Date: Sun, 14 Dec 1997 04:35:27 -0700
From: Dan (Mystaran/Rannis/Saevad/etc.)
Their path lead them across the forlorn countryside, bringing many sights to them of this dying world. Crops that had wilted from drought.. those that had been destroyed by insects. Death, both from plague, and from each other. The wind whistled past Telick's ears, and he drew his cloak around him as the chill closed in around him. He couldn't explain his unease, but he had informed Mystaran of the town that had once lain in this very place. He looked towards the boy who shared untrusting glances with him for a moment before quickening his pace to keep up with Mystaran's broad steps, clinging to his arm like a dehydrated man to a wine skin.
Mystaran didn't know why, but he felt there was something that he must do in this town before continuing towards his other unknown, and eventual goal. But again, he didn't know what he sought.. only that it rested here.
The town that they laid eyes upon in the near distance had definitely seen better days. It was certainly not a large town, and seemed more of a village, than anything. The huts were made from crudely cut logs, no doubt taken from the forest a short walk away, the cracks between the lumber filled with a thick mud. The roofs were crumbled, fallen in, as though something had come down and drawn them down from inside. But there was no sign of life. Not even a rotting corpse to remind them that this town had once been thriving with life. Upon closer inspection, not even a mound of overturned dirt was present to indicate a single grave. Not a recent one, at least. The town cemetery lay to the northern end of the town, stretching gradually out to the forest. But it wasn't overly big, and more than likely it contained a great deal of corpses which had nothing to do with this town. Most likely the occasional wanderer who had been done in by the wilderness.
It was hard to put into words, but for him, the town felt 'empty', as though devoid even of the psychic impressions which should be left. He was the first to cross onto the main street of the town. The first to gain an icy chill down his spine, but he certainly wasn't the last. Timothy huddled closer to Mystaran, his large blue eyes nervously strafing the area, visibly shaken with this place.
To Telick, it was just another town with a sad story marking it's passing. Another settlement devastated by the plagues, and war, which had been sweeping the area. He shook his head, nudging aside a stone with his toe. "Can't believe this is all happening. It's like the world is falling apart, and we're caught between halves." After a pause, he added, "And where did everyone go? There should at least be some bodies. Or ashes. Or.. well.. something."
**They're gone.** Mystaran stated, taking careful note of even the lack of energies which he should feel representing leftover emotions. But he felt nothing. Only a void. "Wow Myst. You're good," Telick said, moving towards a hut with interest and peering in, "You've gotta have some damned great powers to have figured THAT one out." He rolled his eyes, and shook his head in wonderment at the interior of the hut. Despite the collapsed roof, the inside was pristine. Not a piece of furniture was out of place. But no debris could be located. As though it had evaporated from where it had fallen. He backed away from the door, not wishing to turn his back to it, although he couldn't figure out why.
Mystaran turned a slow circle, the purple orbs of energy forming his eyes swirling into small points and dimming as he concentrated. The child moved with him, not wanting to go more than a few steps away from the blue skinned figure. He stopped, his eyes brightening as he returned himself to his surroundings. He now faced in the direction of the center of the town. That was where his goal lay. He was certain of it.
Without another gesture or word to the others, he started towards that point, the boy in tow. Telick shrugged, and then glanced around quickly before scurrying off after him. Despite himself, he reached into his cloak and drew his dagger, which seemed long enough to be a short sword, for him.
The wind picked up the closer he became to the point in which he had envisioned in his mind, and he knew that something here was not right. The area around them darkened. A slew of drifting clouds overhead obscured the sun. Audible to him, but no the others, was the slow breathing of something sleeping. Something that remained to be awakened. Rather.. many 'something's. A glimmer started around them. A swirling circular ring composed of a greyish mist. Mystaran stared into it, and with each passing moment, he could make out the features of a being. Many beings. All of them swirling around them, their mournful cries faintly audible. "What are they??" Telick stammered, his back pressed close to Mystaran, brandishing his dagger and slashing wildly at anything that approached him.
