Lost in the Light Ch. 07

"Is that why you attacked me under the willow tree?"

"In part," Riyarra acknowledged. "If I don't sate these desires they take control." Lysia sighed.

"Well, since you just had a meal of Zecarins, how long till I'll need to sleep with a knife?" Riyarra was stunned with the starkness of Lysia's comment. But it was painfully true.

"I'm not sure," came her answer. "I've been separating my mind through meditation, and it seems to be helping."

"Good, because I'm comfy, and I don't want to have to fend you off." Lysia smirked and poked her friend in the ribs. Riyarra let out a surprised yelp.

"Churr, churr, churr." Came a throaty, bestial chuckle from the fallen tree above. Both Eltharians shot startled glances up at the shadowy animal slinking silently across the trunk's length above them. Riyarra put a firm hand on Lysia to keep her still. "Pardon, my intrusssion." It said in a whispery, masculine speech.

"But I could not help it. When I see two deliccccious looking ladies alone in the dark, I cannot help but... inquirrrre." It said in a soothing voice. The creature came to a stop on a thick branch on the opposite side of their fire. Its piercing yellow, feline eyes stared at them casually through the red glow, but its own body was still black as shadow. Riyarra shot a quick glance to her two short blades lying near the pack.

"Thou will not need thossse," it cooed at her – almost whining. "Have I bared my fangs at thee?" it asked calmly and gave them both a disturbingly toothy grin. Bright fangs crowned the smile that bounced in the shadowy background as it chuckled. "Churr, churr, churr." It leapt down to a lower branch, finally coming into the light where they could get a look at it.

It had a long, red furred snout dotted with black spots and whiskers. Two muscular forelimbs seemed dually inclined to run on all fours as well as grasp objects, but it was content to cross one over the other as it lounged in the branch. A patch of white fur separated the pointed ears that topped its head, with similar tufts of white fur growing out of each ear. Its hind legs were very sleek and athletic - this creature could easily cover great distances very quickly, as well as leap to high heights. Thick black stripes ran vertically down its red back with blotchy black spots along its side and tail. But it was the expressive tail that swished and darted to and fro at the creature's whim that seemed to hypnotize the two elven girls as they watched it move.

"Is it unfair to ask two visitors to our lands to share their night fire as toll for safe passsssage?" It inquired, and settled that quiet cool yellow-eyed stare on them both.

"It is a fair toll," Riyarra nodded and motioned to her dying fire. She crawled out from under the blanket, giving Lysia room to move to her pack, and away from the creature. Riyarra picked up a few more fallen branches and tossed them onto the fire and breathed more life into it. "Please join us." She formally invited as the logs started to sizzle and pop. The creature leapt the final distance to the fire and lay down in a regal poise with its front arms crossed before it.

"I was attracted by the ssssmell." It said and cocked its head to one side as it looked up at Riyarra. Those eerily intelligent eyes felt like they were piercing her soul. A low guttural, vibrating sound came from the back of its throat. It sounded like a large purring cat, but that thought was very unsettling to Riyarra, who had never seen such a creature.

"Does it still linger?" Riyarra asked and sniffed her arm suspiciously.

"Yesss," it swished its tail back and forth. "Humanss... call it estrus." Riyarra's mouth dropped.

"I'm not!" Riyarra started to say, shocked. "I can't be..." The creature just sat and watched as she paced around the fire fuming. Just when she looked like she was going to throw her head back and scream she sank to her knees before the fire, closed her eyes, and took long steadying breaths. The flush in her cheeks, brought on by the sudden irritation of the creatures claim, slowly faded, and her smooth pale complexion returned.

"Mr. Wolf," Lysia asked. The creature opened its eyes lazily and gave her a sideways glance. "Do you know what's wrong with Riyarra?"

"Wrong?" He asked. "All our females experrrrience this when it is their time." He said indignantly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Lysia replied, abashed. "Eltharians don't experience this."

"Oh?" His ears lifted, and he turned his head to regard her. "That must cause all sorts of embarrasssssing confusion. How do thy males tell when thou are... in the mood?" He lifted a hand to his muzzle and licked the pawed hand before smoothing the patch of white fur on his head. "We should intrrroduce..." he said as he rose to his feet and padded on all fours slowly towards Lysia.

"I am called Grelwuf." He said and leaned his snout in towards Lysia's face. The elf girl instinctively withdrew, and Grelwuf paused.

