"Perhaps that was missing from our tribe," said Vell. "Drive, purpose."

"You have it now, do you not?" asked Rask. "Thanar told me of your mission. We shall help however we can, for your quest mirrors our own. Like you, a hated enemy dogged our steps and meant to reach the tree before us. Look here..." He brushed some leaves off a rotten log and uncovered an ancient carving, to Vell a familiar and ominous one—the hulking, destructive Blue Bear.

"Sometime soon, this last trace of human habitation will finally rot away," said Rask. "It is the same with the rest of the world. Stone may outlast wood, but none of our stone menhirs or any of civilization's works will outlive Grandfather Tree."

"We don't know where we're bound," said Vell, impatient with this philosophizing. "Nor do we know why the beast sent us, or for what purpose it's empowered me. And our enemy..."

"Your enemy is the Zhentarim," said Rask. "I know them better than I'd care to. My parents were caravan guards on their Black Road, and I made that trip a few times myself. I would wager anything that Mayor Geildarr of Llorkh is part of this. The past is a fascination for him, and robbing it is his favorite hobby. Perhaps he has your chief as well."

"I am not the leader of this expedition," said Vell. "You should tell Thluna."

"We have," Rask told him. "But you are of special interest, Vell." Vell reflected that before Morgur's Mound, no one would have regarded him that way. "Your situation is most peculiar. The nature of your destiny is in question. It requires clarification."

"I agree," said Vell.

"There is magic in this forest that may help you. Nearby, atop one of the mountains that outsiders call the Lost Peaks, lie the Fountains of Memory. It may hold answers. With the Dancing Folks' permission, I think you should visit it and see."

"And Kellin as well," Vell added. "She and I were both chosen by the Thunderbeast. We should go together."

"Kellin, yes." Rask paused a moment. "You've put yourself between her and your chief in the past. It's created tension among your group. Was that what you wanted?"

"No." Vell lowered his head. "Some fear our tribe is being ripped asunder. I want it to stay unified as much as the rest. But Kellin..."

"What is she to you?" Rask's tone was vaguely confrontational. "A potential lover? Your lost twin? Like her father, she has made a study of our tribes and wants us to feel flattered to be the subject of civilized sagecraft. Tell me, Vell. What if we were to keep her unconscious? She would not be harmed and would be returned to your party once you left the tree."

"No," Vell said without hesitation. "You can trust her."

"Can we?" asked Rask, grim-faced. "She will write of our people if she lives to do so. Will she perhaps threaten our greatest secret: our location?"

"She will not," said Vell. Rask inspected him, then an improbable smile broke out on his tusked features. Vell instantly knew this had nothing to do with Kellin, but was a test for him.

"Come my friend," the half-orc said. "Let us rouse the others."

* * * * *

Something was different in the shade of Grandfather Tree. For the first time, the iciness that the party had carried since leaving Sungar's Camp seemed to fall away. The petty squabbles ceased. They felt not like a group thrust together by the whims of circumstance, but a true band of fellows, united by destiny and a common goal. Even Keirkrad was changed after he broke down and wept at the sight of the boughs spreading above, painting the sky with brilliant hues of autumn.

Kellin was especially awestruck. She held great reverence for the Tree Ghosts' unique ancestor mound, something her father once tried to locate by following the clues of the famed Harper bard Mintiper Moonsilver, who even claimed to have explored forbidden dungeons beneath the tree.

Would that her father could see her now.

Rask Urgek led them to the village of Ghostand just north of the tree, constructed on shadowed platforms above the forest floor in a stand of oak trees. The Tree Ghost chieftain, the grizzled Gunther Longtooth, met them at the camp's edge with Thluna at his side.

"Your cause is just," said Gunther. "We shall help you however we can." The roar that went up from the Thunderbeasts scattered the birds from the trees above.

The mood was light that evening as the travelers put aside the heaviness of their task for the morrow. Mead and elven wine flowed freely, and soon the Tree Ghosts, who had faintly distrusted the outsiders, were as brothers with the Thunderbeasts, and even the elves seemed like long-lost friends. Copper-tressed Faeniele Eshele, the de facto leader of the elves here, was as close an advisor to Gunther Longtooth as the Tree Ghost elders. She was all but an honorary member of the tribe herself. The camp, well hidden and safe in the deep woods, was transformed into an impromptu feast, one that brought great bliss to the weary visitors. No fire lit this place, but strings of luminous lichens and magical lamps bathed the festivities in a warm glow. Wood elf minstrels blended their flutes and strings with the Tree Ghosts' Uthgardt sagas, a warm meld representing the friendship and accord their two races had found in this strange place.

Keirkrad chatted with Gunther, a fellow of his generation, and with whom he was faintly acquainted from some dealings in the past. Thanar spent his time with lithesome Hala Spiritwalk—the Tree Ghost shaman—as well as some other druids visiting Grandfather Tree, some elves, and even one of the great red-furred creatures known as an alaghi. Ilskar, Hengin, and the rest found company among Tree Ghosts warriors of various ilk, and Kellin found a surprisingly appreciative audience in the Tree Ghosts' skalds and loremasters.

There was much laughter and happiness among the trees that night, together with dance and music, good food and mellowness. Perhaps it was a god-sent calm before great struggles to come, but it was precious peace nonetheless.

Vell was sampling some elven brandy when Rask Urgek approached him. By then, Vell was almost used to seeing orc features on a fellow Uthgardt.

"Vell," he said. "There's someone I'd like you to meet. This is Lanaal Featherbreeze."

Before him stood a lovely elf maiden, seemingly young in appearance, though Vell was well aware of elf longevity. Her skin was not the coppery tone of most of the elves in the village, but was tinged a rich bronze, and her hair was a cascade of golden curls. She wore a simple green dress and blue feathers in her hair. Something was very different about her—more than just her clothing and skin tone. Vell could sense it. The other elves were naturally slight, but Lanaal seemed light and fresh as a spring breeze.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Vell," she said, clasping his hand. "We have much to discuss."

"Then you're the one Thanar told me about," he said.

She nodded. "Let us find a quieter spot to talk." She took Vell by the hand and—moving with graceful ease—led him up a ladder to a higher platform. He scanned the gathering one last time and saw Kellin watching him as he vanished into the trees.

Soon they reached Ghostand's highest platform—a terrace among the treetops, where the clear night sky curled above them, and a thousand bright stars shone down on them. Lanaal stood and looked up at it.

"I like to see the sky," she said. "Sometimes I lose track of it, living under the treetops."

"Pardon me for asking," said Vell, "but you're not like the other elves here, are you?"

"No," Lanaal said. "Most of them are wood elves, and I am one of the sun elves. And you, Vell. You're not like the others."

Suddenly self-conscious, Vell turned away. "Not all Uthgardt have blue eyes, though most do."