June 2, 2004
Cautious, timid and decidedly odd at 11 turns, Dreamchaser is the 'omega cub' of her generation. Still, she IS a Wolfrider and there are certain expectations she feels she must meet, regardless of the consequences. When a dare doesn't work out exactly as planned, Dreamchaser finds an opportunity to prove her worth in her own way.
Part 1
"You're going to fall down!"
"You're going to break your leg!"
"You're going to get in trouble!"
"Shush! I know what I'm doing!"
Four cubs stood at the bottom of a very tall, very old, very dead tree. One kept watch. The other three all hissed and stared at the fifth cub. The fifth cub was doing something she probably shouldn't have been doing. She was climbing the tree.
She could tell the minute she laid her hands on the broken giant that it was soft. The dry bark, where it still had bark, was brittle and weathered grey. It broke off easily. The wood beneath had more give than she liked. There were places she was sure she could have made her own footholds if she kicked hard enough. The whole thing smelled of decay and it was crawling with insects. It wouldn't be long before it fell. Hopefully it wouldn't be today.
Dreamchaser looked up the tree at her objective: the largest honeycomb she'd ever seen. It was admittedly a poor reason to climb the tallest, deadest dead tree in the holt, but it was sufficient for a dare, and she was not about to back down. Her reputation as a Wolfrider was at stake.
The height of the tree wasn't the issue. Neither was its advanced and alarming degree of decomposition. No, what frightened her, right here, right now, halfway up, were the bees. Already she could hear them buzzing above her. Looking up at the broken stump of branch made her sick to her stomach. The flying, stinging honey-makers created a small but active dark blot. The shape of it changed and shifted lazily as the bees went about their work. Looking down made her feel safer, but that was where her friends were, staring at her as if she was sun struck, confident in her failure, ready to be right. Of course, that just strengthened her resolve.
I can do this, she said to herself, but it wasn't a statement of fact. It was an order.
One of the elders had told her a story when she was still very small, soon after the death of her father, about gathering honey and living along side bees. He'd suggested the best way to deal with them was to move slowly, and to not aggravate them in anyway. She had no way of knowing if climbing the tree was going to aggravate them. She just wanted part of that honeycomb.
The dare seemed simple enough. Climb up, grab some comb and get out of there. They'd picked her because she was afraid of bees, because she was a little different, because if she failed they could tease her for it, and simultaneously excuse themselves from doing something so stupid. And that was unfair because it had been their idea at the start.
She flipped a long, dark braid over one shoulder and changed her grip on the tree. At least it was comparatively easy to climb. All the things that made climbing it dangerous also gave it an irregular surface. Easier, but more dangerous. She thought about that as if it had nothing to do with her while she moved slowly, thinking non-aggravating thoughts, one hand above the other, one foot above the other, higher and higher until those on the ground became dots and she knew she was close because the dots were growing pale.
It occurred to her at that point that she probably was in a lot of trouble.
Somewhere out there were elders. And this tree was visible from quite a distance. That meant it was highly likely that someone would see, or had already seen her. That meant it was highly like that someone would be, or was already on their way. And that meant it was highly likely that whether or not she fell or broke her leg, she was going to get in trouble.
Why hadn't that occurred to her before? This sudden insight was followed by several more. First of all, climb up, grab some comb and get out of there presumed a great deal about her journey down the tree. Secondly, if she was stung, that could greatly speed up her journey back down the tree. And last, the bees were starting to show an interest in her presence.
She looked back at the bark, trying to steady herself. Do not look up, do not look down. Grab some comb and get out. She was so nervous the whole tree seemed to hum. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs more tightly around the old, jagged branch she sat on. She felt for the comb slowly, willing herself to be patient, to be unafraid, to not scream at the top of her lungs every time a bee landed on her. The old and broken off branch creaked slightly. Again, she felt like she was going to be very sick.
She looked up at the hive above her. It was so close. If she'd dared to stand upright on the branch she could have taken it in her arms. If she'd dared and it wasn't covered with bees. The cloud of bees that seemed so small from the ground was much larger when you were practically in it, and as slow as she was moving, and as careful as she was being, the bees couldn't really be said not to be aggravated.
Her fingers touched the outer husk of the hive. It bobbled slightly. She froze, suddenly too afraid to move. The buzzing grew louder. As it did, the humming in the tree intensified. Dreamchaser's eyes popped open as she experienced her first real heart stopping fear.
They were in the tree.
Now she could see what she hadn't paid attention to before. So focused on her fear, and her stubbornness and her will to succeed in this, she'd looked right at the surface of the tree without seeing it at all. The grey and bug eaten bark was riddled with holes and small breaks and thin tunnels and through them she could see movement. The whole top of the tree was moving. It was full of bees.