"I am Lysia," she replied sheepishly.

"My people intrrroduce with a smell," Grelwuf spoke soothing words. "thy scent is as unique as thy name. It is only polite, to allow thyself to be grrrreeted..." Lysia nodded and closed her eyes tightly. The creature leaned his snout in against the side of her face until his whiskers tickled her chin and she fought not to giggle and twitch. His canine nostrils took two deep whiffs from her neck. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as his maw opened to allow the smell to settle in his nose. But when that long coarse tongue came out and licked the length of her ear, she couldn't help but a let loose a squeal of erogenous excitement.

"Thou hast have a fine smell, my dearrr." Grelwuf whispered against her neck, "and thou dost taste... delightful. It is a pleassssure, to acquaint thee, Lysia of Elthair."

Lysia was flushed and embarrassed, befuddled by what to do next. She stared deeply into his entrancing yellow eyes, not realizing the power they held over her. Grelwuf turned away and padded over to Riyarra to sit on his haunches next to her. The hypnotic spell broke when he averted his gaze, Lysia blinked a few times before touching her enamored ear as if testing what she had just experienced was real.

"I am shaman to my people, I have the dreamsight." Grelwuf explained. "It bewitches the unguarded mind." He waited patiently for Riyarra to regain her composure from his embarrassing accusation. When she did open her eyes, she looked straight into Grelwuf's. His head hung down ever so slightly and his eyes stared straight up into hers.

"I'm not familiar with your people; I'm not sure how to be polite." She said at last.

"Churr, churr..." Grelwuf's head bobbed slightly as he chuckled. "We are called Furrel, and we are old." Grelwuf turned away as if stung and sat across the fire from the two of them. "I will tell thee a storrry, as sleep comes to thee. I will keep watch."

"The world is now ruled by the two great races – Zecair and Elthair." Grelwuf settled down, and crossed his front limbs. His voice rang out clear and melodious in the night air. And his trailing growl as he spoke seemed to disappear. "Once all were one, but the Gods in the sky decided all should be different, and thus they were. Came did the Dragons, the Cutharins, the Megals, the Harpais, the Merfolk, the Titans, the Furrel, and many others lost to war and time." Lysia had prepared their bedroll and settled in under the blanket with a big yawn. Riyarra kept a stern gaze upon their visitor; apparently she would keep watch as well.

"The Eltharians and Zecarins took an immediately dislike to each other, and war became their favorite greeting. The Eltharians called to the dragons for help, and thus did the Zecarins slay them all out of jealousy. In return, the Zecarins called out to the Harpais for help, and so the Eltharians plucked them from the sky. As one race after another disappeared from their war, those that remained learned to stay neutral, and thus were forgotten."

Riyarra's head bobbed from her growing weariness and the tranquil, soothing melody of Grelwuf's voice. She glanced once to sleeping Lysia and moved over to the girl to share her bedroll. Lysia barely protested as she rolled over to make room and fell right back asleep. As she slid in beside her, Riyarra snaked an arm under the girl's head, and felt two hands take a hold of hers for comfort. Unable to resist it anymore, Riyarra settled in and looked expectantly up at Grelwuf.

"Then came Man, who carved his own kingdom out of the wastelands left by the Zecarins and Eltharians." Grelwuf continued. "So amazed were the other races with the impudence and tenacity with which this stubborn Man survived that they stepped back and watched. And so Man grew tall indeed. Tall enough and strong enough did he grow that he pushed the warring Brothers aside. Zecair and Elthair finally saw the loss they had caused, and drew lines for a truce. But gone are the Dragons and their magnificent wings, gone are the Mountain Giants and their great strides, gone are the talking trees and their ageless wisdom, gone forever. But Man paid a heavy price; the two great races wait patiently for his last days, and all breaths wait to see what will come thereafter."

Grelwuf opened his eyes to find Riyarra still watching him thoughtfully.

"Not the history lesson I was taught," She whispered quietly so as not to disturb sleeping Lysia. Grelwuf tilted his head quizzically to one side as he regarded her. We were all one race once... came Mule's voice in her memories. She rubbed the image from her mind, like dust in her eye. "Besides, I have seen enough humans to know they are as prolific as ever."

