Prowling the halls of the Palace-shell, the hungry wolves begin to howl. Into the timeless infinity they bring Time...inside their grumbling bellies. The pack gathers for the hunt, in accordance with the Way...
    Cutter stirred in his sleep. He was aware of heat, searing heat, and of pain, aching pain spreading out from his body’s center, radiating a relentless pain through his bones. His mouth was dry, his head spun with the faintest movement. A dull endless agony gripped him, suffocating and imprisoning him. He struggled to open his eyes, only to close them again from the pain the action inspired. He moaned snatches of phrases and half-spoke names in his delirium.
    Redlance and Nightfall, Cutter’s second family, quietly approach as their chosen  chief  rises to his feets. In the tree-shaper’s hands is one tiny seed. “It’s from the Father Tree,” he says, “from the Holt where we three were born – the Holt that burned. It’s my greatest treasure. I’d like to plant it on that spot, if it still exists.” Redlance smiles impishly. “Could... we maybe... begin tonight’s hunt there!”
    The pain was unbearable, and Cutter cried out, non-sensical phrases of misery. Softly he heard a feminine voice, gently calling out his name. Lightly, he felt a soothing touch to his bare shoulder.
    “The smaller truth within the larger,” Cutter murmured, giving Nightfall a knowing glance. She turns to his brother-in-all-but-blood. “Skywise.” The stargazer wipes his eyes and grins. “Forests grow back. Everything comes full circle. Come on! Let’s go see!”
    A new beginning, a new beginning. Everything...everything comes full circle....
    “Cutter? Cutter...do you know where you are?”
    Cutter moaned, thrashing his fever. “Nightfall...” he croaked horsely. He forced his eyes to open again, to focus on a blurry image floating before him. A woman with honey-gold hair, covering by a green scarf of the softest leather. “Night...fall...” he breathed in relief. A familiar face, a loved one to comfort him in his pain. Where...where was his Leetah? They were reunited now. The Palace was intact, they were safe in the regrown forest. They were safe and contented in the Now. Where was his Leetah? She would heal this fever with a mere touch. A soothing touch of her cool hands soft as flower petals....where...where was she? He called her name weakly on a faltering breath.
    “Cutter,” Nightfall’s voice returned, a little cooler now, a little more determined. She took his fevered hand in hers, gazing into his glazed eyes.  “Do you remember me?”
“Nightfall,” he whispered. “Nightfall...my soul sister....”
“Do you remember where you are?”
    “The Holt, the forest...the great forest....”
    “Who are you? Can you tell me your name?”
    “Cutter...I am Cutter...Cutter, Blood of Ten Chiefs...” he moaned softly.
    Nightfall released his hand then, rising to her feet. She wiped his fever sweat off her hand onto her leather trousers, turning to her lifemate. Her golden eyes were clouded with worry and sorrow as she met the deep green eyes of the tree-shaper. “Blood of Ten Chiefs,” she shook her head. “He’s still delirious.”

    “Cutter, son, wake up.”
    Mother, Cutter thrashed in his sleep. “No, another dream...” he moaned.
    “Tam,” she gently called. “Wake up, my cub.”
Cutter’s eyes opened slowly. He blinked in disorientation as he gazed up at the elf kneeling at his bedside. “Fever dreams,” he whispered, staring wide-eyed at the woman smiling down at him. “No...like the squirrel bite...no...none of that...no Mother, I don’t what to follow you right now. Soon, soon I will fly through the skies with you and Skywise...not...not now...”
    “Tam, shhh my Tam,” she brushed the hair from his eyes. “You’ve been ill for days, do you remember?”
    Cutter blinked, mutely gazing up at Joyleaf. She seemed so real. Her touch on his fevered brow seemed as real as the leaves in the tree. The faint light that slipped through the leather flap over the den lit her hair and made it glow like spun sunshine. Eyes as blue as his shone down upon him. He could almost believe she was alive and well.
    “Ill?” he croaked.
    “A fever. A heavy wilting fever no healer could cure.”
    “Healer...Leetah, where she is?”
    Joyleaf continued as if she did not hear him. “Rain and Will, why they been working on your for a full cycle of Mother Moon. Only now do you come to your senses. Cutter...” she bit her lips. “Cutter...do you remember me?”
    “Mother,” he nodded faintly, despite the searing headache. Joyleaf smiled in relief. “Rain warned us there might be memory loss. Nightfall said you were still delirious last night. Oh, Tam, my eyes see with joy now where they once teared with sorrow. You are recovering now. You will be well, I know you will.”
    “Mother...you live.”
    “Of course I live, my dear wolf-cub,” she beamed. She stilled another weakened protest. “Shhh, only dreams scared you, Tam. We’ve heard you call out many times, whispering for dead friends and murmuring that the living are gone. Your nightmares have plagued you incessantly. But you’re better now. The fever is breaking slowly. Ah...our chieftain will be so relieved to see that you will live.”
    “Bearclaw...” Cutter murmured.
    “Your father? What of him?”
    “Does he live too?” Cutter asked, his voice barely above a fervent whisper. “Does he lead the Wolfriders, oh Mother, does he live?”
    “Oh, Tam,” Joyleaf shook her head sadly. “No. He’s been dead for countless eights, don’t you remember? Back in Shale’s reign, do you remember? Humans...humans he had been fool enough to confront. He defied chief’s rule and challenged the human spirit man and died for it. You were barely a babe in arms when he perished. You never knew him save in our memories. Cutter, did you see him in dreams? Did his spirit visit you in that dark place you fell into?”
    “No...no,” Cutter shook his head. “Not humans. Madcoil....Madcoil killed him. Madcoil took you and Bearclaw...Bearclaw fought him...fought him and died.... Not humans...not humans...humans...” his eyes snapped open as he recalled a phrase. “Shale’s reign? Skywise’s father?”
    “Yes,” Joyleaf smiled with relief. “You remember him too. He was our chief before Skywise came of age. Do you remember that? Do you remember when Skywise turned three eights, and Shale passed the lodestone to him? You were still a cub then, but so proud of Skywise, you idolised him so.”
    “Skywise is chief...” Cutter moaned.
    “Yes, don’t you remember? Shale grew tired of it, chief’s love never coursed through his veins. He passed the lodestone to Skywise as soon as Skywise came of age. Oh, I remember that day well,” she recalled. “Foxfur was beaming with pride, and I never saw Shale happier. He could be plain old Shale again.”
    “Shale...Shale is dead,” Cutter protested.
    “No, cub,” Joyleaf reassured him. “No, he lives, as does his father Rain. Your mentors and teachers are still with you. You need never fear losing them. Everything is well, Tam. Everything is overflowing with joy and peace. We are safe and contented. The tribe sings with joy. You’ll see, when you are well enough to see your friends once more.”
    “No...” Cutter protested. “No...I am chief. I lead the Wolfriders...I lead the Way. Skywise is Master of the Palace...that is his Way...not...no I am chief,” he struggled to rise, but Joyleaf gently pushed him back down to his sleepfurs.
    “Rest,” she commanded lovingly. “You still fight through dreams. Rest now, my Tam.”
    Dizzying overwhelmed Cutter, his head fell back to the furs. “Leetah,” he sobbed. “Leetah, where are you?”
    Poor thing, Joyleaf thought sadly as Cutter fell back into a fitfull sleep. He is confused and fever-maddened. Confusing tribemates, believing in his nightmares. Called from some unknown woman named Leetah. Doubtlessly another figment of his delirium, she dismissed, brushing his hair back from his brow. The poor little cub. He needed more time.

On to Part Two
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