head, the air warm and fragrant, and the birdsong a bright tril-
ling against the rush of the ocean on the rocks. Faun chittered
from somewhere close by. She rose to look, and found the Tree
Squeak sitting on a rock and pulling at a vine so it could nibble
its leaves. Triss still slept, and Stresa was nowhere to be seen.
Spirit sat out at the edge of cliff, his fierce eyes gazing out at
the empty waters.
Tiger Ty appeared from behind the bird and ambled over.
He handed her a sack with fruit and bread and motioned her
away from the sleeping Triss. She rose, and they walked to sit
in the shade of a palm.
“Rested now?” he asked, and she nodded. “Eat come of this.
You must be starved. You look as if you haven’t eaten in days.”
She ate gratefully, then accepted the ale jug he offered and
drank until she thought she would burst. Faun turned to watch,
eyes bright and curious.
“You seem to have gathered up some new friends,” Tiger Ty
declared as she finished. “I know the Elf and the Splinterscat by
name, but what’s this one called?”
“Her name is Faun. She’s a Tree Squeak.” Wren’s eyes locked
on his. “Thanks for not leaving us, Tiger Ty. I was counting on
you.”
“Ha!” he snorted. “As if I would miss the chance of finding
out how things had worked out! But I admit I had my doubts,
girl. I thought your foolishness might have outstripped your fire.
Looks like it almost did.”
She nodded. “Almost.”
“I came back looking for you every day after the volcano
blew. Saw it erupt twenty miles out. I said to myself, she’s got
something to do with that, you mark me! And you did, too,
didn’t you?” He grinned, face crinkling like old leather. “Any-
way, we circled about once a day, Spirit and me, searching for
you. Had just finished last night’s swing when we saw your light.
Might have left, otherwise. How did you do that, anyway?” He
pursed his lips, then shrugged. “No, hold off, don’t tell me.
That’s the Land Elf magic at work or I miss my guess. It’s better
I don’t know.”
He paused. “In any case, I’m very glad you’re safe.”
She smiled in acknowledgment, and they sat silently for a
moment, looking at the ground. Fiching birds cwooped and dove
across the open waters like white arrows, wings cocked back,
and long necks extended. Faun came down from her perch to
crawl up Wren’s arm and burrow into her shoulder.
“I guess your big friend didn’t make it,” Tiger Ty said finally.
Garth. The pain of the memory brought tears to her eyes.
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I think maybe you’ll feel his loss a long time,
won’t you?” The shrewd eyes slid away. “Some kinds of pain
don’t heal easily.”
She didn’t speak. She was thinking of her grandmother and
Eowen, of the owl and Gavilan Elessedil, of Cort and Dal, all
lost in the struggle to escape Morrowindl, all a part of the pain
she carried with her. She stared out over the water into the
distance, searching the skyline. She found what she was search-
ing for finally, a dark smudge against the horizon where Mor-
rowindi burned slowly to ash and rock.
“And what of the Elves?” Tiger Ty asked. “You found them,
I guess, judging from the fact that one of them came with you.”
She looked back at him again, surprised by the question,
forgetting momentarily that he had not been with her. “Yes, I
found them.”
“And Arborlon?”
“Arborlon as well, Tiger Ty.”
He stared at her a moment, then shook his head. “They
wouldn’t listen, would they? They wouldn’t leave.” He an-
nounced it matter-of-factly, undisguised bitterness in his voice.
“Now they’re all gone, lost. The whole of them. Foolish people.”
Foolish, indeed, she thought. But not lost. Not yet. She tried
to tell Tiger Ty about the Loden, tried to find the words, but
couldn’t. It was too hard to speak of any of it just now. She was
still too close to the nightmare she had left behind, still floun-