Spring Hunt, Part 1 (1945)

Characters: Oakmist, Coolsong, a.o. (Shadow Pool Holt) Written by: Anna The cool breeze sighed by the entrance to Coolsong’s den. She swept aside the thick, sturdy hide that kept wind and weather out of the room. Winter’s mustiness needed to be cleared out and she loved the feel of a spring wind caressing her limbs. Spring was just a lovely time of the year, fresh and inviting with life stirring after its long sleep. She looked forward to it throughout the long winter and rejoiced at the first day of warming temperatures. “The hunters are leaving, cub,” Oakmist said cheerfully, rounding the large trunk of the tree that held the lore-keeper’s den. “Will you come to see them off?” Coolsong smiled as she turned to her father. “Of course,” she assured him lightly. “Icedancer is leading this hunt himself?” “As always,” Oakmist laughed. “First hunt of the season, and more than half the tribe goes.” Coolsong smiled again, knowing full well that after a long winter a large hunt was needed to replenish supplies and give the tribe desperately needed fresh meat. The hunters would ride out several days, looking for the large herds that that roamed the plains below the mountain that they called home. This hunt provided the tribe with enough meat to see them through a plentiful spring, and provided her father with the hides needed to make the majority of repairs and replacements needed in terms of clothing, footwear, sleeping furs, chairs, and den coverings. “You are not going with them?” she asked him now, linking her arm through his as they strolled to the holt clearing where the hunters where gathering with those who’d remain behind. “No,” Oakmist shook his head, patting Coolsong’s hand as they approached the others. “No, there are more than enough of the younger hunters going. It’s time they had a chance to prove themselves without old wolves like me around.” He slid his daughter a sly smile. “And you? Staying behind yourself? I know Rainfast is going.” Coolsong stepped slightly ahead of her father, drawing her arm away as she smiled faintly. “Rainfast is going, but I’m staying,” she verified for him. She didn’t elaborate, and Oakmist sighed at the evasion. “Tracker, Frostflower, and their daughters are going.” Oakmist merely nodded to that. Another few steps and they joined their tribemates who were gathered to see the hunters off. Brightfire was laughing merrily as she tied a pack shut, while her sister Snowsoft continued to make dry, sharp comments that kept Brightfire laughing and which Coolsong and her father weren’t close enough to hear. “I’ll miss her,” Coolsong noted wistfully. “I’ll miss them both.” Oakmist patted her shoulder gently. “They’ll return soon enough, little songbird.” “Hmm.” Coolsong looked at young Lunar, who stood apart from the tribe with a faintly troubled expression. “Will they?” The t anner followed her gaze and sighed. “The snows have never come this late in the season before. She probably had a bad dream and is over reacting. You know she’s a little different, Coolsong. She’ll settle down once the hunters return, safe and unharmed.” “And if they don’t? Or they’re harmed?” Oakmist’s shrug was both dismissive and accepting. “Accidents happen. They always have.” “Oh, father,” Coolsong sighed. “Just because they happen doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to prevent them. How many of our tribe have died untimely simply because no precautions were taken? How many stories, how much history, is gone and forgotten because of an ‘accident’?” “Daughter, life is hard. You have to accept that. The challenges we face in surviving make us stronger.” Coolsong leveled cool, grey eyes on her father. He returned the gaze with eyes the same color and shape as her own. On this they did not agree, and frequently enough had the discussion. This round was delayed as their chief called the tribe together. Father and daughter closed the distance between them and the gathering hunters. Oakmist stepped up to Tracker, offering his brother luck on the outing. Coolsong evaded Tracker and reached her cousins. “Be careful,” she told Brightfire and Snowsoft. “Return safely.” Brightfire laughed and reached out to hug Coolsong. “What harm can come, singer? It’s just a hunt, like any other!” “Just a little further away, and with much larger prey,” Snowsoft murmured, tucking a lock of snow-silver hair behind her ear. “We’ll be cautious, Coolsong, and bring your father back plenty of hides to work with.” Coolsong nodded, then eased aside as other tribemates came to bid the maids farewell. She had her own rounds to make, stopping to have a few words with almost all of the departing hunters. Several of them were frequent furmates, some had come close to being more than that, but all of them were friends. Coolsong was worried about this hunt. Most of the tribe, including Icedancer, and dismissed or laughed off her predictions of a serious snowstorm – just as her father had just done. Coolsong couldn’t do either, however. Something inside her worried that Lunar’s warning should be taken seriously. Ignoring it was a mistake. But she had nothing concrete to go on, and so no way to force others to take more precautions. A howl rose and the babble of voices faded to nothing. Icedancer stood on a thick, gnarled root and faced his tribesfolk. “We leave now for the first hunt of the season,” he announced, raising his voice slightly to be heard clearly. “While we’re gone, clean out the storage dens! When we return, we’ll be filling them again!” The tribe sang their answer, their howls rising and twining together in a wild harmony that made the blood pound in their veins. Coolsong’s voice joined theirs; she was not immune to the bloodlust and hunt-fire that called to all Wolfriders. At that moment, she would have gladly joined the moon-long trek to the plains and the hunting there. Then in a flash of paws, a chorus of yips and howls, and great jostling of heavily furred shoulders and flanks, the hunters and their wolves were off. Coolsong blinked and found the glade suddenly a lot emptier than it had been before. The elves that remained behind drifted off about their own tasks. The singer looked once more at Lunar, then turned back to Oakmist. “I have some gathering to do – young herbs to replenish our medicines. Do you want to come with me, father?” Oakmist nodded thoughtfully. “My dyes are running low. I should collect more materials now, while I can. The hides they’ll bring back will keep me busy for a while.” “I’ll get my basket,” Coolsong said, smiling at him before she hurried back to her den. The cool, spring breeze whispered around her, and her den was quickly clearing of the winter-musty scent. Coolsong paused long enough to enjoy both sensations before picking up her gathering basket. As she turned away from her den and stepped into the sunlight again, she set aside her vague worries and niggling fears. Life was sweet and good, and she would spend a pleasant time with her father. What more could any elf maid ask?