October 5, 2003
Lionheart starts his journey to find his soul name.
Part 1
The small lip on the doorway of Wise Elk's den made for the perfect spot to rest your head on and look out over the surrounding treetops. It caught the last few rays of light from the setting daystar and the warm colours gilded the cozy den with a warm glow. Lionheart was half sprawled across the doorway, his arms crossed over the opening and his head pillowed over them. His turquoise-green gaze was settled on the thinning branches, watching the odd leaf spin away far below, carried on an unseen breeze.
The temperatures had dropped from the damp, violent warmth of storm rage into the dry steadiness and coolness of the bloom rest. With the changing of the seasons came the more predictable weather and longer and longer nights.
A soft cough from behind him made Lionheart turn. He was caught off guard as Wise Elk tossed a greenish bundle at him. With a clumsy grab, he caught the fabric, holding it up and shaking it out.
He lifted his dark blond head and grinned in speechless happiness, but not for long. "It's wonderful!" He couldn't stop smiling. The deep green and blue dyes were vivid but close in hue, creating subtle patched patterns over the soft deerskin. Around the cuffs was dark brown fur. It had vaguely triangular lines, perhaps an unconscious request of Lionheart's that reminded him of an old friend.
"That should keep you warm." Wise Elk's voice was rich and soft, comforting in itself to hear.
Lionheart grinned and stood to pull the long tunic over his head, then raced at Wise Elk and caught his adopted father in a hug. **Thanks so much!** he sent, his mental 'voice' full of gratitude and joy.
The tanner smiled. "Now go," he advised. "See everyone else you have to before you leave."
Lionheart's grin slipped a little. He had announced his intention to go on his soul name search when the weather settled. Faced with the cooler breezes and the prospect of actually leaving, it was harder and harder to just pick up a weapon and leave. It was such a big step to actually get out there alone. The prospect was daunting and alluring at the same time, and he forced himself to concentrate more on the adventurous side of it. He wasn't easily scared, not usually hesitant about jumping in head first to anything. Some might call it stupidity; others might soften the words to 'brave' or 'headstrong'.
After waiting so long to go on his first hunt, it was a swift turn about to ask permission to leave when he was just barely passed the age that he was allowed to go. But there was a well of inner strength that kept telling him he could do this, if he could only get out there.
A familiar face waited for him at the wide base of the tree Wise Elk denned in. Beechnut stood in the liquid, cool shadows, letting them play over her dark hair and her freckled skin. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, a luminescent, almost feral look to them that never seemed to show in her actions, in her words.
Lionheart felt that inner strength slip. He felt like he was forcing his words around a rock in his throat. "Hey," he managed in a strangled tone. "What'cha doing here?"
Suddenly he was a cub again, wanting to stay here with her, where she could protect him from anything his stupid bravery got him in trouble with. He just wanted to hold her, to take her on every single adventure, to share the excitement of everything with her just to see that sparkling laughter light up her eyes.
Her quiet, warm happiness surrounded him along with her arms as she pulled him into a tight embrace. **I'm definitely not here to say goodbye,** she sent to him.
The sandy haired boy gave a shaky laugh, better that then to choke up. "You can't come with me this time, Freckles," he gently reminded her, ducking his head to rest on her shoulder. Her hair smelt like the woods, wild and untamed and deeply beautiful.
He felt her chuckle before her heard it. There might have been a sad note in her voice, maybe it was just his imagination, for when she pulled back to look him in the eyes, her own seemed as full of support and encouragement as ever. **No, because 'goodbye' is an end, it's too final.** Her smile lost some of the happiness as she swallowed slightly, but it stayed in place, as reassuring as her quiet strength. **And I know you're coming back from this.**
Lionheart couldn't help the smile that spread over his wide-cheeked face. She had way too much faith in him. "Well, I'll try to keep the truth in your words." He reluctantly pulled out of her embrace, nuzzling her cheek fondly as he did so. He hoped she couldn't see his blush in the moonlight. He wished he could stay with her, that he could always depend on her to keep him safe, but this he had to handle alone.
Pulling back, he felt his heart jump into his throat and choke his words. He knew his sending would be overwhelmed by his feelings so he kept talking, though his voice was rough with emotion. "I want you to take this." The soft whisper of leather punctuated the night air as he pulled his longsword out of his back sheath. He balanced the cold metal with his fingertips on the flat side and presented it to the younger girl.
Her quiet strength ebbed into stunned disbelief. That sword had been his through their childhood, and it was difficult to eliminate the image of a scrawnier, younger Lionheart attached to it, struggling stubbornly to keep it straight. Not to mention the incredibly proud look he had been wearing once he got the hang of it. Beechnut knew how much the sword meant to him, and could only imagine what had possessed him to give it to her. But then the heavy smith's belt pulled at her waist, and the teen realized why. Who would take better care of it than the future weapon smith of the tribe? She chewed on her tongue, reaching out to accept the precious gift.
**I'll take care of it. Until you return,** she sent, although sending burned worse than tears behind her eyes. Her thought gave room for no disagreement as she gazed at Lionheart adoringly, if not a bit proudly.
