We stood at the entrance to the Moonwood.  Since leaving Mooshie’s grove, we had made amazing time because of Yahn.  His four feet had allowed us to almost double our speed.  So now, we gathered around, starting at this seemingly impenetrable forest.  The trunks were densely packed together, making me realize that unless the Moonwood decided we were not a threat, it would not allow us to pass into its depths.  I could almost hear the whisperings coming from among the leaves.  I swung my leg over Yahn’s back and slid off him.  All eyes of the wolf pack turned to me, and Lightfoot spoke.
            ‘I hope this works, Shadow.’  I agreed with her, remembering the words Ris had helped me compose.  I took a deep breath and faced the trees to speak.
            “I am Alyssa Wolfchild.  I come bearing the name of Risaen Eldathorme of the House Eldathorme of Shoendroth, and Sagais Theriakim, Guardian of the Stone of Sages.  I ask permission to pass through these woods on my journey.” 
            The whispers had ceased while I was talking, and when I finished, they continued, louder than before.  I waited for minutes in a breathless silence that seemed to go on forever.  Then a voice spoke.  “You carry the Stone of Sages, do you not?”  It sounded like soft music, carried from the deep forest to my ear.
            I nodded in reply.  “I do.”
            The voice rang out again, not so quiet this time.  “What proof have we that you have not stolen the Stone of Sages, and are using these names in vain?”  Both Ris and Sagais had said to expect something like this, and I was prepared with my reply.
            I motioned the wolves to move back from me and dug the Stone out of my backpack.  After unwrapping the rag from around it, I held it out from me at waist height and closed my eyes.  I softly started the deep chant Sagais had taught Ris and I, feeling the earth respond to it.  I let go of the Stone; it stayed motionless, suspended by air as I continued to chant.  I could feel the earth magic slowly moving, as if it were stretching legs long unused.  I took it and showed it the form I wanted, the form that was fixed in my mind.
            At first, after I opened my eyes, nothing happened.  The forest and those in it, was silent now, watching.  I continued my chant as a hum, and slowly the earth below the suspended stone began to move.  Stone, brought up from the depths of the earth, started to reach long fingers up from the ground, eventually forming into a pedestal.  The Stone of Sages floated down an inch or two and came to rest in a depression on the top of the pedestal.  I let my chant fade away, and the stone solidified from its half liquid form.  A man’s voice spoke into the stillness.  “Friend or foe may use this Stone for power, but only a true Guardian and ally may call forth its true forms.”
            I let the pedestal stand for a minute, then spoke the words to return it to the earth, awaiting the judgment of the wood while I returned the Stone to my backpack.  Several uncomfortable minutes went by in silence as I stood waiting for an answer, and when none came, I looked at Lightfoot and shrugged.  “How long should we wait, do you think?”  She didn’t answer me, for she had no answer to give.  I sat down on the ground, tugging on Solstice’s tail.  Solstice turned around in high spirits and nipped at my hand, so I kept my fingers dancing as she and Equinox chased them.  By the time half an hour had gone by, they flopped on their sides, panting heavily as my laughter died down.  Even Yahn grew bored and impatient, laying down the way he always does, tucking his legs underneath him.
            We waited almost an hour more until the wood creaked and parted, and a single being stepped forward.  She had skin the color of the deep sky on a clear day, and her hair was bluer still.  Her slanted eyes were the bright green of a tree’s new growth, and she was slightly built.  “You have been granted passage through our forests,” She said, her musical voice a feminine version of Ris’s.  “My name is Cyriala; I will be your guide within our borders.  Do not stray from the path, or I cannot guarantee your safety.”
            I stood up and offered her my hand.  “Hello Cyriala.  I’m Alyssa…”
            She interrupted me before I could finish.  “Wolfchild.  Yes, I know.  Daylight is wasting and we would like you inside our lands for as little time as possible.”  She spun on her heel and seemed to stalk into the forest on a path that had not previously been there.  I glanced at Lightfoot, shrugged, and followed Cyriala into the woods, the pack trailing along behind me.
