Fan Fiction ❯ Return to Innocence ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Return to Innocence

by manga, the Awesome One in Pigtails

Cutter was roused from a pleasant sleep by a frantic Sending. Briefly he was thankful that it hadn't been that nightmare again, but that thought was immediately lost in the icy hot surge of anger and fear as his waking mind processed the sending.

**Zhantee! Venka! HELP!** Ekuar's cry sliced through everyone's mind in desperate open Sending. The ancient rockshaper's mindvoice was unusually clear and focused. Cutter didn't even want to guess at the catastrophe that so sharpened Ekuar's mind, and it was as much fear of whatever had happened as the urgency of Ekuar's call that sent him scrambling out of the den.

He wasn't the only one running for the sea cliff outside the holt. Most of the tribe pelted after him, apprehension stamped clear on every face. Only the scouts maintained their posts and that only by an exertion of stern will.

Once they got to the cliff it was hard to wait, but wait they did as Venka and Zhantee, protected by Zhantee's Shielding, slid into the sea and descended towards the Palace. It was especially hard for Cutter to be there so close to the Child-snatcher. He could feel Leetah's hand holding his arm tightly, but all he could do was glare furiously down at the depths. Unaware that he was growling not-so-under his breath he tried to decide who he hated more right now, Winnowill or Rayek.

Many tense moments passed before they could see Zhantee and Venka returning. The peace of those moments was both reassuring and nerve wracking. What was happening down there? Was The Black Snake awake? Were they going to have to fight for their lives again? At last, however, they surfaced, bringing Ekuar with them. Venka carried something cradled to her chest, bundled hastily in blankets.

"Well?" Cutter growled once they'd climbed back up the cliff.

Venka's hands tightened on her bundle before she replied. "It is... complicated, my chief. We are not sure exactly what happened." Her characteristic calm had not changed, but she did seem to be at something of a loss. Cutter turned his attention to Ekuar. Ekuar tried to smile at the wolf chief's glower, but his heart wasn't in it.

"It's all so jumbled in my old head... One moment he was napping peacefully-- or as peacefully as he can, these days--" he added with a slightly plaintive smile. His aside was greeted with stony stares from the Wolfriders. They had nothing against him, but if he'd get no sympathy for his beloved Brownskin from them. "Then, well, he started tossing frightfully and I heard him yell at Winnowill." The old elf's brow furrowed with the effort to remember clearly. "That's when I called for Venka and Zhantee. I could feel them fighting it out, the air in the Palace was thick with magic. I was so afraid of what she'd do to him..." Ekuar trailed off, forgetting his story as he stared worriedly at the blanketed object in Venka's arms.

"So? What's the result of this fuss, lass?" Treestump stepped forward, his massive arms crossed, right hand still clenching his axe.

"Winnowill sleeps, bound again," Venka said quietly.

Cutter threw his arms up in disgust. "So that's it? Some squabbling between the Snakes? As long as Winnowill is bound again and the Child-snatcher stays down in the muck, it's no concern of mine."

Frowning slightly, Venka knelt down and set her bundle on the ground. "As I said, my chief, it's a little complicated..." Gently, she peeled the blankets away to reveal a sleeping child. The sun, bright on this unforested patch of rock, woke him and he sat up, blinking and rubbing confused eyes.

The Wolfriders stared first in surprise then in shock. The dark gold/brown skin, the sleek black hair and the narrow, disturbing amber eyes were familiar enough, but the sight of them on a child who couldn't be more than four summers old...

"Mother says staring isn't polite," the impossible child said, staring back at them and folding his arms righteously.

Leetah knelt, bringing herself closer to his eye level. He was tall for a four year old, she noted absently. "And who is your mother, kitling?" she asked gently.

He blinked at her. "Mother is... mother," he said, impatiently. "She looks like her," he pointed at Clearbrook, "only her hair's not so long, her eyes are purple and her skin's brown. Why are you all so white? Are you sick?"

The implication staggered Leetah. Slowly she raised her head to Venka, her face asking the question she couldn't find the nerve to voice. Venka nodded solemnly. Leetah lowered her head again and stared at the small boy regarding her quizzically. Rayek was, for all intents and purposes, four years old. And he didn't remember a thing.

No one had to be told that a Tribal Council was called. Even the scouts who had not been at the cliff-- Nightfall, Strongbow and Aroree-- could pick up the air of tension that now permeated the holt. Grimly the Wolfriders climbed into the Council Tree and settled into their seats.

"Well, this is a fine mess of tracks we've found," Cutter grumbled. "Just what are we supposed to do with him now?" The rest of the tribe frowned at each other uncomfortably. They knew how he felt about Rayek, but he was letting that anger rule him a little more than he normally would. Leetah told him as much in a gentle lock send. He looked at her, a little startled, then made an obvious effort to calm down.

Seeing this, Clearbrook decided it was time to step in. "I don't think we have to do anything with him," she said. "Give Ekuar a den and let the child live with him."

"He's not just any child, though," protested Nightfall. "He's Rayek. What'll he be like when he grows up?"

"I think that's up to us," Leetah said. Everyone turned to stare at her. "I've already tried to reverse whatever Winnowill has done, but there's not much I can do. I could possibly return him to the right body, but I can't do anything for his memories." This earned her several blank stares and more than a few surprised "Why nots?!". She sighed. "Because at least part of what locks them off is his own will." The tribe was silent as they digested her words.

Aroree stepped forward. "I think that this is an opportunity," she said. "We can heal whatever spirit-sickness drove him before by helping him start over."

"Why should we?" Nightfall snapped angrily. "He stole our tribemates and our Chief's cubs! He tried to destroy us!"

Aroree shied back from Nightfall's outburst, but didn't wither as she once would have. "But he didn't destroy us," she replied softly. "He chose not to." She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "And I have stolen a Wolfrider cub, too. You forgave me, took me in and helped me make amends. Why does Rayek deserve any less? For that matter, Leetah has said that this child knows nothing. Would you punish an innocent?"

"So that's it?" Nightfall retorted bitterly. "Rayek wants to escape his past and we help him do it?"

Venka stepped forward too. "Nightfall, the Wolfriders are my family and have always been my friends despite my parentage. You could have raised me to hate Rayek but you did not. Why are you so intent on hating him now?" Nightfall subsided unhappily and Clearbrook spoke up.

"I agree with Aroree. He needs us now--" Suddenly Ekuar sent again, interrupting her point.