Dreamchaser didn't think. She started to climb down. She didn't forget about the honey, and she didn't forget about the ridicule. She didn't care. One hand beneath the other, one foot beneath the other, she climbed down and down and down, at first very slowly, and then faster and faster as she got closer to relatively more solid tree and fewer bees. With a little over her own height to cover she jumped. A negligent flight of bees followed her down. She ran from them and the other cubs laughed.
She did not look back.
Part 2
Newmoon wasn't very happy with her cub when she returned to the holt shortly after sunset with three bee stings.
"Where have you been?" she shouted by way of greeting. The whole tribe was awake by now, and those that weren't actually staring were checking in with curious sends.
Dreamchaser looked away. She tried to think of something to say, something that would make sneaking out before sundown, wandering the forest without adult supervision and coming back injured all right. There wasn't anything. She knew that. She bit her lip.
Newmoon grabbed her unceremoniously by the arm and dragged her toward the Elder Tree. The chief and the healer were sitting on the roots of the tree. The chief was trying not to smile and failing. The healer was doing a little better, but only just.
"Had a bit of a run in with some honey-makers, did you?" His voice was kind even if his eyes were full of amusement. Dreamchaser nodded. She still hadn't found her voice. The healer's hands on the bee stings were comforting, but they couldn't take away the sick feeling in her heart.
Newmoon continued her diatribe while the healer worked on the embarrassed cub. It was obvious she'd been really worried. "Everyone else had the sense to come back here. What were you thinking wandering around the woods alone? Do you have any idea how dangerous it was? Were you thinking at all?"
"Here, now," said the chief, "it was a spot of mischief, nothing more. Any cub worth her own leathers gets in to some from time to time." He winked at Dreamchaser. She looked away again, certain he was teasing her. She knew they talked about her, about how timid she was.
Newmoon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Be that as it may, it was foolish. It's not as though cubs grow on trees. I'd think you'd appreciate that, at least." She firmly took hold of her red-faced offspring and steered her toward their tree. The other cubs, which did not appear to be in trouble, were smirking at her as she passed and she died inside. What had they told the tribe?
Obviously they'd made it home before she did and it was clear they hadn't told the whole truth. Somehow this had all become her fault, and they'd tried to talk her out of it. She didn't bother pointing out how unlikely that was. It wasn't likely to calm her mother.
The scolding went on and Dreamchaser listened, but she didn't much care anymore. She was in trouble, the others were not, and she wouldn't mind except that Newmoon seemed to need to keep telling her how stupid she'd been. As if she hadn't figured that out on her own.
Why under the two moons could her mother not see that she understood that perfectly? What bothered Dreamchaser was why she'd let the other cubs get to her in the first place. Why couldn't she stand up to them?
It seemed half the night had passed before Newmoon was done reprimanding her daughter. Content that her silence and refusal to make eye contact represented acquiescence, she left the den.
**You might like to come down later when you've had some time to think about whether or not you'll repeat this evening's behaviour.** The send was pointed, and critical, and Dreamchaser received it without thought or comment. What she wanted, more than anything in the whole of the world, was to be alone.
As soon as she was alone, as soon as she was well and truly by herself, she allowed herself to have a well-earned cry. She flung herself into her furs, wailing into their soft comfort. Why, oh why, was she so stupid?! She curled herself into a very tight ball and stayed there, heaving in her shame. It took some time, but eventually the terrible force of emotion began to fade. She fell asleep exhausted and still crying, and when Newmoon returned her cub was still curled in a tight little ball.
"I just don't understand her sometimes", Newmoon was saying. Her friend listened attentively while they worked together on a small net for river fishing. "She doesn't talk to me about what she's feeling, she won't tell me what's going on."
Her friend smiled, and nodded knowingly. "Your cub is growing up, you know."
"Yes, I know that. I do know that." Newmoon looked at the tangle of sinew, fiber and cord in her lap. She slowly unwound the mess of the previous net, dividing what could be salvaged from what could not, while her friend took the good cord and combined it with new cord, reknotting them together on a branch framework. She watched her own hands move as she tested the material. Long, sturdy pieces they could use again. The shorter ones, the worn ones all had to be taken out and used for something else or thrown away. She'd been taught to pull gently, but firmly and fast, because that's how a fish would do it.
"She never said a word to me last night," Newmoon continued. "She just sat there and stared at the floor..."
"You know your cub is a little odd." Her friend tied another long piece of cord to the net, and began knotting it into the pattern - knot, loop, cross over, switch, knot and loop again.
Newmoon arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you trying to help or not?" she asked, smiling but nervous. She knew her cub was a little odd. She didn't need a reminder. Not right now.
The other woman stopped knotting and sat back for a moment looking at her. "Your Dreamchaser," she said, "I think a lot of the tribe underestimate her. She hasn't really found her place yet and I think... I think that bothers her..." she trailed off.
