Slingstone's Fleeting Moments...

Slingstone sat perched on a rock with Sableclaw resting near him. Her head lay on her front paws. Slingstone watched the sloshing water of the river. The moons shined high in the sky; the fresh scent of the season wafted through the air.

He watched and thought, the veil of the NOW shrouding his memories from him. He tried to remember past seasons and elderfish hunts but his feral mind wouldn't let him. It was an inner struggle that has plagued him in the past. He overheard others talking about elderfish hunts. He barely remembered the elderfish.

A memory fluttered into his mind. It was Lakefrost's voice speaking to him about something. "The Elderfish is a respected animal. Don't forget that!" he had said to him.

The memory of his father's face fluttered back as well. Slingstone sat and thought to himself privately, 'I wonder what it would be like if he were still alive?'

As he watched the churning water, a glimmer of moonlight reflected off something large in the river. Slingstone squinted his sharp eyes to get a better look. There was a huge elderfish swimming upstream to the spawning pool a day's ride away. He was so large it amazed him.

Slingstone stood as the memories of what his father told him about Silverback flooded back into his mind as if a dam of information had broken and its waters flowed through him. "That is Silverback. That is the elderfish Lakefrost spoke of when I was younger." He spoke aloud as he hopped in the air. Sableclaw rose beside him and watched him curiously as he didn't understand. He watched until there was nothing more to see.

"Let's go, Sableclaw." He stepped off the rock and onto her back.

He then sent to the tribe openly: **Silverback! I just saw Silverback! He is still alive!** The wolf and rider darted off toward the Holt.

Beechnut had borrowed Lionheart's sword once again. Slingstone liked spending time with Beechnut. Her eagerness to learn was energizing to him. The two of them had been spending a lot of time together, Slingstone teaching her about the weapons he favoured. Today they practiced with the sword.

"You have to learn to block as well as strike, little one," Slingstone stated factually as he paired off with Beechnut to spar. "Now watch where I attack and attempt to put the blade in between you and my sword."

Beechnut nodded even though she felt a bit clumsy using Lionheart's sword even now. "I'm ready."

Slingstone moved fast and swatted Beechnut's thigh with the flat of his blade. She didn't move fast enough to parry his blow. Lionheart's sword seemed a bit too long for her and Slingstone knew this but he continued to teach her.

"Owe! That stung," she growled.

"That is nothing compared to being cut with the blade." He spoke truthfully.

"I need to practice more," she bellowed sullenly.

"You need your own sword, little one," Slingstone spoke as he walked over to a bush nearby. "You keep using Lionheart's sword even though it's too big for you. Bigger doesn't mean it's better. A small blade is faster and easily maneuverable." He reached down into the bush and pulled out something wrapped in leather.

Beechnut watched curiously, wondering what he was doing. Looking at the leather wrap her eyes widened. "What's that Slingstone?"

He walked to her and offered it. She rested Lionheart's sword against the tree and took the package. Unwrapping it she found a wonderfully crafted sword with a sheath. It even had a nice belt as well. Her eye's widened as she looked at Slingstone. "Is it for me?"

"As long as you promise me you will take good care of it. It once belonged to my brother, Bladeshore. I'm sure he would have liked you too," Slingstone smiled.

"I promise I will, Slingstone, I promise!" She wrapped her free arm around Slingstone's middle and hugged him. She was excited and happy.

"I thought you could use a sword of your own. It's your strongest weapon and you will be very good with it." Slingstone hugged her back.

"Slingstone, can we practice later? I want to show Lionheart my new sword," Beechnut spoke excitedly.

"I'm sure that would be fine. I will see you tomorrow." He couldn't help but smile as Beechnut started to dash off with the sword in hand.

"Beechnut!" he shouted to her back.

"Yes, Slingstone?" She turned to him.

"Don't forget that," Slingstone pointed to Lionheart's sword with a smirk.