**That'll be sooner then you think, Freckles,** he sent warmly, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. The sudden shimmer in his eyes ate through the pit of his stomach. **Keep your chin up,** he winked, lapsing back into humour for his own protection. If he stayed serious he was going to start to bawl. **And don't get into too much trouble without me.** His laughter choked slightly on the lump in his throat.
It would have been hard to sweep Beechnut into a hug with the long sword balanced between them, so he had to settle for a smile. **I'll see you before the hot days come again.**
He turned sharply before he could change his mind and adjusted the pack he'd left by the base of the tree to fit his shoulders better and started off into the woods. He was glad he'd said his goodbyes to Surefire, Dirk and Boldscout before. He started from the holt, proudly recalling his younger brother's serious face as he'd explained he was leaving. They all seemed to be growing up so fast…
On foot it seemed a lot slower going through the forest, especially when it was to face the unknown alone. Lionheart's grip tightened on the bow he held but his eyes stayed determined as he left.
Part 2
The daystar swelled golden above the horizon to Lionheart's right as he climbed through the rocky terrain of the World's Veins Canyons. The crashing thunder of the river alerted him to the presence of a waterfall nearby.
Lionheart grinned. "Good," he commented to himself, knowing that he knew where he was. There should be a split in the river around here, he thought, one branching back toward the holt and the other going further toward the rising daystar.
He picked his way through the treacherous rocks, worn down by hands of turns of churning torrents of water. As he got closer to the riverside the sandy hues of rock seemed to take on a redder hue. It also became increasingly damp.
Lionheart swallowed hard and decided to take a higher road. For a moment he thought he could hear his mother's voice in that rush of water, and he had to shut his eyes and take in a shaking breath. Out here, no one could be there to save him. He looked over his shoulder, feeling the light wind stir his hair. But he was still alone, and feeling it more than ever.
The rocks weren't as slippery in the forest's shelter, though the land itself seemed to lurch upwards to meet the sky. The canyons broke free of the forest's grasp and scraped into the clouds, seemingly untouchable. A challenge to any creature, Lionheart thought, and knew that he'd pass over them this time.
The climbing wasn't so hard. Lionheart knew that he was going slower then he could have, but there wasn't anywhere specific to go, so he took his time. The cry of the hunting birds seemed haunting and pierced the empty, pale blue skies. Lionheart's own gaze found the light was harder and harder to deal with.
With a sigh of reluctance he started searching for a cave or cleft to spend the daylight hours in. This task proved to be harder than he had originally thought. The blue and green hues of his tunic stood out against the bare reddish rock of the canyons, something he hadn't thought about when finding camouflage for the forest.
When Lionheart finally found a shallow cleft in the rock wall, he crawled inside, wrinkling his nose at the musty scent of leatherwing droppings. With a sigh he pressed himself into the back of it and shifted his weight against the uneven ground, trying to get comfortable.
Well, it wasn't the best place, but it had to do. With fatigue pulling at his muscles and his eyes closing, the daystar lulled him into a restless sleep.
When Lionheart awoke, it was still dark. A bright smattering of stars illuminated the area outside the crevice and he cautiously shifted his weight into the open, picking up his bow as he did so. His stomach growled noisily. Tightening his grip on the bow, he reminded himself that it was for protection, that perhaps the hunger would help him find his soul name.
The steep lines of rock granted him a distraction as he had to focus on finding handholds in the cooling cliffs. His concentration narrowed to the next ledge he could find, the best balanced knob to use as a toe hold. Time passed quickly like that, when there was no keeping track of it.
The ground seemed to level off suddenly. Lionheart rolled himself onto the flatter ground, seeking shelter immediately, even before he looked around at the surrounding area. Spires of rock still jutted from the forest's floor and the roar of the waterfall seemed to be muffled, behind him. Cautiously, he crept through the forest. It was different, strange to be walking through an area he hadn't unconsciously mapped out while playing, where he didn't know where to go.
He edged towards the right, where the trees seemed thinner and the stars were still visible, though thin wispy clouds were stretching over the skies. A calm length of the river was visible. Lionheart's blue-green eyes searched the depths though, knowing that with the waterfall just downstream it was probably deceptive. As well, with the cooler weather he didn't want to be swimming, though that was just another excuse he could use to avoid the water. He crept along the banks, keeping an ear on the forest. Though everything sounded calm, Lionheart just didn't trust the unfamiliar territory.
This feeling of unease grew slowly, building up like snowmelt trickles joining the river. Lionheart moved slowly, checking over his shoulder with nearly every second step. It felt almost like he was being tracked - or was that his own paranoia at being in strange territory?
