<html> <head> <style></style> </head> <body class='hmmessage'> <div align="left">   Crooked Jaw did not want to wait.  Thus, after a short farewell to Finbar's team (and that wretched donkey), the Longs, the wolves, and their two civilian companions started up the High Path around the flank of Scarred Mountain.  The Longs paused for lunch when they reached the snowy mountains and exchanged their usual forest camouflage for winter whites.   Xavier's dark fur took more camouflaging than most and he slogged along, panting, toward the back of the group.  Drift, unsurprisingly, didn't need any help blending in and walked steadily alongside Arla in the center.  The day itself turned out surprisingly warm, with a cloudless sunny sky and a warm wind from the southeast that brought the sharp scent of fresh snow and pine forests up among the mountains ahead.  After several hours of climbing, the samoyed looked up the curved, forbidding slope of Scarred Mountain on their left, its barren stones strangely scored with streaks and gouges running parallel to the ground.  Then he shielded his eyes against the mid-afternoon sun high in the clear sky and craned up at the snow-laden mountains they would be passing later in the day.  "Arla," he finally remarked, "as impressive as these mountains look up close, there's something I've been meaning to ask."    "What is that?" the collie-morph asked, quietly surprised that Drift was in good enough shape not to be panting from the effort of the climb up the saddle between the mountains.    "I don't mean to question the judgment of you Longs, but I'd really like to know why we're heading into an area Finbar was suggesting we turn back from."    "Crooked Jaw insisted we go on.  He says he's 'had enough of living in caves'.  If we went back, we'd probably have to wait for late next spring to get up here again."    "Nothing like-"  Drift paused, his foot resting on a fallen aspen trunk.  One of its ends was propped up off the ground by a large rock, and it bowed slightly under the load.  "Hmmm," he murmured, shifting his weight on it to see how resiliently it bounced back.  "Interesting."    Arla eyed Drift quizzically.  "What did you say?" she asked, having not quite caught his murmured musing.    The samoyed looked up, his mouth twitching into a mildly embarrassed smile.  "Sorry… my mind wandered for a moment.  Nothing of immediate importance."  Stepping over the log and hurrying to catch up, he continued, "Speaking of immediate importance, isn't this move rather last-minute, what with winter coming on?  Wouldn't it be better to wait until spring?"    Arla's ears flicked in amusement.  "At the risk of answering a question with a question, do you know how Crooked Jaw got his name, Drift?"    "That was my next question, actually," Drift replied.  "His jaw doesn't -look- crooked."    "The lutins gave him that name.  In their language, if they say someone has a crooked jaw, it means they are considered strong enough and tenacious enough to have it broken, survive whatever broke it, and then to recover afterward.  (Given the state of most lutin medicine, that last requirement may be the most difficult.)  Once he sets his mind to something, especially if it's something he considers for the good of the pack, it's very hard to talk him out of it.  If we don't go with them, then they won't get to where we want them to go and may settle down someplace more likely to bring them into conflict with our logging crews or our farmers.  We also would come out looking like poor allies, which is not something we want."    "Hmm.  Put that way, that does make sense."  Drift pondered for a bit more and then half unslung the bundle of rope tied to his pack and suggested, "Why not climb down the cliff face once we get around this mountain, and take the Low Path the rest of the way?"    Arla chuckled.  "Have you ever tried lowering a tied-up dire wolf before?  Besides which, if we did that, then the wolves wouldn't know the way out of the lake valley if they needed to leave."    "Good point," Drift said.  "I think-"  He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping as they crested the mountain saddle.  "Oh, wow," he breathed, struck almost speechless by the scale of the river valley unfolding before them.    The land sloped gently down between the mountains for several hundred yards before dropping precipitously away into a vast chasm over a mile wide, as if a giant had dragged an enormous shovel through the mountains and left a broad furrow behind.  The entire town of Euper would have fit comfortably inside its breadth.  