The Chronicles of
                               Wolfmoon
      Book I : The Druid’s Apprentice
    by Maddi P

     Prologue

“Run Wolfie! Run!”
        My mother pushed me into the bushes of the forest I was never allowed to enter. The thorns poked at my skin, my arms bleeding and my tunic ripping. I tried to cling and scream, but she pried me off.
“I don’t want to leave you!” I yelled. I was a small and frail child, only nine winters.
“ But you have to, my love.” her tone was firm, and when she gazed into my eyes for the last time, I knew I had to obey her orders.
“Now go!”
I turned back once, her long brown hair and worn purple dress billowing in the wind, and wet from the rain.
“Go!”
So I ran.
My legs carried me off into the forest, the sky dark and angry, the trees hanging low. The dark elves of the underground, The Drows, had come to raid our village once more. They came four winters before, and our bravest warriors had fended them off. But this time, we were not as lucky. Our houses were burned down, most killed, and all of our treasures taken. Riverglen was not a rich village, but there were secrets hidden in the small huts scattered across the hills.
Tears ran down my face, and I let out piercing screams with every step. I tripped over a log, my nose hitting the mud, and my face exploding with blood. I lay there, twisted and half buried in the earth, warm crimson cascading down my lip and chin. I could see the smoke from the burning homes, far back. I could still hear a faint cry now and then, but it was cut off or quickly silenced.
I tried to close my eyes and pretend it was all a dream, but the dark screams of reality kept me awake. I continued to cry, rain hitting me over and over again. I was already alone. My biggest fear.
I called for my mother, as if she would come running towards me, picking me up in her arms and carrying me back home. I shut my eyes again, the illusions I created vivid in my mind. I wanted it. I needed it. And slowly, ever so slightly, I was getting towards it. Closer and closer to home. But I got back on my knees and crawled around the forest floor. I found a pile of wet leaves by a tree. I curled up in a ball and cried until I fell asleep.

  
  
         The sounds of the morning gently shook me. The trees looked higher and brighter, the sun peeking through the leaves and casting a warm glow on the forest floor. I stared up at the sky, the dark rainclouds gone, now replaced with white. The ground beneath me still reeked of rain. My clothes were wet, and my face still hurt. My nose felt bigger, and it hurt every time I took a breath. I didn’t feel like carrying that burden, so I remembered what my mother had told me when I had a cold as a child.
I had to breathe in through my mouth and remember not to swallow anything suspicious. I got up on my feet and tried walking. My legs ached and so did my head. I went slowly, trudging through the fallen branches. There wasn’t anywhere to go but straight. So that was where I went.
I tried to cheer myself up by singing under my breath and keeping my head up. There wasn’t anything that could fill the void that was inside of me, but it could at least get me through the walk to wherever I was headed.
I kept going until I found a dirt trail, a tunnel of oaks entwined together. I was never allowed this deep into the forest, only where my mother could keep an eye on me. I used to play around the edges, pretending I was like one of the clerics that walked through my village once in awhile. They were mysterious looking men, their staffs long, often topped with orbs or colorful glass, and their hoods pulled over their faces. While my mother gathered herbs, I would take her cloak and pull it over my eyes. Then I would run around and pretend to be a magical being myself.
“Wolfie!” she’d call.
I’d pull the hood back and laugh. She’d smile and hold out her hand, then we would walk back to the village and she’d tell me stories of my father. She said he was a magic man himself. He was half-elf with thick black hair and big blue eyes. He was strong, brave and kind. My mother used to sneak out of her hut and meet him in the forest. There they would sit by the river, and he would sing to her. Sometimes she wondered if that's where I got my talent. I had faint memories of him. His face leaning over mine, his lips kissing my forehead before my eyes closed, and his big and warm smile.
But most of all I remember his voice.
Sweet and low, smooth like honey. I missed it, singing me to sleep. He would sing old Elven folk songs so calm me down and stop my crying. Now, I can only remember the melody. He was murdered by the Drows when they attacked our village. My mother was never the same after that. She kept a lock of his hair in her pocket. After he died, my mother was shunned by the village. They believed you couldn’t raise a family with only one parent. The villagers always said my mother went mad after my father died. She would walk around town, whispering to herself as if he was right there with her. I noticed she would leave plates of food around our hut saying, “...it’s for your father. He’ll be home soon.” I knew he was never coming back. But I admired her streak of faith she still carried with her. Even if some said she was going to die of a broken heart.
