Caitlin Stewart

Earth

Sunday, March 19th, 2062

Late Morning

The Atlanta Metropolis, USA

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Caitlin glared at the detective. "The only clue you have is these leaves, and you don't even know what they are?"

"Ma'am, these things take time. We know they aren't from any common local plants, which is good news."

"Explain," Seamus insisted.

"Well, if they were oak leaves, that wouldn't tell us anything. Georgia is full of oaks. Rarer plants, or those only common farther away, give us a lead to follow."

"Only if you can find out what they are," Caitlin cut back in. Seamus put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off; she didn't want to calm down. "You only need one of the leaves for your analysis, right? Give the other one to us; we'll do our own search."

The detective grimaced. "Ma'am, I can't just hand over evidence from a crime scene."

"Oh?" Her voice went frosty. "You just got done telling us that you weren't sure a crime had even been committed. This isn't Schrodinger's Box, young man. It can't be both a crime scene and not a crime scene. Pick one."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, that is a false dichotomy; there are more than two—"

"Pick. One." Caitlin had decades of experience in wrangling recalcitrant youngsters. She hadn't had much chance to use her Angry Mother Voice since Eve moved out, but it was still as potent as ever. Seamus, ever the supportive husband, let out a low rumble deep in his broad chest.

"I—" the young man looked from Caitlin to her husband and back. His shoulders sagged, then he rose from his chair and said, "I need to go to the bathroom. If you're not here when I get back, I doubt I'll count the number of leaves in that bag very closely."

As soon as the detective left the room, Caitlin pounced. Pulling a small journal out of her purse, she carefully extracted one of the mysterious leaves from the evidence bag and placed it between the pages. Then she closed the book, wrapped a rubber band around it to keep it closed, and returned it to her purse.

"Safe?" Her husband asked.

"The pages are made of recycled plastic; they shouldn't react to it or leach out anything," Caitlin replied. "Now, let's leave before that nice young man gets back."

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Anwn

The Realms

Seventhday, 2nd week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Late Afternoon

Near Ceallach Macht, Mistvale Highlands

Anwn crested the last hill just behind Sings-The-Stars'-Songs. Watcher, Windrunner, and Redfox followed behind her. Tears stung her eyes when she saw the ruined city stretched out in the valley below her. Every centaur in the tribe lost friends and family here, but few felt the sorrow as profoundly as she did. In addition to the centaurs who died, the Taig slew more than half of her pack-brothers and pack-sisters. These four were all that was left of her family now.

As if sensing her thoughts, Starsong rubbed her head against Anwn's flank, and the others quickly followed suit. "You are the Matriarch, and we love you," their posture and actions told her. "You are our sister Never-Fails-A-Hunt, and we will always love you."

Their message helped, but not enough. Anwn remembered leaving the fiery Hell that had been the altar chamber, following the trails of ashes back up the hallway. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she recalled the sight that greeted her there, the crumpled and broken forms of the family that insisted on helping defend her other pack.

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Anwn

Fourthday, 1st week of the 8th month, Godless Age 597

Dawn

Ceallach Macht, Mistvale Highlands

Loves-To-Dance, Awaits-The-Rising-Sun, and Patient-Beyond-Reason lay in a pile, each facing a different direction. Anwn knelt beside them, checking for a pulse, but they were all dead. Fangs-Gleaming-Bright and Voice-Like Thunder were nearby, severed vines strewed around them. They, too, lacked a pulse. A whimper drew her attention, and Anwn spun, eyes seeking in the dimly-lit tunnel. There! Against the wall was a gray wolf with white paws. "Ceirios! " Anwn screamed, "Ceirios, hurry!"

Paws-Soft-As-Snow whined again as Anwn approached and reached out to touch his head. Now that she was next to him, she could see how his back bent at an unnatural angle. "No," she wept, "no, no, no, not you too!" His breath came in wheezing gasps, but her closest friend and pack-brother licked her hand as Anwn stroked his snout.

She wasn't sure how long she knelt there before Ceirios laid a hand on her shoulder. "Let me see him," the heavy-set centaur whispered. Anwn shifted to the side, kneeling down in front of Snowy and settling his head into her lap. Wet tears splashed down onto his fur as Ceirios ran her hands along the wolf's flanks. "Anwn..." she whispered after a moment, "I am sorry, but these Wounds are beyond me. A broken arm is one thing, but his back is broken, and it feels like he has broken ribs puncturing his lungs." A sob tore its way out of Anwn's throat and her hands clenched in the fur around Snowy's neck.

