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"...A full moon shines this night..., as it has before..., and will again. The dawn star approaches and as long as we have breathe in our hearts, we shall see it. But for now..., tonight, we shall know and remember under the stars that guide us...." A hush ripples through the gathered as the soft spellbinding voice centers on a young elven woman walking unhurried toward what passed for a stage in the small tavern. It was mildly surprising to hear such a gently resonant yet untrained voice from such a slight athletic frame. She leans against the raised platform, her head slightly above those seated, the torchlight gleaming iridescently off her silvered hair, which undulates in the occasional swirl of fresh air. "...Some of you know me.... Though my name is not important, my story is...; for many of us it is our story, our memory, and our calling. It is how we have found one another in the depths of the forest and now run side by side. If you would listen, let me remind you...." The magic of her voice and her story engulfs your consciousness; awash in memory, your story begins. A cold breeze creeps beneath the nape of your tunic; you pull it tighter as the forest welcomes the depths of the night. Mist eddies capriciously around the leather cuffs of your boots; as you descend the heavily forested hillside, the mist thickens, gathering its cohorts from amidst the shadows and sounds of the night. Glancing up from your path you wonder at the urgency of your destination. Your almost waking cognizance suggests a futile question…where…when you suddenly notice that the little moonlight remaining had faded, lost to the mist and dispersed by the thick limbs of the ancient conifers. Conifers, the like of which few remained present in the world. They had stood long before the age of man, a sheltered and hidden remnant of an ancient forest, swaying beneath the gentle caress of the moonlit night. Your boots become heavy and your breaths hale short. The night had grown and now, no goal, none but for that which pulses through your veins, leaving the bloody taste of fear in your mouth. When had you started running..., you wonder briefly as you run blindly downstream. A low-hanging limb suddenly looming from the darkness before you lifts you from your feet to plunge into the swiftly flowing water. A howl sounds as a pack of eyes follow your movement in the river, their grayish green eyes keen and their tongue’s lolling. Surrendering yourself to the flow of unconsciousness, they shadow your journey on either side of the banks. Pebbles roll beneath your shoulder as the stream urges you back toward your native lands. You drag yourself from the water pooling in the quiet alcove. The wolves flank you, but no longer do their eyes gleam wary. The night had grown old and the light of the moon had faded completely in anticipation of the coming dawn, leaving the stars to watch their own. The forest beckons you to come, and unresisting you comply, sets of paws pacing your lengthening stride. Your feet become light and you breathe easier. Running again, dangerously, a frantic exhilarating pace, dodging trees and branches as you lope past, just inches away..., but towards what? At last you come to a panting halt and fall to the ground scraping your knees and hands. You notice your nose is bleeding, feeling the warm blood trickle over your lips. You raise your hand to wipe the iron tang away and pause staring beyond your hand. You try to rise. A beautiful voice calls - in a lilting tone that wanes to leave a profound silence. A figure rises from her throne - an ash tree that had bent to accommodate her form. Words could not describe her ethereal presence, her hair floating in the light breeze. Lost in the shifting depths of her eyes; her smile nigh shatters your heart. She gracefully beckons you to take her hand and stand beside her beneath the stars of dawn. Hesitating and trembling, you realize that her touch is warm and gentle. A contented peace fills your soul. She gestures toward the canopy of stars above - tracing shapes in the air. Following her gaze, shapes begin emerging with her subtle movements, even as her presence faded into the realm of lost dreams. Watching the chosen ones take shape through heavy lids, an elusive thought caresses your mind - the stars, 'I can see them through her.' Her fading form leans to whisper in your ear..., you had almost forgotten the magic of her voice. "...Many of us here remember this dream; but when we ran as wolves, there were already others to greet us..., so I ask you to remember the first...." ...Again, your consciousness is swept into the seas of memory. Your eyes open to stare at the whorls in the split timbers on the inn bed above you. That lady... You shake your head bemused..., 'such a vivid dream all those shapes she had drawn - I can almost see them.' The first few nights you had hoped to reclaim that dream, to remember it in its entirety; ironic, now, that nothing would stop its coming. Indeed you ran, running in fear, but this time, alone, the mist grew but no wolves materialized to pace you, nor would your fear ease. Waking sweating yet again, you content yourself with the fact that you had yet to fail to wake yourself from what had become a nightmare. Freeing yourself from the clasping sheets, you try to steady your breathing as you reach for a quill. Journaling has helped but the fear of going mad lingers. And so you continue your nightly vigil, sleeping intermittently, watching for the faint outlines of the constellations drawn in the thumb-worn journal. On the night the first star gleams, a wolf joins you to pace vigil in the dark. "...Never forget my friends, you are not alone. Vendui lueth alluve, kaima eithel - sleep well."

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