© 2002-2024 Roleplay by Rochelle, Ruth, and Heidi
Part 2

The two elves quietly carried Wildlight to his den in the Great Tree. Snapjaw wasn't in a mood to talk to Darkrider, and the griffin-rider seemed equally reticent. No other elves crossed their paths, for which Snapjaw was grateful. He didn't want to answer any questions or work through a crowd of concerned tribesmates who might wake the unconscious chief.

In the Great Tree, the two hunters eased Wildlight on his back on his sleeping furs. Snapjaw checked the pulsepoint in his neck again, then nodded at Darkrider. **Thank you. Now put him into a healing sleep and give him your magic.**

****

**Of course -chief-.** Darkrider groaned, crouching next to Wildlight he reached into himself for his reviled healing, and complete with the wave of hate and revulsion that came with it he began healing the fallen chief. Ribs bruised... exhaustion... his mind and powers sought out the wounds to heal, and then he stopped. Eyes narrowed he turned quickly to Snapjaw. "Who strangled him!?" he hissed with anger. "You said he collapsed, my healing says you're lying, elder."

****

Snapjaw met Darkrider's challenging glare, then shrugged his shoulders. **I told you he passed out. I did not say how. He could not be allowed to leave the Hurst, as injured and worn out as he is. Wildlight would have pushed himself until he dropped dead. He should already be dead, after that creature fell on him. A thing that size could have crushed all his bones. And there are hurts the eyes cannot see. He could have been bleeding inside. So I put him to sleep.**

****

**YOU WHAT!?** Darkrider only kept it to sends so Wildlight could slumber on as he stood up. "Are you some half mad fool!? That's your chief lying there not your enemy, you don't choke him!" He hissed harshly as he stood up now, glaring daggers at the elder.

****

Snapjaw adjusted the crossbow slung on a belt across his back and eyed the reluctant healer with cold green eyes. **You think you know better than me, pup?** he locksent. **I did what had to be done to keep Wildlight safe. I have howled for enough dead chiefs.** The elder turned to duck out of the chief's den. He wasn't going to waste time arguing the rights or wrongs of what he had done with the likes of Darkrider, who as of late had shown he didn't know right from wrong. There were mysterious creatures in the woods that hunted elves, and the griffin-rider was keeping him from his duty to protect the Hurst.

****

**So quick to run elder!?** Darkrider stood up furiously. **Or should the tribe turn a blind eye to your way of coaxing him to sleep- let them not know right? Let them pass it off as fatigue, he's so tired after all that no one will notice the hand imprint on his neck since they'll be gone by morning!? I will not be your wiping rag for messes because you know... I will not hide your tricks... I HATE HEALERS WHO HIDE WOUNDS!** Darkrider regretted letting himself say what he had as it came out. He was getting to personal, and he knew it... but wasn't that was Snapjaw was asking of him? To pretend he hadn't choked his chief, to hide it? Like his parents hid all of his wounds?

****

Snapjaw turned around and locked eyes with the griffin-rider, wondering again if Darkrider had hit his head. The fellow wasn't much of a healer. There were no marks, let alone handmarks, on Wildlight's throat. Snapjaw had not laid a finger on the chief's neck. The chokehold, when used carefully, left no wounds, not even bruises, and often little memories of what happened, the only signs a lowered heartbeat and blissful unconsciousness. Snapjaw had used the technique on another red-haired chief who didn't care for his own safety, turns and turns ago in a time of war. Any handprints were in Darkrider's mind, and Snapjaw couldn't help but wonder what was in the dark-skinned elf's mind to make him see that. **I asked you to hide nothing,** the old elf sent to Darkrider. **Only to heal your chief. But before you go ranting about secrets, you should think of the one you hide, healer. I protected Wildlight and the tribe. What is your excuse?**