The road led to a clearing filled with wildflowers. I sat down in them, forgetting the pain in my nose and taking deep breaths of their fresh scent. I laid in them, letting them consume me with their strong perfume. I eventually fell asleep again, and when I awoke, the sun began to set.
Another day had yet passed.
I stood up, watching the pink and orange fade into the golden sun. Slowly and steadily it began to sink into the horizon, where I imagined all of my sorrow going down with it. I took a deep breath in through my nose, held it in my lungs, and stared.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I whipped my head around to see a tall and broad shouldered man with a green cloak, the hood pulled over his eyes, standing behind me. He held a wooden staff with a green glass orb atop. It was covered in leaves and vines from what I could see. He was just like the men that used to walk through Riverglen.
My heart pounded within me, my eyes widening.
“Ah, there is nothing to be afraid of, young one.”
I took a step back.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“I am Prism Greenhood. Archdruid of The Forest, Initiate of the Druid Circle,” he boomed. “And who are you?”
“Wolfmoon Everwood.”
I took another step back, preparing to run off.
“And why are you alone, Wolfmoon Everwood?”
I stared. I wasn’t going to open my mouth to some man I had just met. It was none of his business. That’s what mother always said.
We gazed into each other for a long while before he unveiled himself, revealing a kind looking young man. He had stringy orange hair that barely touched his shoulders with a small beard and a sharp nose.
“ I am not here to hurt you.” he held out his hand.
“How do I know I can trust you?” my voice was as soft, and I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding in my throat.
“Because the farther you go into this forest, the more danger you’re putting yourself in.  The night is filled with creatures, and they will stop at almost nothing to get what they want. I am not a man of violence, nor do I tolerate it. Hopefully you are a peaceful and respectful young man yourself, who would not hurt any living thing in my wood.”
I look a step forward, his eyes still piercing my insides.
“Come,” he gestured with his head. “ the sky's getting dark. The moon will be out in a matter of minutes.”
I plucked up my courage and followed him.
He led me along a hidden road inside of the trees, and in about forty paces, I stood face to face with the most magnificent thing I had ever laid eyes on.
An oak, many feet tall and many feet wide stared right back at me. The green leaves looking so healthy and well taken care of. A few steps led up to it, where Prism whispered a few words in  a language I did not understand. A torch lit, and a door swung open. He led me inside of the tree, where wooden a table and chairs lay.
I don’t remember much about that night, now. It was some years ago. But I remember him feeding me and putting me off to bed in the warmest blankets I’d even felt. I fell asleep right away, unaware of what was in store.
                            

   I was awoken by the sound of voices.
They were loud and obnoxious from what I heard. Pots clanged and cabinets slammed. I could hear every word they said.
“What do you mean, apprentice?” an unfamiliar voice said.
“ We are in need of more of us in the realm. Most of them are dying from the plague.”
“So you found a young boy?”
“There isn’t anyone left in the village. Every time I had gone, I could not find anyone. Man or woman.”
“But he’s just a boy.”
“He's all we have. And I sensed something in him…he's different.”
“But…he's a child. Are you positive he’ll make a fine Druid?”
“Don’t you think you should go wake him then?”
“He's your apprentice.”
I heard big and heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.
The door creaked open.
“Wolfmoon?”
I pulled the blankets closer.
“Good morning.” he tapped my shoulder.
I did not say anything. I closed my eyes and yawned.
Prism looked different without his cloak. He had broad shoulders and big arms. He had big legs and a big chest. He was what I envisioned a warrior or a king.
“How did you sleep?”
“Fine.” I nodded my head.
I wiped my nose. Blood did not spill from either of my nostrils. I looked down at my arms. They were bandaged and dressed, and I wore new clothes.
I looked up at Prism. He winked.
“Would you like to come downstairs? There is tea and food.”
I rubbed my eyes and set my feet on the floor.