**Souls,** Mystaran simply said, but then at the confused thoughts coming from his companions, he expanded. **Souls of the deceased. The spiritual manifestation of human life. Among others.** "Ow!!" Telick leapt backwards as one of the images passed close enough to him to brush against his hand carrying the dagger. The steel passed right through, but where the ghastly form had passed, a large red welt had arisen on his flesh.
"Myst, what do we do!?" The halfling demanded, now holding his limbs close to his body, nursing the hand beneath his cloak.
Timothy whimpered, burying his face against Mystaran's side, refusing to peer out at the moaning spirits. **They are somehow held to this place,** Mystaran began, **Bound here by some means.. that prevents them from departing to where they were called. And they were called. I can feel it now.. **
"Yeah Myst.. Yeah. I know. Souls of the dead, called, right. How do we get rid of them?"
**We must find what binds them here.**
"How!?"
Mystaran tilted his head a little to one side, and his eyes dimmed again, almost in thoughtfulness. He did not feel fear. He never did. **I believe in this case, the only thing I could suggest is trial and error.** The souls still closed in, whirling in between them, and out again, but refusing to leave the solace of the center of this village. For some reason, it was their home. They were bound here. But they were intent on keeping these living beings here as well.
Timothy cried out as the back of his neck burst out into a furious red welt, a spirit caress passing across the flesh. Mystaran placed his hand over the lad, and tilted his head to one side, watching. Unlike his companions, he did not burst into a red welt as the spirits passed. His pale blue skin remained pale blue although he did feel a stinging pain each time one brushed against him. His eyes reflected these times of pain, flashing abruptly and then fading to their normal hue.
The banshees began to slow in their assaults, and one by one, began to take up places into a floating circle around them. One floated forward, until it was mere inches from Mystaran's unflinching visage. The features on the image were apparently aged, and it spoke with a wilting, elderly voice. But it's voice was filled with a sadness, one that could not be put into mere words. "Free us," It requested, then let out a mournful wail.
**I do not know how,** Mystaran answered bluntly.
"Free us," Came the request again, and this time the wailing caused Timothy to sink to the ground, his head covered with his hands. Telick, meanwhile, menacingly held the large dagger in a threatening position towards what was once, most likely, the town elder, or mayor.
"Free us," Again it said, remaining hovering in front of Mystaran, this time making the request more a demand.
Mystaran reached it's mind, and answered, not with words, but with emotions. He answered with his desire to help, but his lack of knowing how. It was much to his surprise when the specter responded in kind. But it responded with a deluge of images. A prospering town. A daemon. Plague. Death. All these things, and then the calling of their souls. But they could not leave. They were tied here, for they were ill at ease. They had been destroyed by this creature. It had tried to steal who they were, but it had failed. They had clung to the village, and the stone which was buried at the center of the town.
The spirit released a sigh as understanding came over Mystaran of what needed to be done. The creature needed to be destroyed. The townsmen asked to be avenged. His eyes flashed brightly for a moment in anticipation of the battle, and a simple question he asked of the spirit, **Where?** The mist around them parted as if in answer, revealing a path off to the side. He looked down at the youth curled up by his feet, and then the halfling, who warily watched the ghosts around him. **Watch him,** Mystaran stated, indicating Timothy with a nod.
Telick gave a nod of assent, and slid into a crouch beside the youth, dagger never dropping from readiness. Mystaran turned, eyes swirling in satisfaction that the lad was safe, an he began walking through the path provided. The path lead through the village, which was now doused in this mist, and he could tell the villagers followed on either side of him. He could feel their presences now, but was unsure how they had obscured them earlier. The path broke between two houses, and went towards the woods. He could now almost pick the path for himself. The powerful emanations he picked up from the creature ahead were amazing. He braced himself for what lay ahead. But he was protector. He would triumph.
A low sound of rasping breathing came to him from between the trees, and somehow he felt like he had breached planes... transposed himself somehow into a different dimension. The mist parted now as he entered the edge of the forest line, almost as if the townsmen would accompany him no farther.