            I found Cyriala a stoic traveling companion, one who did not wish to engage in pleasant conversation and only spoke when absolutely necessary.  Which wasn’t very often.  When night fell, she drew to a stop where the path widened, and vanished into to trees.  I shook my head and remarked to my wolves, “At least their giving us passage, I guess.  But they’re certainly very cold about it.”
            ‘It is more likely that they do not like your kind,’ Lightfoot remarked perceptively.
            “Well then they didn’t have to offer us passage at all.  It would take longer, but we could have gone around.”  I busied myself with building a tiny fire, thinking.  “I mean, I sure appreciate it, but she didn’t even want to be introduced to you guys.  I thought elves had a different attitude towards animals and nature than humans did, but I haven’t been seeing much of it, except towards their own precious forest.”
            ‘Don’t insult them,’ Stormwatcher remarked, a half smile on his face.  ‘They can still refuse us passage, and then were would we be?’
            I chuckled, and slowly coaxed the small wisp of smoke rising from my pile of wood to blossom into a fire.  I sat back on my heels to observe my work.  “I don’t feel comfortable using magic in here, it’s like their waiting for me to make a wrong move so they can discipline me.”
            Lightfoot raised her head from where she and the pack had laid down to rest.  ‘Yes dear, but remember what your kind is usually like?  Perhaps they are just expecting the same from you.’
            “I guess.”  I sighed, then dug in my backpack for food, realizing that I had built a fire for nothing.  I wouldn’t be catching any meat in this forest to cook.  All I had in my pack was dried meat, bread, some fruit gathered along the way, and rations.  Pulling out the meat, I held it up for Lightfoot to see.  “I don’t think you guys will be able to do any hunting in here.  Do you want some of this, or something else I have?”  She nodded, so I dumped dirt on my fire to put it out and brought my backpack with me as I sat down among them, handing out strips of dried meat to each wolf.  I shook my head as they devoured it and remarked, “You guys can’t survive on dried meat every night.  When I see Cyriala next I will ask her about a deer every few nights.  Maybe she’ll actually answer me.” 
            Yahn was grazing a few feet away, and when I looked up after rooting through my pack, he commented, ‘Don’t worry too much about me.  I can survive on grass every night.  But the wolves won’t make very good pace if they’re starving.’  I sighed and nodded in agreement with him.  The wolves were already asleep, so I followed suit, my head pillowed on Stormwatcher’s shoulder.
            The sound of music woke me from my slumber the next morning.  The sun was lightening the sky, probably just peeking over the horizon I couldn’t see.   As we sat up in wonder, Cyriala appeared from among the trees, waiting.  “Are those your people, Cyriala?” I asked her as I gathered my bag and motioned to the wolves to start moving.
            “It is the forest,” she said.  “Together with my people.”  She got a thoughtful look on her face, then as quickly as it had come it went away, hidden behind a mask of indifference as she turned and continued on the path.  I sighed and started after her.
            “Sometimes I wonder if she has a heart,” I remarked to Stormwatcher, making no efforts to keep Cyriala from overhearing.  “Maybe I should have worn the circlet; they treat me as if I’m the plague.”
            ‘Your people are known to be evil in their ways, and the few that are not have a hard time for themselves.’  Stormwatcher replied.
            “And so they can’t see past the color of my skin, no matter what I do?”  I shook my head sadly.  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”
            Cyriala whirled around and stalked up to me, anger evident in every movement.  “There are few things in this world more evil than your dark skinned people.  Most of us in this forest have lost at least one dear one to a face like yours!”  She gestured furiously at my face.  Her words hit me somewhere deep inside, making me both angry and sad.
            “Fine.”  The chill in my words could have frozen water.  I swung my backpack off my back and rummaged inside it.  When my hand came to rest on the object I was searching for, I pulled it out and plopped it on my head.  “There.  Happy?  Now my skin is a different color.”  I ignored the stunned look on Cyriala’s own face and stalked past her, the wolves following slowly behind.