Newmoon snorted. "That bothers everyone, until you find your name, until you know who you are. That's part of growing up, finding your place."
"Yes, but you know as well as I do it's not going to be as simple for her. She might not understand it yet, but she knows, too. She's trying to find a place for herself using what she knows, based on what we know, based on what it was like for us. But it's not going to be for her like it was for us." She returned to the net, knotting and looping, crossing over and switching. "Am I making any sense?"
"A little," Newmoon allowed. She did not look happy about it.
"Only a little?"
"Just exactly a little." She looked back at the mess of fish smelling refuse in her lap. She was weary of trying to figure out what could be salvaged and what was truly useless.
"She cried herself to sleep last night, you know," she added softly.
Her friend kept knotting, and nodded, and said nothing else.
Part 3
Dreamchaser stayed close to the holt after that. For several hands of days she shadowed her elders, helping where she was needed, keeping her mouth shut and her hands busy, watching and letting life in the holt just flow through her. She set aside her silly hurt over her embarrassment. As chief Latethaw said, every cub got into some sort of trouble from time to time.
Well, she'd managed to prove she was a Wolfrider, at least by that somewhat suspicious standard of measure. The other cubs had backed off a little, but she wasn't sure if it was because they were impressed by her climb or bothered by her recent silence. She didn't care, either way. She didn't blame them, but at the moment she wanted nothing to do with them. They were many things she wasn't, and she didn't want to be reminded of that right now.
Life was almost back to normal except for two things - every time her mother looked at her she frowned and every time she tried to sleep she had nightmares.
Her mother's frowning was something she was getting used to. Most of the time if Newmoon was looking at her daughter she was frowning. Sometimes there was just concern there, and sometimes there was something else. Most of the time there was just confusion and a little hurt and a need to help and a sense of helplessness and all of those things made Dreamchaser very nervous. A lot of it she didn't understand, but she was clear on the central fact - she made her mother uncomfortable.
The bad dreams were also something she was getting used to, but for different reasons. She'd had bad dreams and visions for as long as she could remember. She'd woken the entire holt screaming herself awake more than once. She was an older cub now and better at controlling herself. But the dreams still happened.
This one was new. She was playing near the bottom of a tree. There was sun all around and she was smiling and happy. Voices in the woods meant that her family was nearby and she was safe. She was younger than she was now, or at least she felt that way. She didn't recognize the place so she wasn't sure when she'd been there, but in the dream it was as familiar as breathing. It was a pretty place and they came here often. It was close to the river, and a gently curving, shallow bend where they could wade and hunt for shellfish. The clearing was flat and you could see a long way in all directions, so it was good for staying aware of potential threats. There were three different kinds of berry bushes here and early in the morning it was easy to catch a ravvit or two.
She was spinning. She was spinning and spinning and spinning, her arms out, her head thrown back, as fast as she could go until the whole world was a haze of circular sunlight and green blur. Just as it seemed it couldn't get any better she was hit hard from above. The beautiful, brilliant circle of sunlight went completely black. She felt crushed, as though she'd been knocked down and was being held. Everything was pain and darkness and when she tried to inhale her lungs and her throat were fire. It hurt so bad she couldn't breathe. She tried to scream but couldn't draw enough breath to do even that. The last thing she knew was the voices in the woods turning to shouts and panicked cries and the sound of footsteps pounding her way...
She woke up, bolt upright, hand over her mouth and her first waking thought before anything else, as it had been for years, was: 'Don't scream. Don't wake the tribe.'
Newmoon would be awake. She always was when this happened though she usually pretended she wasn't unless Dreamchaser specifically asked for her. She looked at her mother's furs. They were not moving. She thought about it for a moment. No. She didn't want her mother. She wanted some air.
She pulled on a light tunic and climbed swiftly and silently down her tree. Halfway to the ground she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye; three of her four friends scurrying silently and stealthily out of the holt. Toward the forbidden tree. Immediately, almost against her will, she was curious.
She debated only briefly. This time she wolf-sent to her wolf-friend. **I need you.** The wolf was almost the same age as Dreamchaser and was excited and delighted to be needed. She bounded up immediately. Dreamchaser climbed up on her back and sent again. **Follow carefully, at a distance.** As an after thought she added, **Pretend you are hunting.**
The wolf didn't understand pretend, but she did understand hunting. She was willing to hunt the other elves as long as her companion understood that there was a real hunt forthcoming and that it would not be elves. It would be something small and fast and easy to eat. Ravvit, maybe. Dreamchaser reassured the wolf with her thoughts and redirected her attention on her escaping friends. "Quickly now," she whispered, and her wolf began to canter into the woods.
Luckily, she was observed.