Beginnings

Chapter 1

The dawn was still a good while away as she made her way through the fog that hung low between the Fingers. Eyes shone a brilliant blue as she relied more upon her weave sense than eyesight to step around large rocks, trees, tall grasses and the stream that meandered through the tall stones, taller than the trees by far, that made up the Fingers. Idly, she plucked a strand of the thick grass and chewed on it as she paused by one particular tree, glanced upwards into its spreading branches and covering leaves, then began to climb it. The claws that tipped her fingers and toes were not particularly sharp though they did provide more than enough grip to aid her climb. After only a few moments, she had reached the spreading limb and, wrapping her legs about the main trunk, she stretched her body out, arms stretching even further, started to pick the slightly pointed, oval fruit from where they hung on even smaller limbs. These she deftly placed in a sack of woven, dried grasses slung over one shoulder until she had three tens of the fruit inside. Deeming this sufficient, she contracted her form and climbed back down to continue her walk.

Sounds of water lapping upon the sand and rushing through small channels in one particular Finger told her that she had reached her destination and, once more, she climbed. Claws did not help her to grip the stone, however countless generations of Krendaarri had crafted hand and foot holds and she just altered her feet and hands enough to make certain they would not slip on stone damp from the fog. Occasionally, she used her weave sense to reinforce a few grips that had eroded a bit too much to ensure that the next climber would not suffer mischance on his or her journey. That there were holds that needed such repair told her that he had climbed up another side of this Finger.

If he had climbed at all.

Dawn was breaking as she reached the top, well above the level of the fog, and normal vision showed her bands of gold and red upon the horizon, gray and black of the stone Finger itself, and the brown and green and other colors of small trees and plants that grew from cracks in the stone. Above, only the brightest handful of stars remained as the sky grew brighter and brighter with the sun's rising and the cawing of a flock of skriil grew louder and louder as they soared on the warming winds. She stepped onto the roughly flat top of the Finger and stood for a few moments, relaxing. Though the climb was not overly difficult, the slight warmth of sunlight soaking into her skin and muscles felt luxurious and she allowed herself to indulge in it.

For a few moments, looking about, she wondered if she had chosen the right Finger after all. She had been quiet during her climb but had made no true effort to be silent and it was doubtful the skriil had been loud enough to cover the clatter of small stones she had dislodged as she made the summit. She began to look around at other Fingers to try to find him when, after another moment, he rose; the colors of his body shifting from that of the stone he had been kneeling against and taking on once more the coppery gold of Krendaarri flesh and his hair a white, wild mane flowing about his head and shoulders as the rising wind blew through it. So still he had been that, even with the growing daylight, she had not noticed him and had not considered sliding back into weave sense to try to find him by that means.

His back was to her as he stood, naked; dew-damp body gleaming in the daylight. Her breath caught for a moment as she was, once again, struck by the magnificence of the male she had known for nearly her entire life and loved more dearly than that life itself.

Slowly, he turned. Even though his face was shadowed as he turned away from the sunlight, she could see the smile forming on his lips and his eyes gleamed like two, bright stars as he looked upon her with his own weave sense. He had known she was there, likely had known she was approaching well before she even began to climb the Finger and had taken even more care in hiding. Knowing him, she doubted if she could have found him even if she had used her weave sense.

She moved towards him.

He spread his arms wide.

And fell, backwards, from the edge of the Finger...