            When she got over her shock, Cyriala turned and shouted after me, “You can hide your skin color, but you cannot cover up your evil heart!”  I whirled around as she walked haughtily up to me.  “You are evil, and always will be,” she almost sneered at me.
            I sighed and reached up to remove my circlet, the desire to fight with Cyriala leaking out of me when I realized that it would do nothing..  “Cyriala, I was raised by two human druids.  I have never met another drow, and I expect I never will.  I don’t even know what their language sounds like.  Even if I did meet one, I would at least give him the benefit of the doubt, and the moment I found him to be evil, the wolves and I would kill him.  As a matter of fact, if I were to become evil, the wolves would kill me too, even if it broke their hearts.  Because wolves don’t tolerate evil.  Isn’t that right guys?”  I directed my last question at the wolves, who nodded in reply.  This did nothing to cool her ire, in fact probably only served to infuriate her more.  But I ignored it and continued down the path.  After a while, she had to follow me, trailing several yards behind us.  I mulled over things in my mind.  Obviously she was assigned to guide me by her elders and resented it.  Maybe they thought she had some lesson to learn, that we both had to learn.  Or perhaps she was just in their disfavor, assigned to do something viewed equally disfavorable by all of them as punishment.  I got the impression she was very young, but that was in human terms.  I still had difficulty grasping the rate at which elves matures, so for all I knew she was older than Ris.
            We walked in silence for the rest of the day, until a few hours before dark when Yahn planted his feet and refused to move.  I was on foot, but when I heard the clip-clop of his hooves stop, I turned to investigate.
            “Yahn, what’s wrong?”  I asked him quietly.
            ‘Solstice and Equinox need food.  I am not moving until Cyriala agrees to let the pack hunt.’
            “Well why don’t you tell her that yourself?”  I retorted back to him.  “She doesn’t want to talk to me, my skin is the wrong color!”  I couldn’t keep the bitter resentment out of my voice. 
            While we stood, Cyriala had caught up to us.  “What’s wrong with your horse?” she asked, arrogance and disdain dripping from her words.
            I looked at Yahn and shrugged.  “I lie.  Seems Her Haughtiness saw fit to ask me after all.”  He shook his head and whickered strangely, almost as if he were laughing.  Meanwhile, Cyriala had her hands on her hips and her face in a scowl.  I swallowed my anger, trying to be serene like my parents.  “Yahn says he refuses to move until you agree to let the pack hunt.  The two young ones can’t go without food at this pace for as long as the rest of the pack, and even their pace will slow without food.”
            Cyriala gave a piercing glance to the wolf pack, then back to Yahn.  “Well than maybe we should leave him here.”  She made as if to turn and continue down the path.
            “No.”
            “Excuse me?”  She turned back to me, looking at me with contempt.
            “You heard me, I said no.  If you wanted to leave him behind, he’d probably burn down your precious forest.  But I won’t leave him, and he’s right.  Nobody can survive without food while they’re traveling at the pace you set, and unlike you we can’t go back to our nice cozy home every night and get some.”  I smiled bitterly.  “Mostly because our home got burned.”
            ‘And I got thrown out of mine.’  There wasn’t a trace of wistfulness in Yahn’s voice.  I could tell he had let Cyriala hear him by her face.  She was unsuccessfully trying to look confused and aloof at the same time, and I found myself amused by her unsettlement.
            “I will have to ask the elders…”  She trailed off uncertainly.