I followed him down the vine covered stairs and into the kitchen.
“Where is he?” Prism sat me down and went off to another room. “Uriel!” he called.
“What?” the one supposedly named Uriel yelled back.
“Get down here you feeble child!”
“I’m not a child. I'm older than you.”
Prism planted his feet firmly into the ground and crossed his arms.
“I’m waiting!”
“Alright, alright! I’m coming.”
Prism looked over at me and smiled.
“He’s a difficult one. Ever since I was about your age, he hasn’t changed.”
Footsteps came pounding down the stairs. A young man, about maybe seventeen winters stood in front of Prism. He had a small frame, and he was very short. He was to about Prism’s chest. He glared at Prism
“What?” Uriel said.
“Say hello to our guest.”
He came over and sat down across from me, his moods changing in a matter of seconds. A big smile spread across his face. I took a good look at him. Long black hair pulled back, deep blue eyes, fair skin. Pointed ears. Sharp nose. Perfect features.
I got up from my seat and stared at him. I began to shake and ran into the corner.
“Wolfmoon!” Prism said, confused.
I wrapped myself into a ball. I rocked back and forth over and over. I started to cry loudly and scream into my knees.
“He’s a Drow!” I screamed when Prism came near me.I flailed my arms in every direction, trying to get him away from me. Prism placed his firm hands on my shoulders to steady my rocking.
“No...no. Uriel is anything but a Drow. He may be quite stupid and very disrespectful, but he will not hurt you.”
I stopped rocking and looked up at Prism.
“He’s a woodland elf. Not a Drow. Drows are cruel and have grey skin and white hair. Uriel is quite nice, and he doesn’t have grey skin or white hair, now does he?”
I shook my head.
“He won’t hurt you.”
Prism stood back up and held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me back up. I went with him back into the kitchen, where Uriel sat in the same place, playing with his fingernail.
“Uriel.” Prism said.
His head shot up.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I hid behind Prism.
“Ah, no, no, no.” Prism said and sat me down.
I looked at Uriel and nodded.
“That’s good. You don’t have to fear me. I won’t hurt you.”
“Alright.” my whisper voice said again.
“Would you like to go out in the woods with him today, Wolfmoon? After all, this is your new home and we’d like you to get used to your surroundings.”
I looked down into the cup of tea.
“Alright.”
After I finished my tea and ate a few pieces of fruit, Uriel grabbed his bow and quiver from a cloak hook and opened the door. The sun shined down on the ground, the light reflecting off of the morning dew.
“It’s so beautiful.” Uriel smiled.
He started walking down another path.
“Where do you want to go?” Uriel asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know my way around here.”
“Oh. Well...we could go down to the creek. It’s nice and peaceful down there.”
I stayed close behind him.
“And there’s a nice-looking nymph I’ve been spying on there, too.”
I laughed a little under my breath.
Uriel led me to the creek, where the water ran slow and steady. It was about chest-deep, and it was crystal clear.
“The Grand Druid always makes sure everything in this forest is perfect.” he looked around.
He jumped onto a rock in the middle of the creek.
“See? Perfect.”
He started to step on to other ones.I sat down and watched him entertain himself.
“Come over here!” he called.
I watched him take another step. But he slipped, falling into the creek. I jumped up and looked over the water.
He pulled himself up and laughed.
“Are you alright?!” I gasped.
“I’m fine! It happens to me all the time. I can’t really steady myself. The rocks are quite slippery.”
I smiled and laughed.
“Oh, so you think it’s funny?” he smiled. “Can you swim?”
“No--”
He grabbed my ankles and pulled me in.
My skin screamed as it made contact with the cold water. I gasped for air and finally got my head above water.
“You can swim.” he said.
“ I was never taught.”
“That doesn’t matter. Maybe you have a natural talent.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. There are a lot of hidden talents you might have in here,” he poked my head. “Maybe you just haven’t figured them out yet.”
I thought about what he said right there, still trying to keep my head above water.
“Let’s go to the shallow part. There are nice treasures down at the bottom.”
“Treasures?”
“See this ring?” he showed me his hand. A big, green gem sat on top of a shiny gold band. “I found it at the bottom.”