"Oh yeah!" She grabbed it as she giggled then turned and ran toward the holt jumping and hopping along her way.

Slingstone often went and sat nearby when Marshclay shaped her clay; always amazed by her talents but never truly understanding them. He observed while the clay took shape before her. The magic flowed from her hands. Somehow he knew his mate was precious above all others. Even the trolls respected her gifts, although for their own twisted reasons.

Marshclay sat on the shore while she shaped. As always she was paying no heed to her surroundings as a pair of hands gently touched her arms. They caressed her skin until they came to her hands, the force of her shaping making the hair on his neck stand upright. Slingstone held her close to him. She knew that whenever he was near she was safe, yet she was unsure of this. Slingstone had never done this before.

"It tingles my hands," he spoke softly as the scent of the herbs she used in her hair flowed within his nose.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" said Marshclay rather concerned for her mate. Yet she continued to shape. His hands made things shape a little differently than expected.

"No, my love. It does not." He touched her ear with his nose and softly exhaled into her ear. The understanding of her gift causing the elf in him to tingle and lose itself as the wolf became aroused by the surge of his mate's energy.

"Oh, Slingstone," she sighed and quivered rather delightfully as their hands sunk into the clay before her. She closed her eyes as he panted softly at her neck, the sensation overwhelming her. The fire of their mating was truly anew as she turned to face him and became lost as his passion-induced sendings filled her mind.

Slingstone left the den earlier than usual this night. Sableclaw waited for him at the tree's base. The wolf and elf started to run together; keeping stride until Slingstone leaped onto the wolf's back.

Slingstone and Sableclaw liked to hunt small game together. It seemed that they liked to go off alone and hunt as one. Sableclaw with her nose to the ground and Slingstone looking about for any tracks made by a ravvit or other small game. Ravvits were their favourite. They were fast and agile. They could zig and zag at the most opportune times.

Aha! There he was, a large ravvit. He sat eating the grass nearest the river, his brown fur blowing gently with the warm breeze. The wolf and elf both crouched down low and sneaked in for the kill. As they approached, it was oblivious to the oncoming doom. The two predators stalked closer and closer. They pounced on the ravvit.

Airborn, the two predators watched as the ravvit darted in the opposite direction causing his two attackers to slide on the riverbank's mud and end up - SPLASH - in the river, each of them soaking wet. The clever ravvit sat upon a rock and looked at them almost teasingly.

Slingstone looked to Sableclaw and burst out laughing. Sableclaw jumped on Slingstone and pushed him under the water as he laughed aloud.

Slingstone sat on a rock near the Rushwater. His eyes glanced down to peer at Marshclay as she wiggled in their sleep furs. After she settled he looked to a cliff nearby. There was something familiar about it. For some reason he couldn't remember just what.

He smiled as he watched Marshclay get comfortable again, his eyes sparkling under the early morning moons. They had come here to get away and have some private time. By the smile on Slingstone's face and the way Marshclay slept it was a well needed time for both. Slingstone sat in nothing more than his loincloth upon his perch as he gazed at the two moons shining brightly above him.

His eyes wandered back to the cliff again. The NOW of wolf thought lifting its veil from his elfin mind as the memory of his mother's death flowed back to him. That was the cliff she had fallen from so many turns ago.

Reliving many of the memories in but a few moments, a cool chill brushed over him. His hair blew back from the gentle breeze as if Weaverstem herself had brushed his head like she had done many times before.

"You are not to blame!" Spoke a soft sound. Almost unrecognizeable, maybe it was just his imagination.

Slingstone glanced around. There was no one near them. Not even their wolf-friends were nearby. Lifting his nose to the wind he could scent no one either. He cocked one eyebrow curiously. "It must be my imagination. Must have been thinking too much," he thought aloud. To his amazement a misty figure stood at the base of the cliff. It looked much like his mother, Weaverstem. His eyes opened wide and he blinked, blinked, blinked. "Mother?" He said unbelievably. The misty form was gone.