"I can ease his pain, but nothing more. I am sorry, Anwn, but he will not last long enough for a better healer to reach us." Ceirios chanted a spell. A few seconds later, Paws-Soft-As-Snow let out a shuddering breath and the pain cleared from his eyes. Anwn heard Ceirios rise and walk away, but she had no attention to spare for the mage.

"I should never have let you come," Anwn whispered to her pack-brother, "I should have made you stay at home." Even as the words left her mouth, however, she knew that they were false. She wouldn't have been able to keep him away; of all the wolves of Goldeneyes' pack, Snowy spent the most time with her. She loved all her pack-siblings, but her bond with Paws-Soft-As-Snow was special, unique. The only time they spent apart was when Anwn attended a Council session. He would never agree to let her go into battle alone, and she would never refuse him.

Anwn stroked Snowy's snout and scratched his neck and ears, trying to convey her love for him. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, occasionally twisting to lick at her hands as they passed. He stared up at her, gaze unblinking, and Anwn knew that he had no regrets. After a short eternity, Paws-Soft-As-Snow gave a final shudder and the light left his eyes. Anwn lifted her head and howled her grief to all who could hear.

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Anwn

Seventhday, 2nd week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Late Afternoon

Near Ceallach Macht, Mistvale Highlands

The feeling of sharp canine teeth pressed against her hand brought Anwn back to the present. Starsong let go of her hand and barked at her. "Thank you," Anwn told her pack-sister, scratching the wolf behind her ears. "Come on, we still need to find somewhere to set up our new home."

Anwn set off down the hill at a trot. Her pack formed up around her, with Starsong reclaiming the vanguard, Watches-The-Skies and Fur-Like-A-Red-Fox to her flanks, and Runs-Fast-As-The-Wind taking his ironic position as the rearguard. While she ran, Anwn thought back to Aidan's return to the village. He came while Goldeneyes lay on his death-bed, sick with grief over losing so many children. Anwn hadn't wanted to deal with him then, but Aidan surprised her when he asked to be brought to the wolves' grave.

"What were their names?" He asked of her, and she told him. She watched, amazed, as the human she once voted to execute knelt beside the grave, tears flowing down his face, and memorized her fallen pack-siblings' names. "Fangs-Gleaming-Bright; Brightfang. Awaits-The-Rising-Sun; Sunny. Loves-To-Dance; Dancer. Patient-Beyond-Reason; Patience. Voice-Of-Thunder; Thunder. Paws-Soft-As-Snow; Snowpaw, Snowy. Fangs-Gleaming-Bright..."

He remained there for half an hour, whispering their names over and over to himself. When he rose at last, he told Anwn, "I will not forget their sacrifice. I know they were family to you, even if the others in the tribe think of them as your pets or trained beasts. I'm..." his voice broke then, and he swallowed. "I'm sorry I couldn't save them. I swear to you, if they'd been in the range of my spell, I would have brought them back, too."

Those words, those actions, swirled around in Anwn's thoughts for the following weeks. Every time she balked at something Aidan brought before the Council, she remembered the pain and heartache in his eyes and his voice. She remembered that, of all the hundreds of Starchasers, only Aidan and Brighid paid their respects to her kin. "He is not pack or tribe," she told herself, "but... maybe he could be."

Where once she was adamant in her opposition to the human, Anwn found herself going over his plans and suggestions in greater detail, considering each element on its own merits. She still voted against him as often as not, but she had good reasons for it when she did, and he recognized that. Several times, he and his Vassal, Ailis—Anwn still wasn't sure what to think of that particular revelation—worked with her to draft or re-draft proposals. Where once she was in the traditionalist faction with Eilwen, Anwn found to her own surprise that she now led the moderates.

She did not like the attention that brought to her, but duty was duty. The worst of it was the contention for Ailis's Council seat; the political fighting was fierce. The mages wanted to retain their seat but were torn over who should represent them. Ceirios was the most popular of the eligible adults, but she was tainted by her proximity to Aidan. While the whole tribe knew that he was the reason they still lived, the majority faction still distrusted him. Old prejudices died hard.

And, of course, the mages weren't the only ones putting forward candidates. The crafters, farmers and herders, and artists each wanted direct representation. While the Council represented the interests of the Starchasers as a whole, the Councillors naturally were most familiar with their own fields, and thus represented those interests better. Technically, the Council chose the successor to any seat that opened up. This was a place where tradition bordered on law, however, and in practice, the tribe as a whole decided the matter. The segments of the populace that already had representation on the Council would speak to their Councillor, and the Councillor would follow their guidance.