            I gave her a brittle smile.  “You do that.  I’m going to go hunt with my pack.  If the forest is as sentient as you think it is, then it should be able to read the intent of my heart well enough.”  I turned my back on her and motioned my wolves to gather round.  “I think only half of you should go at a time.  Bring me back a chunk or two so I can eat, and I’ll dry some more as well.  Ok?”  They nodded, and half branched off to disappear into the trees by the side of the path.  I worked on getting a small fire built, and the remaining wolves relaxed around it.  Cyriala was still standing on the path, looking torn.  I sighed, meeting eyes with Stormwatcher, who looked stoically back at me.  “You are welcome at my fire, Cyriala,” I said in a resigned voice.  She wavered indecisively a moment more, then sat down hesitantly across from me.  After a long silence, I gave voice to the question that had been on my mind.  “Why were you chosen to be punished with this?”
            Cyriala stared sullenly into the fire as she answered.  “I disobeyed the elders of my clan and went out on my own.  They keep telling me I’m too young to leave the forest without being accompanied by someone older.  But I got tired of being cooped up, there’s only so much of it you can see, so I snuck out… but I didn’t get very far.”
            I stared at her, then laughed.  “How old are you?”  I asked, still chuckling.
            She looked up at me, eyes wide with anger.  “I’m over half a century old!  I should be old enough to take care of myself!  But no!”  She drew the word out with a sneer.  “You’re barely half a century old, Cyriala!  You’re too young, Cyriala!  You mustn’t do this, Cyriala!”  She mimicked what I assumed to be her mother in a high pitched voice.  By then I was all but rolling on the ground with my mirth and wiping my eyes of tears.  Cyriala glanced at me ruefully.  “I don’t expect you to understand, you’re probably almost two centuries old.”  I laughed even harder.
            I finally wound down to see her looking sullenly into the fire.  “Cyriala, I’m only twenty years old.  But I’m half human, and I guess circumstances required me be an adult earlier than my parents probably would have liked.”  Lightfoot padded up from out of the shadows, a chunk of meat in her mouth.  As I took it from her I could see the rest of the wolves that had gone hunting behind her.  I turned to Stormwatcher.  “Your turn.  I think I only want one more piece this size.”  The one Lightfoot had gotten me was slightly larger than my hand.  I pulled out a knife and started cutting it into strips on a flat rock nearby as the other half of the pack vanished into the woods.  I went and found some forked sticks in the woods for a spit, and by the time I got back to the fire to set it up, Cyriala had disappeared as well.  I shrugged and built up the fire to dry the meat.  She’d return in the morning, if not sooner.  When Stormwatcher brought back another large chunk of meat, I cut it in half and added it to the spit.  I offered some to Yahn, but he declined.
            The wolves grouped around the fire fell into the deep sleep of having a full stomach, but I couldn’t seem to find the same peace.  I stared into the fire with my arms hugged around my knees, thinking.  Cyriala’s words had cut deeper than I thought they would.  It seemed that almost every time I ran into a human or an elf, it ended badly because my skin wasn’t the same color as my heart.  People who had just met me couldn’t judge my character on actions they never knew about.  Some didn’t care to find out, like the villagers from close to my home.  They believe what they wanted to believe – that I was a drow, through and through.  It hurt, and for the first time I found myself cursing the unknown drow who had raped my mother.  So I dwelled on the things Cyriala had said.  I didn’t know Yahn had been watching me until I felt a warm nose on my neck.  ‘You can’t take all the ills done by the entire race of drow onto your shoulders.  You are not them.’
            I turned around and stared at him.  “How did you know what I was thinking about?”
            He shrugged.  ‘The look on your face, with all that the elf wench said today.  I figured it was the only thing that would keep you up like this.’  He laid down beside me and tucked his legs underneath him.  ‘What she said, all of it, she’s right.  But none of it pertains to you.  The only part of you that can tie you to the drow is your skin.  When it comes to actions, you’re human.  You get angry like a human, you love like a human, you cry and feel pain like a human.  And I’m sure that the elves in this forest would realize that if they stopped to think about it.  I’ve known some drow, and they aren’t the kind to ask for permission for anything.  Crossing a forest like this, they would have gone around it, entered it without permission and killed anything that tried to stop it, or burn it down.  That’s just the way they think.’
