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Another installation in my "Songs of the Night" series....Amaranth by Nightwish.....Someone dredged up a post I'd made on FA a long time ago as part of my own back-story and wanted more, so here's a bit more....

_**"Baptized with a perfect name

The doubting one by heart

Alone without himself...

War between him and the day

Need someone to blame

In the end, little he can do alone"**_

The wolf lay upon the melting snow of the plain, sides heaving, his breath misting in the frigid air, an icy knife and soothing chill within him at once. The battle was long over, the steaming rocks around him bearing evidence of both frost-rime and flame-char, the savory-sickly scent of scorched flesh wafting through the air. As his consciousness flickered in and out he whimpered softly remembering the past few days....the fire and the flame, the frost-crack and the snow gale, the howling and growling and helplessness of battle. The howls of his pack as one by one they died in the fire of their enemy. Who would have thought a mere flame-kit could ever reach such power much less begin a hunt that could very well destroy the world. The mist of memory wafted over his thoughts as he slowly rose and crept from the battlefield, tail held low, ear pinned back, his four paws burnt and bleeding and he thought back to then.

He remembered the birth of the flame-kit in the fires of the Mother's seething Blood within the mountain. He was there for his pack, the same way there was one from each of the other Houses. A shimmering silver unicorn for the Bringers of Spring standing proud and noble, though with a slight smile dancing over his lips, the playful laughter of one of the Otters of Summer bubbling over the landscape as the Mist-Fox of Autumn had gathered the little kit from the pool of magma, her soft paws clearing his eyes as the others laughed softly at the little growls and mewls, batting at her fingers with his burning paws, the tiny flames wafting over the soft grey fur. Each of them had given a blessing to the little kit, as was tradition. At the birth of a new elemental each of the Houses would send a representative to give a blessing and it was his turn, along with Morgana, the best of the midwives of the Mist-Foxes of Autumn, Cherit of the Summer Otters and Pheoton of the Unicorns of Spring. Each was surprised as the little kit opened his eyes and looked at each of them, a thing that had not happened before. Sky-blue, the little kits eyes looked at them, as if measuring them as they smiled down at him. And each had spoken over him the traditional blessings of their kind.

"May the Mists of illusion never cloud thy eyes" Morgana had whispered as she cleared his eyes of the magma of the Mother's heart-blood.

"May you find joy in all that you do." Pheaton had whickered as he touched his horn to the kit's forehead.

"May you grow strong and sure." Cherit churred as he brushed the kits cheek with his paw.

"And may you not know Death until one of my pack brings you to the last day." he had intoned, granting the gift of immortality as was his packs right and duty, for each elemental was born to be a guardian for the natural forces of the Earth, as each of them and their kindred had been born to keep the turning of the seasons.

His thoughts drifted again...later.....as his battered body moved deeper into the forest remaining, almost on it's own, the weeping pines bending their branches low to stroke his charred fur, each dryad within each tree adding her meager abilities to heal to him, the last of the Winter Wolves.

"Why did we think we could hide?" he softly whimpered to himself, caught in his own reverie and completely oblivious to the soft touches along his fur.

He and his mate had been the ones who had found hiding places for the last of the Houses....Morgana of the Mist-foxes, a tiny otter cub and a foal. They had paced the lands searching for someplace safe, for something hunted the Houses, taking them in the night or when they were alone, leaving nothing behind but tattered fur and a smear of blood. It seemed that each night the winged messengers of the Mother wept and yet they were forbidden from speaking anything other then a rede as they wept:

_"Born of the Mother,

Blessed by all,

The Hunter comes,

Before who all Time may fall.

The First children must they hide,

If all within the world would bide."_

Falling to the earth at the mouth of a burbling stream, his paw trailing in the water causing a wisp of ice to form upon is playing surface, he howled out his betrayal and pain before knowing no more.