From speaking to the others, Anwn knew that the warriors were near-unanimous in their support for Ceirios if she won out the mages' nomination. While the whole tribe knew that Aidan saved them, the soldiers experienced it. If there was any single faction wholeheartedly behind the human, it was them. Despite being a progressive himself, Aidan didn't enjoy as much support from Gerwyn's traders; they favored the crafters' candidate, Artur. The tribe's mothers were undecided still, vacillating between the farmer and crafter candidates.

Many of Anwn's hunters and patrol guards were present for the Battle of Ceallach Macht as well, so there was a significant push among her constituents to elevate Ceirios, but the matter wasn't decided yet. They tended to be both more independent and more xenophobic than others, so a large group supported Ceitidh, the farmers' and herders' candidate. Anwn herself had yet to take a side; she wanted to see who the mages actually nominated.

A howl distracted Anwn from her ruminations. It didn't come from her pack; the sound echoed off the hills. She titled her head, listening, trying to sort out the message. Unlike the languages of humanoids, wolf howls were, for the most part, specific to each pack. There were a few shared phrases to use as greetings or warnings, though, and Anwn raised her voice in a howl of her own, announcing her presence to the resident pack.

Her pack-siblings joined her, effortlessly harmonizing with her as she sang the song of greeting. By doing so, they told the local pack that they had no hostile intentions and asked permission to enter their territory. There was still a chance that the other wolves would chase them off, but the answering greeting dispelled that worry.

Several minutes later, a group of five large, shaggy wolves loped out of the brush and into the clearing where Anwn waited with her siblings. Good, she thought, they brought equal numbers. They are showing respect. The lead wolf was bigger than any of her pack, even Goldeneyes in his prime, and had fur the color of charcoal with light grey tips. He sat down on his haunches and tilted his head at her.

"We greet you, Never-Fails-A-Hunt of Glowing-Eyes-Of-Gold's pack." Anwn's Beast Tongue Skill translated his posture and vocalizations into something she could understand, although she knew there were subtexts she was missing. "What brings your hunt so far from your territory?"

"We come hunting a new home, not food." Beast Tongue worked the same way in reverse, and the other wolves' ears perked up at Anwn's words. "Glowing-Eyes-Of-Gold is no longer among the living, and all that remains of his pack is before you." All nine wolves present laid their ears back and hunched down.

"We grieve for you, brothers and sisters. Yet, why do you hunt here?"

Anwn spread her hands. "My other pack, Those-Who-Chase-Dreams-Of-The-Stars, is relocating to the ancient city. As I am a Matriarch of that pack, I must move with them, and I would not leave my brothers and sister behind."

"Agreed," the wolf gave her the lupine equivalent of a nod. "I am Hunts-The-Darkness, and these hills are my territory." Anwn lowered herself at his words; she hadn't expected the pack leader to come himself.

"Forgive me, Patriarch. I do not challenge your dominance."

Hunts-The-Darkness approached Anwn. She held herself still, steeling her mind for what she knew was about to happen. A few seconds later, she felt Darkhunter's sharp teeth close around her neck. If he wanted, he could kill her now, though her pack-siblings would get their revenge on him. Instead, after the briefest possible display of dominance, he released Anwn and said, "Lift your head, Never-Fails-A-Hunt. You and your pack have done much to aid mine. You are welcome here."

Anwn raised her eyes and saw Darkhunter sitting on his haunches a mere foot from her, panting with his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. "Tell me," he continued, "do you seek to establish your own territory here, or are you looking to join my pack?"

Anwn replied, "I did not know another pack claimed this land; my original thought was to take it for my own. However, we are only five, and blood-related. If it would not overcrowd your den, it might be best for our packs to combine." She looked at her siblings for confirmation, which they gave.

Hunts-The-Darkness let out a huff of breath, the equivalent of a chuckle. "Until a few weeks ago, the only reason I held this territory is that no one else wanted it. My pack is small, and now that Fell-Dreams-That-Taint-The-Land is gone, there will be plenty of game and room for all of us." He rose and paced between Anwn and her siblings. "You would be fine additions to the pack. However, there is one problem."

"What problem is that, Patriarch?" Anwn asked.

"My mate died last winter in a failed hunt, and the only other females in my pack are my daughters. If our packs are to join, then I will need a new Matriarch."

Anwn looked at Starsong, who let out a huffing chuckle in response and gave her a nod. She turned back to Darkhunter and replied, "We cannot commit to that without getting to know you first, but we are not opposed."

"Then come!" He lifted his head and howled to the setting sun. "Come, sisters! Come, brothers! We run!"