December 1, 2001
After Snowbird's death, Mystic is plagued with nightmares and visons that even Tendril can not help him chase away. The young tracker leaves the holt to deal with his grief but is followed by an elf with a burden of his own - Slingstone.
"Mine eye runneth down
with rivers of water for the
destruction of the daughter
of my people. Mine eye
trickleth down, and ceaseth
not, without any intermission."
~ Lamentations 3: 48-49 KJV
He was alone on a pinnacle of stone standing above the canyon walls. Water rushed around him in a mad dash to the vast deep that awaited it. Mystic blinked at the light of the sky, and he heard the voice again. It was very faint, and the echoes called to him. And suddenly he was aware. He heard everything. The birds that rushed into the underbrush, the distant call of the male night lark and the sobs of mourning that permeated the forest. He was transfixed and motionless. He was helpless and prey to his own dreams. And in this clamor Snowbird's words returned to him.
"You're young but you are old enough to understand the life we lead. The Wolfrider can leave this world at any moment. We live a free life but it is a risky one. Our freedom sometimes comes at a high price. I would just hate for something to happen to either of you before Slingstone can learn to be a father or before you can learn to be a son. He wastes time that we may or may not have. It makes me sick to see it."
Something had happened; something awful. There was a high price to everything. When had she spoken those words? In his dream-trance he was uncertain. But it had not been long ago. At the canyon? When they found the great bird? Yes. And he had listened. Or had he? The stone pinnacle on which he stood began to shudder with growing force. Rocks cascaded downwards and splashed violently into the water. Mystic began to scramble to hold on, but it did him no good. The stones gave way and he plummeted into the rushing water. He breathed in fiercely and then felt the icy sting of the rapids as the undertow yanked him below.
The dream twisted in his mind. It turned, banging him against sharp rocks and smearing his face with mud. He felt it pull at him. He felt it drag him down suddenly into murky silence. Then he couldn't breath, and the panic gripped him.
And he sat bolt upright in his den, scattering furs in every direction. A silent scream replaced his hard breathing and cold sweat leaped from his pores. Tendril rolled quickly from his side. Startled from her own sleep, she did not realize at first what had happened. She quickly moved to her lovemate and softly caressed his face with her hands.
Mystic's eyes were full of tears and he shook uncontrollably. Tendril's arms encircled him quickly and held him to her breast.
"Beloved, shhhhh." She pulled him closer to her. "The dream again?" Mystic looked at her as if reality had just returned to him.
**Yes, again. I see it in my mind. I feel it, Tendril. It-** He broke into sobs and his lovemate began to rock him slightly back and forth. **It…must have been awful.** His tears betrayed the rims of his eyes and raced freely down both cheeks. **She died afraid - in terror - they both did. I can feel it somehow. Am I going mad?**
Tendril smiled softly and shook her head. "No. You are just lost in your grief." She held his face up to hers and nuzzled his neck. He returned her embrace. Suddenly, he freed himself from her arms and stood.
**Then I must find my way once again.** He looked at her with grief in his eyes and turned to walk away.
"Where will you go?" Tendril fought her own tears now.
**Away, until I can find what my heart has lost. Until I can make it right again in my spirit.**
"Mystic," Tendril watched him turn back to her. "Snowbird would want you to live in the NOW."
**I know beloved, but NOW is not living in me. The past plagues me and my memories haunt me. When I was small my aunt was like a second mother to me. I have cried to her in the darkest storm. I have watched her smile at my youth. She understood my pain over my father's rejection sometimes even better than my own mother. She was my best friend. She was always there. And now…** He began to choke back tears. **She isn't there anymore, and I do not know what to do. My heart is sick and I am no good to anyone until I fight this away.**
Tendril rushed to him and crushed him in a hug. **Don't take long, beloved.**
**I will try not to, Tendril. You are the forest's own beauty. I will miss your sweet face until I see it again.** And with that he held her close once more and walked out of the den into the waning light.
Tendril rose from her furs and dressed, her movements lethargic and measured. She felt so helpless. All of the tribe did. The deaths had been so sudden, so unexpected, that they all had been shaken. She had watched Wildstar tell the tribe what had happened. She had seen her tears. They all had. And the rare tears of her proud Chieftess had sent a chill to her bones. She had felt the numbing coldness of the ice that had gripped her heart. And she had watched Mystic nearly collapse under the strain of his grief.
Now that grief would give her lovemate no peace. It had spiraled him into the realm of dark dreams that he could not fight himself free of. She had watched in helpless horror as night after night he tossed and broke into sweats. She had been there for every silent scream he had awakened with, and she would be there for as long as it took.
She had often wondered what caused her love for Mystic to be so strong. She felt so different than he was. She was certain that he knew those differences too. Until at last one day she had solved it. The fact that she loved him was mostly because of the differences. Her on her hunt quests and Mystic on his journeys of the mind made their times together wondrous. They shared all things and accepted each other in both merits and faults. He saw so much in so little. She sometimes fought to overcome things she should let slip away like the river sliders did into the water. He always seemed to see the bright side, the skybows, but all he had seen these days were the clouds and darkness. Her heart ached for him and she wondered how she could help.