To the right, it disappeared out of sight around the flanks of Scarred Mountain (which had finally given up its gouged, slightly concave look for a more traditional tree-and-snow slope), and was concealed to the right by a high ridge coming down from the mountain on that side.  If the far canyon wall was any indication, that ridge would be the first of many.  The canyon wall rose many times as high as Metamor's curtain wall, zigzagging up and down in sharp ridges and low hanging valleys as if the river valley had been cleaved through the feet of the mountains.  Even so, none of the mountain valleys approached even a third of the way down to the main valley: instead, several of them emptied cascading, ice-encrusted waterfalls down the cliffs that vanished into the forest of evergreens that lined the edges of the canyon, with a few nearly bare broadleaf trees mixed in for variation.  The mountain runoff then reappeared as small streams that bounced down the sloped valley floor before feeding into the main river.  The majority of the canyon, though, was treeless, and was buried deep under gently drifted snow where the river and the streams hadn't washed it away.    As the group got closer, even the Longs (who had seen it before) paused to take in the staggering view.  When Drift asked why the trees were only along the edges, Laura explained, "The bottom of the canyon is mostly grass, because the ground is very rocky.  We don't know exactly why it's like that, but that's not important to our mission."  Turning her attention to the ridges and mountains they would have to traverse in order to reach their destination, she continued, "Finbar said that a camp had been set on a high ridge midway between here and Ice Lake, and that we shouldn't have any problem reaching it well before sundown."    "It always makes me nervous when someone says we 'shouldn't have a problem'," Padraic commented, sotto voce.    "Smart man," Laura replied, nodding in wry agreement.  "This is avalanche country.  We'll be traveling low on the mountainsides, so I don't think we'll trigger anything, but that puts us a lot closer to the canyon wall than I'd prefer and accidents can still happen.  I want everyone alert and ready to run for the ridges on a moment's notice.  That should get you out of the slide path."  She pointed up at the first that they would have to cross, its spine well-forested with evergreens.  "Get to the trees, grab hold, and hang on.  Arla, make absolutely sure that the wolves understand that."   Once she was certain that had been taken care of, Laura turned and led the way.  "All right, people, let's be about it."    The snow conditions made for slow travel as they climbed over ridges and trekked across valleys.  The top several inches of the snow pack were wet and heavy, but a foot placed too forcefully would punch through to a dry, powdery layer below.  The powder provided poor traction, and the dense snow above dragged at legs and feet.  The wolves, with their broad snowshoe paws, generally managed to avoid this, but the Keepers were soon slowed and wearied by the slog.  By the sixth ridge, Drift had shifted into taurform and taken the lead, clearing a path like an icebreaker on a sea of snow.  Xavier was starting to grumble again, but apparently decided that helping flatten down the snow in Drift's wake was more productive than stewing in an ill mood.   This improved the pace somewhat, but not enough for the three young wolves.  They soon grew bored and, despite warnings to stay close to the group, were soon chasing each other across the slopes in a rampaging game of tag.  Cloud Walker in particular dashed around with abandon and Crooked Jaw finally chased him down and thrashed him to get him to settle down.    Drift winced, remembering similar thrashings in his own youth, but it didn't seem to slow Cloud Walker down much.  He was soon dashing about again, a little closer to the group and keeping a watchful eye on his father's temper.  After a few laps around the party, the young wolf leaped up onto the upturned roots of a fallen tree and looked down on them all with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  Seizing a dangling pine branch in his mouth, he shook it vigorously.  Snow cascaded down on them all, drawing yells from Xavier and several of the Longs.  Xavier and Allart in particular competed for the loudest, longest complaints when snow went down their backs.    When the leopard spotted Cloud Walker still laughing at them from his high perch, though, he got his revenge. With one quick gesture from him, a swirl of wind shook the trees above the young wolf and they unloaded their remaining branches right on top of him in a shower of snow and shed needles.  Xavier smiled and walked on.  