The breathing became a low growl, and before he saw it, came the snarled request, "Who is it who wishes to become the next meal for Drexthor?" Mystaran stepped into view of the creature. It was easily three times his height, and covered with a tough leathery skin. The eyes of the beast were akin to his own.. save that they pulsated with a fiery red energy. His hands were overly large, long razor honed claws attached to the fingers. From various points over the muscular form jutted spikes of bone, protruding forth to impale attackers. The face was twisted with evil, the snout ending in two cavernous nostrils. The jaws gaped open wide to expose three rows of back swept jagged teeth. Horns rose up from either side of it's skull, sloped back diagonally away from each other.
Those burning embers for eyes focused upon him, and it burst out laughing after but a moment of studying him. "You!? You are the battle I was promised!?"
Again it laughed, clicking it's claws on one another, and it's jaws snapping shut. "Then come, little blue man, and we shall see how your soul tastes."
Mystaran frowned, unsure as to how the daemon expected a battle, or knew of his coming. He couldn't understand why the daemon would stay in this area after the souls had been set beyond his plucking. Nevertheless, Mystaran glared at the creature, intent on following through with this.
The daemon watched with amusement, picking the thoughts from the air as cherries from a bowl. A grunt issued from his jaws, "My own amusement, wanderer. Nothing more." He gestured towards the pile of bodies laying behind him on the ground.. shriveled husks devoid of their life forces. "But come, little warrior. Stick me with your puny weapons."
Mystaran struck a fighting stance common to his home. He crouched low, his hands coming up in readiness, the palms open with fingertips pointed to the sky. His legs widened in the stance, and it seemed too uncomfortable, and perhaps too off-balanced for one of this realm to achieve. His eyes flickered once, and then he half concentrated, his armor suddenly expanding, many silvery scale like discs clicking into place around his legs, arms, and up over his head, leaving only his glowing eyes exposed. Two columns shot up suddenly from his shoulders, swinging around to face forward, then lowering only slightly and clicking into place. The tips began glowing with a dull red hue.
The daemon grunted in amusement, and it made no move to attack, opening it's claws, and forming a loose fighting stance of it's own. "Come to your annihilation, 'protector'."
Mystaran circled the daemon, the ground shaking slightly with each step that Drexthor took. The columns abruptly flared up, flashing brightly, and twin beams of crimson light shot towards the daemon's right leg, the beams exploding into a bright shower of sparks as they connected. The daemon growled in anger, the pain nothing more than a sting, hardly feeling the assault through his leathery skin. He retaliated, a massive fist slamming down towards Mystaran's head. The protector slid to the side, then leapt forwards, spinning a kick in the air, his limb changing to form a guillotine like blade. It clanged off the hide of the daemon's side, and he fell backwards to the ground, his limb reforming just as quickly.
The creature turned to face him, laughing aloud at the pathetic attempt, "How very amusing, protector. I had expected something more of a challenge." A foot rose, and stomped down, with intent to end this match decisively. But Mystaran rolled to one side, springing back up into his fighting stance readily. Two more blasts of light shattered against the hide, and he flew at his opponent, both arms shifting into long blades, and slicing the air, almost a blur. Only to meet with failure upon contact with the hide. A reddish backhand smashed into his chest, and he flew backwards, slamming against a tree. A claw arced downwards at him, and he attempted to leap past it. But it caught him mid-stride in the air, tearing large gashes through his armor, and deep into his flesh. A flourescent purple fluid spilled across the claws and the ground as he was cut open, and he fell to the ground, tucking into a roll.
He rose, eyes locking upon the daemon, as he searched for a weakness. Some opening in his guard, perhaps. Drexthor laughed as he again picked the thoughts from the air, "Give up now, and I'll make your death painless."
**Death is not something to fear. It is only the cessation of life which is common to all creatures.** Mystaran stated the fact, then added, in a human tone that would have made Lilith proud, **Some are just harder to kill.** The daemon roared, throwing up it's arms, before charging Mystaran, set on trampling the creature where he stood. Mystaran slid again to the side as the torn edges of his armor glowed and began to fuse together, the organic qualities mending it almost as quickly. His eyes dimmed a little in pain as the procedure aggravated his wounds, and he went for the weapon at his belt, the axe. It sprang into life with a hiss, and he charged towards the daemon's back, who had just finished his charge and was turning around. He tucked into a ball, the axe spiraling through the air with him. The weapon found purchase, much to his surprise, cutting a large gash in it's back. A loud roar was his response, and a flailing hand caught him, lifting him up to send him crashing into a tree. The protector slid to the ground, eyes dimming, and nearly going out, but his determination flared his eyes into life. He had a means now, and he was angry.