_**"You believe but what you see

You receive but what you give

Caress the one, the Never-Fading rain in your heart

• the tears of snow-white sorrow

Caress the one, the hiding amaranth

In a land of the daybreak

Apart from the wandering pack

In this brief flight of time

we reach For the ones who ever dare"**_

The young otter crept through the byre of the forest, making his way to the edge of the lake. His tribe had seen the lights in the sky the previous time-past and had hid within their dwellings, for such things, all out of season, could only be the workings of the Gods and when Gods battle, mortals fall. They all knew that and were sure to stay well clear. Living here in the edge of the day-break was anything but sure and his tribe had long since adapted to such. He had awoken late in the night with a soft touch upon his cheek. Above him knelt a...male?....female?...he could not quite tell, though the figure was quite clear. Nor could he quite name what species he...she...seemed to be. Only that regardless of the tattered bandage bound around the figure's eyes, tears slowly slipped down the ivory cheek as words softly whispered in his head.

"Breaking the laws of Time I am, and punished I shall be, yet I love thee and the world too much to let it fall into Darkness. Seek thee the one that lays wounded by the rill and assist, and in time I pray that thou forgive me for the cost thou shall pay."

And with that the figure was gone.

So he found himself creeping though the dark wood, his little ears alert for the sounds of an enemy, his frail fish-spear clutched in his paws. Reaching the edge of the wood, he listened to the burble of the stream for a moment, letting the whispered chucklings of the water wash over him as they always did. He always felt at peace here and touching the fur-tattoo on his shoulder then his lips he softly whispered a prayer.

"May the Water-Mother grant to me this day a successful hunt."

It was an adult's prayer, a hunter's prayer, yet today, mere hours before his adult-making ceremony, he felt safe offering it. After all, the Gods could not be offended if he gave them praise a few hours early, could they? Creeping along the bank of the stream he watched the water for the tell-tale ripples of trout and other fish, all the while wondering why the figure had told him to come. He wasn't sure if it had only been a dream or not, yet the figure's plea had ripped at his heart to the point where he simply had no choice but to creep from his parents lodge to go in search of whatever it meant. After all, at the worst he would come home with a sack full of fish for his adult-making ceremony this eve, and that was always a good omen.

A large trout leapt from the stream as if taunting him, it's silvery sides glistening in the growing dawn-light as it flipped around and inexplicably started to swim _down_stream. Giving a churr of pleasure, he leapt after the fat fish, chasing it down the stream, his eyes never leaving it's shining body until suddenly he tripped over a root, sprawling in the mud along the bank. Wiping the sticky ooze from his muzzle, he looked in vain for the glittering fat fish, finally seeing it give a mighty leap from the mouth of the stream into the deep water that pooled above the beaver dam. He growled softly in anger, for the fish would have made a fine addition to his adult-making feast this eve, before he looked around.

"Well, maybe it's not a total loss..." he grinned, regaining his usual good humor as he saw the bright golden heads of amaranth flowers nodding in the breeze around him. Such gave his tribe seeds that were pounded into flour and then into bread and other edibles, giving them food in times when fish were scarce. His Mother's crawfish-bread was much renowned in the village and she insisted that the secret was only using the seed of the golden amaranth to make the flour, going as far as to go collect and grind it herself to make sure those were the only seeds used. So, with glee, he started collecting the seeds from the heady flowers, for there was nothing that he loved more then his Mother's crawfish-bread warm from the oven, soft and crunchy, sweet and savory, all at the same time. His pouch was almost full when he heard a soft whimpering moan from the bank of the stream. Creeping closer he blinked, not believing what he saw. Laying on the bank there was a wounded wolf, yet a strange one. He knew the shape of the ears and muzzle, the bushy tail, yet this wolf seemed to be formed strangely. If he didn't know better he would swear that this wolf could never stand upright as did the Pack that his tribe occasionally traded with, but would run on FOUR legs. He had never seen such a one in his entire life...and he doubted that any in his tribe had either. It simply wasn't natural to his experience, yet he crept closer, the lupine...if that's what it was....panting and whimpering softly as it lay there next to the stream, a paw trailing in the...frozen??...water.

He had always been what his brothers teased him as being softhearted. If he ever found a wounded animal in the wood, he was sure to bring it home to show his Mother and ask for her help nursing it to health, be it sparrow or badger. He knew the way of the tribe and had no problem with killing what was needed to survive, yet he had never been able to turn away from a creature that was suffering from accident, ignoring the jibes and teasing of his brothers, even fiercely turning on them when they would come near to "put it out of its misery" though most other times he was as meek as milk, something that would earn a soft chuckle and a smile from his Father for him, and a sharp cuff against the ear for his brothers. He crept closer, his heart fluttering in his chest like a sparrow's wings, knowing that no matter what it looked like or how "deformed" it looked to him, it could easily turn on him, yet there was something there that tugged at his heart...his very soul...though he didn't understand what the feeling was. Unconsciously, he began churring under his breath the healing chant used by the wise-one of his village. He had always found it soothing and hoped that this wolf...thing...would find it so as well. Reaching it's side, he reached out a paw and stroked it softly over the wolf's ears, trying to soothe it's obvious pain.

