they grew up as the only cub in the tribe.
There is a place I feel I need to visit before heading to my father's den. With a pang of regret I realize that I have been ignoring this elf, I can't really remember the last time I saw him.
"Wise Elk?" I call as I slip into my adoptive father's den. "Can-can I talk with you?" I shift my weight from foot to foot as I uneasily wait for a reply.
"Lionheart?" It is a relief to see his warm brown eyes once again. I can't help myself, jumping across the sleeping furs to capture Wise Elk in a hug. Burying against his chest I can finally smile again. I hear his soft, gentle laugh and it nearly makes the tears start again. I can't believe I stayed away from him for so long. I feel so guilty.
"I'm so sorry…" I choke out, my words muffled by his soft leather vest, but still audible.
He softly hushes me, returning the hug and rocking back and forth as if I was tiny again and needed to be held before I could sleep. He hesitantly begins speaking, and I let his voice comfort me without really hearing what he is saying. Just having someone else close again is enough for me. My wet leathers and grief seem to fade for a while, and as I actually begin listening most of my attention is held by his simple, truthful words.
"…to live is to accept death. You can't live enclosed in a cave forever. In a way that's worse then death."
"It hurts," I admit, not ashamed of the tears that sparkle unshed in my eyes. I struggled to keep a quaver out of my voice as I tried to reply. "I-I'm scared I'll forget - the NOW calls t-to me and sometimes I think it's easier to forget-" I look down, afraid to see disapproval or scorn if I looked up.
Wise Elk's soft sigh fills the den. "It does hurt, but I will always remember. But it only hurts when you're thinking only of yourself. Clearheart and Snowbird's spirits are free now, not limited to their bodies. You don't have to be sad for them. You'll probably miss her, but someday you'll be reunited. Someday."
I smile a bit at that. "I hope so." I can only hope that she is happy where she is now. Even I had to admit that living in a world of sadness is so wrong that even the idea makes me shudder. It is against the Way. Someday I want to be a hunter, and that's why I try to follow the Way as much as I can.
I look back up at Wise Elk, happily surprised to see only patient love expressed there. I curl up with my head on his lap. "Can-can I still stay here sometimes?" I ask, half afraid of the answer.
His smile is enough of a reward for me. I grin in reply. "Thanks."
It was probably around noon when I woke up, for once not plagued by nightmares. The familiar scent of herbs and tanning agents linger in the air, two scents that will forever remind me of the times when Clearheart and Wise Elk would stay up talking all day when I just wanted to sleep.
I slip out of the furs, pulling on my still damp leathers. 'I'll be back,' I think, but don't say it aloud for fear of waking Wise Elk. A smile curved his lips, but he still slept.
With a smile of my own I slip into the muggy night outside, jumping nimbly across a few branches. My original destination for that night loomed over me, and I cautiously crawled in. To my relief Dirk and Surefire both were sound asleep, looking exhausted. Boldscout, however, burbled at me and extended a tiny hand in my direction.
**Hey,** I sent to my baby brother, touching his palm gently. His fingers curled around mine and I felt like my grin would split my face. **Why are you still awake?** I ask, not expecting an answer. Boldscout blew a spit bubble in my general directing, with what could only be called a smirk.
**You tire out poor Dirk and Father?** I ask playfully as he tried to pull off my bracelet and put it in his mouth.
"Bah-bah?" He bubbled at me, pointing a chubby fist in his parents' general direction.
**Yes.** My laughter was in my thoughts as I tried to keep quiet, hearing them begin to stir. A new thought occurred to me, something that Wise Elk had said before. I needed Boldscout as much as he needed me. **I'm always going be here for you,** I told him, wondering how much he understood. **As long as I'm alive.** I grinned at him, patting his tiny hands and looking into his bright, innocent eyes.
And I felt a new feeling come over me: acceptance; of death and of life, of everything.