November 11, 2004
Mystic finds comfort in changes by looking to the past.
The stone gray bark of the trees reflected moonlight into the undergrowth making eerie shadows dance and play beneath the stars on the forest floor. Mystic sat and watched the dances of shapes and thought about the past. He was doing that more lately, not living in the NOW, and dreaming of turns gone by. He wondered how the elders felt about their long existence and all they had witnessed. He was longing for history. It was at these times that he missed his auntie Snowbird the most. Her ancient mind so full of loving patience would recount story after story for him.
Now he sat alone beneath her old den. He brought a slow hand down to the flowery vines that played beneath his feet and forced a smile to his lips. Firemoss had certainly worked magic here. He would not have given any hope to the wilted and dying vines they had recovered from the trolls, but she had wound her magic around them day after day, gently pushing life back into the plants. He wasn't sure why he cared. With Tendril gone from his furs they didn't have the same meaning they once did. But he found that they had a new purpose for him now. A purpose he hadn't realized before. And he smiled at this. They were a life rescued from oblivion by himself and a dear friend. At least he would have that in his heart forever. He was so lost in melancholy that he didn't hear her footsteps, and found himself surprised when she spoke.
"Watching our flowers again?" Firemoss put a hand on his shoulder and sat down beside him.
**Sometimes I think they are watching me.** He smiled a mirthful smile.
Firemoss idly played with one of the nearest vines and let magic spill from her being. The little tendrils flared to life and grew up her arm slowly before bursting into cloud-like blooms of pure white.
**Perhaps they are, Mystic. Perhaps all of life watches us as we watch it… It makes me feel small. And sometimes alone in a big world.** She unwound the vines from her arm and smiled at him.
He leaned back and sought a break in the canopy of trees. There was only a small spot that the growth did not cover, but it let the shining, bright stars send their merry light to the ground. Glittering flecks reflected in the grayness of his elfish eyes.
**That,** he gestured to the sky with an open hand. **Makes me feel small.**
Firemoss followed Mystic's gesture with her eyes. She, too, stared silently at the shimmering lights for a while before she answered. **Yes, me too.** She sought a more comfortable position so she could look skyward a little longer. She could tell something was on Mystic's mind, but she wasn't quite sure how to ask him what it was. **Did you know that the stars change, too?** she asked quietly.
The mute elf blinked up at the canopy above. **I know they circle us at night, and where they are changes with the season.**
**Yes, but it's more than that. The skies are almost like a forest in themselves. The stars look so much different now than they did when I was a little girl.**
Mystic didn't reply, but he was interested. His serene eyes went from the expanse above to the elder who was sitting nearby. Firemoss caught his wordless cue and continued.
**The stars shift more than that over time,** she began, **almost as if they were blown by a wind in the sky. Here. Do you see the one by the thick branch? The red one?** Mystic nodded. It was his turn to look where Firemoss now gestured.
**When I was young, it was a quarter hand span lower in the sky. Further from the bright one to its right, too.** She dug into her ancient memories and shared what she remembered of those younger skies with her companion in a sent image. **It's strange how much it has changed, really. One wouldn't notice just by looking there night by night, but I remember.**
With that last thought, an awkward silence passed. So awkward that Firemoss eventually felt forced to ask what she had intended to when she first arrived.
"Your mind isn't really on the stars, is it? It's something else."
Mystic rubbed his hand through the hair on the back of his head.
**Lots of things.** He dropped his hand to his lap. **Everything.**
Firemoss smiled warmly at him. It was in those eyes of hers that he saw the care of a friend. He saw the past centuries of burdens that he was only beginning to understand. And in that one flash of skyfire moment he felt like he was a small cub looking at something he could never understand.
**Does it get any easier?** Mystic finally managed to ask.
**Does what get easier?** Firemoss sent now to give him the full range of her sincerity.
**Living. Does living get any easier with time, elder?**
She put a soft hand on his shoulder.
