Redbird and the Moon-Wolf

[Rest is on the right. Enjoy!]

Redbird and the elves left the keep, and climbed through a dark, damp tunnel in silence until they reached the surface. The sun had set by this time and the moon shed its soft light over the forest scene.

          Once she was sure they were out of earshot, Redbird heaved a sigh of relief.  “Thank you so much for rescuing me,” she said, contritely, “And I’m very sorry for falling off the horse. Where is she?”

          “We have sent her back to Faelen,” said Eohin, his fair hair turning to silver in the moonlight. “You will have to ride behind one of us until we find a better way.”

          Nirulin and Eohin mounted their steeds and Nirulin held out a hand to her. Feeling small and useless, she accepted it and allowed herself to be swung onto the horse. They set off in the silence that suited the night.

          It was Eohin that broke the stillness before they had traveled a hundred yards.

 “I must speak!” He said, ignoring Nirulin’s warning look. “Redbird, why did the Lady of the Mountain send you with us?”

          Although Redbird had been expecting an outburst like this sooner or later, she was still in no way equipped to answer Eohin’s  questions.

          “I don’t know myself,” she said frankly, “I told you the truth when I said that I was only a human, barely twenty years old, with no special powers suited to such a quest.”

          Nirulin spoke, and Redbird had the feeling that this was not the first time he had spoken to his brother on her behalf: “And yet, brother, she convinced the Meerow of the Hoards to give her a weapon in one visit, which is a task we both failed in.”

          “Still,” muttered Eohin, “She is a burden that we could well do without.”

          Now that the words had been spoken at last, Redbird felt easier in her mind. The worst was behind her.

          “Lady Ariel does nothing but it has a deep and far-seeing purpose. Sometimes we, who do not consider or know of the many weighty matters that she ponders on,  must wait to see the full wisdom of her decisions,” said Nirulin calmingly.

          “I will do my best to help you in any way I can,” said Redbird quietly.

          “You may help us,” said Eohin, “See that you do not hinder us. Come, brother! We have lost much distance this day.”

          They rode silently through the forest and though Redbird could feel the warm breathing of the animal under her, and hear the steady pulse of Nirulin’s heart directly before her, she had never felt more alone in her life. They had almost broken through to the edges of the forest, when a melancholy howling struck Redbird’s ears, and the horses shied in alarm.

          A grassy hill rose a few feet before them and as they watched a great silver wolf wandered out on to its rolling slopes, and howled dismally at the moon.

          “It is the last of the wolves the men were killing,” breathed Nirulin to the others, speaking softly so as not to attract the attention of the animal, “All its brothers are dead.”

          Eohin pulled an arrow from his quiver and fitted it to his bow, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the mourning creature.

          “Stop !” cried Redbird, guessing his intention, “What are you doing?”

          The wolf heard them- it looked in their direction- and from the fear in its pale blue eyes it was evident that the creature knew of the danger it was in.

          “The rest of its pack lies dead in the forest,” said Eohin, his eyes still fixed on the wolf’s throat, “I shall do it a kindness by ending its misery here.”

          “You shall do it a great wrong!” said Redbird, “It has a chance to live yet.”

          Eohin’s hand slackened, and then dropped away altogether.

          “Very well,” he said to Redbird, “But the hunger and pain it will experience in the future lies on your head. Let us ride on.”

          They continued on their way. The moon was rising over the tree tops, and the trees creaked and shivered uneasily, swaying from side to side to whisper to each other the secrets of the forest that none knew or spoke of except themselves.

          “The wolf is following us,” muttered Nirulin after a while.

          Sure enough, a shadowy figure was drifting through the trees at their side. Eohin made an impatient noise and forced his horse to a gallop. He said nothing, but the look he cast at Redbird made it clear that he thought she was hindering them again.

          The wolf followed them all through the night. Even when they stopped to make camp and lit a large fire to keep the animal away he could be seen, pacing the trees around the clearing where they slept.

          The first thing Redbird saw when she woke was the unsettling sight of the wolf staring directly at her through the trees, with unblinking pale blue eyes. The horses were nervous of its presence and ran faster than usual, but still it loped tirelessly beside them in the heat of the day.

          “I think the wolf is following you,” said Nirulin eventually to Redbird. She was riding with him again as Redbird and Eohin had an unspoken agreement to have as little to do with each other as possible, to their mutual satisfaction, “Perhaps the taste of human girl is a delicacy to these creatures and he considers you a succulent morsel that it would be a shame to lose sight of.”

          “Don’t say so loudly,” said Redbird, “If Eohin thinks the wolf is trying to eat me he will stop trying to drive it away. But surely wolves do not hunt their prey in the daytime?”

          “This is no ordinary wolf,” said Nirulin.

          Redbird turned to the side, where the dim shape of the running wolf could still be vaguely made out.

          “It’s big for a wolf,” she decided, “And I’ve never seen a wolf with silver fur like that before.”

          Nirulin nodded. “I believe it is one of the yukikime.”

          “Oh, a yukikime,” said Redbird, rolling her eyes, “Of course. Why didn’t I guess that?”

          “A yukikime is a moon-wolf, in your language,” said Nirulin patiently, “Elven legend says that yukikime are the wolves that pull the chariot of the moon across the night-sky.”

          “Then shouldn’t it be in the sky?” asked Redbird, “Or are they free to do what they want in the daytime?”

          “It is just a story for children,” said Nirulin, “Part of the legend of Nendiel- the moon goddess. Would you like to hear it?”

          Redbird said she would, and Nirulin began the tale.