Mystaran leapt to his feet as the creature leapt at him, smashing into the earth in an attempt to crush him. The protector staggered as he landed, the ground still trembling in aftershock from the attack. Mystaran swivelled at the hip and flung the axe, the weapon spiraling gracefully through the air, slashing first one shoulder of the beast, then arcing around it's body, tearing a gash in the other side. The weapon returned to his outstretched hand, and he sprinted quickly away from the counter attack; a blast of fire directed from Drexthor's palm. He turned again, this time flinging the axe with deadlier aim.. it sliced deeply into the nerve beside the shoulder, steaming blood spilling from the wound and splashing to the ground. The weapons tuck there, however, refusing to return to the outstretched hand of it's owner. Mystaran would have cursed, had it been his nature, and he began a dash for the daemon. A claw lashed out, and Mystaran shot himself straight up into the air, dodging the attack, and gripping the claw as it rose. Drexthor shook him, dangling as he was from the claw, and then laughed, "Now you are mine."
His red embers of eyes flared up as he focused on Mystaran, and the protector felt a weakness in his body as though his life was being sucked right from him. If he could have screamed, he would have, but lacking vocal cords, his mental waves would have been torture enough for any in the area.
Drexthor abruptly stopped the drain and looked down, dropping Mystaran limply to the side. "Another meal?" Then he laughed. "You are not even worthy of a snack."
"Yeah, so let's NOT eat me," Telick shouted, poking his dagger into the daemon's toe again.
"You are funny. I will have fun with you," Drexthor announced, reaching down.
A sudden pain in his shoulder made him flail madly about. The axe wrenched in the wound, blood pouring freely. Mystaran perched upon the shoulder, where he had managed to leap after landing. He jerked the axe from the wound, then rose it again, striking this time at the side of the head. The creature flailed, slapping at his shoulder, but Mystaran hopped deftly to the other side. He brought the axe down on the nerve bundle beside the neck, and the daemon's head flopped forwards, the rest of it following, and crashing to the ground. He paused, breathing heavily from the exertion of the battle, but as the creature rolled onto it's back, he hopped away to avoid being crushed beneath the bulk. He jumped up onto the chest, sliding forth as the hand slapped down.
**You disturb the Balance,** Mystaran informed him as he raised the axe. **As protector of Balance, I condemn you, and remove you from Balance's Path.**
The axe fell, burying deeply in the being's throat, a gout of blood spurting forwards. Mystaran recoiled as small droplets splashed across his body, burning away the armor in places. He rolled away as the hands came up to attempt to prevent the flow of lifeblood from the wound, but to no avail. The reddish eyes fell pale.. and then dark altogether, the flailing ceasing. Mystaran breathed deeply, eyes swirling in triumph. His axe faded into the cylinder, and he reattached it to his belt. His armor receded, clicking and chinking back into the casual armor which girded only his chest and torso. The wound in his side dripped the flourescent substance, painting the ground beneath him. Only then, did he feel the pain of his wound, and staggered to the side.
"Myst! You okay?" Telick shouted, hastily sheathing his dagger and running past the dead monster. He tore off a strip of his cloak, and began wrapping it around Mystaran's wound, the material soaked through with the oddly colored stuff.
**Where is Timothy?** Mystaran said almost accusingly to Telick, looking through the trees.
"I left him with the spirits, Myst. They didn't seem to be attacking. And I figured you'd need help with whatever you were going to do. Damn, Myst." He cast a glance at the large still form, which had now begun to take on an amber glow.
The daemon's body suddenly exploded into a fury of escaping souls, shooting in all directions towards the heavens. Mystaran jumped back from instinct, dragging Telick with him and watching.
The flow soon ceased, and all that remained were overly large bones resting on the ground in the clearing, and a pile of skeletal warriors. Mystaran nodded to Telick, then gestured to the path which lead back to the village.