**You learn every day and every turn. The NOW takes some of it, but that which is important remains. I get up like you do. I have to work to maintain life. I have hopes. I have dreams. Some of them have changed over the turns of the seasons. But for the most part, I am who I was when I began the journey.** She squeezed his shoulder softly. **But, no, it doesn't get any easier. The path just seems surer because you know it has always been there and it always will be. It was before us; it will be after us. Death moves things on. Life is renewed. But things stay the same. And us, for all of our years, even the eldest among us is but a blink in this world. A Wolfrider rarely knows contented safety for long, Mystic. And the heart is the most unsafe place to dwell that exists in this life. I know that for certain…** She dropped her hand from his shoulder and looked out toward the night sky again.
**Those stars, Mystic, in all my life, in all my time, they have barely moved. How much greater are they than us, and you can see from my words how short a distance they have traveled.** She sighed softly. **But they shine just as bright as when they were new. The truth is, I don't know how to answer your question. I have lived life, but I still don't know the answer. I don't think anyone ever does.**
He looked up to her and shook his head slightly. **Perhaps that's it. Maybe we only grow when we search. Maybe that's why nothing ever makes perfect sense. If it did we might stagnate and wither away.**
**I like to think we just grow deeper roots.** Firemoss laughed softly with her friend and then long quiet moments passed between them.
**I think I am going to move into this tree. I think Auntie would have wanted that. And my old den is full of old spirits. They haunt me of late, and I can't seem to find the peace I once knew there. Doses that make any sense, Firemoss?** Mystic looked at her with a troubled brow and vainly tried to appear in control of his emotions. He wasn't; and she knew it.
**It makes too much sense. I've lived in my tree den for more turns than I can remember, and sometimes I think the den itself has soaked some of my memories into its sap. Most of the time, those memories are what keep me going. But I can understand your wanting to leave your den behind. You've sprouted some in your new den, yes, but I think Snowbird's tree is where you really cast your roots. You spent a lot of time with her here.** She nodded. **It would certainly seem a lot less quiet in this part of the Holt with someone living here again.**
Mystic smiled at that thought and pushed himself to his feet. His thoughts of moving had only been an inkling, but her agreement with him made him much more enthusiastic about the idea. Seconds after he rose, he was lithely scrambling up the time-worn footholds that led further up toward the canopy - where Snowbird's den entrance had been before the holt's plant shapers had sealed it closed. **Can you unseal the den?** he called down from his bird's eye view. **I want to look inside. Come up with me!**
The elder plant shaper placed a slender hand against the redwood's bark before she herself ascended and felt a part of her spirit merge with the life stirring inside the tree. The tree shuddered lightly, almost imperceptibly, and the footholds began to grow wider and less worn from the bottom of the tree to the top. Once that was finished, Firemoss shifted her concentration to where those footsteps led. Protective bark, sap and wood began to melt away from the entrance to the den as though it were made of soft clay. In moments, it was as though Snowbird's den had never been sealed at all.
Mystic waited patiently as Firemoss climbed the cleverly made steps. When she reached the top, he gestured into the damp-smelling dwelling. **After you.** The corner of the plant shaper's mouth quirked into a smile as she ducked inside.
There was a warm feeling in the den. The dark walls seemed etched with ancient memories all warm and inviting. This had been a happy place, and Mystic felt the sudden stirring of so many times spent here. He could feel the touch of his aunt's hand on his cub head as she tousled his hair. He could smell the sweet aromas of her furs. He could hear the melodious chirping of birds that seemed to always hang about the den. And as he turned to survey where she slept and where she sat and where she lived, he felt the tears rim his eyes.
Firemoss added soothing touches to the room, smoothing out worn places and fortifying shelves and hanging hooks that had grown weak as the abandoned tree had grown. When she saw the silent tears in Mystic's eyes she stopped what she was doing and moved to him. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze.
**Are you all right?**
**Just…remembering.** He smiled resolutely at her and reached his hand up to pat hers. With a nod, she released him and surveyed the den.
**It will be a good place for you. It suits you.** She turned back to him. **Is there anything you would like added to the den?**
Mystic looked around and sighed more from thought than anything else.
**Nothing right now but perhaps later.**
Firemoss nodded, but didn't return his send. She seemed to feel the need for silence in this place at this moment. But soon she knew that Mystic would have this den singing with life and all remnants of the tomb-like feeling here would vanish.
**I suppose I should tell Wildstar and then gather some things to bring here from my old den.** His smile had brightened already.
**I'll help you.** Firemoss rose and followed Mystic out of the den and into the embrace of night.