**Eh, I’m sorry but, ah, help? Please?**

They had left him and the young Rayek resting in Venka’s den. When the Wolfriders arrived they found Ekuar staring worriedly up the tree. “Where is he?” Cutter demanded, not needing to guess what the problem was. Ekuar pointed at the tip of the tree.

“I can seee youuuuu!” After a moment of searching, Cutter found Rayek clinging to the topmost branches grinning and waving madly. The Wolf-chief swore.

“How did he get up there?” Ekuar shrank back against the tree, intimidated by Cutter’s growl.

“He asked if he could go climbing,” he said. “And, ah, next thing I knew, there he was!”

Cutter glared up at the child. “Get down here!” he ordered.

Instantly the glee disappeared from his face and little Rayek stuck out his tongue. “Make me!”

Cutter very nearly exploded but before he could do so Tyleet had hopped up into the nearest branches. “Rayek!” she called. “How would you like to play with a sling-shot?”

Amber eyes widened. “What’s that?”

“You’ll never find out if you stay up there!” Tyleet answered with a teasing smile. Immediately Rayek started scrambling down the tree. Tyleet turned to the tribe and stunned them.

“My Chief,” she said, “I will take him.”

Pike had said “Try… Just try to refuse her anything!” Before the sun set that day, Tyleet, Ekuar and Rayek were settled in Venka’s den. Now the den was theirs; Venka, unwilling to leave Winnowill unguarded, had chosen to move down to the Palace and Zhantee, her lovemate, had gone with her. Ekuar was sound asleep in the den, worn out by the stresses and shocks of the day. Little Rayek had no such problem and Tyleet, in an effort to keep the inquisitive child under control, offered to teach him how to use his new sling-shot.

“These work best with rocks,” she explained as she set up some practice targets, “but let’s use nuts for today.”

Rayek snapped the sling experimentally. “Why?”

“Because they’re lighter and easier to use,” she smiled.

His face set with determination. “I wanna use rocks.”

“But the nuts will be easier,” Tyleet explained again patiently.

Rayek made a disgusted noise. “You said rocks are better. I want to use rocks.”

Tyleet shook her head. “This is the first time you’ve used a sling-shot. You should start with something easier.”

“I don’t WANT start with something easier,” he seethed. “I want to start with the best.”

‘Well,’ she thought to herself, ‘there’s no harm in letting him try.’ “All right,” she said to him and pulled out a pouch of rocks. She picked through them for ones that would fit his smaller hands and laid them out on a nearby branch. “Now watch me carefully.” She settled herself and took aim. She held on to the sling a little longer than necessary to give him a clear view of her technique. Then with a whizz the rock flew and struck the target in the center. “Now you try.”

Carefully he took aim. His eyes narrowed to thin amber slits as he glared at the target. When he fired the rock struck just slightly off of center.

“Wonderful!” Tyleet cheered, beaming down at him. “So close on your first try! Great job!”

For a moment Rayek looked pleased. A bashful smile tugged at his mouth as he ducked his head and Tyleet’s heart melted. Then he frowned. “I can do better,” he muttered and reached for another rock.

The light from the nearly full Mother Moon washed over Tyleet as she sat in the den entrance with a bowl of capnuts in her lap. She hummed little snatches of song as she sorted through them. Clearbrook, on her way to the wolf dens, spotted her and stopped to talk. Glancing around she tried to find Rayek but the only trace of his presence she could find was a rhythmic twacking sound. “Where is he?” she asked curiously. Tyleet looked up with a smile, expertly twisting the tops off the capnuts as she spoke.

“He’s practicing with his sling-shot.” There was a small note of pride in her voice.

“Still?” Clearbrook exclaimed. “The moons had barely risen when you started!”

Laughing, Tyleet shrugged. “He’s determined to get it absolutely right. I couldn’t get him interested in the capnuts even when I offered to let him eat the ones that were too little.”

Just then the night air reverberated with the howling of the pack. “Ah!” Clearbrook looked up with a smile. “A good hunt tonight.” She turned to go meet the returning hunters but was nearly knocked over when Rayek ran smack into her.

“Jackals!” he cried. “We have to get inside!” Grabbing Clearbrook’s hand he tried to drag her into the den. Tyleet and Clearbrook exchanged startled glances before amused smiles pulled at their mouths. “What are you smiling about?” Rayek demanded, still tugging urgently at Clearbrook’s hand.

“Rayek, little cub,” Tyleet said, touching his hair affectionately, “those aren’t jackals. They’re our wolf-friends.”

“The howling you hear is the hunters announcing the success of the hunt,” Clearbrook added.

His anger at being made to feel foolish disappeared. “Hunting?” he asked. “You eat flesh?” He stared at them, his eyes huge with a mixture of horror and fascination. “Father says only animals eat flesh.”

Now Tyleet and Clearbrook exchanged appalled looks. Tyleet shook her head and took Rayek’s hand. “Food is food, little one,” she explained, leading him down to the ground.

“There isn’t any food in the Sun Village,” he admitted. “Not much anyway and I hate it all!”

“Why is that?” Clearbrook asked, coming down behind them.

“Because it’s awful!” Both the older elves laughed at the face he made. “I dare you to try squatneedle root!”

By then they had arrived at the wolf dens. Little Rayek was brought up short by the sight of the bloody wolves and the remains of their prey. He hung back, his eyes darting around nervously. Leetah came rushing over. “Tyleet, it may be better to keep him away for now,” she said. Tyleet glanced inquiringly over at Cutter. “That’s part of it,” the healer admitted, “but Ra- the child- has never seen anything like this before. It may frighten him.”

“I’m not frightened!” the young Rayek immediately protested, glaring up at Leetah though he still clung tightly to Tyleet’s hand.

“That’s good,” Tyleet said, smiling. She knelt down to be at eye-level with him. “I’ll make you a bargain. If you eat some meat, someday I’ll try that squatneedle root you were telling me about.”

“All right,” he said grudgingly. Tyleet lead him closer, looking for a good place to settle. Rayek stayed very close and did his best to keep her between him and the wolves. Clearbrook waved them over to sit with her and Treestump. She was the only one to try to make them welcome. Treestump regarded the young Rayek neutrally but the others pointedly ignored him. Most were angry still; there were a few, like Suntop and Shen-shen, who might soften in time but for the moment were too afraid of Cutter’s reaction to make any overtures. Tyleet hoped Rayek wouldn’t notice his cool reception.

‘This might be harder than I thought,’ she sighed to herself.