She moved from her den and swung nimbly around a tree branch and headed for Marshclay and Slingstone's den. She loved and respected the clay shaper like a sister or a mother, but her sullen mate, Slingstone, brought more than a little fear to her at times. The fear was not for her but for Mystic. More than once she had seen Mystic's tears caused by his father, so she felt a sort of wary anger when she spoke to Slingstone or saw him in passing.
When Tendril entered the den, Marshclay was folding and putting the furs of the day-sleep away. Slingstone sat quietly in the corner of their den sharpening his spearhead, but she could tell his eyes were on her when she entered. She walked over and helped Marshclay finish her task receiving a gentle smile for her efforts. It was in these quiet moments that Marshclay lock sent to Tendril.
**Hello young one, where is my son today? Is he any better?** Marshclay never once lifted her eyes from her task.
**He is worse if anything, and this evening he took off on his own to try and make peace in his heart. I am so worried about him, Marshclay, he is not himself.** Tendril could see the expression on Marshclay's face change. Her soft smile seemed to fade into lines of worry. Slingstone looked up from his task, frowned slightly, and began to work again.
**Where did he go?** Marshclay continued to lock send.
**High Ones know and I do not know when he will return. I hope it is soon. His spirit seems broken. He misses her so much. We all do, but Mystic is sick with grief.** Tendril now shared the same worry lines as Marshclay.
**It probably hurt him more than anyone else. We all feel her loss but Mystic… Something is deeper than even a mother can know, Tendril.**
**I know, and I do not know how to help or what to do.** Tendril bit her lower lip in frustration, and the two shared a silent, worry filled, moment.
Mystic journeyed on throughout the evening and into night until he felt the burn from the walking. His legs ached and sweat lathered his skin. He moved unceasingly like a force of nature until exhaustion made him drop where he stood. He lay under the over hanging tree limbs and let his ragged breathing slow to a restful rhythm. The leaves were backlit by the starlight, and he could see the twin moons shining dutifully in the sky above him.
How his life was like those moons. They changed and moved and he had even once seen them blacken out in the night sky when he was little. He let his mind go, and he remembered. He was a cub again in his thoughts, and he grasped the pant leg of Snowbird's clothing. The forest was darkened as the familiar moons eclipsed in the night sky. He had stood as close to his aunt as he could possibly get. The elder bird-speaker must have sensed his young fear for she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and sent, **Do not be afraid, Dimples, the mother moon and her cub have found a den to hide in. They will grow tired of resting soon and come back out. I have seen this before.** Something in her words and the way she said them drove fear from him. He felt her nearness and began to watch the sky without fear but with fascination. He had asked endless questions, and she had answered them all in loving patience. And he remembered how he had adored her and how she had adored him.
He remembered another time when he had first fallen in love with Tendril. He had sought out his aunt for advice. She had smiled at him and offered only one thing. She had told him to be who he was at all times and to treat the young plant shaper with respect. He had often wondered what she thought of him and his boyhood fears. He had so wanted her and his mother to be happy that he had found a lovemate in Tendril. And when they had treated Tendril like she was their very own daughter, he had beamed with pride and joy. Snowbird used to make everything easy, but now, without her, nothing seemed easy. The realization that she was indeed gone came crashing hard into the NOW once more, and he felt the pain well up again. But this time exhaustion drove it to the side, and Mystic slept on the forest floor out in the open until the dreams woke him again at mid-day.
Slingstone tossed in his furs, troubled. Marshclay had told him about Mystic's peace quest, but it was not dreams or quests that made the hunter restless; it was uncertainty. The uncertainty of the future haunted him. The path was shrouded in smoke and fog. For the first time in many turns, he worried. And the thought disturbed him. His only son was somewhere grieving and alone. Mystic didn't have his aunt to call on. Tendril was asleep in her den. Marshclay lay still beside of him. And Mystic was out there somewhere alone and in pain. Slingstone grimaced at his own racing thoughts. What was wrong with him? Why did stealthy terror grip his heart? Sleep would not come to him, so he rose and stepped quietly out of his den into the midday sun. The light hurt his eyes and he wondered what he was doing. He was still wondering as he picked up his bow from inside the den and slipped into the forest to find his son. There seemed an urgency to it, and he did not understand.
He moved through the forest with a hunter's grace. He found Mystic's trail and began to follow it. It seemed to randomly wind through the forest and before the daystar had reached halfway towards sun-goes-down, he came upon his son's most recent resting place. Slingstone paused here and remembered. He forced the images to come to him. He had wanted to surprise Marshclay. And he did not know that the humans were there. She had barely escaped with her life, but Slingstone knew that his son had suffered. The young elf had never spoke. And then the guilt and anger came again. The self-loathing and the misdirected feelings that he had felt towards his son assaulted Slingstone. The shame and the fear sprang up inside of him and he nearly turned back towards the holt.