"Water-Mother, help me to aid..." he muttered under his breath while at the same time the wolf raised it's muzzle and whined before dropping it back down. Little did he know what that whine meant, for as the little otter offered his prayer, the wolf had offered his own, that simple whine laden with meaning.

"Ancient One of Frost, a new danger comes...aid me before I die...PLEASE." the wolf begged with his whine as he looked up at the brown soft-furred face before dropping his head once more, spent.

The daybreak light seemed to grow dimmer and the little otter shivered as air seemed to chill, a movement on the water catching his keen eyes. Standing upon the water was a female of shifting species, from fox to stoat to wolf to otter and seemingly all others, Her gown a ripple of shifting currents, a mist of snowfall drifting about Her as she stood watching the pair, a look of infinite kindness on Her face. Reaching out a paw, She smiled at each of them, whispering softly, the faint shadows of two other female shapes behind Her.

_ "To have and to hold,

Immortal to mortal,

Be as the innocent believes thou should be,

Healed and Hidden from thy enemy"_

Leaning down, She stroked the wolf's ears softly before She simply faded away with the growing light of breaking day, leaving nothing behind but a ripple in the water.

The little otter's eyes grew wide as he held the wolf's head in his lap, stroking his ears as the snowy-furred canine looked up at him weakly for a moment his ice-blue eyes meeting those of the boy's before closing in pain as his back arched and he whimpered low in his chest, his entire body arcing backwards as his entire body rippled like water, reforming itself. The otter sat in terror as he watched, hearing the pop and grind of bone and muscle shifting and reforming, yet not daring to move because of his fear. Closing his eyes hard he held the wolf's head tightly against his body, eyes watering with unshed tears at the sounds of pain coming from the wounded canine. Finally the terrible sounds stopped, the wolf's breath panting heavily against his chest and he dared open his eyes.

Looking down, he saw a proper wolf...the body having lengthened, proper hand and foot paws where they should be. Though bound around the soft snowy fur of the wolf's throat was a golden choker inset with carved roses of some glittering blue gemstone instead simply the soft fur.

"Sapphires, I think they are called..." he thought to himself, vaguely remembering a long ago trader to his village who had worn such stones, as the wolf looked up at him, his ice-blue eyes slowly darkening to a deep burnished gold, a gaze filled with infinite sorrow as the wolf took a deep breath and pulled he otter close, burying his muzzle in the soft brown chest and weeping as if his heart were broken.

_**"Reachin', searchin' for something untouched

Hearing voices of the Never-Fading callin'

Callin'...Callin'"**_

After a time, the wolf finally looked up, his golden eyes, ""Hadn't they been blue before?" he though to himself" tear-streaked, yet where his fur should have been wet was simply frozen in the warm spring morning. Gripped with a sudden terror of all that had occurred, the otter leapt up, running off, leaving the wolf weeping softly on the bank of the stream.

As usual, his brothers teased him as he came back to the village, pushing aside their loincloths to show him their proud scars of adult-hood and making him blush.

"Well, I'll get mine tonight!" he muttered to himself, completely putting the strange events of the morning from his mind as he dumped the pouch of seeds into the grinding-bowl for his Mother before he started off to the wise-one's hut, as was traditional for one undergoing the ceremony that eve. As he pushed the door-flap aside, the old wise-one looked up at him with rheumy eyes, the cloudy orbs reminding the boy of the fur of the wolf he had left weeping beside the stream and he shuddered slightly. Taking a deep breath and purposefully setting the thought aside with a muttered "I did what I could..." he pulled a smooth flat pebble, a hole worn in the center from the water of the stream from his pouch, the traditional gift for the wise-one on a adult-day, he asked the question he had be taught.

