Gently, small, fluffy pieces of ash drifted down from the grey sky with a silent kind of sorrow. Aspenleaf blinked, bringing the world into focus and brushed the ash from her eyelashes. Lying on her back, she sighed, closing her eyes once more as she dug her fingers into the dusty moss around her, plunging them beyond the layer of soot and into the moistness below.
After a while, she stood, muscles aching, and dusted herself off. Where had all the ash come from? She cringed at the thought of beloved forest set on fire. The trees around her seemed fine, but the layer of dust that had settled over the foliage had to have come from somewhere.
When she saw a figure in the distance, she called out to him, and he waited patiently as she ran to him. He was slim with a long scar across his face and although she’d never met him before, she was sure he was a soldier.
“We won.” She breathed, finding her voice a harsh whisper. “We one, right?” There was hesitation in her voice, but she tried to seem as sure of herself as possible.
“Yeah.” His expression was one of concern but he spoke to her as if she were crazy. When she asked him where the ash had come from he responded by making a wide gesture to the sky, throwing his arms up in the air. “The dragons poured fire down on our enemies, but small clusters of trees were burnt as well.” He paused then added, “Why didn’t you know?”
“It’s complicated.” She laughed quietly, but she was already turning away, new questions pushing into her mind. Who had lived? Who had died? Who had killed? She trudged on, ignoring the voice of the young soldier behind her. He could think she was crazy if he wanted to.
The forest blurred around her, every step sliding into the next, each tree she passed seeming like the last. Mud splattered her legs and thorns scrapped at her ankles but all she could think about was Frostraven. Had the dark elves gotten as far as Loth? Aspenleaf tried to convince herself that they couldn’t have because the line of battle was out in the forest, but in her heart she knew that it didn’t matter where the army was, individual elves could have gotten through.
In the distance, Aspenleaf caught sight of the gates to loth; the city appeared unscathed. Cautiously, Aspenleaf slipped through the archway and into the clearing where Cliffbreeze paced anxiously. At the sight of her apprentice, the combat huntress hurried over, looking her up and down before exclaiming, “You’re all right!”
Before the older elf could hug her, Aspenleaf asked, “How are the others?” There were so many people she worried about. Cliff breeze would probably know about Frostraven and the elven dragon riders, but there were others she was concerned about as well.
“Glacialstone, Hiddenstream, Blackrobin, and Redrock have returned and they and their dragons are fine, besides a few scrapes.” Cliffbreeze took a deep breath, then said, “We’ve heard rumors Northpine and Hawkwing are dead.” Aspenleaf’s head spun, but she tried not to let it show. Reminding herself that it was only a rumor, she decided to try to talk to the others and see what they knew, but there was something else she had to ask first.
“How’s Frostraven?” maybe Aspenleaf was just being paranoid, but Cliffbreeze’s pause seemed like a prelude to bad news.
“She didn’t fight in the battle.” Cliffbreeze assured. Relief poured through Aspenleaf, but she tried not to focus on it for too long and instead returned to her mental list of questions, asking where the others were. “Glacialstone and Blackrobin are at their cabins and Hiddenstream and Redrock are being patched up at the healer’s.”
The second Cliffbreeze had finished speaking she sprinted away, towards her team’s set of cabins. She’d visit Hiddenstream and Redrock later, after they’d finished at the healer’s.
When she arrived at the clump of aspens that housed the team’s cabins, she scaled one effortlessly and arrived at Glacialstone’s cabin. When he opened the door she got strait to the point, “Do you know where Hawkwing is?” she asked, before adding, “Or Northpine?”
“I heard they’d died.” He said placidly, keeping his emotions just out of reach, as usual, although his words were quiet and carried the slightest hint of the feelings he was hiding.
“I know; I heard that too,” she pushed for answers, “but do you know anything else?” Hesitantly, he admitted that he’d seen a dragon falling from the sky, but he assured her that it could have been a trick of the light. “No,” her voice became a sorrowful whisper, “what you saw was real. Fireflight was shot, and we fell from the sky. She’s gone.”
“Oh.” One word was all it took for Glacial stone’s face to soften, his brow creased with sadness. “That’s terrible,” He added after a moment of stunned silence, “I couldn’t imagine loosing Stormcloud.” For the first time ever Aspenleaf heard another elf’s dragon referred to with a name. Could Aspenleaf and Glacialstone be closer than they thought? Her mind clouded with sorrow, Aspenleaf was unable to find the answer.
Instead, she confirmed, “So, you haven’t heard any news of the others?” and when he shook his head she hurried away, not able to look at him anymore, for fear that tears would find their way to her eyes once more. If she kept herself busy, she wouldn’t have to think about it until later, when she was alone.
Blackrobin knew nothing of the missing elves either, so she decided to visit Hiddenstream and Redrock, even though they were still at the healer’s. When she reached the bottom of the huge, old redwood, she began to climb, noticing as she did so, the large sling attached to a complex system of vines. That must be how the sick elves were pulled up.
