June 15, 2003
Following a heated argument with her lifemate Duskwater, Firemoss slips away to the woods to sort out her conflicting feelings. However, she finds much more than she bargained for far from the Holt.
The air was heavy - the usual kind of heavy that followed a day and night's worth of hard rain. The downpour that had caused worry over the Rushwater's possible flooding had stopped, but a dense fog had settled in its place. Water hung in the very air until the atmosphere became so pregnant with moisture that it condensed on every surface imaginable - leaves, trees, even the now-slickened steps leading to some of the tribe's tree dens. Most found this weather to be almost as damply miserable and unbearable as the downpours themselves.
Firemoss, however, felt otherwise. She always had. Perhaps it was because of the special bond she'd always shared with green, growing things. To her it always seemed that during these times, the life around her radiated rejuvenance. The plants always felt so invigorated after a rain that she couldn't contain herself from venturing out in even the muddiest of a storm's aftermath to share in their contentment. It didn't matter if that time happened to be day or night, and this muggy afternoon was no exception.
A thickening layer of mud caked her feet and ankles as she trudged barefoot along the soggy forest floor. The going had been difficult, but she had managed to cover quite a distance during the time she had been away - it had been easier since she hadn't had to wait on her wolf bond. Burrpelt had absolutely refused to go along with her today. She'd dragged him along on one of these messy ventures far too many times in his opinion, and he'd made it clear that he didn't appreciate plodding through the mud one bit.
Admittedly, Firemoss didn't mind. This outing was an excuse for her to get some time alone, to sort out her thoughts about what had happened earlier in the day. She still couldn't quite believe that she and Duskwater had argued...that he had left the den. She couldn't stop worrying over the thought that because of their stupid argument - she'd admitted to herself once she'd calmed down that it had been stupid and pointless - that their relationship might be torn beyond repair.
'It can't be that bad, can it?' she reasoned. But she could still hear the words of their argument clearly and knew that potentially, it could be.
She commenced to argue with herself. It wasn't all her fault, was it? He'd told her that he'd just assumed that she'd stay holed up in their den if she didn't tell him where she was all the time. Well, what about him? He had been the one who had gone off to whoever knows where first! She'd gone to do what she wanted to because she couldn't find him. Why was he blaming the whole thing on her?
Why was she blaming this whole thing on him?
She let out a too-audible sigh as she fumed. She still wasn't sure what to think about the whole situation. She only knew that, for now, she was grateful to get out of the den to spend some time alone. Nettle had offered to watch Clover for a day, knowing that something had happened, even though Firemoss wasn't willing to talk about what. Not yet. She wanted to sort it out in her own mind first. She also wasn't willing to say just where she was going. She'd only promised she'd be back by nightfall. No doubt the news of what had happened between Duskwater and her would have spread through the holt by then. That bothered her. She didn't want whatever problems she was having with her lifemate to be the holt's common knowledge, especially since she knew that things could have been settled differently. Settled like elders should have settled a difference between themselves. But it was too late now, wasn't it? What could she do about it now? Her pride was keeping her from going to Duskwater to apologize first.
The thoughts that her relationship with her dear friend and lifemate were ruined worried at her more and more as she made her way more deeply into the woods. She turned north at a point she marked in her mind and kept her bearings by keeping an eye on the dusky-tinged moss growing on the proper side of the stalwart trees around her.
Those very trees were what finally lessened her turmoil for a while. The contentment the forest sentinels felt from the rain's aftermath was soothing, and did ease her mind a little. She inhaled the coolly humid air of the forest for a moment - the breath of the trees - then glanced at the giants around her. A thick redwood caught her eye. Judging by its height and girth, it must have been nearly as old as she was. She placed a gentle palm upon its trunk and confirmed her initial thoughts. The tree radiated ancientness. Wisdom. This tree embodied everything the willowy plant shaper felt that a proper elder should represent and more.
She sighed again. How far she'd fallen from that ideal.
With her hand still pressed lightly against jagged bark, the plant shaper slowly circled the forest giant and looked up to where its branches filled its part of the green canopy above. Beautiful. All part of a whole.