"What see you, wise-one, for me? Shall I bring honor to the tribe and my family?"

The wise-one snatched up the pebble in an aged paw, tossing it into a bowl filled with other oddements...rocks, feathers, bones, and a bit of the otter's own fur. The wise-one had known long before what was to come, yet cast the oracles anyway, hoping that the Water-Mother would see a way around what was lurking on the horizon. He...or she...the wise-one being so old and withered that no one in the village truly knew any longer...gathered up the bowl and, giving it a shake before casting the oracles upon the circle between them. The blind eyes looked into infinity, reading the waves of the Water-Mother's veil for this one and the wise-one sighed sadly before asking the traditional question.

"Whoulds't thou know thy fate?" the wise-one intoned, knowing the answer already.

The traditional answer of "Only the Water-mother knows one's fate" faltered on the otter's lips. What he said instead was a simple word, as the wise-one knew it would be.

"Yes."

"Then know, young Kilani, what thou hast found this day will prove both thy deepest sorrow and thy greatest salvation in the fullness of Time."

"Wha...what does that mean?" the otter stuttered, knowing that he had strayed from all important tradition with but a simple word.

"What it means is," The wise-one smiled tenderly, reaching up to caress the young otter's cheek with a wizened paw. "thou shalt spend this night by the stream, far from this village."

"But tonight is my CEREMONY!" he barked out before he could stop himself.

"Even such, thou art sworn to abide by my rede in this, on this day." The wise-one almost growled. "As I decree, thou shalt do, or never shall thy be an adult!" the wise-one growled, cuffing him along the ear as if he was no more then a pup instead of an almost-adult.

"Ye..Yes, wise-one..." he stuttered, rubbing his stinging ear.

"Yet..." the wise-ones voice softened as he/she reached out and took his paw. "I give you a riddle. What does both the winter and the spring feel for the seed...what holds one in bondage, yet sets one free?"

"I..I don't know what you mean..." he stuttered, completely confused. This was NOT how things were supposed to go at all. Not at least by what he had been told by his Father and brothers.

"You shall find the answer this night....may the Water-Mother go with thee." the old seer intoned the traditional farewell.

He stumbled from the wise-one's hut more bewildered then when he had entered, not quite knowing how he had even ended up at the door-flap. Making his way back to his parent's hut he wondered at the old seer's words. What did they mean....what he had found would be his sorrow and salvation? All he had found today was....the wolf. Maybe THAT was where the wise-one meant he was to spend his night....taking care of the wolf and his hurts. He could think of worse things then to end up being a healer for the village, though Water-Mother knew that a Healer felt more sorrow then anyone else in the village even though She knew they needed one. Since the old one had fallen from a cliff and died, the village had had to make do with what healing-lore the wise-one knew...while much, not nearly what a REAL Healer would be able to do. Perhaps this is was his trial, for he had heard that one that would be a Healer would face a great trial before coming into their abilities.

Making his way back home, he told his Mother what the wise-one had told him to do and that his adult-making feast would have to be put off a night.

"Well, if that is what the wise-one has told you to do, then you'll do it..." she smiled at him, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

His Father and brothers however were not nearly as accepting.

"We spent the day hunting and gathering for NOTHING?" his eldest brother shouted.

"I KNEW he wasn't worth the time...." his second brother growled before their Father rounded on them and gave each a cuff along the ear as if they were still cubs.

"At least HE honors the wise-one....which is more then I can say for you two..." his Father had snarled, knocking each of his brothers down and standing over them glaring. "Do as you must, son...Water-Mother willing, we will still be here in the morn." He smiled at his son before turning back to the other two and glaring down at them as the young otter made his way back to the wood.

"I wouldn't want to be THEM right now..." he giggled to himself as he reached the edge of the wood. He had felt his Father's paw a few times himself...though not nearly as many times as his brothers.

He made his way through the wood to where he had left the wolf. For that MUST be the meaning of the wise-one's words. Along the way he gathered up what healing plants he knew, hoping that they would be what he needed, for he knew little of what a spirit-changed lupine might need of healing, much less what he could do. Finally he reached the edge of he stream, following it until he came upon the wolf.

He stopped at the edge of the small clearing, unsure what to do. The wolf sat on the bank, arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees, head down and still sobbing terribly. His wounds had seemed to have disappeared completely, so the otter was unsure what still pained him.