Soon I found myself walking back along the dirt trail at sunset. I had a bag of colorful rocks in one hand, and a beating heart in my chest. The day was long and full of adventure. I learned how to use a bow, which Uriel said I also had a natural talent for, climb a tree, and fish with my hands. Uriel pushed open the door to the tree, and there sat Prism, scribbling in a journal. The house was lit with different colored candles, and it smelled of incense.
“Welcome home, Wolfmoon. Did you have fun?”
I smiled and nodded. It was the first time I ever felt happy in a long while.
“Good.” Prism took out his pipe. “Uriel?”
Uriel hung up his bow and turned towards Prism.
“Why don’t you put our fine young druid off to bed?”
“Druid?” I smiled. “I’m not a druid.”
Uriel put his hand on my shoulder and led me up the stairs. Once I laid down in bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin.
“Why did Prism call me a druid?”
“Because,” Uriel pushed back strands of my hair. “maybe being a Druid is another one of your hidden talents.”
“How do you know?”
“ I just know. I’ve seen many who hadn’t passed Prism’s games b--” Uriel’s eyes widened and he shoved his fist in his mouth.
“What?” I sat up.
“ I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Say what?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Just… go to bed. Goodnight, little one.” he kissed my forehead.
“Goodnight.”
What were these games? And was I really a druid?

Chapter One

       The summer of my thirteenth birthday was the summer I became intertwined with the earth. I breathed in tune with the wind and the water, and I felt the steady heartbeat of the trees. I hid in the branches of Prism’s great oak and watched the sunset become a black blanket sprayed with kisses of light. One night, he had to remind me to come back inside before the night’s chill froze my bones. I stood in the candlelit kitchen with him, where he sat by the fireplace, the light of the flames flickering against his green robes. He often scolded me for being too loud, reminding me Uriel was asleep. He shooed me up to my room, which I shared with the elf. He never really was asleep, merely sitting on the sill of the window, looking out into the night.
“Can't sleep?” I laughed and joined him by the window.
“Elves don't need sleep,” he replied. “ I don't require as much rest.”
He did not look at me. He continued to stare out into the forest.
“Well...I'm a bit tired myself.” I yawned and sprawled out across my bed. I watched him sit there. His raven hair was let down, falling against his back. The nightshirt he wore was old, and a somewhat faded yellow color. He pushed a lock of hair behind his pointed ear and went over to his own bed. I stared up at the ceiling, turning gold from the candles lit along the dresser in the corner. I heard footsteps along the hall leading to our bedroom.
Prism held a mug of water and stood in the doorway.
“I forgot to mention,” his voice filled the room. “Tomorrow is the Moot.”
“Moot?” I crinkled my nose. Prism ignored my remark and looked at Uriel.
“The man making ceremony. I want the boy to see it.”
“But he doesn't have to take part in it for two more winters. There's no point in him watching if he isn't a  Druid.”
“I'm a Druid.” I huffed under my breath.
Prism rolled his eyes and turned to leave.
“Get some sleep you two. We leave early tomorrow evening.”

      
        “Alright,” Uriel huffed. “Remember what I showed you.”
I stood in front of a white horse, my heart  beating like a drum. Uriel had taken me on rides before, but I was still clueless.
“There's going to be a day when I can't help you onto a horse.” he put his hands on his hips. I stuck my foot into the stirrup, and tried to heave my own weight.
“Come on,” he put a steady hand on my waist to hold me . “Remember what I showed you.”