It was a subtle worrying from the tree with which she was mentally conjoined which drew the plant shaper to the opposite side of the trunk. It didn't take long for her to find the source of the tree's discomfort. Large, platform-shaped fungus had found its way into a crack in the tree's trunk and had taken root there. Now, five or six protuberances the size of the plant shaper's head jutted out at awkward angles from the tree's north side. She knelt lower to peer at one of the growths with a closer eye and the magical touch of her powers. Yes. She could see why the growth was worrisome. It had cut through the fine vessels beneath the bark that allowed the tree to filter water from the ground to its foliage above. Left untended, this tree would slowly die of thirst.
That was fixed easily enough. Because she really didn't have the heart to kill the fungus that gave this tree so much character, she remedied the situation by re-routing some of the vessels around the growths.
The redwood immediately exuded relief.
Firemoss stood and noticed that she felt better, too. She felt more focused and relaxed. It dawned on her then and there that relationships were just like using her powers of plant shaping. Both the plant and the shaper needed to communicate, needed to be willing to listen to the needs of the other in order for the process to work. She and Duskwater hadn't listened to each other this morning; they'd both just tried to be heard by one another instead. How would the earlier argument have turned out differently if she'd only have listened?
'Much differently,' she told herself before walking the rest of the way around the base of the tree. She found a nice flat spot where tree roots weren't tangled over the ground and sat down. While leaning against the ancient trunk, she sent thoughts to it as she pondered. 'I don't know how I'm going to straighten things out with him. Will saying I'm sorry be enough?' She wished now that she hadn't been so accusing and foolish during their argument. She shook her head. 'It's so easy to see how things went wrong in hindsight.'
"…it is not, you idiot." The voice was so faint at first that Firemoss almost mistook it for the whispers of the tree. But she knew that the growing things would never use such a tone - at least not to her.
"Yes, it is. Look at the map!" It was a second voice, and this one was much louder, closer. "There's the rock, and there's the big tree, just like he said. It's right where he drew it."
There was a rustling behind her, behind the large redwood. Firemoss' breath caught in her throat. Who was there? She knew she was still within the Holt's territory, even though she'd wandered quite a ways. Carefully, she leaned a pale hand on the ground and twisted so she could try and look around the redwood's massive trunk. Her eyes went wide when she finally caught sight of the two figures that were less than two hands of paces away.
Trolls.
She quickly darted back behind the tree's thick trunk for fear that she'd be seen. What were trolls doing so close to the Holt? Nettle dealt with the trolls, but that didn't make them seem any less dangerous to the plant shaper - especially given the current circumstances! Were they trying to find the Holt? Firemoss' hand shot to her hip to take the dagger she usually strapped there when she was out on walks like this, but it wasn't there. She'd been so caught up in her worries about her day that she'd forgotten it. She cursed under her breath, now wishing that she had the keen senses that some of the more wolf-blooded had. At least then she'd have been able to smell the trolls coming.
There was no place to hide, and since the trolls were so close, she knew she'd be spotted if she tried to leave. Drawing in another nervous breath to try to calm her nerves, she pressed herself against the tree trunk as flatly as she could and prayed to the High Ones that the two warty green-skinned creatures wouldn't come around to this side of the tree.
"Curse this mud and daylight." It was the second troll speaking again. "Why the old fool needed these now is beyond me. It's too bright to see anything. We're not in the right place, anyway."
"No, look. They're on the tree. Hurry up."
Silence followed, save for heavy footsteps and the squish of wet leaves on the forest floor. Firemoss held her breath. She wasn't a good hunter or tracker, but knew well that the trolls were too close and only the tree was between them now. She closed her eyes, listening for sounds of any further advance. She frantically tried to decide whether she should stay put or run.
Then, she felt it. The ancient tree - the one she was leaning against - radiated a searing pain, a whisper that sounded like a scream. It was being cut into - part of it was being removed with, it seemed, as much precision a young cub had when it was trying to learn to walk. Wincing, she bit her lip and tried, for now, to fend off the sensation. She ached to help the suffering giant and willed that she would as soon as she had a chance to do so unseen.