The next night, Tyleet took little Rayek to see Moonshade. “You see the problem,” she explained as the child eyed the tanner’s tools curiously. “Rayek!” She tugged his hand sharply. “Stay out of that!” Sulking, he put the lid back on the pot of dye. “He can’t go on wearing Suntop’s old things.” As if to prove her point, the leggings he was wearing chose slipped down around his ankles.

Moonshade, who until that moment had been regarding them stonily, couldn’t stifle a smirk. “No, I suppose not,” she said. Rayek glowered at her as he hitched his pants back up. Sighing reluctantly, she knelt down in front of him. “Well, come here cub,” she ordered. He looked to Tyleet, who smiled encouragingly, then he stepped forward. Moonshade spent awhile measuring him with her hands. “Yes,” she said at length, “I’ve got enough scraps to put something together.”

“So you’ll do it?” Tyleet asked with relief.

“Of course I’ll do it,” the tanner sniffed. “I wouldn’t leave any of our tribe running around unclothed.” She glanced pointedly at the child. “No matter the… history.”

Tyleet stiffened. “Thank you,” she said woodenly. “Come, Rayek.” Moonshade did not watch as they left or she would have seen Rayek twist his head around and stare at her consideringly as Tyleet dragged him along.

A few nights later…

“Rayek, sweet, do you want me to chew your meat for you?” Tyleet asked.

“Eeeeeyich!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in horror.

“Then why won’t you eat some more?” she prodded. She pulled another scrap of meat from the kill and held it out to him. “Here.”

He shook his head again, though he looked at the offered food with a look of repressed longing. “I’ve had too much,” he said halfheartedly.

Treestump raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Have you now, lad?” he asked. “Then why can I still hear your stomach rumbling?” Rayek muttered something and scuffed at the dirt with his toe. “What was that?”

Clearbrook, who was sitting closer to the little adoptive family than Treestump, hid a smile in her hand. “He asked for some vegetables,” she said.

“I like meat!” Rayek said defensively. “I’m just… tired of it,” he admitted almost guiltily. His eyes darted from adult to adult as he waited for the admonitions to start.

Ekuar chuckled. “Well, little Brownskin, why didn’t you say so?”

Tyleet stood up and ruffled Rayek’s hair affectionately. “We all could use some. I’ll go get them.” Rayek brightened.

“I’ll come help!” he said, bounding out of his seat. He grabbed Tyleet’s hand and started dragging her away, ignorant of the questioning look she sent to Clearbrook. Clearbrook frowned slightly but shrugged her shoulders.

Their concern seemed unwarranted. Though the other elves quieted as Rayek approached them, they kept any hostility well under control. Rayek asked each group politely for the vegetable baskets and they handed them over politely in their turn. The tension mounted as he walked up to Cutter’s group. The chief’s face hardened but he said nothing as Leetah handed over the basket of greens. Leetah watched with some amusement as Rayek stacked the basket on top of the other two he already had. The total tower was nearly as tall as he was but he refused Tyleet’s aid as he struggled to pick it up.

“Why don’t you let Tyleet help you, kitling?” Leetah asked gently.

“*ughf* Because -I’m- helping –her-,” was his response. With Tyleet following him watchfully, he picked his way back to their seats carefully. As he passed Pike, Skot and Krim, trouble struck. Skot leaned casually back, sticking one foot right in Rayek’s way. He stumbled over it and fell, landing on the baskets. The bottom two were fine but the top one tumbled off, spilling the greens all over the forest floor.

To everyone’s astonishment, when Rayek stood up there were tears in his eyes. “You did that on purpose!” he accused, sounding dangerously close to crying.

“Me?” Skot replied, grinning nastily, “never!”

Rayek’s hands curled into fists. “You did too!” He blinked back the tears as his voice rose. “You tripped me! You made me waste food!” Skot laughed in his face.

Rayek hit him. He stood there for a moment, looking shocked. Skot lunged for him but Tyleet snatched him out of the way. She settled Rayek on her hip, staring down at Skot angrily. Then she glanced around at the other Wolfriders. Most looked vaguely concerned but there were enough smirks. Another glance at Cutter revealed a smug smirk on his face too. She clenched her jaw tightly and felt tears start up in her own eyes. Spinning on her heel, she stalked back to her den. She could hear Ekuar hobble along after them but she was more concerned with her small charge.

Rayek lay against her with his head buried in her shoulder. “They hate me,” he sobbed into her neck. "They hate me."

For the next several nights, Tyleet kept Rayek well away from the rest of the tribe. She knew it couldn’t be done forever - at the least he needed to thank Moonshade for his new leathers – but she hoped that a little time apart would calm raised hackles on both sides. Time apart was also time she could use to teach him more about being a Wolfrider.

“In the trees, as you please,” she said, “on the ground, not a sound.”

“But Tyleet,” he protested.

“There are no ‘buts,’ cub. That’s Cutter’s rule.”

A mutinous expression came over his face. “Why does he get to make rules?”

“Because he’s the chief,” she explained. “Like Savah.”

“He’s NOT like Savah,” the child spat out. “SAVAH wouldn’t have smiled when that rock-skull made me waste those vegetables.”

Tyleet sighed. That incident was well on its way to becoming a major problem. Oddly, Rayek didn’t seem as upset about being tripped as he was about the loss of food. She knelt down to talk to him seriously. “You’re right,” she said. “That wasn’t right. We’ll talk to Cutter later.” ‘Much later,’ she thought.

Mollified that she agreed with him, Rayek turned back to contemplating the ground far beneath them. He hadn’t been out of the trees yet. Cutter’s rule was still bothering him but at this point he was willing to paint himself white if he had to. He wanted to feel good, hard rock under his feet again. He wanted to dash off a full speed, a difficult feat to do on tree branches. “How do we talk if we can’t make a sound?” he demanded.

Tyleet laughed. **Why you send, of course!** She was unprepared for the look of total shock he gave her. If she hadn’t grabbed his arm he might have fallen out of the tree.

“You- You’re talking in my head! Are you magic, like Savah?” His eyes were doing a good imitation of both moons at their fullest.

**We can all send,** she continued. **I’m sure you can too!**

His face screwed up in concentration. “Did you hear that?” he asked eagerly.

**Not yet. Keep trying!**

Her encouragement was unnecessary. Many long minutes were spent as he tried. And tried. At length he had to give up. “My head hurts,” he whispered.

“There, there, cub.” Tyleet sat down next to him. Pulling him into her lap, she stroked his head.

“It’s not fair,” he sobbed. “You can all do it. If you can do it, I can do it. I KNOW it.” **IT’S NOT FAIR!**

Wincing at the strength – and volume – of his sending, Tyleet nevertheless beamed with approval. **There!** she told him. **You did do it!**

He looked up incredulously, the tears of frustration still staining his cheeks. “I- I did? When?”

