Cutter stealthily crept from his den. Far below him
he saw the Wolfriders at play. He said at play for there seemed to be no
one at work, no one toiling. No one was eyes-high, save Eyes High herself,
perched high above him in her next, watching the clouds of sunset heralding
the stars to come. He looked to the treetrunk, seeing Shale slowly making
his way up to meet her. Clearly he was happier to simply be Shale, rather
than Chief Shale. What did Skywise always say... “you could see the stars
so much better if you leaned back...” He knew he should be happy for them,
but all he could think was that they were meant to be dead.
Moonshade was softly tanning a large patch of leather
on her frame, Strongbow watching her work. Strongbow, who was always hunting,
searching, helping protect the Holt, allowing himself such a moment of
quiet peace. Nearby Venka and Softspark were playing at their own Trial
of Hand, his sisters White Fox and Lightning working the poles. With a
laugh, Venka threw Softspark to the ground, then leapt from the framework
to tackle him before he could rise.
He had never seen her like that, so full of spark,
so vibrant and passionate. Venka was cool and serene, a half-orphan raised
by the Wolfriders where her mother could see her only as a pawn and her
father was intent on destroying her.
Dandelion, the puff-flower-haired girl, sat near
Redlance, idly stroking her pet cat, the same kind of little tuft-eared
cat Leetah had once kept in the Sun Village. She was Suntop’s mate, he
had found out. She was visiting her parents in the Holt while Suntop remained
in Sorrow’s End. He was practically the ruler of Sorrow’s End, Cutter had
learned. Ahdri guided the Sun Villagers as the Daughter of Memory, ever
since the human attack that had killed Savah, but Suntop, Suntop was the
true leader. Suntop, his little cub, the cub he had never understood, the
cub he had never truly considered of his tribe. Suntop had none of the
wolfblood, none of the wolfsong. Not like Ember, his hotblooded Ember.
He supposed Suntop was happier, living in the Sun Village, the son of the
gentle and quiet Wing, rather than the son of a Wolfrider chieftain.
Lightning and Cheipar would be going south in an
eight of days. Ember explored the plains there with her mate and daughter.
Teir...Teir, Cutter assumed he was the lone elf Tyleet and Dewshine had
cryptically mentioned, that day a world ago when they had all been reunited
in the Palace. Ember was not Mender’s lovemate – Mender Cutter mistrusted
on the surface but respected deep within. A true Wolfrider, and perhaps
a fitting lifemate for his cub. But Mender had never been born. Newstar
had never been born. Rainsong’s cubs began and ended with little Wing,
Wing the Sun Villager.
And Leetah, Leetah his own, mate of Zhantee...
His lifemate was nothing but a reclusive midwife,
clingling fiercely to Zhantee, content to live in the clay huts of Sorrow’s
End. His son was thriving, understood and accepted by parents who could
understand and inpsire him as Cutter never could. And his daughter was
a chieftess, with a little girl all her own, never knowing the Wolfrider
Way, never knowing her true father, and yet happy, joyful, an elf who inspired
her tribemates to follow her on whatever quests her wanderlust inspired.
Everyone seemed so much happier without him.
Skywise and Rayek, brothers in all but blood. Pike,
with parents alive, mates and friends still living and with him. Winnowill,
healed to the point of being a harmless ravvit, hiding behind Rayek at
any sharp sound. No Groh-mul Junn, no war with humans, no broken Palace.
No deaths. No suffering.
Everyone seemed so much happier without him.
Maybe Joyleaf was right. Maybe they were all right.
Maybe his memories were the dreams. Maybe his recollections were the flawed
ones. Life seemed so perfect here. No one lived in fear. No one died needlessly.
The Way was not simply to survive. The Way was now to thrive, to grow,
to expand.
This wasn’t his life. And yet, and yet it seemed
so much better for his absense.
He couldn’t take much more. He couldn’t stand seeing
how all he knew what gone. He couldn’t watch as his absense only made the
World of Two Moons richer.
Maybe Joyleaf was right. Maybe Timmain and her descendants
brought only misery. Had those Firstcomers chosen Sefra as their leader...but
they had, they had here, and he was seeing th results.
He couldn’t stay, it wasn’t his world. He wouldn’t
let it be his world. They were meant to be dead, they were meant to be
elsewhere, and they were not meant to be so happy!
What was happening to him? What monster was he becoming,
widhing them all the harm and suferig he knew from his own world.
He couldn’t stay. He had to leave.
The Wolfriders finally caught up with him at the
precipice, some distance from the Holt.
“Cutter!” Joyleaf cried as she saw her son, standing
at the edge of cliff, teetering on the precipice, staring wild-eyed at
the elves rushing to aid him.
“Cutter, what are you doing?” Joyleaf begged, tears
springing to her wide blue eyes. “Is it this the fever? Has it returned?