The first platform she reached, about twenty meters up the trunk, was for the sickest elves, so that the sling wouldn’t have to lift them as far. Once the platforms were high enough off the ground, there wasn’t as much space between them. There was only a five meter gap between them. This made climbing much easier, and she progressed quickly to the seventh level, where she knew Hiddenstream and Redrock would be. It only took her a moment to find them.
“Aspenleaf! Aspenleaf, you’re alive!” Hiddenstream called out, rising from the bench he and Redrock shared. Obviously leaning heavily on one leg, he limped towards her a few paces. An old lady hobbled over to him, scolding him and ordering him to sit down in a very grouchy voice.
As soon as she had left Aspenleaf challenged, “Why wouldn’t I be?” but her voice was lighter, more playful than it had been last time they’d talked. For a second she paused, hoping he hadn’t noticed, but maybe it was better if he did, maybe she would feel less pressure to be serious if he didn’t expect her to be. If there was anyone she wanted not to expect her to be serious, it was Hawkwing, she reflected.
Sternly, she reminded herself not to stray from her task. “I was wondering if you knew what had happened to the others.” She began cautiously, her gaze flicking between Hiddenstream and Redrock, probing them for any of the classic signs she learned to notice over the years. Hiddenstream’s eyes became sad but he wasn’t one to hold back tears and she guessed it was just the rumor.
Redrock’s expression seemed to go a little deeper than that, though. His eyes were locked on the floor, his shoulders limp as he licked his lips slightly, searching for words. Hiddenstream started to repeat what she’d already heard twice before but, without a glance in his direction, she interrupted him with a quick “I know.”
“Crowtalon and I had set fire to a clearing at the far edge of the battlefield,” he began slowly, “We hoped to create a line of burnt forest between Loth and the invading armies, where we could burn the dark elves as they crossed without setting fire to the trees. Northpine was there too but then he disappeared. When I turned back to see if he was anywhere near us I saw Hawkwing.” He paused, his eyes rising from the wooden platform below them to meet Aspenleaf’s with a deep sorrow. “He was diving straight into the flames.”
Aspenleaf’s head spun, she clenched her fists and bit hard into her lower lip, stumbling backwards a few steps until her back met the redwood’s bark. She wanted to scream and wail until her lungs burned, to cry until her brother came back to comfort her. She wanted to tell Redrock that he was wrong and slap him across the face, pound him with her fists until he bled and her knuckles were raw. She swayed again, tensing ever muscle in her body in order to stop from collapsing. She refused to cry – not in front of them.
A few steps brought her to the edge of the platform. She had to be somewhere else with people who didn’t know her. Leaning forwards, she let the wind pull her from the platform, and landed cleanly on the sixth level, remind herself to take deep breaths, not daring to blink for fear that she’d spill the tears already collecting in her eyes. If only she could scream like she had for her brother. She’d be okay if she screamed.
Racing along the platform to the other side of the trunk where the benches and occasional beds were deserted, sunk to the ground, huddled in a tight ball, and sobbed silently. It wasn’t about being strong anymore, it was about seeming strong.
Suddenly, Aspenleaf stood up and threw a punch at the massive trunk of the redwood. About to shout at it, she bit her tongue. If anyone heard her there would be new problems to deal with.
Again she slammed her fist against the wood, a sharp pain shooting through her knuckles. Setting her feet in the proper stance she threw more punches, alternating between left and right as the pain inside her turned to anger and the anger swelled, taking control of her. Over and over, she punched the tree until its bark was smeared with her own blood and the flesh around her knuckles was exposed. It wasn’t the searing pain that convinced her to quit, though, it was the sheer stupidity of wasting her efforts of a tree.
Knowing she couldn’t return to Hiddenstream and Redrock after having left them so rudely, she made her way past the patients and healers to the edge of the platform where the vine pulley she’d noticed earlier was hauling the loaded sling upwards. It stopped at the first level.
After a battle like this there would be many new patients here, but this wasn’t just another soldier. Northpine’s face was distorted with pain and he moaned a little as the sling jerked to a halt. Leaping from the edge, Aspenleaf slowed her fall only a little by slapping the other platforms she passed. With the grace she’d been trained to move with, she landed silently next to Northpine’s crippled body. At first it appeared worse than it actually was as his body was smeared with blood from the wound in his leg, but the arrow lodged in his knee turned out to be his only injury.
“Here, let me help.” Aspenleaf offered to the old healers who had begun to lift Northpine onto a bed – they didn’t seem strong enough to do it themselves. Northpine whimpered a little as he was transferred from the sling to a small bed against the trunk of the tree.
“It seems to have lodged itself in his joint, between the bones.” One elf was saying to the other. Everything else blurred into mumbling as Aspenleaf stared into Northpine’s eyes. What had happened to him?
Aspenleaf turned from the horrific scene, climbing back down the tree, Northpine’s cries becoming more and more distant. Shutting her eyes, she cleared her mind, focusing on anything but the screams. She continued her decent.