"Got it all," the first voice hissed, sounding pleased. The tree's surge of pain melted into a raw, nagging ache. "Hold the sack open."
There was more rustling and fumbling, followed by the sounds of heavy footsteps retreating. Firemoss heaved a sigh of relief and was about to glance around the trunk of the tree again when a large thud followed by laughter made her freeze again.
"Ha ha! You should have been named Triptoe, you idiot."
"Stop laughing and help me pick everything up."
This time, Firemoss decided to stay put until she was sure the trolls were gone. The sun had started to set by the time she mustered enough courage to peek once more around the tree trunk. No one was there. Carefully, the plant shaper rose to her feet and, still keeping one hand firmly in contact with the injured tree, she went to go investigate what had happened.
Her heart sank when she saw the scarred face of the tree. The platform-like fungus that had marked this tree, given it its character, had been cruelly removed. The flesh of it was now exposed in gaping places to the open air. All the work Firemoss had done before to help the ancient giant had been undone and then made worse. Anger welled up in Firemoss' chest. What business did those trolls have marring this tree? Any tree? And why did they need this fungus? Surely it grew on trees closer to the trolls' own territory - not that she condoned its taking whatsoever. Without hesitation, she channeled her plant shaping magic into the massive trunk and did her best to seal up any exposed heartwood. The healing took more time than her first ministrations had, but thankfully it was successful. When the redwood whispered its thanks, she refused to accept it. Instead, she apologized for not tending to its needs sooner. Maybe if she had acted differently, perhaps she could have prevented what had happened.
She was angry at herself. It seemed she'd made so many wrong decisions today. She felt like a coward for not doing something to stop the trolls. She tried to give herself some comfort by telling herself that she could at least patch up what damage had been done.
She turned, eyes glaring in the direction that the trolls had gone. There was a large disturbed place where the troll had obviously fallen. Something next to it, something shiny, caught her eye. They must not have gathered up everything that had dropped during the fall. She moved to the spot cautiously, alert, making sure that if the trolls returned that they wouldn't catch her unawares. She might be unarmed with a weapon, but there was a forest of plants at her fingertips that would be more than happy to exact a little revenge.
She knelt down to pick up a small box that must have tumbled out of one of the troll's packs when he fell. The little latch on the front was easily opened, revealing two items inside. The first she was familiar with - every elf in the Holt must have something that was made out of durable troll-made metal. The second item, however, was an unknown. It was a rock, pale grey in colour. Whatever it was, she was sure that both items must be used some way in conjunction with the other.
She went to close the box when both the metal and the strange stone sharply tumbled against one another, creating a spark.
Pale brows lowered as she scooped both flint and steel from the box and struck them together again. A spark arched from the pale grey stone to the ground. Had the growth there not been wet, the tiny ember might have found fuel to make it grow into a flame.
Once again, Firemoss glanced in the direction in which the trolls had gone. They might be back any minute to look for what they'd dropped. If this was a fire kit of some sort, they might need it if and when they made camp. She wondered if she should put the little box back on the ground where she'd found it.
No. It would provide more proof of what she'd seen. She needed to get back to the Holt to let Wildstar know how close the trolls were to their homes.
She needed to find Duskwater, swallow her stubborn pride, and tell him she was sorry.
She knew she'd be later than she said she'd be. She knew that more than one person would be worried. She guessed they'd had a reason to be worried this eve - and she hadn't told anyone where she had gone. What could have happened if the trolls had found her hiding place? Would she have had the chance to protect herself? She swallowed the brief feeling of dread that rose in her throat at thoughts of the unknown.
Worse yet, she now feared that the soft ground would reveal her footprints and give a trail for the trolls to follow should they return. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for leading trolls to her tribe's home. She stepped as softly as possible back to the recently healed redwood and then, kneeling low, urged a bit of the moss that covered the damp ground to cover up her tracks. She hoped that would be enough to erase any marks of her presence.
Then, without another moment's hesitation, she headed back toward the Holt at a sprint. It was time to warn the others.
It was time to make things right.