Upon returning, the mist had completely faded. All that remained in the center of town was a cowering child upon the cobblestones. Mystaran crouched beside him, and lay a soothing hand on his shoulder. He responded to the touch and looked up, then threw his arms around the protector.
Mystaran looked up at a sudden sound, his eyes flashing as though expecting another attacker. But this time it was not such. It was the spirit which had told him of the daemon. Clasped in it's non-corporeal hands was a reddish looking stone, perfectly round, and flecked with black.
"Take," It whispered breathlessly, holding the object out to him. Mystaran nodded, and rose, one hand going out to accept the gift.
**What is it?** He questioned, eyes swirling in curiosity as they focused upon it.
"The stone of our town," Came the reply. "It is yours. You will need it."
Mystaran nodded though he did not know why he would need such a thing anymore than he knew why he was headed to a set point on the horizon. But he nodded.
**I thank you.** "Thank you," The voice said, and then the spirit floated skywards, dissipating into the air.
Telick stood beside him, and clapped Myst on the back, as high as he could reach. "Well Myst. Ya done good. Now let's get out of here, okay? It's creeping me out."
Mystaran nodded, and he reached down for the child's hand. Timothy took the offered hand, and stood, and then the trio started off again towards the set point....
Date: Tue, 16 Dec 1997 00:22:47 -0800
From: Sharon/LadyXan
( my apologies for so lengthy a missive and I beg your indulgence. It is a side trip off the main line, I know.... Xan)
Wrapped snugly within the folds of her cloak, Xan walked through the gardens of Camelot. It was late at night and not a soul stirred. She wandered aimlessly, stopping now and then to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, watching as warm air met and twined with cold, spiraling upward to the heavens.... the Heavens. Whenever she was heart sore, she looked to the stars. The full moon stood out against the black velvet night, much like a gem on a jeweler's cloth. She wasn't sure why she kept coming back here. The only pictures that drew themselves on her mind was the night she and Poet waltzed under the same stars until the sun started to rise. Why was she torturing herself this way? A gentle breeze blew through the gardens, causing the roses to sway on their stems and Xan could have sworn she heard the stars sigh.
" Daughter, " came the softly spoken words on the wind. Xan turned, lifting her hand to push back the hood of her cloak.
" Mother, " she replied reverently, head bowed.
" For what do you weep, my child?" Xan lifted her head and looked upon her Mistress, tears filling her eyes. She fought to release the voice that seemed locked in her throat.
" For loss of a Gift, Milady. "
" And which gift is that, Xanthia?" Xan could only shake her head, as tears threatened to fall. " Could they be tears for Poet, my Daughter?" Xan whirled away from the Lady and fiddled with a rose, unknowingly, caressing their soft petals with a trembling fingertip. She first thought to deny such a thing and yet knew, she could not. She plucked the rose and slowly turned, facing her Mistress once more.
" Aye, Milady. They are tears for what may have been and what I fear, may never be, " she paused as the tears she had so long held in bay, flowed from her heart, spilt from her soul and filled the heavens with their silent sound. " there is something in here, " she pointed to her head, " that tells me it will never be and yet, in here, " she placed her hand over her heart, " I can not give up Hope. I know I can not live in what-might-be. I allow myself to be courted by other knights of the Realm and yet, my heart is not there and I am honest enough to tell them this. Oh, Gentle Mother, I just wish....." her voice trailed off.
" What do you wish Daughter?" came the soft coaxing. Xan turned and looked up at the stars, knowing that somewhere, someplace, Poet rested under them too and perhaps, even now, gazed upon their beauty as she did. With a pain in her heart that surely would render it in two, she murmured,
" I wish for a moment in Time, when I could look upon him and touch his face with my hands and allow him to see what is in my heart. " There was such a long silence she had thought the Lady had left her.
" And what if, my Daughter, things are not as they seem? What if it has all changed? " Xan turned and looked upon the Lady, not understanding her words.
