Chapter One
The Tigard Valley was marshy to say the least. Namsilat had taken a wrong turn after crossing the Willamette coming out of the SilverLeaf Valley and for three long wet, muddy, insect-infested days they had wandered the 'Swamp'. At mid-day they stopped beside a small pond, as a pair of mallards floated peacefully along a small canal connecting it to the rest of the marsh.
"Look at them, Clifford nothing to do all day but swim and squawk. If they wanted to, they could just take wing and fly right out of here, must be nice." The two and a half old, three hundred and fifty pound Dire pup turned his eyes from the drifting snacks to his companion, an all too familiar look of inquiry on his face. Even his fire-red eyes looked famished.
"I know what you're thinking 'Mid-day meal', right?" The creature had learned those words early on and hearing them he went into his feeding dance. The hair on his tail fluffed up like a frightened cat, wagging back and forth as he followed closely behind his benefactor, racing circles around him, drooling and lapping as Namsilat continued his rant.
"Yeah, I know. You're as bad as Beldoff ever was." Namsilat rebuked as he retrieved a chunk of the elk meat Airapal had suggested he take along 'just in case'. It had only been a week since they parted and he already missed her.
"I have an obligation to my people." Probably not the most original dismissal, but a first for him he reflected as he tossed the huge chunk of dried flesh to the waiting hound.
"Okay, okay. I'll feed you next, but despite your ornery side, you're not likely to see me as a substitute for a missed meal." He spoke to Lester as he made his way to the grain sack.
In two chomps, Clifford devoured half the hunk of elk Namsilat had given him. He threw his head back and smacked down in one very loud crunch, finishing a five pound slab of dried meat, his long rough tongue circling his entire face as he fixed his eyes on his provider. "You're going to get fat eating like that, and don't think you're getting any of my meal." Namsilat sat down against the trunk of a small maple tree along the bank of the pond. He could feel the burning eyes of Clifford as he bit into his jerky.
"Mmmph." He could swear he heard the Dire wolf whimper.
"Are you kidding me? Did you just beg?" Namsilat did all he could not to laugh, but the thought of a ferocious beast such as a Dire wolf whimpering for food from a simple half-Elf was laughable. He took another bite, and this time the pup belly crawled towards him. After all, Clifford was a wild animal. Airapal told him never to forget that. Also, to never underestimate that he is extremely intelligent.
"If you can keep those two things always in the front of your mind when dealing with him, you should live long enough for him to get tired of hanging around you and he'll leave." Her parting warning before she kissed him.
"Women, always trying to get ya to change your mind." Namsilat was beginning to mumble. He began gazing around the wasteland that was home to the Halfling race. Looking at the swampy marshland, berry briars and ivy, he could not imagine what they saw here. It's wet, smelly and full of unfriendly creatures that either bite you or get in everything you own...hmmm, much like Halflings, he mused.
Everywhere he looked, the water was murky, with skimpy, useless fan-leaf trees. No Pine, Fir or other evergreens. "Give me the mountains." He grumbled.
Namsilat spotted a huge stand of Birch trees some fifty yards across the swamp from where they sat. He hated Birch trees, them and Ironwood. When he was younger, his mother and he depended on the charity of others for many things, fire wood being one of them. The townspeople provided them with lots of Birch and Ironwood. As a boy, he could never understand why grown, experienced men couldn't figure out those two woods were better left where ya found them. But when he was a little older, and the local kids cared less about hurting the young half-Elf's feelings, they began to poke fun at him, telling him how stupid he was for even trying to split the useless wood their dads had given them. That was when he learned to fall trees for himself, and got really good at it. He never did know why so many people hated his race, but he had plenty of reasons for hating most of theirs.