**Just now, when you said it wasn’t fair. Try again!** she urged.

Frowning, Cutter looked up from his conversation with Leetah. “What was that?”

“What was what?” she asked, trying to follow his gaze. The sound came again, louder this time.

**I can do it!**

“That sound,” Cutter said. “It’s a sending, but I don’t recognize it.”

**I CAN SEND!!** This time it rang clearly, loud and strong. If the sender had been a Wolfrider, they would have been howling for joy. In fact Cutter and Leetah could hear howling, but it was clearly Tyleet and she was just as clearly not the mysterious sender.

Leetah put a hand to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to smile and exult with the sender, but she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be when she told her lifemate who it was. **Tam,** she sent, placing a hand on his shoulder, **that is Rayek.**

Clearbrook looked up from her arrow making to find a delegation of Wolfriders standing in front of her. Arms were crossed and brows were furrowed. It did not bode well. She glanced over at her lifemate; Treestump’s face was neutral. He would take no sides but she was sure he had an interest in what they had come to say.

Moonshade, who seemed to be the leader, spoke first. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

The silver-haired elf looked eloquently from her arrows to the tanner. “I’m making arrows,” she replied simply.

“That’s not what we mean and you know it,” Nightfall snapped. “Tyleet is just Tyleet. I can understand why she’s taken him on. Why are YOU being so…” she groped for the word.

“Friendly? Welcoming? Understanding?” Clearbrook supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!”

There was silence for a time as both sides stared thoughtfully at each other. In the end, Clearbrook sighed. “Why can’t you even try?” she asked.

“I watched Cutter suffer through what HE did to him!” cried Nightfall.

“And I’M watching Cutter suffer even now, though he has us with him again,” growled Skywise. The group parted to make way for him. “I heard the ruckus and came to see what was up,” he said. “And I’ve got to say, I agree with Moonshade and Nightfall.”

Moonshade took the opportunity to step forward again. “Remember, HE’S the reason you’ve been separated from your son and his family! How can you stand to even be near him!” Her dark eyes glowed with fervor.

Clearbrook stood up, calmly dusting her leggings off with one hand and gathering her arrows up with the other. “I remember,” she said coolly.

“Then why--”

“I remember other things too,” she went on as if Skywise hadn’t spoken. “I remember the promise he made me, to keep One-Eye’s body safe. I remember the sincerity with which he made that promise and how well he kept it.” She fixed them each with a solemn gaze. “Most importantly, I remember the word of our healer. His memories are lost to him; this Rayek is not our Rayek and I will treat this child as any child should be treated.” The other elves looked away. **I CAN SEND!!**

They all looked up in surprise. A sending can reveal much about the sender; Nightfall, Moonshade and Skywise walked away with troubled, thoughtful expressions.

Sunlight slanted through the leaves outside of Cutter’s den. Inside, his family was asleep. The wolf chief curled up in the entrance, brooding. It had been hard, ‘till now, to hold the wolf in him back. He was used to the hate now; it sat in his heart like a banked fire. Warming his hands over the embers had brought a certain comfort over the long years. But now beast and elf both were not only angry; they were confused. His head knew that this child was not the Rayek he hated even if his heart didn’t. The wolf in him was brought up short by the conflicting instincts of “Enemy! Attack!” and “Child! Protect!”

Now, the child Rayek had learned to send. He was just as bad as Leetah had been when Cutter had first started teaching her how to send; thoughts and emotions flowed out of his sendings like the river flowed into the Vast Deep Water. Cutter himself had been nearly swept away by the sheer, childish exaltation in Rayek’s sending. The eagerness, self-centeredness and pride were still there. It WAS Rayek. The arrogance was missing as was most of the ambition. It wasn’t Rayek.

Cutter didn’t know what to do.

Leetah wasn’t sure what to feel. Her oldest friend was…gone. In his place was a strange child who was so like, yet unlike her Rayek that her heart squeezed painfully when he was near. Once before she had thought Rayek gone but she had found him again soon after. She didn’t know when or if he would come back this time.

“Good evening, pretty healer.”

Startled out of her reverie, Leetah looked up to see Ekuar standing in front of her.

“Good evening to you too,” she smiled.

The aged elf nodded in acknowledgment and looked around. “Where is Cutter tonight?” he asked.

“He told me he was tracking a small group of humans who have come too near the holt.” She put a hand on the ground next to her, inviting Ekuar to sit.

The rockshaper did so with a slight smile. “Do you believe him?” His sad, worried eyes searched hers. Leetah sighed.

“I believe that is what he is doing. I do not believe that is all he is doing.” Ekuar nodded understanding. “This isn’t easy for him,” she continued. “I’m sure some time to sort out his feelings would help.”

Ekuar put his hand on hers. “This isn’t easy for any of us, is it?” he asked her gently. His sympathy touched Leetah unexpectedly and tears slid down her cheeks. “I miss him, healer. So much.” Tears glittered on his wizened cheeks also.

Leetah sniffed and nodded. “Me too,” she whispered. “But I cannot share it with Cutter. He cannot see past what Rayek did. I cannot bear to see anger or scorn or—or betrayal in his eyes.”

Ekuar leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder. “The others can’t miss everything else that Rayek was. Maybe you and I could comfort each other, yes?” Smiling softly, Leetah nodded. The two elves talked together much of the night, sharing their love and their memories. In the end, it brought Leetah much comfort to be able to comfort Ekuar in that manner, for though Rayek was her dearest friend and she could no more stop loving him than she could stop loving Cutter, her talk with Ekuar reminded her that he had lost someone much dearer. He had lost his son.

“Rayek was always like sunshine and shadow,” Leetah mused to Cutter one day. They were quietly watching Tyleet teach the boy some new bit of Wolfrider lore. “More shadow than sun, truth be told. This new Rayek broods too but… I have to say, there’s more sun in him now. I wonder why.”

“Who cares?” Cutter grunted. “At least this one has no magic yet.”

Her eyes saddened. **I hope one day you can be fair to him,** she sent, filling her sending with all her love and compassion for her lifemate, her old friend and the child her friend had become.

Cutter was silent. He wasn’t ready for her to be right. Leetah sighed and changed track. “Skot should apologize to him.”

“It was just a little prank,” he said, shrugging it off.

“It was more than that and you know it,” Leetah said sternly. “What will it do to the tribe if they tear each other down in front of their chief and he laughs?”

“They can settle things between themselves.”