"Compared..." Grelwuf began. "To when?" he answered after a dramatic pause to let his point sink in. "Thou thinks the same was not said of the other races now long gone? When too few are left, races try to mingle and share. Half-breeds born, are neither of their parents." Grelwuf's ears suddenly perked up and his head lifted to listen. Riyarra heard it too – footsteps on the other side of the river. With an abrupt puff of his breath, Grelwuf blew out the faint embers and bounded back up the tree to the exposed roots to look over the edge. Riyarra quietly reached for her swords and pulled them close. She kept perfectly still and listened. And when Grelwuf finally descended the tree, Riyarra could hear no other sounds but the forest around them. Whatever, or whoever it was had moved on.

"Two Zecarin scouts have taken opposite dirrrections following the river," he said. "They do not like water..." he froze in speech and movement when he saw Riyarra clutching her weapons. The uncomfortable silence made her look to her blades and respectfully place them back next to the pack. Grelwuf then padded a few steps closer until his snout was inches from her face. He smelled like juniper to Riyarra, which was not nearly as beastly as she expected. His muzzle turned to her side and she heard the short inhale of air near her ear as he breathed in her scent. And just like what happened to Lysia she felt his coarse tongue expertly caress the ridge of her ear all the way to the tip. Suddenly her skin grew very cold and a brisk, tingling shiver of excited nerves ran over her whole body. It was an amazingly sensual sensation. Something took over her at that moment and she pressed her cheek to his cheek, slid her face up to his ear and bit it lightly.

"It is a pleasure, to acquaint thee, Grelwuf of the Furrel." She breathed hotly into his ear. A low grumbling sound came from the beast as he withdrew and turned around to lie down beside her.

"It is mine, as well, Riyarra of Elthair."

"How did you know my name?" she asked politely. But deep down she fear she would suddenly need her blades.

"I foresaw thine arrival in the dreamscape." Grelwuf whispered softly. "The sweet smell wafting up on the wind this night could only come from thou. It is an unnatural aroma. There is something that vexes thy mind and body. And thy friend spoke it earlier."

"I don't understand, what is the dreamscape? I haven't heard of this magic."

"It is where dreamers go." Grelwuf whispered. "We can wander, we can visit thy dreams, and take many forms." Riyarra grew silent as she thought on this. "What else did you see about me?"

"churr, churr, churr..." Grelwuf chortled lightly. "A polite shaman does not share thus. It is... unsacred."

"Mmhmm." Riyarra tried to keep the sneaking suspicion growing in her gut from coming out. The events of the last few days, along with her own struggles with self and sanity made this revelation of dream walkers a bit too convenient. "Have you visited my dreams?"

"It is how I knew thee would come," Grelwuf explained. "I know of this monastery thou dost seek. Thy mind seeks answers, yess, but thou should rest. Answers will still be here in the morning."

"What of you?"

"We are nocturnal." Grelwuf raised his snout and sniffed the air. Whatever caught his attention, he did not concern himself with. "I understand thine reluctance. Should I allow harm to come to thee, thy people would blame the Furrel, and assume we have sided with thy enemy. I will give my life, before I endanger my people." His answer changed her unsettled suspicion into shameful guilt. Whether it was true or not, he believed in his view of history. There was a real danger of appearing to aide one side in their delicate truce; the only race tolerated by both sides was Mankind because they struck blows to both sides. The more Riyarra thought about it, she realized that none of the other races had formal relationships with Elthair. She had never wondered why until now.

For all her suspicions, this creature, this Furrel, had not made any threatening postures towards her. Riyarra had to remember she was no longer in Zecair, and mistrust was not a constantly needed shield here. Enemies here were more obvious; if Grelwuf had wanted to kill them, he had plenty of opportunity while she was bathing, or when the Zecarin scouts came to the river.

Riyarra made up her mind to trust him, and promptly settled in to sleep. Lysia's warmth was an alluring comfort as she wrapped her arm around her friend and snuggled in close. Lysia smelled of pine and river water and those smells were another welcoming comfort to Riyarra. She felt finally home at last...

Mule stood tall on top of the grassy meadow. The wind blew his open black vest wide against his bare, chiseled chest. Thick white clouds passed by overhead and he seemed content to watch them float by. His hands rested on his hips with his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of the tanned leather leggings he wore. Riyarra walked up behind him. As she approached the wind picked up and blew her hair about her face.