"Perhaps something within...." he thought. "Well, I have the herbs for that too...I think." he rummaged through his pack as he crouched in the weeds, assuring himself that he had everything he might need. Satisfying himself that he had what he needed, he padded softly to the wolf, reaching down a paw to rest between the drooped ivory ears. He jumped back as at his touch, the wolf threw back his head and gave a heart-rending howl, the otter noticing for the first time the blood oozing from the wolf's neck as if he had tried to claw the golden choker from about his throat.

He went into what his Mother called his "healer-midset" immediately.

"Now now...." he murmured soothingly, reaching into his pouch for a bit of soft cloth and a leaf of heal-all. Crushing the leaf between his fingers he wet the cloth with his water skin with his other paw, rubbing the leaf into the cloth before he started to gently clean the blood from the wolf's fur and scratches....all of which seemed to be self inflicted as if the wolf had been trying to claw off the glittering thing about his neck. His heart almost broke with the wolf's howling, wishing that he would look at him...yet at the same time dreading it, though he didn't know why.

"Tell....tell me what hurts...." he stuttered. "That way I can help." he tried to be as soothing as possible yet he still started back as the wolf turned to him and snarled.

"Can you bring back the dead?..." the wolf paused for a moment. "No? I thought not...." he laughed bitterly as he batted the otter's paws away and lowered his head to his knees. "My pack dead, my MATE dead, and I trapped in THIS shape....the Frost-Maiden despises me...." he whimpered softly as if to himself. "Oh...I get to LIVE..." he snarled as he looked up at the otter, reaching out to grab his still raised wrist. "But what good does it?"

His golden eyes met the sparkling green ones of the otter and the little mustelid felt himself falling into the pain-filled depths of molten gold. He suddenly had a vision of all that had happened to the wolf. He saw him running with a pack, snowy-coated like him...he was himself and yet the wolf at once somehow. He reveled in the hunt and felt the sorrow that touched the entire pack as they visited each old or hurt thing and brought the mercy of death. A task that they neither reveled in or took joy in, only satisfaction that it had been done, yet it was their purpose. Death-bringers....winter's wolves...where they ran the snow fell and the old and the sick lay down and died, yet other then those fleeting touches, they knew not death themselves. Until HE came. The Hunter. Taking the life of each in the pack, the way he had taken the life of each of the other Houses. Through stealth, through cunning, leaving behind blood and fur and the stench of magic gone wrong. In but a moment he relived the discovery of each of them...the summer otters, the autumn foxes...the spring unicorns. Left as nothing more then carrion upon the ground. And he howled along with the wolf, his Healer's heart unable to bear the pain as he pulled the larger male against him and held him close, both weeping, the wolf for what was lost, the otter for his understanding that this wolf and his pack had given literally everything to hide the last of the Houses in forgetfulness and thus safety, so that the seasons may yet turn in their ordained path, yet this one, the last, unable to fall into that oblivion and thus must spend eternity hunted, mate slain, alone...unloved.

"No....not that...." the otter crooned against the wolf's ear. "Not alone...not unloved." he recognized now that was the strange pull he had felt as he saw the wolf for the first time. As strange as he had looked, he had STILL loved him. A feeling that had only grown as he saw what the wolf had been through and given up...all for....well...everyone. And in that moment, the wolf looked up at him, his frosty tear-streaked eyes glittering in the moonlight, for as he had held the weeping lupine, the sun had long set and the moon had risen.

"Promise?" the word was a soft whisper from the wolf, easily ignored, yet it ran as a shockwave through the otter.

"I promise." he mrred softly as he leaned down to kiss the icy tears away, his heart reaching out to enfold the wolf and take him within, holding him as close as his arms.

_**"Caress the one, the Never-Fading rain in your heart

• the tears of snow-white sorrow

Caress the one, the hiding amaranth

In a land of the daybreak"**_

In time the wolf's soft heart-rending mourning ran it course. And afterward he had lain with the otter upon the bank of the singing stream. In the beginning it was for the wolf to forget and the otter to heal...yet in the end it had been more...a sharing of souls as well as bodies and as each reached their peak, he could feel the Gods themselves watching over them and smiling, granting their blessing to the coupling.