“Is that what you would have?” Leetah shot back. “A tribe that is always ‘settling things between themselves?’”

Cutter scowled. “Would you rather I have a tribe that came crying to me at the drop of a leaf?”

“I would rather you have a tribe that trusted you to stand up for them when they could not,” Leetah said quietly.

Silently, Cutter mulled over Leetah’s words. He trusted and acknowledged his lifemate’s wisdom. The sight of Skot standing threateningly over little Rayek had been satisfying but also appalling. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that knew which side he should let win.

Predictably, Skot had already forgotten the incident. “Why are you making such a big deal?” he asked, scratching his head. Cutter shrugged. Leetah, who knew her lifemate’s limits and had no desire to push them, spoke up instead. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Isn’t it Rayek?”

Rayek, who looked as if he were barely accepting the Go-Back’s apology, narrowed his eyes disdainfully at Skot. **He said he was sorry. What’s his punishment going to be?**

“Punishment?” Cutter growled, not liking Rayek’s commanding tone.

Rayek scowled. **He wasted food! He should have to get more or something!**

“I have an idea!” Leetah broke in. “Skot will replace the lost greens and Rayek will go with him. That way,” she continued, “Rayek can learn what greens in the forest are good to eat—“

“None of them,” Skot muttered. Rayek sniggered in response and they both froze, shocked at this discovery of common ground.

“—and Skot can learn to be more careful,” she continued, valiantly ignoring the commentary.

Tyleet went with them, ostensibly to help keep an eye on Rayek but she thought Skot could use some help keeping himself out of trouble as well. “Look there!” she pointed. “Some yellowfrond!”

“Ick,” Skot grimaced. “That stuff sticks in my throat.”

**Mine too,** Rayek sent, making a face that made Skot laugh.

“Then why are you helping her gather it?” the Go-Back teased.

**Because you don’t turn your nose up at food,** Rayek responded grimly.

“Why not?” Skot stretched his arms wide, indicating the whole forest. “There’s food all around, ready for the taking!”

**You’re spoiled.**

Skot burst out laughing. “Spoiled?? How?”

**There isn’t any food in my home. There’s never any rain and nothing grows.**

“Aww, sure there is! I’ve heard tales of the Sun Village! You don’t get much rain but you get some. Then you have this big festival! Sounds great to me!”

Rayek shook his head and continued pulling up yellowfronds. Tyleet held out her basket and he dropped them in there. **There hasn’t been any rain for--** he paused, thinking. **Ten years. Before I was born.**

“That’s crazy,” Skot said. “What do you eat?”

**Squatneedle root mostly.** Rayek grimaced.

Skot tilted his head curiously. “What’s that taste like?”

Rayek sent him an impression of the taste. Skot choked then knelt down and started pulling up yellowfronds. “Even THESE taste better than that,” he muttered. Rayek laughed agreement and Tyleet smiled, glad to see them getting along.

“Looks like you’re raising another Strongbow,” Pike joked to Tyleet as the tribe relaxed by the stream some time later. “I can’t remember the last time I heard him speak two words together.”

Tyleet smiled fondly down at her little charge. Rayek was inching himself reluctantly into the cold stream. “He wants to be good at Sending,” she said to Pike.

“What have you told him?”

Surprised, Tyleet turned around. She had hoped that her chief and his lifemate would continue past her to a different part of the stream but they hadn’t. Cutter stared coolly down at her. Leetah, the one who had spoken, looked down with more warmth but it was still a tense scene. Not wanting to be part of it, Pike slipped away.

“Told him about what?” Honestly confused, Tyleet’s gaze flicked from Leetah to Cutter and back. She made a small motion with her hand and Rayek reluctantly returned to her side. She put an arm around his shoulders like a mother woodhatcher tucking her young under her wing. Little Rayek frowned up at Cutter, not liking the big, furry one who made his friend uncomfortable.

“About his arrival here,” Leetah said. With a quick glance at Cutter, she knelt down on the bank to be closer to them and less intimidating. Cutter huffed and looked away.

Tyleet blinked, flustered. “Oh! Um… He hasn’t asked.”

“He… hasn’t… asked…” Leetah repeated dumbly. Almost she was tempted to laugh but it made no sense to her. The Rayek that she had known wanted to know everything about everything and NOW. She couldn’t imagine him NOT asking so obvious a question. She shook her head. “I shall have to ask him myself then,” she said, forcing a smile. “Come here, little one.” Tyleet whispered something encouraging to Rayek who shook her arm off and stood defiantly in front of the healer. “How did you come here?” she asked as gently as she could.

Rayek shrugged sullenly.

“Do you know who we are?” Leetah pressed.

Instantly Rayek’s face split into a grin. **You’re the Rootless Ones!**

Everyone who had been politely ignoring the incident snapped to attention.

“The Rootless Ones,” Cutter repeated flatly.

**You live in the green, growing place,** Rayek shrugged. He clearly considered this to be ample proof.

“Well,” Leetah said cautiously, “I guess you could say we are like the Rootless Ones. You remember your parents, don’t you kitling?” The child nodded. “Can you tell us their names?”

“Jarrah and Ingen,” he admitted with reluctance.

“And they are Sun Villagers?”

Miserably he nodded.

Leetah looked helplessly over at Tyleet who shrugged back in confusion. “For Freefoot’s sake,” Cutter snapped, “just answer the question. How did you get here?”

Rayek shook his head in a flurry of blue-black hair. **I don’t know,** he sent without looking up.

“You can’t lie in sending,” growled Cutter, dropping down to glare at Rayek. “Why. Are. You. Here?” he ground out.

Rayek had been pushed far enough. He raised his eyes and glared fiercely back at the wolf chief. **They traded me for a plant-shaper!** he shouted.

Confusion. Rejection. Anguish. Cutter’s unprepared mind reeled. He groped for his lifemate’s hand. Leetah squeezed back, overwhelmed herself. All the time she had known him, Rayek had been distant from his parents. She had never understood why but she couldn’t believe that he would believe them capable of such a thing.

Cutter, more experienced with sending, recovered faster than Leetah. “Don’t be stupid,” he frowned, shaking his head in an effort to clear it. “We wouldn’t trade a plant-shaper for you!”

It was like watching Strongbow shoot prey. The terrified widening of the eyes as it realizes what’s happening. The hiss of indrawn breath as it prepares to flee. The strangled sound as the barb hits home. Cutter watched all that wash over little Rayek’s face in one, slow, horrible moment.