To his surprised friend, who had stopped breaking trail to watch, he remarked, "What?  Did you think lightning was the only weather effect I knew?"    "Good point," Drift replied while Cloud Walker shook out from under the snow Xavier had piled on him and jumped down from his boulder.  The samoyed turned east to look out over the next gully they would have to cross.   Cloud Walker's fallen tree had toppled into it, limbs poking up through the snow, tapering out about halfway to the bottom.  It looked like snow had drifted up against it from the north, toward the forbiddingly barren peak above.  Oddly, most of the branches on the valley side of both ridges were missing, but it didn't occur to Drift to wonder what had caused it.  Instead, he was just glad that he didn't have to push through them, like he had had to do on most of the previous ridgetops.    Pausing to rub his taur shoulders and forelegs, which were starting to ache from climbing and descending through deep snow for most of the day, Drift twisted around to look back for the party leader.  "Hey, Laura," he asked, "how far is it to the camp that Finbar told us about?"    Laura crunched through the snow to Drift's side, pulled a spyglass from her pack, and surveyed the area.  "I think we've still got a few more ridges to go," she said, snapping the glass closed once she'd finished.  "And if it isn't within two, then we'll find a comfortable spot for everybody to take a rest.  If you're tired, though, somebody else can take over trailblazing."    "No, I'm all right," Drift replied, waving her concern away while he flexed his four legs in the snow to work the soreness out.  "I just need to add some elevation changes to my daily run once I get back.  I'm not used to going up and down so much."    "Okay, but don't wear yourself out.  It takes longer to recover from fatigue up here in the mountains than it does back in Metamor Valley."    Drift nodded and moved forward again, testing his footing as he started downhill.  Crooked Jaw, ever the leader, walked alongside him on top of the snow, and Xavier and Arla followed behind while Laura continued to scan the area with a feeling of growing concern.  Reaching out to the tree next to her, she stroked its bare, limbless side, trying to figure out why it bothered her so much.  She looked up toward the mountain again, and suddenly the snow-laden, treeless expanse above the two ridges registered, as did the funnel shape of the gorge between them.  She turned to cry warning… just in time to see Cloud Walker make a running leap down the tree trunk and off into the pristine valley snow.  "No, don't!"    The young dire wolf cratered the snow when he landed, the snow pack collapsing in a six-foot- wide circled around him with a loud WHOOMP!  Immediately, it started to slide down the slope, taking a yelping Cloud Walker with it.  The developing slide didn't restrict itself to those six feet, either.  Fractures in the snowpack radiated out in all directions.  Some bolted across and down the ridge, lancing toward the trailbreakers, others raced uphill toward the mountain, and still more surged up the ridge toward the rest of the party.    Laura lunged for the tree next to her as chaos erupted.  Longs and wolves leaped for whatever handhold or secure footing could be found in the bare moment it took for the snow to disintegrate around them.  She heard Allart yell in pain and looked to see Silent Stone yank the flailing child-man from the slide by a firm, toothy grip on the seat of his white camouflage pants.  The rest of the Longs and the wolves looked okay in the second she spared to check them before returning her attention to the gorge and its mayhem.  Drift, Crooked Jaw, Xavier, Arla and Cloud Walker didn't have a chance to grab a handhold, and she strained to spot some sign of them amid the dissipating cloud of powdered snow as the slide in the gorge ground to a halt.    She didn't have to wait long.  Drift popped up almost immediately, and then hauled his friend Xavier to his feet a moment later.  Both of them helped Arla up; the collie looking breathless but otherwise none the worse for wear.  Crooked Jaw and Cloud Walker both surfaced a moment after that, burrowing out and shaking off in nearly identical motion.    "Is everyone all right?" Merideth called out.  Into the replied affirmations (and one indignant "He bit my ass!"), Swift Shadow interjected a short, sharp bark of alarm.  The young she-wolf stood high on the bundle of tree roots that Cloud Walker had just departed, her eyes and ears fixed intently on the mountain at the head of the gorge.  A moment later, as silence fell on the group, everyone else heard it, too: a high, groaning strain as the entire mountainside creaked and shivered.    "Get out of there!  Get to high ground, now!" someone shouted.  It might have been Laura; it might have been Allart.  It might even have been both at once, a warning to the trailblazers still in disarray down in the gorge.  Whatever the case, the shout was almost completely buried by a tremendous cracking bang.  A deep crevasse opened in the snowfield on the mountainside high above, and a massive slab of snow began to slide downward.  At first it seemed to move deceptively slowly, but it rapidly built speed with a roar like rolling thunder.    That roar was met with a rising scream as Xavier, realizing that the avalanche would be on top of them before the trailbreakers could get to safety, met it with all the power at his disposal.   The gust he called built from a tree-swaying breeze to a snapping wind to a howling gale and beyond, racing up the gorge to meet the oncoming wave of snow and blast it to powder.  It wasn't enough.  The leading edge of the slide blew away like a cloud, only to reveal large tumbling blocks of snow too massive to be balked even by the desperate hurricane Xavier was throwing at them.  Forked lightning detonated the leading blocks with ear-shattering peals of thunder, but they were quickly replaced by the slide's seemingly inexhaustible supply.  Indeed, the wind and the thunder were worsening the slide, shaking even more snow from the mountainside and sending it cascading inexorably downward.    "Blow it sideways!" Drift yelled over the din, waving his arm to the left as if to push the slide himself.  "Dump it in the next valley over, if you can!"    "I can't!" Xavier shouted back through gritted teeth, windborne snow whipping past him in disintegrating sheets stripped from the ground around him.  "I'm barely holding onto this as it is!  If I try to turn it, it will run amok!"    The samoyed taur reached out and snatched Xavier off his feet.  He then tossed the leopard over his left shoulder and dashed as fast as he could up the slope toward the safety of the ridgetop.  "Then let it!  You've done all you can- now it's time for us to get out of here!"    The winds reeled drunkenly as Xavier's concentration broke.  Drift staggered as they buffeted wildly about the valley, whipping up whirls and blinding eddies.  Farther up the slope, the winds slapped Arla off her feet entirely, knocking her to the ground.  Beyond her, Crooked Jaw stumbled, but then bowed his head into the swirling storm and bulled through to safety at the ridgetop.  "At least one of us made it," Drift shouted, his voice barely audible over the twin roars of avalanche and windstorm.    "No-one else will, though," Xavier gasped.  Drift's burly shoulder had nearly driven the air from his lungs.  His eyes locked on Cloud Walker's behind them, the young wolf wild with panic as he tried desperately to catch up.  Then Xavier looked beyond to the avalanche that was nearly on top of them, and his eyes widened.  With a rumble like a thousand caravan wagons all crossing a bridge at once, the unleashed winds whirled themselves into a massive tornado, a swirling white wall that slammed into the oncoming avalanche like two mighty waves colliding in the ocean.  "So that's how it's done," he murmured, for one awe-inspiring moment able to watch the winds perform their ultimate dance of destruction.    For a moment, the right side of the avalanche was checked by the right side of the whirlwind, balked by the tornado's spin, the rampaging storm shielding the fleeing Keepers and their lupine friend.  The left side of the funnel, its winds blowing with instead of against the avalanche, accelerated that half of the slide past them and off the cliff into the river valley below in a cataract of powdered white.  In that moment, Drift reached Arla, lifted her with his strong right arm and, with every ounce of strength his taur body possessed, hurled her up the slope and out of the snow slide's path.  In that moment, he prayed, /Oh, Eli, forgive me all/, knowing neither he, Xavier, nor Cloud Walker would make it out.    Then the moment passed.  The tornado, already starting to dissipate, moved aside and a towering wall of ice and snow engulfed the three creatures still in its path.  When it passed on and over the cliff, only silence remained behind. TO BE CONTINUED...  (right after Anthrocon) </div> <hr />The New Busy think 9 to 5 is a cute idea. Combine multiple calendars with Hotmail. <a href='http://www.windowslive.com/campaign/thenewbusy?tile=multicalendar&ocid=PID28326::T:WLMTAGL:ON:WL:en-US:WM_HMP:042010_5' target='_new'>Get busy.</a> !DSPAM:4c220379279902041213656! </body> </html>