That is when the noise came to him. A low growling in the forest and the rustle of running feet. He instantly knew what it meant. The hunter instinct inside of him made him suddenly crouch. He heard the beast leap once again, and a sick feeling suddenly struck him like a falling stone. He felt the mental pain of elf, then he realized that this was his son. Slingstone rose to his feet and raced through the underbrush without regard for silence. His hand found a low hanging branch, and he catapulted himself up into the trees and swung around branches until he saw the longtooth. And he saw his son.
Mystic was wild eyed and exhausted. He bled from several gashes in his side and shoulder. His sword was in his hand, but he was out of room to run. His back was pressed hard against a rock facing. The sweat was in his eyes, and he made threatening swipes at the animal as it approached and then retreated. But in his heart he knew it was a matter of time. He was in tremendous pain and exhaustion was raging in his body. He wanted to throw the sword down and let the big cat end it. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the thought of Tendril, his promises to her, and the face of his mother that burned hard into his mind. He was so tired, and he knew when the longtooth charged him again the end would come painfully and quickly.
The big cat was circling with narrowed eyes. It was waiting for the right moment. Mystic knew that moment was coming soon, and he braced his back against the rock wall and prepared. The animal circled, let out a low growl, and charged. Mystic stood with his weapon raised and waited to feel the claws and fangs of the beast rip into him. But that pain never came because the beast dropped into a dead slide with an arrow stuck into its left eye.
Slingstone had witnessed what was happening from his perch in a tree, and in the few seconds that Mystic and the longtooth had faced off with each other, Slingstone had raised his bow, steadied it, and aimed. He knew he would have only one chance to save his son. And in those eternal seconds that the arrow left his hand, the hunter relived his memories. He saw Mystic the moment he was born. He saw his laughter at the sky. He watched the cub grow to a boy, and he saw himself turn from him. He felt his shame all over again. The self-loathing feelings of disgust made him wince and sick to his stomach. Then he saw his son grow even more as the distance between them grew. He felt the loss of fatherhood, and he finally knew what he had to do. And the arrow struck neatly into the left side of the longtooth, sending it slamming to the ground.
Mystic saw the arrow sticking for the animal's eye and lowered his weapon. He slumped against the stone and looked up towards the trees and saw his father. Then the loss of blood and the fatigue overcame him. Blackness blotted everything out.
Mystic woke to find himself surrounded by elves. As he looked to his left, he saw that Tendril held his hand and that her head lay on his left hip. His mother was placing a cold cloth on his forehead and Purehaven sat to his right with large drops of sweat running down his exhausted face. He moved slowly to feel his wounds and found them gone. He wanted to sit up and ask questions but found himself exhausted. Instead he smiled at Marshclay and Purehaven and ran his fingers though Tendril's hair.
"Beloved!" Tendril's eyes were full of soft tears as she sat up and leaned over to hug and nuzzle her lovemate.
**I am fine. Just tired.** Then the young tracker turned to Purehaven. **Thank you.**
The healer only smiled and patted Mystic on the shoulder.
**Were is my father?** Mystic was looking into his mother's eyes.
**He is outside, waiting.** His mother's soft smile brought an easy calm to the room.
Tendril was still hugging Mystic, and he looked at her and lock sent.
**The forest's own beauty. I told you I'd come back soon.**
**Did you find what you needed?** Tendril sent.
**I'm not sure.**
Later, in the twilight time, Mystic rose from his bed and walked to the den entrance. When he looked out he found that his father was gone. He slipped out quietly to avoid the protests of Tendril and Marshclay. The two were busy talking. He smiled at their backs and exited the den. He made his way past friends that did not scold him. They looked at him and did not even send. They gave him simple nods and smiles. Wildstar did take a moment to raise her eyebrows at him, and he sheepishly returned her gaze with and apologetic expression. She smiled at him and returned to preparing for the hunt.
The daystar had almost lost all of its energy, and the twin moons were moving to claim the sky. Mystic searched for Slingstone but could not find him. He made his way to the forest and past the fringe of the holt. He followed well traveled paths to the canyon's edge and stood transfixed staring out into the nearly night sky. His mind was racing. His heart was remembering. And he sent. Openly and outward and as hard as he could.
**Auntie, I miss you. I will always miss you. I will miss your smile. I will miss your wisdom. This hurt will never pass. But if you can hear me, know that I am well. And I understand what you meant that day in the trees. I understand.** His tears were rolling down both cheeks.
**As do I.** The send intruded in Mystic's mind suddenly. He jumped in surprise. And as he began to turn around, he felt the strong and solid hand of his father grip his shoulder.
Slingstone stood quietly behind Mystic, his eyes staring hard into his son's. Mystic could see a faint shine in them. Tears? From his father? If they were, they were chased quickly away when Slingstone spoke.
"You are my son. And I am proud to be your father."
Mystic turned around and reached his arm out to grip the forearm of his father. The two stood there for long moments looking into each other's eyes. Then, as swiftly as the high jumper escapes into the forest green, Slingstone hugged his son for a short heart beat, turned, and ran away into the forest.
Mystic stood alone again. Listening. He heard the rhythm of life around him. He heard the howl of Wolfrider's gathering to the hunt. He heard the animals winding through the treetops. And as the wind began to pick up sharply, he thought he could hear birdsong.