“Wait!” he shouted at the boy’s fleeing form. “I didn’t mean it that way!” High Ones help me, I DIDN’T. Leetah had been right. Touching minds with the child had helped him to see this new Rayek for who he was and the pain he had seen in the boy's face brought him no joy.

Leetah dashed after her lifemate, following the fleeter elf as best she could. It hadn’t taken him long to pursue the boy; Cutter’s sense of right had squashed his internal struggle. It was moments like these, even as she panted to keep up, that reminded Leetah of why she loved him.

The wolf-chief was swift but desperation lent Rayek wings. He was buried deep in Ekuar’s embrace when Cutter, with Leetah and Tyleet in tow, caught up. “Now then, what’s the matter?” Ekuar was saying. He patted Rayek’s back but the child simply shook his head and continued his fierce, silent sobbing. With a glance at her chief, Tyleet stepped up and put her hand on Rayek’s shoulder.

“Rayek, sweet little cubling,” she murmured. He stiffed. “Shhhh,” she stroked his hair. “Cutter didn’t mean that.”

A small sound came from the small figure, much muffled by Ekuar’s cloak. It sounded like “Prove it.”

Cutter’s hand was balled into a painful fist but a touch from, and a glance at, his lifemate determined him. **Rayek,** he sent. With a mix of anger and dread the child turned toward him. **You cannot lie in sending. Truth?** Grudgingly, Rayek nodded. **Then--** he took a deep breath, **when I tell you that I simply meant that we wouldn’t trade our people like tools and that I am sorry, you will believe me.** There was a long, tense silence as Rayek searched Cutter’s eyes, weighing his words. Then he nodded, once. Solemnly Cutter returned the nod.

Leetah knelt down. “Tell me, child,” she said. “Why did you think your parents had…had traded you?”

Rayek shrugged. His sending still stung with recent pain but he was clearly trying to work past it. **We need a plant-shaper. Because of the drought.**

“Don’t worry,” Leetah smiled with all the assurance of fore-knowledge. “Everything will be all right. I’m sure you’re a great help to your parents.”

The response was blunt and merciless. **I’m not.** Before she could protest, he continued. **I kill plants. I pull the wrong ones. I don’t water them right. Father doesn’t like it when I help. I hate the stupid gardens anyway!** he added defiantly. Then, with a familiar suddenness and intensity, he changed tracks. **Why don’t you like me?** His eyes bored into Cutter’s.

Cutter growled, the challenge bringing his wolfish nature to the fore. “That’s a question for another time!” He turned and stalked away. Rayek watched him go, a considering look that seemed older than his years on his face.

Patience huffed contentedly. Her elf-friend and her elf-friend's new cub (who didn't smell anything like her but elves were strange creatures) had at last come down to the wolf dens for a visit. Even now her big furry ears were getting a good scratch as Tyleet watched Rayek edge toward the rest of the pack. The pack surrounded the young elf taking cautious sniffs. Rayek threw a look back at Tyleet that could only be described as terrified but she only smiled and he, unwilling to be shamed in front of her, swallowed hard and tried to remain still.

The scent of fear coming from the cub made the pack edgy. One of the lower wolves got too close to the alpha and was swiftly disciplined. The commotion almost knocked Rayek off his feet and he stumbled, stepping on another wolf's tail. That wolf spun around and gave him a good nip for the affront and the child screamed. Quickly Tyleet and Patience waded in and plucked him out.

Other elves that were nearby hurried over to see what had happened. "For Freefoot's sake," Skywise snorted, "are all Sun Villagers so pathetic? So much fuss over such a little scratch."

**Look at him!** Strongbow grumbled, **Eyes the size of Mother Moon and stinking of fear. No wonder the wolves reacted.**

Leetah glared at them. "You two hush!" she snapped. "Have a little compassion." Her hands were on her hips and she was ready to lecture.

"Leetah?" Tyleet's concerned voice forestalled Leetah's speech. The healer turned to see what was the matter. Rayek stood stock-still, his hand clutched over the injured arm and his face a mask of horror. "He seems to be all right, but he won't respond," Tyleet appealed.

"Come now kitling," Leetah smiled, kneeling down next to them. She put her hand over his. "It's not so bad." His brow knit as he frowned. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to speak but in the end he simply shook his head. Leetah frowned too; he was on the verge of panic. "Tyleet, lock send with me. Perhaps then he will believe us." Together their minds reached out and touched--

--Terror. Stark terror and anger coming from somewhere else. He didn't understand. He was swamped. Any moment now he was sure he would be overwhelmed. His arm-- it stung. It was just a scratch that would stop hurting soon...

No, his arm throbbed and when the shock wore off the pain would be horrific. His arm was shredded to the bone and blood dripped to the sand with a heavy sound. The wolves were sniffing anxiously, concerned by the elves’ odd behavior. They weren't wolves, they were jackals and they were circling in for the kill...

He could feel two presences with him, elves that he knew he trusted in this strange green-growing land. He was going to die out in the rocks and suddenly he wanted his parents-- or ANYBODY to help him-- more than he ever had before but they were safe in the village and he was alone... **Which is the truth?** he begged.

Tyleet and Leetah exchanged a quick shocked glance then reached out and drew the child into a tight embrace. **We are the truth,** they sent. **Feel us. Hear the breeze in the leaves, smell the bark and earth that surrounds you.**

**Feel the ground between your toes because you've lost your shoes again,** Tyleet added separately. Rayek blinked and smiled the universal child's smile at her-- the one that says "Oops. Got caught. But I don't regret it!"

"Better now?" Leetah asked kindly.

**What was that?** Rayek asked.

The healer hesitated a moment. "Like a dream," she said. "Now it's back in dreamland. Let's leave it there."

Rayek nodded vigorously.

"So what was that?" Cutter asked her later when they were in their den. The twins were asleep and Skywise was off with Aroree.

"A memory."

"A memory?!"

Leetah nodded sadly.

"Is it coming back to him?"

Leetah moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were thoughtful. "I don't know. It was just a fragment of a memory, really, triggered by circumstance. Maybe more will come back now, maybe not. After an experience like that, he's probably locking himself down even tighter than before."

Cutter made an irritated motion. "After an experience like what? He got nipped by a wolf and it reminded him of a hunting accident. He survived it."

"When will you let Ember hunt alone?"

Leetah's question came out of nowhere and left Cutter blinking. "What?"

"Ember is eight now. How old will she be when you let her hunt alone?"

"I-I don't know. It depends on her skill and her maturity."

"When do you think that will be?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say when she's twelve and even then no big game on her own. Why?"