"Master?" the otter asked as they lay upon the bank of the stream, his small brown head snuggled beneath the wolf's snowy muzzle. And for some reason calling him such seemed right.

"Yes, my precious?" The wolf mrred softly as he stroked the velvety head. And again, for some reason it seemed right to call him such as the soft warm wind ruffled their fur, almost as if a held-in breath had been released in relief.

"I don't understand the wise-one...they said that you would be my salvation and my sorrow.....but if you are immortal, how can that be?"

"I don't know beloved...but I have found hidden bounty to hold me over in my time of need, much like the seeds of these flowers." He smiled, reaching a paw out to stroke the golden flowers beside them. "Yet what your wise-one meant..." The wolf started to speak as suddenly there was the sound of a large explosion, the reddish light of fire lighting the night sky and making them both jerk upright, looking around.

"My....my village...." the otter cried, for that is where the light and noise seemed to come from.

Without a word, the wolf leapt to his feet, pulling the otter up and after him as he raced through the wood towards the village, his footfalls as silent as snowfall. They reached the shattered verge of the wood, stopping in shock at what their eyes saw. For where there had been a thriving village before was nothing more then a flaming pyre, the huts aflame and bodies scattered unmoving on the ground. Before it all stood a red tiger, kneeling before him the wise-one of the village.

"Where is he...." the tiger snarled, looking down at the kneeling ancient otter. "His scent is all over this village...I KNOW you are hiding him from me." he snarled.

The ancient one's blind eyes sought out the pair at the edge of the wood and he/she smiled softly.

"That one is now beyond thy power, Oh Lord of Living Flame....unless thou can't battle the Water-Mother Herself. But then, fire never did fare well against water, did it?" the old one cackled at the crimson-striped death looming above him. "But a rede I shall give thee to puzzle." The seer's milky eyes grew distant as he/she intoned softly.

_ "In a place far from here, shall fire and frost meet.

One the victor, one for to eternal sleep.

Yet the outcome is unsure,

The Lord of Flame may yet endure,

Yet not if in one's heart the love of winter they do keep._ "

The seer's eyes seemed to meet the wolf's before raising to the tiger's, a smile playing on the wrinkled muzzle.

"Fool....NO one loves the winter....thus you spell his doom...and yours." The tiger snarled as with the raising of his paw the old otter become a torch, burning brightly for a moment before falling to ash.

The little otter almost shrieked as the wise-one was immolated, and would have if not for the wolf's paw over his muzzle, pulling him down into the tall grass. The wolf now knew who the Hunter was...that same flame-kit he had blessed so many years ago. He also knew that no matter how much he may want to, he was nowhere near the strength he needed to be to face him. Picking the otter up in his arms, he carried him back into the wood as the tiger made his way though the village, shutting his ears to the cut off cries of those left behind.

Finally reaching what he considered a safe distance, the wolf kissed the otter in his arms tenderly before looking deep in his eyes and whispering a soft word.

"Forget, my precious, for a time."

It is said that forgetfulness and Death are akin, and this much he had the power to do. And with that soft spoken word and a tender kiss, he released the little otter, laying the now unconscious boy against a tree and laid his paw against his shoulder for a moment before turning away, padding softly into the wood, leaving the otter with nothing more then the memory of a terrible fire in the village when he had been out hunting for his adulthood-feast that had slain everyone.

The otter awoke in the dawn-light, shaking his head to clear it from the haze of sleep. He thought back to the night before, coming back to the village to find it aflame, everyone dead, before he had went and cried himself to sleep in the wood. Gathering up his few possessions, he started to make his way away from the burnt out village, slinging his pouch over his shoulder, his paw brushing against the perfect white snowflake gleaming in the fur there.

"Master?" he muttered to himself in confusion as he looked around before sighing softly to himself. "Now why would I think of something like that?" he muttered as he walked away from the village and the life he had known, never knowing that a snowy wolf stood among the trees watching him walk away, a shimmering tear freezing on the snowy cheek before turning away and starting his long trek to the north.

_**"Caress the one, the Never-Fading rain in your heart

• the tears of snow-white sorrow

Caress the one, the hiding amaranth

In a land of the daybreak"**_

There you have it...the next installment...no sex this time...well, not really...maybe next time ;)