"Thank you," She said to his back. "I've come to say goodbye. I never got the chance to thank you formally. I know I thanked you while we were together, but I feel it wasn't enough. I don't know why you did it, or what plans you had, but I wanted to say thank you, and goodbye." Mule didn't respond. He couldn't. He wasn't real. This was in her dream. A soft harp played in the distance; Riyarra caught a glimpse of Gayne sitting in the shade of a maple tree playing a small lap harp. He wore the same summer silk shirt and fwasir skirt outfit he had in previous dreams. When she turned back, Mule was gone. She was alone again on the hillside.

"Therrre is a price, to thine choiccce," Came a familiar bestial voice. Riyarra turned around and found a savage tribal man wearing the skin of a red wolf like a cloak. His dark brown body was bare, and he walked with a gnarled oak staff that dangled tied feathers from the top. He approached with a grunt at climbing the hill, and glanced around the peaceful area. "This will not last." He growled, and set his deep yellow eyes on hers.

"You shouldn't be here." She started to argue but found her lucidity disappearing the longer he looked at her. "Mm...what choice?"

"He saved thy life." The man said. "Choose to deny the demon within, and it will kill thee. The price must be paid." He said no more, and left the hill and the meadow. A gentle touch turned her from the confusion of his presence, and she found Gayne welcoming her with open arms. Riyarra settled her head in against his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Hold me," she whispered onto his silk covered chest. "For now..."

Daybreak brought with it an overcast sky. The Eltharian girls found themselves alone by the river. Their guest had disappeared in the evening. Lysia sat up and started to dress, but Riyarra stared up at the grey sky. She didn't want to bother her queen's wandering thoughts, but when she had finished dressing all that was left to pack was the bedroll and blanket which Riyarra occupied.

"Your grace?" She asked demurely. "The day requires your presence." Lysia said in a formal tone.

"Mhmm." Riyarra replied with a singular arched eyebrow and a smirk of mirth. "Ask it to reschedule, I'll be out falconing." In a flash she was up and dressed before Lysia could tie up the bedroll and stuff it and the blanket into their pack. "I have a good feeling about today. Our troubles should ease some."

Clothed and packed, they removed the last signs of their presence and continued their northward trek. Riyarra finally revealed the previous day's discovery to the girl.

"What I know of the Leaf Knights is that they are only used in force, and do not run scout patrols. Their abilities are the envy of all, and are never revealed without cause." Lysia commented as Riyarra set the pace for their hike through the woods. She didn't reply to the girl's statement, but just gave her a knowing smile. Riyarra had been a Leaf Knight. They patrolled and they scouted – they were just never caught at it.

The rest of the day came and went as one grey, overcast hour under the pines turned into another. The sun was hard to locate at times, as patches of dark clouds mingled with the rest. A cold wind picked up in the early evening and foretold of the storm that would soon be upon

them.

"Shall we find shelter?" Lysia said. Riyarra's abrupt hand signal for silence ended the question. The wind picked up again, there was a smell on it she didn't recognize, but Riyarra did.

With slow, calm gestures Riyarra pointed to a dense patch of ferns under a fallen trunk. Lysia didn't need any more coaching and she quickly ducked under it and hid as best she could. She kept Riyarra in sight. Her queen slowly drew her swords from her sides and crept silently forward. Whatever it was, it was at ground level; Riyarra's attention was at the trees and brush. She watched Riyarra's slow catlike stalking with trepidation as she expected something to jump out at any time.

A rustle in the bush made her skin crawl as Riyarra froze mid-strep. A black boar poked its head out and sniffed the air in their direction. Its long tusked snout snuffled the ground for a bit before it ambled forward. It was over a dozen feet away, and seemed more interested in what it smelled on the ground than the Eltharian elf standing in plain sight with one foot in the air. Riyarra jumped at it and the beast bolted.

"Keep going! I'll find you!" Riyarra shouted as she gave chase. The two disappeared around a giant redwood before Lysia could protest.

"By myself?!" She shouted, but no response came. Fear hit her suddenly along with the realization she was alone in the wilds with no means to defend herself. Her protector had gone off on a sudden urge to hunt and left her behind.

"Young lady, we need to have a talk about responsibility when you get back." Lysia huffed and stood up. She searched for the closest suitable fallen branch and fashioned a crude walking stick light enough to swing with one hand. Riyarra and the boar were gone, and rather than try to find them she heeded her queen's command and continued in the direction they had been traveling. If there were Eltharians out here, they would find her before she found them.