Leetah's thoughts were far away. She could still feel the loneliness that Rayek had projected. It was more than loneliness, she now realized. He had felt abandoned by those who were supposed to care for him. "Rayek," she said quietly, "was nearly the same age as Ember when those jackals attacked."

“Rayek! Come back here!” Tyleet laughed as she chased him.

He giggled and ran faster along the branch. “Can’t catch me! Can’t catch me, Tyleet!”

“Oho, can’t I?” She bounded to the next branch then back, landing in front of him and scooping him up into a hug. He shrieked with laughter and she tickled him.

“Come inside, Cutter,” Leetah coaxed, putting a hand on his arm and gently trying to pull him away from the den entrance-- away from the little scene playing out just a few trees over. He shook her off and stared fixedly at nothing, his fingers digging into the bark.

Sighing contentedly, Leetah leaned back on the grassy bank. **How are Tyleet and Rayek?** she asked Nightfall as the huntress lay down next to her.

Nightfall stiffened and an angry expression sharpened her features. **They seem to be well,** she said shortly.

**I wish I could see how he was doing for myself,** Leetah mused, **but Cutter needs me more now.** She turned her head toward her friend. **You will tell me about them sometimes, won’t you?**

There was silence for a while then Nightfall reluctantly spoke. **I will look in now and then and bring you news of Ray—of the child.**

**Thank you,** Leetah murmured. She turned over to hide her worried frown.

The howl-keeper’s ready smile had been replaced by a dark scowl. “Pike, what’s wrong?” Leetah asked.

“Rayek,” he nearly spat the word. The scowl settled deeper into his features.

The healer could only blink in surprise. “What?”

“Rayek,” this time the name was enunciated with precise venom, “took two of my best bags of dreamberries and gave them to the birds! He didn’t even catch any; he just wanted to see if they would get tipsy like we do.” He shook his head, angry at the waste.

A smile played along the edge of Leetah’s mouth. “I’m sorry about your dreamberries,” she said. “But Ember did the same thing in Sorrow’s End. She wanted to see if the dreamberries would help the wolves’ memories, remember? We all thought it was funny, then.”

“Ember is Ember,” Pike responded stiffly. “Rayek is Rayek.” He stomped off.

After a long night of scouting, Cutter was glad to see his den again. His pace picked up as he anticipated his lifemate’s sweet welcome. The scene that met his eyes brought him up short. She was sitting in the center of the den, alone and with a ramrod-straight posture that he new boded no good.

**Tam,** she sent carefully, **we need to talk.**

There was something in the air the next night that put everyone on edge. The ease and laughter that had begun to creep back into the meal-time gatherings were strained. The elves glanced frequently at their chief, who seemed distant, and at his lifemate, who seemed nervous.

“What’s gotten into you, Leetah?” Krim called out. “You look like you’ve got a flight of Preservers in your belly!”

Leetah smiled and shook her head but otherwise did not answer. Petalwing heard Krim’s comment and took umbrage. “No no!” it scolded, zipping over and wagging an imperious finger at the Go-Back. “Softpretty highthing is nice nice! Never eat Preservers!”

“Unlike me, eh?” Krim asked. She bared her teeth meaningfully and Petalwing dashed back to the safety of Leetah’s shoulder, squawking in protest all the way. The rest of the meal passed more or less in peace. However, when Leetah finally stood up and motioned for attention, silence descended hastily. Cutter stood behind her and tried to look as if his heart was in it.

The healer smiled down at everyone and grabbed her courage with both hands. “Rayek, come here please.” The child turned a wary look back at Tyleet. She smiled and motioned him on. His eyes huge despite himself as he tried to take everything in at once, he approached. “A little while ago you left your desert home and came to stay with us in the Green-growing Place,” Leetah began, raising her voice to be sure everyone heard. “In honor of your new life, we give you a new name: Sandcat.” Leetah beamed down, proud of her solution.

“What?!” Sandcat squawked. Around him the other elves were nodding or frowning as each saw fit and breaking up into small groups to discuss this turn of events. Tyleet hurried up, smiling. Clearbrook, Treestump and Ekuar followed.

“Well met, little Sandcat,” she said.

“But—!“

Clearbrook nodded thoughtfully. “I think it suits you.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Ekuar asked happily. “A new name for a new life. Yes, that’s just the thing. That healer is a smart one.”

“But I LIKE my name!” the child protested. “Sandcat is stupid!”

“Don’t worry,” Tyleet assured him, “you’ll get used to it. My father used to be called ‘Redmark’ before Chief Bearclaw named him ‘Redlance.’”

“I LIKE MY NAME!” he shouted.

“Shh!” Tyleet admonished. “’In the trees as you please, on the ground, not a sound,’ remember? It’s an honor to be given a new name by the chief,” she added. “Now come on, Sandcat. It’s time for little kittens like you to go to sleep.” Clearbrook waved good-bye as Tyleet and Ekuar led the rebellious little one away.

“My name is Rayek,” he muttered fiercely to himself. “Rayek.”

Her hackles raised and her mouth set grimly, Ember concealed herself in the underbrush. Her nostrils flared as she tested the air and she prepared to seize her prey. She didn’t have to wait long, it picked its way along the trail that she had just left, its eyes scanning the area carefully. “I’ve got you now!” she roared, leaping out of hiding.

She missed.

Sandcat had stopped just a bit further away than she’d guessed. Nearly overbalancing, she kept her footing because the alternative—falling on her face in front of the annoying cub—was too horrible to contemplate. Quickly she put on her best “angry alpha-wolf” face and set her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing following me?” she demanded.

Sulky yellow eyes glared up at her and small brown arms folded defensively. “Following you, what else?” he asked as sarcastically as he could with her twelve-year-old self looming over his eight-year-old frame.

Ember shook her head angrily. “Nuh-UH. You’re too little.”

“Am not! I can track better than you can!”

“Huh! You couldn’t smell a rotten bear two steps away!”

“Neither could you if the wind was wrong!”

“It doesn’t matter. Father says that I can hunt alone and that you can’t!”

“I can too!”

“Can not!”

“Can too!”

“Not!”

“Too!”

“You can’t follow what you can’t catch!” So saying, Ember spun around and dashed off at full speed. Sandcat tore after her as fast as he could but her longer legs had won the day before they’d gone very far. Ember risked a glance behind her and saw him still doggedly following her even as the distance continued to widen. **Tyleet!** she sent in frustration, **come get the little pest!** She waited long enough for Tyleet to respond before she changed course and leapt a ravine too wide for Sandcat to jump.