" Why are you speaking in riddles, Gentle Mother? I don't understand. "
" That is because you seek to answer them with your mind, not your heart. Hear my words again and answer from your heart. " Xan nodded, closing her eyes and hearing again the questions put to her. With eyes closed and Poet's image in the forefront of her mind, she answered,
" If his heart does not hear the same song as mine, then it matters not. On the other hand, the song of two hearts is always heard no matter the passage of Time or through the changes of Fate, so again it matters not, " she smiled softly in recollection, " I have danced here in your garden with nothing more than the night birds for song. I have danced within the Fire Hall of Camelot with laughter on my wings. If only I could dance among the Stars, " she smiled a bit sadly, " You know that alone is next to impossible as we all are involved in a War so hideous that it has taken it's toll on us all. There is yet, no end in sight. Even as he is called to his duty, so to am I. Gentle Mother, will you grant me one boon? "
Xan was startled as she felt soft delicate yet strong hands rest upon her shoulders and her eyes flew open to gaze into such serene and deep abiding love. Xan's eyes never wavered from the Lady's own. " And that is, my child?" Xan swallowed as tears once again fell from her eyes.
" Keep him safe. It may very well be my Fate never to see him again, but please, at all costs, keep him safe and well and if ......" her voice faltered.
" Yes, child?" the Lady gently urged her.
" If there is a price to be met for this boon...... I will gladly pay it! " she finished defiantly before whirling away, her cloak flying out behind her as she ran through the gardens, leaving in her wake, crushed rose petals.
The Lady watched her young servant take flight, shaking her head in sadness. Her eyes lit upon the bruised rose petals and reaching down, she scooped them up, holding them in her palm.
" My poor Xan...... and Poet too.... " she murmured as she poured the petals into a simple beaten silver chalice, which was etched with musical notes of a song, cradled within the loving arms of a piece of stripped, polished oak, its small branches lovingly, embracing the cup.... Xan's gift to Poet..... the one she had left on the window sill of the Wolf Keep.
Date: Tue, 16 Dec 1997 10:42:33 -0600
From: Diana/Wenn & Co
((DK - Include this in YoH if you think it appropriate. It's just something I wanted to write, though it does kind of fall in with Wolf's absence and completes the thread of Wenn's pregnancy and the birth of Elandra. It was sent to the StarChat list and well received. Anyway, your choice to include it or not. -Diana/Wenn-))
On the rise of the first full moon after the birth of Elandra, Wenndolyne stands quietly beside the cradle. She looks first to the sleeping infant and then to the scene outside the bed chamber window. The whole sky washed in shimmering blue on black. Wenn smiles brightly as an idea forms and then rushes from the sleeping babe to Simon's room to wake him.
"Whuh?" Simon's sleepy face turns to her as she calls his name and gently shakes his shoulder. "It's too dark t'get up." He says pointedly and rolls back over. Wenn speaks to him again "Simon, tis a full moon out and there is something we must do." Simon sits up and the covers slip into his lap. He rubs sleep from his eyes and looks at Wenn. "What do we have t'do? I'm still---" he yawns a big wide yawn, "... sleepy." She brushes the hair from his face and then touches his cheek gently. "I know, little one... but we have something very important to do and it must be done tonight, now." Wenn leans in and kisses his forehead. "Just come with me." Simon looks down at his nightshirt "But..." She smiles and shakes her head "It matters not... come... hurry." Wenn's excitement is starting to break through to him. He tosses back the covers to slide deftly off the side of the bed, matching her steps as they go to Elandra's room. "She's coming too?" Simon makes a crooked smile face, a little disappointed. He is not yet accustomed to sharing Wenn. She grins and mocks him playfully "Yes, she's coming too."
Downstairs in the great hall of the Keep, Wenn stands at the doorway holding Elandra. She looks to see what happened to Simon and finds him reaching for his coat. "You won't need that, Simon" Wenn says gently to him. "It's cold out! Won't I need a coat?!?" He stands looking at her hands out to his sides, totally incredulous as she is always after him to put on his coat. "You'll need a coat... but not that one." Simon, scrunches up one cheek drawing his mouth sideways "Huh?"
