The gryphlets boiled out of their nest as the quartet approached, hysterical with fear, so completely incoherent that not even their parents could get any sense out of them. They simply crowded under the adults' wings, pressing as closely to their bodies as they could, whimpering and trying to hide.
This, of course, did not help at all, but the little ones were too terrified to be reasoned with.
Darkwind couldn't tell if something had frightened them directly, or if they had linked in with their parents and experienced what had happened to the adult gryphons indirectly.
Whatever had happened, it rendered them completely irrational, and also turned them into complete nuisances.
He wanted to comfort them-and Hydona was nearly frantic with maternal worry-but they were in the way, underfoot, and demanding the total attention and protection of their parents, neither of whom were in any shape to give it.
Finally, in desperation, he tried the only one of them who wasn't already fully occupied. "Vree!" he called, hoping the bird might be able to at least chase the little ones out of the way.
The gyre came down from his protective circle above them in a steep dive, braking to a claws-out landing on the top of one of the stones. He looked sharply at the shivering, meeping gryphlets, and opened his beak to give a peculiar, piercing call.
The little ones looked straight at him, suddenly silent. Then they resumed their cries, but ran away from their parents and straight for Vree.
Vree, for his part, hopped down to a rock that stood just shoulderheight to the youngsters; he spread his wings and the little ones huddled up to the rock, one on either side, trying to cower under his wings the tone of their cries changing from frantic to merely distressed. Vree replied to them with reassuring chirps of his own, "protecting" them with his wings.
It would have been funny, if the little ones hadn't been in such distress.
Whatever the cause of their fear, it could be dealt with later, once Treyvan and Hydona were settled into their nest, and the hertasi Healer brought to help them.
He left Treyvan leaning up against the stones with Vree and the little ones, while he helped Hydona into the nest-area to clean her wing wound.
The bolt had passed completely through the wing, leaving a ragged, round hole. It needed a Healer; there was no way for him to bandage it properly. and it continued to ooze blood, despite the primitive pressure-bandage he put on it. She clamped her beak shut and obviously tried not to complain, but moaned softly despite her best efforts as he bound the cloth in place. Darkwind found himself sweating and apologized clumsily for her pain. He returned to help Treyvan into the nest, keeping the little ones back until the still-unsteady gryphon had settled himself.
"I'm going to get the Healer," he said. "Do you want me to leave Vree with you?"
"Yesss," Treyvan sighed, as the forestgyre herded the youngsters in with all the skill of an expert nursemaid. "If it would not leave you in danger. He issss much help. And after thisss," he concluded, with a hint of his old sense of humor, "I may even give him my cressst featherssss."
One thing at a time, he told himself First the gryphons, then the little ones-and then I find out who and why-and what this attack on them really means.
One thing is certain. the quiet we've been enjoying was just a momentary lull. We're in for more and worse trouble; I can feel it.
He had felt trouble ahead, like the ache before a storm in once-broken bones. Like a storm, that trouble would strike-and with no warning where or when. He little thought that this time the fury would strike straight at his heart.
He gave Nera and the rest of the hertasi a brief explanation of what had happened, while Nyara listened unobtrusively in the background.
The Healer, Gesta, left halfway through without waiting for permissionso like the Healers of the Tayledras that Darkwind had to smile.
No one gave them orders either, and they were not much inclined to wait for permission when they thought their services were needed. Vree came winging in over the swamp just after he answered the last of the lizard people's questions-mostly concerned with their own safety, and what, if anything, they could do to safeguard it.
With Vree back, there was no reason to postpone his regular patrol-and every reason to complete it. There might be traces of those invadersthey might even still be within Tayledras territory, though Darkwind doubted it. In the past, those who had invaded to strike at the Hawkbrothers generally moved in, made whatever action they had come to take, and moved out again.
And there was still no telling if this was a danger to the Tayledras, or simply the foolishness of a trophy-hunter.
But when in doubt-assume the worst. The Hawkbrothers stayed alive by that rule, and it had always been the precept Darkwind operated on.
He went over his ground with eyes sharpened by anxiety, looking for traces of the interlopers.
He found only vague tracks, places where something had passed through, but the ground was too dry to hold marks, and it was impossible to tell what had made those traces. It could have been the marksman and his (presumed) companion; a thread caught on a thorn showed it was not simply an animal, despite the trace of lynx hair below it.
At sunset he completed the last of his circuits, being replaced by Starsong, Wintermoon's current lover. He thought she looked at him strangely when she passed him-a pitying glance as she vanished into the underbrush. He puzzled over that odd expression as he headed back toward his ekele, thinking only of changing, getting food for himself and Vree, and going back to the gryphons.
But as he hurried up the path, Vree suddenly swooped down in front of him, crying a warning. He froze, one hand on his dagger, as a manshaped shadow separated itself from the rest of the shadows beneath the trees.
Then Vree swerved away, his cry changing from warning to welcome. as a huge, cloud-white owl rose on silent wings to meet him. Darkwind's hand fell from the hilt of his dagger, as he recognized Wintermoon's bird K'Tathi.
"Brother-" he called softly. "What brings you out here? I thought you were on hunt-duty for a while." Wintermoon said nothing; only came forward. slowly, worriedly searching Darkwind's face with his eyes. "Then-you have not heard?" Darkwind shook his head, alarmed by his brother's expression, and his words. "Heard? No-nothing from the Vale, anyway. Why?
What-" Wintermoon clasped Darkwind in his arms, in a rare display of emotion and affection. "Little brother-oh, little brother, I wish it were not so... I grieve for you, sheyna. Dawnfire... is dead." He searched his brother's face... and saw only regret. Darkwind was prepared for almost anything but that. He stood within the protection of his older brother's arms, and tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
"Dawnfire? But-this was her rest day! She wasn't even going to leave her ekele, she told me so! Surely you must be mistaken."
"No," Wintermoon said, his voice soft with seldom-heard compassion." No, there is no mistake. She was found in her ekele-" Then it hit him, with all the force of a blow to the gut. ' No!" he shouted, pulling away and staring at Wintermoon wildly.
"No! It can't be! I don't believe you!" But Wintermoon's pitying expression-exactly like Starsong's-told him the truth that he did not want to hear.