Whatever it was, the feeling that perturbed him wasn't discernable to any sense that was at his disposal. He couldn't see, hear or smell anything, and the rest of the forest seemed to corroborate that nothing was, in fact, there. Still…
He shook his head, spilling his long blond hair over his shoulders. He gripped his dagger a little more tightly and kept walking, wishing someone were there to talk to. The emptiness in his head seemed to grow more incessant. It was too quiet, too alone. Lionheart realized that he didn't want to be alone with his own thoughts. But nothing was there to break the silence, none of the younger cubling's energetic sendings, no idle chatter, no friendly greetings or even companionable silences. At that moment, he felt like he was sinking into utter solitude, and Lionheart felt that he really, really didn't like this…
Part 3
Lionheart had ended up crossing the river, trailing from rock to slippery rock balanced precariously over frothing rapids. He'd also lost track of how long ago that had been. The days and nights in between were blurred, one as the next, and each as sickeningly quiet and dull as the last. Even his meals seemed to dip into monotony. Lionheart couldn't decide whether he was too tired, or just uninspired to hunt for challenging game, so he'd been faring off more humble meals of vermin and pond leapers, and even a small, plump ravvit that had the misfortune of crossing his path.
The agitation that had spurred his leaving seemed to follow him, raising his hackles while he traveled and disturbing his sleep. When he managed to drift into a fit of restless slumber, the dreams would start, hazy half images that he could never remember upon waking, but troubled him none-the-less.
The foliage was changing. It was gradual, so it didn't register to Lionheart at once, but when he awoke the dusky light seemed to only point out that the trees seemed stunted, smaller, thinner - which meant less protection and also less cover. He doubted whether many of them would even hold his weight.
Lionheart stood up; brushing off the dead leaves clinging to him from the day spent curled in a depression on the forest floor, and looked around. His eyes moved slowly, he almost seemed to be in a state of numbness as he registered the change in the landscape.
And the unease seemed to grow even more, threatening to burst out and overwhelm him. The silence seemed to scream, and the sound of a night raptor taking off in nearly soundless flight started Lionheart, spurring him forwards.
Where as his pace had been almost plodding slow, wary, he now darted into a full out sprint, trying to outrun the feeling that had been stalking him. Never had he felt more like prey, never more in danger then out here, alone, with this unknown thing close behind him. He could feel it there, like a cold shadow or a hunter's eyes set into his back.
Fear driven, the young elf dodged between the trees, sending almost-frantic glances backward in an attempt to see his pursuer. His heart pounded, and for a fateful moment in the chase, his ankle caught on a twisted root concealed in the grassy undergrowth.
He staggered and fell hard. The breath was forced out of his body with the impact, and he rolled onto his back, dagger in hand and eyes white and wild with fear. Lionheart's survival instincts were still strong.
The empty silence seemed to crash over him.
Nothing.
Taking shuddering breaths, Lionheart sat up, gingerly testing his ankle as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. He had just rolled it, it would take his weight, but not without a dull aching complaint.
He turned again, looking back toward the direction he had been headed in. His heart raced faster and his lips parted in shock, fear, amazement.
Lionheart was on the edge of a void. Well, not a void, but a vast expanse of this grassy undergrowth, unbroken by sheltering trees. No cool shadows graced this land, no canopy overhead would shelter him here. He could barely see over the dun-coloured grass.
**The plains…** he sent softly, his voice touched with wonder. His sent thought rippled out from him, and returned in soft echoes, finding no one near to touch, to share this with. Alone.
And the emptiness was overwhelming. Deep-set fear jumped his heart again when he looked up. The twiggy branches of the few trees in the expanse did nothing. Behind him, the tree line rose up like a dark, welcoming shadow.
Lionheart's mouth was dry. He kept risking quick glances up, and each time was struck by the same odd fear, the same feeling that nothing was keeping him attached to the ground, nothing to keep him from falling upwards into that vast sky.
He fell to his knees, completely humbled by the sight. The wind seemed softer here though, and he was grateful for that as he unconsciously wove his fingers into the grass roots and the soil beneath, clinging to the ground.
But the wind, the wind here seemed to speak! Lionheart looked over the grass line, and noticed for the first time that it wasn't completely flat, low rises and hills broke the landscape up. And the wind danced over everything, rippling the prairie grass and drawing him into this unreal scene.
A creaking roar rose in the distance, carried by that wind. Instinctively, Lionheart judged that he was far from whatever predator's throat that haunting, low noise had been thrown from. More of the hollow, rasping noises came from father away, quieter, almost hidden by the drone of insects nearby.
Lionheart flinched, tilting his head upwards, letting the wind run through his hair. The wind seemed to draw closer around him, though that wasn't possible, cocooning him in the soft noises of the night. Holding still, Lionheart relaxed and tried to listen for anything else that might signify danger…
There was something he couldn't identify. It was strange, seeming large enough to be loud and echoing but too soft to hear at the same time. He listened, straining his ears.
...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara...Ara!
Lionheart's head was assaulted by the one word-sound, and as startled as he was, he realized in the same instant that this was it, this was him, this was his soul name!
**I am Ara!** he sent triumphantly, and the echoes that fell back to his mind rang of truth, of pride.
This was it! He had done it! He howled in pure joy, throwing back his head and letting his song ring into that strange, empty sky.
He backed away, crawling to keep his body close to the ground while his soul danced toward the skies, toward the High Ones. In jubilation, he rose to his feet again in the shelter of the forest, and with light steps overcame his exhaustion to run back toward the holt, the wolf blood inside of him joining his elfin soul name with the joy of ground passing beneath his feet, every step bringing him closer to home.