“What are you doing?” Tyleet asked when she finally caught up with her wayward cub. He was walking up and down the side of the ravine, carefully inspecting several small trees.

“Trying to make a bridge,” he said. He was still mad at Ember but this bridge idea was so interesting he couldn’t resist talking about it. “If I can push some of these saplings over, they’d bridge the ravine and we could bind the trunks together with vines to keep it strong.”

Tyleet knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a good idea, but what about the humans?”

“Humans?” he blinked at her, dragging his mind back out of the hypothetical world.

“Wouldn’t they think it strange to find a bridge way out here? Where no humans live?”

“They don’t live here. They won’t find it.” He shrugged.

Flickers of sunlight glinted off of red-gold hair as Tyleet shook her head. “There are more humans every year. Every year they come closer to the holt. Sooner or later, the bridge will be found.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped. “What if we--?”

Tyleet laughed, interrupting his question with one of her own. “What if we discussed this back at the holt? I’m sure Ekuar would love to hear your ideas.”

Sandcat allowed himself to be distracted and led back home.

Tyleet walked along holding Sandcat's hand and telling him about various plants that lined their way.  Gradually she noticed that he was hanging back.  "Come along.  I thought you were eager to share your idea with Ekuar," she chided kindly.

Sandcat heaved a sigh.  Frowning, he scrubbed a hand over his forehead.  "I don't feel so well," he muttered.

"Would you like me to carry you?"  Tyleet asked carefully.  He had made his feelings on being "babied" quite clear but perhaps now…

He shook his head.  "I can make it," he said stubbornly.

They continued on quietly but he walked slower and slower until he was nearly staggering.  Concerned, Tyleet knelt down in front of him. "Sandcat?" she asked.  He stared vacantly down at his toes, his eyes glazed.  "Sandcat?" she tried again, but there was still no response. "Rayek?"

He blinked and confused eyes met hers.  "Tyleet?" he whispered.

“Here.” She scooped him up—no easy task since he was taller than a Wolfrider cub would have been—and set off quicker than before. Sandcat squirmed a bit but soon settled down. The lack of protest made Tyleet walk even faster. His head pressed into her neck and seemed to be getting warmer. After resting a hand against his cheek she abruptly changed direction.

Reaching the banks of the stream that ran by the holt, Tyleet barely took time to strip their leathers before she dunked them both in the cool water. Sandcat’s eyes flew open and he cried out from the shock. “Hush, little one,” Tyleet soothed. She hooked one arm around his shoulders and held him floating safely in the current. Her free hand gently scooped and poured water over his head.

For long moments everything was quiet. A few woodhatchers flew toward them but veered off and settled further downstream. Tyleet could feel the little minnows return from the hiding places her entry to the stream had scared them off to. They were nibbling at her toes; she wiggled them and off the fishes swam again. She dipped her hand into the water to pour over his head again but he suddenly flailed and smacked her hand away.

“Home!” he shouted hoarsely. His eyes flickered around, unseeing. She tested his forehead and found it dangerously hot. “I want to go home.” He degenerated quickly from there. Tyleet watched in fright as he began to thrash and sob. “I want to go home!” he cried again. “I want to go home.” Each repetition of “home” was a little fiercer, a little more desperate. Soon he was barely speaking, just crying in odd, silent gasps as if his heart had broken. “I want to go home.”

**Shen-shen!** Tyleet called. **Please, come quickly!**

The herbalist answered quickly. **What’s wrong?**

**Sandcat has a fever! He’s out of his mind!**

**Tell me where you are, let me gather the right herbs and I’ll be right there,** Shen-shen responded briskly.

When he looked at her he seemed to look through her. Fear squeezed Tyleet’s heart and she prayed to the High Ones for the safety of her little foster son.

By the time Shen-shen arrived, Sandcat had begun to calm. “You did exactly right,” she told Tyleet. “Let’s take him out of the water now and I’ll look him over.” Gently they coaxed Sandcat up the bank and lay him on a fur that Shen-shen had brought. With calm efficiency Shen-shen checked his temperature, peered into his eyes and listened to his heart. “He’s over the worst of it now,” she said. “I’ll mix you a tisane for him. With that and some rest he’ll soon be right as rain.”

“Thank you,” Tyleet beamed at Shen-shen as she knelt down next to the child. Her eyes misted over and she reached out gingerly to brush the wet hair back from his face. His eye fluttered open at the touch and Tyleet’s smile broke.

“Why—“ he broke off, frowning at the faintness of his voice. When he tried again it came out stronger but it cost him something. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

A mother’s love is strong but her fears can only take so much. All thoughts of Sandcat’s hatred of being babied flew to the winds and Tyleet scooped her cub up into a fierce hug. **Never,** she pleaded, **scare me like that again!** Through her sending poured maternal devotion and gratitude for his safety.

An expression of wonder came over Sandcat’s face. With an effort he raised a hand and patted her cheek gently. “I… I’m sorry,” he whispered. He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. All he knew was that he wanted to reassure the sweet, honey-haired one who had been friend and parent since his arrival.

Shen-shen found her own eyes a bit misty as she watched the little scene. She had known Rayek to be many things but she’d never expected to see such softness from him. Tyleet stayed where she was for some minutes before she raised her head. **I think he’s asleep,** she sent softly to Shen-shen. While Tyleet dressed, Shen-shen bundled Sandcat in the fur.

“Should we call for someone to help carry him?” the herbalist asked.

Tyleet shook her head. “He’s my son. I’ll carry him.”

“Being a mother doesn’t mean wearing yourself to death,” Nightfall said, emerging from the brush.

“I thought I’d scented you but I wasn’t sure,” Tyleet gasped, surprised. The huntress shrugged, uncomfortable. “I saw Shen-shen grab her herbs and hurry off in the direction you’d gone.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Shen-shen demanded. She didn’t like being surprised.

“You had everything under control. I didn’t want to interrupt unless you needed help.”

Tyleet smiled hopefully. Mother and daughter were still close but their relationship had been strained since she’d taken Sandcat as her own. “Thank you, Mother.”

In answer, Nightfall bent down and gathered up the bundle of cub and fur. As the little party set off for home, she studied the face of her foster grand-child. In the years since Sandcat’s arrival she had tried, for the sake of her daughter, to like this small, dark stranger. Leetah’s brainstorm—a name change—had in fact smoothed the cub’s way among the Wolfriders. Nightfall, who had shared so much of Cutter’s waiting, had still found it hard though. Tonight she had finally seen something that touched her. “You’re not so loveless as I thought,” she murmured. Sandcat didn’t stir.