            I settled myself down into the space next to his ribs.  “Thanks, Yahn.  But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating when they treat me as if I’d sooner kill them than look at them.”
            The singing and the first rays of the sun woke me sooner than I’d expected.  Sleep pulled at me, but Yahn dislodged me by getting to his feet.  The wolves, too, were up and about, anxiously milling about waiting move on.  The fire was still barely lit, the meat strips dried.  As I put them in my pack, the growling of my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten last night before falling asleep.  I pulled myself up on Yahn, chewing on a piece of meat, then looked around to see Cyriala coming out of the trees leading a pinto horse.  It threw up its head when it caught the scent of wolf, but she pulled it down and whispered in its ear, calming it, before swinging up much more gracefully than me.  She rode over to me with a small smile. “The elders granted you permission to hunt when you need to.  But we should be out of the forest soon, maybe one more day.”  I nodded at her as I pulled the rest of my things together and slung the backpack over my shoulders, glancing for Yahn’s allowance to climb up onto his back.
            The trek that day with Cyriala was almost pleasant. There were no snide remarks or bitter comments, only a comfortable silence.  Towards evening, she asked about my parents which led us into an engaging conversation.  I found out that she thought her parents overbearing and extremely protective, treating her as if she couldn’t make any decisions on her own.
            I couldn’t help but smile.  “You know, they’re only trying to protect you.  If you didn’t rebel, they might trust you by now.”
            Cyriala gave me a wry look.  “Right.  And pigs might fly, too.”  Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
            ‘At least they don’t hate you and treat you like you’ll never amount to anything,’ Yahn’s comment took us both by surprise.
            After I recovered from my shock, I looked at Cyriala and teased her.  “You must be gifted!  I could never get Yahn to talk about his background before.”  There was a hint of seriousness to my voice.  “Anything else you want to tell us, Yahn?”  But try as I might, he remained tight-lipped as he plodded along.
            When we stopped that evening, Cyriala did not disappear into the trees to go back to her village.  As the rabbits cooked, I asked her, “Are you sure they’re not going to think I killed you or something?”
            She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  But it’s nice to have somewhere else to go besides home.”
            “You should at least go check in.  By the time you get back, the rabbits will be cooked.”  My reasoning behind pushing her to send some sort of notice back to the Elders was partly selfish; they didn’t exactly have a kind viewpoint of me, and the last thing I wanted was one showing up demanding to know where I’d killed their guide.  Finally, reluctantly, I managed to convince her to make the short trip home to let her parents know of her plans.  And I was right – by the time she arrived back in the circle of firelight on her pinto pony, the rabbits were done and we settled down to a nice juicy meal.  To my surprise, when I laid my head on Yahn’s flank in preparation to sleep, Cyriala vaulted lightly up into the fork of a tree and carefully arranged herself on a branch.  I smiled at the strangeness of this even as I dropped off to sleep.
            Midmorning the next day saw us at the edge of the great forest.  I thanked Cyriala for her guidance and wished her luck with her parents before traveling towards the mountains on the horizon.  Yahn tossed his head and danced in place underneath me, making me grab for a handful of mane to steady myself.  ‘Too long underneath close knit trees and at a slow pace for my liking!’  He exchanged a look with Lightfoot and Stormwatcher, and I got the impression something passed between them.  ‘Let us be off!’ he snorted, giving me only that moments notice before launching himself into a gallop.  Wind rushed through my short hair as I tightened my grip both with my legs and my hands, stretching myself out along his neck.  I had a feeling that if I fell off, he wouldn’t stop to pick me up.  By the time he slowed and stopped, I was breathless with excitement.  We turned around to see the wolves catching up, and behind them stretched the Moonwood.  A pretty place, I thought as I reflected.  But not somewhere I would choose to go again soon, not with the feeling of unkind eyes always watching.  When the last of the wolves loped up, we resumed a more sedate pace towards the northwest through the grasslands.