Cutter, can’t you see what you are about to do?”
“I can’t stay, Mother,” Cutter insisted, his voice
low and trembling.
“What are you talking about?” Joyleaf demanded.
“Cutter...?”
Rayek and Skywise had joined her now, Winnowill
and Foxfur hung back a few paces.
“Are you insane?” Skywise charged. “Cutter, get
back from there!”
“You aren’t my chief,” Cutter protested. “You can’t
tell me what to do. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong in this word. I
can’t stay.”
“How can you say this?” Joyleaf begged. “You are
Cutter. You are my son. You are our tribe’s son. You cannot speak of leaving?
Cutter!” As he teetered at the edge once more Joyleaf held her hands out
to halt him. “Cutter, I know you are unhappy of late.I know you want something
else. It’s not just the fever, is it? Cutter, you can do something about
it. You don’t need to act like this....There are alternatives.”
Cutter paused, wathcing her intently.
“You can...you can travel to Sorrow’s End,” Joyleaf
suggested. “You can stay with Suntop and his kin there. Ahdri will soothe
your fears, she will find the roots of your discontent; she can do anything,
the Daughter of Memory. Savah must be so proud of her, as she watches over
her student from the rocks she shares with Yurek.” Cutter sneered at the
idea of returning to the Sun Folk and Joyleaf shook her head. “Then...then
perhaps you would like to go to the Forevergreen. You could see Shenshen
and Chot and Windstone and Crescent. You could spend some time in the Hungtsho
Citadel with Door and Crescent, I know Door would welcome one of his mate’s
kinfolk, he holds the doors open for all elves. Or...or would you like
to visit the Frozen Mountains when Pike goes home, hmm? Go on a bear hunt
with Vaya and Skot. Search for Greywolf in the Singing Hills and take some
council with him: he would help you see the through the songs so clearly,
and Willowgreen could ease the demons in your head. You could visit Ember
and Teir, travel south with Pike and his family, or simply sit in the Palace
for a time and study the Scroll, isn’t that right, Rayek?”
“Oh...oh yes,” Rayek seemed less than thrilled at
the prospects. “My house is your house,” he idly spun his hand in the air.
“I don’t belong here,” Cutter insisted. “I don’t
belong here. I have to find my way back to my own world. To my own people.”
“These are your people,” Foxfur corrected him.
“No, no these are dreams. You, you’re dead. Madcoil
killed you. The Junn killed you, Winnowill. Rayek, you’re a walking prison,
keeping her locked in your mind. Mother, mother, you’ve been dead for eight
eights times eight. You died with Father. You loved him!”
“Cutter...I could barely stand him,” Joyleaf shook
her head. “I Recognized him...and perhaps I cared for him some. But never
love. Never more than a passing affection.”
“You loved him! You loved him! You completed each
other. And when you died he had to join you.”
“Cutter–”
“This isn’t right, this isn’t my world, no, no,
no, this isn’t a fever over me. It’s the truth. I see now, I see now what
i have to do,” he rambled, a maddened glow coming to his eyes. “This is
the fever dream. I am sick, sick with a fever and this is the dream. I
have only to wait for Leetah, my Leetah. She’s heal me, you’ll see. You’ll
see! But I...I have to do my part. I have to end this!”
“Cutter!” Joyleaf wailed. “Skywise, Rayek, stop
him.”
“Now, Cutter,” Skywise held out his hands. ‘We don’t
want to scare you...don’t make any sudden moves...we...we aren’t your enemy.
You’re loved here. You’re safe here. You’re needed here...” he looked to
Rayek for help, but the dark elf only stared at the Wolfrider cook with
a slightly amused expression.
Skywise gave him a hard nudge in the ribs, and Rayek
coughed. “Um...yes...yes,” he coughed again, clearing his throat. “No....no...don’t
do it Cutter,” he insisted in a dull disinterested monotone. “Truly...
um...you cannot...there are...elves...” he sighed loudly, “elves who...care
about you...” he twirled his hand in the air again, “and...suchlike,” he
shrugged.
“I have to go,” Cutter vowed levelly. Yes, he was
at peace now. He knew what he had to do to go home. He knew what had to
be done. “Goodbye Mother,” he offered her a soft smile. It was the least
he could do.
“Tam!” Joyleaf wailed, rushing towards him.
Cutter stepped off the edge.
Joyleaf watched him fall, watched him all
too swiftly come to an abrupt halt in the canyon below. A soft sniffle
from the grieving mother was all that pierced the silence for a long moment
as the others joined her at the edge, gazing down at what was left of the
best cook the Wolfriders had ever known.
“Uhgh,” Foxfur grimaced, peering into the gloom.
Joyleaf dutifully wiped her eyes, turning to her
chief for guidance. Skywise was scowling in profound grief and loss. “Puckernuts,”
he swore. “Now who’s going to cook dinner tonight?”