At last Brightmist spoke up. "We want to go on a hunt," she said.
"By ourselves," Deerstorm added.
"Well," Freefoot said, "I don't see why you couldn't do that."
"Suretrail said we couldn't," Greentwig said. "Fangslayer said it would be all right, but when we asked Suretrail, he said no."
"I see. Well, he must have had a reason."
"But now that you're back," Brightmist said, "maybe you can tell him it's all right."
"It's about time," Greentwig said. "We're not children anymore."
"We can take care of ourselves," Deerstorm insisted. "We've been on lots of hunts with the elders."
"But we always have to hunt what they want to hunt," Crystalmoss said, "and let them attack first, and sometimes we don't even get in on the kill until it's all over."
"Except for ravvits," Greentwig said, "and chuckers."
"Will you let us go?" Crystalmoss asked.
"I can't if Suretrail told you you couldn't," Freefoot said, "but maybe we can work something out. We saw tapirs at the clearing when we came by this afternoon."
"They're no fun," Brightmist said. "You can walk right up to them."
"How about the otters at the pool?"
"Yeah," Greentwig said with innocent enthusiasm. "They put up a good fight."
"No," Deerstorm insisted, "two of the bitches died this spring."
"Besides," Crystalmoss said, "Suretrail told us we couldn't."
"Hunt otters?" Freefoot asked.
The four were silent. They hadn't asked to hunt otters.
It was an old story. Children had to be protected while they learned to live and survive in the forest. But sooner or later they wanted a real challenge. The transition between childhood and adulthood was never easy. "All right," Freefoot said. "I'll see what I can do."
Suretrail and Bluesky were sitting in front of Bluesky's den when Freefoot got back to the cliff. In spite of the late hour they were both making arrowheads. Suretrail, who was putting thong-notches on the delicate flint points, seemed to know what Freefoot had come for. He put down the piece he had been working on and looked up at his chief. "Are you going to let them go?" he asked.
Freefoot sat down facing them. He watched as Bluesky took a large piece of nearly black flint and skillfully struck off a flake with a fist-sized rock. She turned the flake over and over, laid it down on her anvil stone and struck it again. It broke cleanly across. The two halves were somewhat overlarge but almost the right shape.
"I told them I'd talk with you about it," Freefoot said. "They want your permission."
"They're good cubs," Suretrail started to say as Fangslayer, then Catcher joined them.
"They're not cubs anymore," Fangslayer said.
"But did they tell you what kind of hunt they have in mind?" Suretrail went on. "They want to go to Tall-Trees for black-neck deer.''
"Oh," Freefoot said. "I see."
"I think they ought to do it," Fangslayer said.
"They have to learn sometime," Catcher added.
"Of course they do," Suretrail said. "But you need at least four to hunt black-neck. If they wanted to go out with a couple of more experienced hunters, okay. I'm not worried about Brightmist or Deerstorm. It's Crystalmoss."
"She's the best thrower in the tribe," Fangslayer said.
"With stones and darts and javelins," Suretrail said. "That's not heavy enough for black-neck. And she's not even fully grown yet."'
"It's Greentwig who's the real problem," Bluesky said. "He's just not ready."
"He's old enough," Fangslayer said.
"They don't have enough experience," Suretrail insisted. "None of them are ready for this kind of hunt yet. Black-necks are too tough, especially at this time of year."
"And Tall-Trees is too far away," Bluesky said. "It would take them half a day at least just to get there."
"And besides," Suretrail said, "I've already told them they couldn't."
"I still think they ought to have their chance," Fangslayer said.
"They'll never learn," Catcher said, "if they don't find out for themselves."
Glade, Grazer, and Dreamsnake came to join them. They already seemed to know what the discussion was about. Bluesky added wood to her fire so that they could be included in its light. The others made room for them.
"Talon and I," Glade said, "took Greentwig and Crystal-moss out hunting yesterday. Beaver, up by the marsh. Crystalmoss did all right. But Greentwig, I don't know. I don't predict a long life for him."
Bluesky brought out a pouch of dreamberries and passed it around.
"An elf his age should have an adult name," Fernhare said. "Crystalmoss has hers."
"I think Deerstorm has what it takes," Grazer said, "and not just because I'm her father. Brightmist, too."
"They want to do this for themselves," Fangslayer said.
"Of course they do," Glade said. "They want to prove themselves. But Greentwig is ... just ... the combination just won't work."
"He is something of a disappointment," Dreamsnake said gently. "But Glade, you and Fernhare can't take care of Greentwig all his life. He must learnsomehowor die trying."
"I know," Glade said sadly.
"If Longreach were here," Bluesky said, "maybe they'd let him be a part of their hunt. He's not that much older than Greentwig. With five, that would be fine."
"If they could bring in a black-neck," Grazer said, "they would certainly prove themselves."
"They would indeed," Freefoot said. He chewed another dreamberry, then sat back to think.
"We can all remember," he said at last, "when we were first given the chance to hunt, not with our elders but on our ownnot just for ravvits but for serious game." The others listened without comment. "We can all remember when we were first given full responsibility for our own hunt, whatever game and whatever place we chose. For some of us that's been a long time."
Suretrail looked away. His decision was being challenged. Fangslayer just stared into the fire.
"Suretrail," Freefoot said, "you did the right thing when you told them not to go."
Suretrail muttered an acknowledgment.
"But it's my responsibility now," Freefoot went on, "not yours. And Fangslayer," he turned to his older son, "you are right too. Those four are nearly of an age, and they must become adults. We cannot deny them their chance, as we all have had, even though they die. Even though."
For a moment, all were silent. "And it's not fair to Brightmist or Deerstorm," Freefoot went on, "who will be full adults soon enough. Now is the time. Let us hope they all come back alive."
The next morning Shadowflash went with Brightmist and the other young hunters when they left Halfhill. The weather was cool, and there was a slight mist in the forest. Shadowflash liked it when the forest was that way. Of course he liked the forest any way when he was with Brightmist. He wanted to go with her today, but he knew he would not be welcome this time. He was only going to see them off.
They went upstream a way and then the four young hunters paused to call their wolves. Answering howls came back from different parts of the forest.
The four youths were excited about the hunt, and now that they had finally gotten permission, a bit apprehensive as well. That was good.
After a moment Fog, Brightmist's gray bitch, came walking toward them. She was a big old wolf and seemed to know that something special was about to happen. Then Scarface and Mask appeared, bounding lightly through the brush. Scarface was Deerstorm's wolf, who bore the marks of a less than successful encounter with a forest pig. Mask was Greentwig's companion, black across the eyes and tawny brown elsewhere. Behind them came Dancer, long-legged and swift, bounding up to Crystalmoss's side. The elves greeted their animals, in the way of elves and wolves.
Then Brightmist turned to Shadowflash and put her hands on his chest. **We'll be all right,** she sent to him.