Things were different now; how strange human governments would think that elves took cues, even major decisions, from their wolf comrades.  But it had been determined long ago that the wolves had a better instinct; so their informal council together had determined that Deryn was indeed a friend of sorts.  When Earthwise, his tall and slender self along with his thin fingers, reported that the human had left the camp - it was not any news to Skylong.  Deryn was much like his fallen sibling; she would wander on her own, dream up large thoughts of how much better it would be if elves and humans worked together, or she simply wanted to be different from the rest of the tribe.<br/><br/>He had watched Deryn leave from his window, drawing himself back so his figure would be hid in the darkness.  He thought of following her and thought better of it.  Why would he follow if she was keeping to herself; so the elves kept to themselves and did not take such offense lightly.<br/><br/>By his hut was a large oak tree that he climbed and stood atop.  The fact that the tree had shown some signs of aging and decay did not stop him; it was a tradition he had done for years since he was a young elfin cub.  He would climb atop of the tree, and then sit with his thoughts.  The Mystic of the tribe would not not bother him there, not even Earthwise.  It was here she would visit him.<br/><br/>Visions of her.  He wasn't sure if it really was Spring, maybe his mind just hoped that it was.  He would see her climb the tree with her, follow him into the woods, and train in his capacity as chief.  She always had encouraging words and a smile; however, her spirit was also free.  It was a threat to Skylong.  He wanted her to stay in the tribe, stay in the woods.  She would want to roam free; ever loyal to him, but not to his protection.  Many times she said she loved him, but that he never listened to her heart.<br/><br/>Then that day happened; the day Spring left the tribe.  The morning song of glory filled the air as usual, but Skylong, himself not talented in musical ways, nonetheless realized the voice of his Spring was not part of the chorus.  He rushed to her hollowed out tree (she insisted living in the side of a tree); nothing was there.  He panicked.<br/><br/>[The feelings and emotions of the thoughts that filled his heart in these moments often took over his body, causing him to relive his experiences and even react as if the past were now present.]<br/><br/>Hopping down from the tree hypnotized by these past feelings, Skylong repeated the events of that awful day in his mind and in his actions.  This was not the first time he went out into the woods, confusing the others in the tribe.  But this morning, the emotions were especially intense.  Skylong ...<br/><br/>He searched the woods; he used his dagger and cut through brush.  Perhaps Spring had been caught in a thicket or caught in some wily bush.  "Spring!  Spring!  I'm sorry, please come back."  He shouldn't have argued with her last night; he shouldn't have let his last words be "Do you hate me?"  Moving quickly through the forest and following paths revealing themselves on the ground, he used scents to guide him along.  His sense of smell was not as good as the wolves but it would do in this situation.  Was Spring really following her heart now; was she really going to hang out with the humans in that place called Way's End?  Would she really leave the tribe?<br/><br/>He continued running; his thoughts troubled.  As he neared the edge of the forest, it was clear he smelled smoke.  It was clear he smelled death.  It was clear he smelled loss.  (At this point, Skylong had long lost himself in the moment of that day.  It was he, it was his fault.)  The next scenes were in the clearing, still far away but close enough to see.  Smoke, battle, Gryphons flying and pouring out their wrath.  Was Spring out there?  What could he do now?  Why were they going berserk, had their treasure been stolen from them?  Had a disease infested them that they had gone mad?  In a distance, too far away to see ... one of the large beasts landed on the ground.  It had captured an opponent, a human.  It was strange, Gryphons were not normally overly aggressive.  If they could do this to one person, why wouldn't they do it to more?  He was mesmerized by the sight; he had to do something.  But where was Spring?  But what if he went back and got elves to help.  Who would they be fighting?  All in all, he made two fatal mistakes that day:  his first was not rounding up his tribe and lending a hand if they figured out what the problem was.<br/><br/>The second decision was more fatal than the first.  Indecision was the death of her; someone suddenly tackled him from behind.  His instincts kicked in; his heart fluttered.  Without looking, without smelling, without thinking ... he removed the dagger from his trousers and started aiming wildly.  The arms finally released; he turned around and that's when he realized it.<br/><br/>It was HER; his sister!  Dropping to the ground, she was smiling.  "I know; I know.  I scared you.  Hold my hand."  But the blood was letting out quickly; he couldn't create tourniquets fast enough.  She was gone; a fatal blow killed her from his own hand.<br/><br/>Skylong (still unaware he was no longer living in the past) screamed aloud.  "No!  No, Spring.  No; I'm sorry.  I'm sorry!  Forgive me."  The sobbing returned; the crying continued.  The temporary water lenses his tears created in his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of grypons, of humans, of destruction.  He had to deflect this guilt; he could not take this upon his shoulders.  It was THEIR fault, not HIS.  If she hadn't come out ... if she hadn't wanted to be with THEM ... if she just stayed with the tribe ... if she just didn't leave him.  None of this would have happened.<br/><br/>He did nothing and did not return to the tribe until the evening.  He was sure they knew all about it, the seeming uprising, his mistake.  But when he returned with the body of his dear Spring, they assumed it was battle wounds from the events of the day.  He said nothing more than this, and he had tried to put this behind him and forget it.  But he couldn't forget.<br/><br/>And now, there he was; the mighty Skylong.  A ball of anger, of fury, of defeat reliving his past in the midst of the present, unable to get past his past.  His mind gently reminded him these things were long past; but he could not stop the tears from coming out of him.  He hoped the other elves would not find him like this.  This, this was the pathetic little elf who was going to help a real human warrior restore the woods to its former glory?  O, how the mighty are fallen!