Dance for the Dead
Dreambrook sat under a tree, listening to the branches swaying back and forth. He loved this time of year. The many colors on the trees, the apples that grew on them, the pinecones that fell on his head…
“Hey Dreambrook! Wake up! I want you to tell me a story!” A small cub jumped down from the tree and landed on the ground beside him. “C’mon. You haven’t told me any stories in a looooooong time.” Dreambrook rolled his eyes.
“First of all I was thinking. Second of all I told you a story yesterday.”
the cub put on a look of exasperation. “Yesterday is a long time ago!”
Dreambrook sighed. “Sorry Treemoss. I can only tell so many stories. I’m trying to think. Go… go play or something.”
Treemoss wasn’t giving up. “What’re you think’in ‘bout?” He crawled into Dreambrook’s lap. Dreambrook gently set him on the ground.
“I’m thinking about things you wouldn’t understand. Go practice shooting an arrow with Wolffang.”
“I already did that. He said I was getting better.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Go practice some more. It’s a lovely fall day. You shouldn’t stay under a tree listening to stories on a day like today.”
“C’mon! I’m bored!” Treemoss shook Dreambrook’s arm. He dropped to the ground and snuggled next to Dreambrook and looked at him with large, seemingly innocent eyes. He knew well enough that Dreambrook couldn’t resist a little cub snuggling for a story. Dreambrook looked indignant.
“I’m not falling for that again. You hear me! I’m not falling for that again. Stop that! Treemoss…” Treemoss had rested his tawny head on Dreambrook’s right shoulder and was smiling innocently up at him.
“Pretty please?” Dreambrook softened.
“Oh all right. What tale do you want to hear?”
“Dance for the Dead!!!”
“I just told you that one yesterday! And the day before!”
“Plllleeeeaaaassseeee?”
Dreambrook sighed and began his story.
“Jen’l aimed the arrow right between the deer’s eyes. The wretched animal turned at the last second and he hit the throat. It was still a kill but not as clean as he would have liked it. Still, meat was meat and along with the three ravvits and five squirrels, he and Sharpclaw and Wolffang had caught, the whole tribe would be well fed tonight. The three hunters turned to go back to camp.
In the bushes a figure watched them travel to their camp. Silently following them, it tracked them to their camp where it watched them from a distance. Then it turned and headed back…”
“Ooh!! What’re you telling? I wanna hear!” Newleaf came running from out of the bushes. “Pleasepleaseplease tell me the story too!” She sat down on Dreambrook’s left side. She pulled his arm around her and snuggled up eager for the story to continue. Dreambrook sighed.
“As I was saying…
The dark figure went back to it’s own people. It warned them of the elves. The humans decided to surprise a sneak attack on them.
Elaya was practicing with her bow when she saw a figure in the bushes. She went to investigate when the human jumped out at her. She screamed and it took a knife and slit her throat. Then the human threw her to the ground. She was dead in five minutes. The other Wanderer’s heard her scream and went to investigate…”
Newleaf gave a short shriek. A red headed elf had just jumped down from the tree. Dreambrook frowned.
“Redbird don’t do that!”
It was Redbird’s turn to frown. He hated being treated like a cub. And being scolded by Dreambrook qualified.
Just then, Seashell burst out of the nearby stream. Despite the fact that it was almost winter she still went swimming whenever she got the chance. Smiling she went over to the group.
“Oh! Dreambrook, are you telling a story? Can I listen?” Dreambrook nodded. “Oh thank you!”
“I’m going back to camp…” Redbird started back hurriedly but not quickly enough. Seashell grabbed his arm and yanked him down.
“Oh no, Redbird you have to stay here. I insist.” Before Redbird could utter another word, she had him sitting next to her as she placed her soaking wet head in his lap. Redbird gave Dreambrook a look that said “Help.”
“Where were we? Oh yes…
When the other Wanderer’s got to the place where they had heard Elaya scream they found her dead body and the scent of humans. For a few minutes they were confused. They had no idea that humans were hiding in the bushes until two seconds before they attacked.
Several Wanderers were massacred in the next five minutes. They were not prepared to fight. The living fled for their lives.
That night a tribe council was held. It was decided they would ambush the humans while they were celebrating their victory.
The humans had a large bonfire in the middle of their village. They were eating their cooked meat and the one who had found the Wanderer’s Camp was being honored. It was a sickening sight.
Slowly the elves crept around the human’s camp in twos and threes. They sent to each other and they were soon in position to kill.
The current war leader, Oldskye sent the war signal to the Wanderers, telling them to attack…
“Dreambrook? What’s going on?” Dreambrook looked up to see Brightfire, Whisper and Jen’l standing a few paces away. Jen’l had an expression of pain across his face.
Brightfire snarled at Seashell (who scurried as far away from her as possible) and sat next to her son, Redbird.
Before Dreambrook could resume telling the story, Crystalrock appeared from behind a clump of trees.
“Can I stay and listen?” She sat down.
Dreambrook resumed telling the story.
“Oldskye gave the signal to attack and the Wanderers rushed forward. They killed nearly all of the humans. But human blood wasn’t the only blood shed that day. Oldskye was killed by a human.
That night the tribe burned his body and that of the other Wanderers. When the bodies were burned, they…we danced on their ashes”
The story was over. By then the whole tribe was sitting around the tree listening. Jen’l’s head was down and Dreambrook knew he was trying not to weep. Oldskye was his father. Whisper sighed heavily; her lovemate had been killed in the fight at the human’s camp. Seashell wiped a tear from her eye. Her mother had been killed when she had gone to see what was wrong with Elaya.
It was rare that the tribe was this like this, calm, bonded. Even Whisper and Wolffang, who didn’t especially like each other, seemed to be at peace, for the moment.
Jen’l looked up dry-eyed. It was night and the tribe had decided to move out the last tribe council. He reminded them all and they all nodded. When the pack was on Sharpclaw’s bond horse, they moved out.