“Nendiel the Fair was one of the daughters of Telma, a wise and powerful spirit whose abode was the heavens.”

“ She was the most beautiful and beloved of Telma’s sixty-four children and thus, it was with consternation that Telma observed his child’s growing affection for a star named Rael, who was at the time one of the servants in his house. Hoping to separate the two, he sent Rael away from Nendiel’s presence. Telma appointed Rael to be the guardian of the earth and stay motionless for eternity before it, thus making it impossible for him to see Nendiel again.”

“ But Nendiel was a clever woman and she implored Detrein, the spirit of the earth, to take her into her service. Detrein knew the reason for her request and, wishing to please Telma, she agreed and charged Nendiel to constantly fly over the earth in her silver carriage to give it light, but only during the night, in Rael’s absence.”

“Nendiel’s sorrow was thus doubled, for she was able to be near Rael, but never to see him, for whenever she flew in the sky, his face was turned the other way. Detrein took pity on the lovers eventually, and allowed them to meet, but only for a few moments on a certain day of the year. Your people call this day an eclipse.”

“It is only fools and children who repeat such stories,” said Eohin savagely from beside them. Redbird started at being so abruptly shaken out of the world of Nendiel and Rael and turned in time to see Eohin, a thunderous frown on his face, spur his horse to a gallop and ride away from them.

“How have I offended him now?” she asked Nirulin warily.

Nirulin shook his head. “It is not your mistake but mine,” he said, “Eohin dislikes this tale- it reminds him too much of his own sorrows, perhaps.”

“Indeed?” asked Redbird, instantly intrigued, “Which character does he play- is he a sundered lover, or the strict father? I think I can see him more easily in the latter part.”

“He takes the part of Rael,” said Nirulin quietly, gazing after his brother, “The one who must forever be separated from his beloved by duty.”

Nirulin turned to glance at Redbird over his shoulder, answering her unspoken question. “Eohin loves an elf-woman, a member of the Vallehan, one of the wandering elves who set their steps across the land as the wind guides them.”

“And what is there to keep them apart in this?” asked Redbird.

“Eohin feels that his duty lies at Faelen, but the Vallehan will never consent to remain in one place for more than two days. Therefore they are destined to be separated, like the sun and the moon, for neither will bend to the other and both must be unhappy.”

Redbird thought this over and conceded that perhaps Eohin, whom she had previously considered a grumpy old sod of motiveless malignity, had some reason for his gloominess.

The elves made camp in the afternoon because they were passing near a human settlement and Eohin wished to buy a smaller horse for Redbird in the town. Nirulin was eager to see how humans lived and Redbird, for whom the excursion held no special interest, remained in the forest to watch the horses.

There was a second reason for her volunteering to remain behind. She had discovered to her shock a few days before that the elves did not eat meat. Redbird had been brought up on a diet that consisted principally of the flesh of dead animals and, although she refrained out of politeness from eating meat in the presence of the elves, she had begun to see dancing legs of mutton and chicken in her dreams.

Ignoring the accusing looks the elven horses were giving her, she set off into the forest, and soon returned with a couple of rabbits. She had just begun to clean one of them when the yukikime that had been their shadow the past day, stepped hesitantly out of the trees where he had been lurking and came towards her.

Redbird was not unduly alarmed. Swift and Sharp lay close beside her and something in the wolf’s demeanor made her think that it did not mean her harm. As a gesture of friendship, she threw one of the rabbits to the wolf, and he pounced on it eagerly. He devoured it in minutes and looked at her so hopefully that she was moved to throw him the second also, and console herself with the knowledge that she would be able to meet the elves’ eyes with a clear conscience later in the day.

The wolf disposed of the second rabbit with the same rapidity as the first and came closer to Redbird.

“The rabbits are all you are permitted to eat!” she said, as firmly as she could, alarmed by this sudden display of friendliness, “I’m all skin and bone anyway, you wouldn’t like me.”

Still the wolf advanced and Redbird reached for her daggers. When the yukikime had covered the distance between them, he laid his enormous head near her feet, and fixed unblinking blue eyes on her.

Tentatively, as she might pet a dog, Redbird stroked its head and it closed its eyes. Tamiel, Nirulin’s horse, uttered a warning whinny and Redbird shushed her. When the elves returned late in the evening without a horse for Redbird, they were met by the interesting spectacle of Redbird, the two horses and a large wolf, all piled up together for warmth near a roaring fire.

The wolf looked up on their approach and, seeing Eohin, growled, but Redbird put a reassuring hand on its neck.

Eohin looked displeased, but this was nothing unusual, and Nirulin laughed at the spectacle.

“Why did you tell us that you knew no magic?” he asked her, coming forward to the fire, “It is plain to me that you are an enchantress of no common skill.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Redbird, startled.

“How else do you explain the way all living things are drawn to you?” he asked her, with a smile in his eyes.

This reminded Redbird of one living thing that was not drawn to her, and she glanced towards Eohin.

“Eohin,” she said, timidly, “I see that you couldn’t find a horse for me in the town- would it be alright if I rode Aquila instead?”

“What is Aquila?” asked Eohin with his customary coldness.

“The yukikime,” said Redbird, stroking Aquila’s nose. “He can keep up with the horses and he’s the right size for me.”

“If you are convinced that the creature can be trusted then I see no harm in it,” said Eohin.

Redbird was indignant at this mode of addressing her new friend, but too grateful for his consent to say anything. That night she slept nestled into Aquila’s side, and the moon-wolf’s warmth was comforting.