"In wolf form you will have a very warm coat already." Wenn waits for his reaction. "Do I haftoo?" Simon looks down, suddenly interested in his wiggling bare toes. "For this, it would be best... please?" Wenn pleads with him. "But... I don't do it very well. Can I have a cookie first? I'm kinda hungry." Wenn crosses to Simon and kneels carefully with Elandra to look into Simon's face. "I know you are not comfortable as a wolf but...tis a matter of practice." Simon still looks at his toes, wiggling them one foot at a time now. Wenn gently places a hand to his chest "This is important to me. Something I feel I must do. Won't you help?" Simon stops wiggling and looks to her face, seeing her seriousness. "Yeah... ok, but... " Simon scratches his head and whispers "I sorta forgot how to do it." Wenn smiles "Not to worry. I can help. Remember the cookies? The ones you changed to cakes?" Simon nods a silly nod with a grin because he certainly remembers that. "Well, it is much like that... just close your eyes and listen, think about what I tell you. See it." Simon nods and closes his eyes as Wenn describes to him exactly what Wolf taught her for shifting.
Wenn coaches Simon with slow detailed descriptions, helping his imagination take him down into the warmth of mother earth, to leave his current form there and take up the one he imagines, the one she details for him, that of a wolf. Gradually Simon's form is obscured by a bright light and Wenn drops back just a bit.
When the light shrinks and fades, Wenn reaches out to ruffle the fur of a handsome little reddish brown wolf pup. "See? Not so hard, eh?" Wenn giggles as Simon howls a little howl, which unfortunately awakens Elandra. Simon yelps at the crying and cowers. Wenn soothes Elandra to quell the crying and reassures Simon too, "Not to worry, she will get accustomed to it.... now... to shift your sister and myself." Wenn thinks a minute, not really certain how to do this. She sits on the floor with Elandra in her lap and concentrates very hard. She takes the two of them together through the same process as Simon, to tap into the heart of the power within the warm bossom of the earth. Shortly they too are shrouded in bright light. Wenn emerges as a red wolf from the fading light and for a moment she is panicked. Her arms, now legs and paws no longer hold the child. Her fears quickly float away as she sees a very small pup squirming and squealing on the floor just in front of her. Simon's thoughts come easily to Wenn **How'd she do that?** Wenn hisses a snicker and relays her thoughts back to Simon, **She was doing it even before she was born. Shifting even as I did. Though she still cannot do it by herself as you can.** The small red wolf grins and picks up the wolf pup by the scruff of her neck. Simon wears a proud wolfish grin as Wenn uses her thoughts to unlatch the door and the three make their way into the moonlight.
A pair of reddish brown wolves, one small and the other even smaller, pad their way through the crisp snow out to a small rise that glitters, as the moon has reached her peak in the blue black sky. Wenn gently sets the tiny pup onto the snow where it bobs and rocks on wobbly legs, supported more by a little round tummy than paws. **Now what's she gonna do?** Simon asks with his mind as he cocks his head to one side, looking down at Elandra. **Tis not what she will do, little one... ** Wenn looks out into the night, her eyes growing moist. Her inner voice to Simon is quiet and full of emotion. **We shall introduce her to the world.** With all her heart Wenn hopes a large white arctic wolf is watching the same full moon, can somehow hear the announcement of his daughter to the night skies. **Simon... call out loud and clear with me... so all will know... you have a sister.** She looks at him to see his furry little muzzle bounce in a nod.
Wenn swallows around the swell in her throat then sits on her haunches and throws back her head in a howl loud and piercing in the crisp night. Simon follows suit after a little practice and the two of them make a small but noticeable chorus to the moon. Together they announce Elandra's presence in the night. When their chorus is done, Wenn licks Simon's face and he makes a little pup chuckle at her. She then licks the tiny wobbling pup, which stops the squeaking whimpers, before she takes her up by the scruff of her neck again and they proceed back into the keep.
Once inside, Wenn sets the pup gently on the rug before the fire. She nuzzles the pup as they shift and helps Simon return to a little boy in a night shirt. He stands watching the fire glow in the darkened great hall "Do ya think anybody heard us?"
Wenn sits on the rug having scooped her baby daughter into her arms again. She slips fingers to the silver chain around her neck and draws out the amulet. She looks at it with a warm smile and shows it to Simon. The faceted emerald glows warm and very bright from within. Wenn whispers to Simon and to herself, "Oh yes... He heard."
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