I flung my leg over the side of the horse and marveled at how far I was from the ground. Uriel sighed, but then smiled before going back into the great oak for Prism. We were dressed in white robes and crowns made from oak leaves. After we started to ride to the clearing where the Moot would be held, Prism had told me I had to act my best, for I’d be face to face with the Grand Druid of the realm. He was said to stand many feet tall, an oak tree himself, with a beard whiter than virgin snow. He would be dressed in the finest robes, with a yellow orb atop his staff. His name was Blodwyn, and he had been crowned king of the forest fifty winters ago. His son, Ryx, was the Great Druid who led the circle. As of that time, the realm consisted of eleven Druids; one Grand Druid, one Great Druid, three Archdruids, three initiates, and three young apprentices. Those three apprentices were the ones who would be crowned initiates at the ceremony. They told me many woodland elves would be watching, and would help welcome the new Druids to the realm. Every new Druid had someone to accompany them after they were initiated, whether it be an elf or a human. Prism had Uriel, who had been by his side when Prism was initiated into the First Circle. They had been paired together to keep the forest safe for as long as Prism reigned Druid. Prism almost never left the forest, always keeping his oak safe and free of the darkness that lurked around the edges of the wood of which we called home. Druids that left the forest to adventure were called Wanderers, and there was one special Wanderer who would be watching the ceremony along with the other Druids.
As we approached the circle of trees and got off our horses, I could hear music and laughter. I grabbed the reigns of my horse tighter and looked around in awe. Flecks of sunlight peeked through the rich green of the leaves above all the people of the forest. There was a pond sprayed with lilies, where a circle of what looked to be elves sat, talking and sipping wine from silver chalices. Everything looked so alive, so vibrant.
“Prism!” a voice called. A svelte and graceful elf approached us, wearing a silver robe that matched his chalice. His crown, also silver, was decorated with small flowers and raspberry leaves. Every elf seemed to have perfect features. Even Uriel, who never dressed as elegant as the other woodland elves. He always looked like another ranger off the outskirts of a village.
“It's been so long since we've seen each other last.” The elf placed a willowy hand on Prism’s broad shoulder.
“You haven't changed a bit since, my dear friend.” Prism laughed. The elf looked over at Uriel and held out his hand.
“It's wonderful to see you again, my brother.”
“It's a pleasure, Zelpher.” Uriel smiled, as if his heart felt content being reunited with his elven kin. Zelpher then looked at me and smiled.
“My father awaits your arrival, Archdruid Prism. He wishes to meet your new apprentice.” Zelpher pointed to a bigger group of elves, more elegantly dressed than the smaller circle by the pond.
“Who are they?” I whispered to Uriel. He put his arm around my shoulder and pointed them out to me.
“Prince Zelpher of the woodland elf kingdom. He’s a skilled swordsman and a friend of Prism’s. There’s his father, King Arandil.”
King Arandil wore a robe and crown of pure gold. He shimmered like starlight, a ray of heaven surrounding his sylphlike frame. High cheekbones and grey eyes made him look barely day older than his son. He looked like he belonged to the higher power himself. He was absolutely enthralling and mysterious. He must have felt the weight of my stare, because after greeting Prism, he gestured for Uriel and I to come over.
“This is your apprentice?” he raised his eyebrows. Prism nodded like a proud father.
Arandil took my chin in his hand and tilted my head. He studied my features, like he was counting the small spray of freckles I had across my cheeks. He gawked at my crooked nose and seemed to frown when he noticed my non-pointed ears.
“From afar he seemed like a halfsie.” he laughed and turned to Prism.
“My father was half elf.” I said, my face still clutched in his cold hand. He nodded in approval and continued to scrutinize my profile.
“He will do.” Arandil loosened his firm grip and patted my cheek. I looked around and saw the apprentices of the other Druids. Fine young men and women, a winter or two older than I, built like warriors. One girl stood by a female Druid, showing off her archery skills to a group of elves in lavender robes. She looked strong and sturdy, like the rest of the apprentices, while I was scrawny and awkward. I felt out of place.
“Where is Amyr?” Arandil craned his neck to try and see above the heads of elves and humans alike. It was a clear signal he was finished examining a sorry and sad excuse for a rawboned apprentice brought to him by one of the strongest and most trustworthy Druids. I turned to Uriel again.
“Amyr?” I said.
“An initiate. He is next in line to be an Archdruid.”
Prism patted Arandil on the back and took my arm. We started to walk over to the circle of thrones made of entangled branches. There, in the biggest throne, sat Blodwyn. He nodded in Prism’s direction and gestured for him to sit in one of the smaller thrones to his left. Prism bowed in return and then turned to Uriel and I. He shooed us away with his hand and sat next to Blodwyn.
I followed Uriel around, clinging onto his arm. He stopped to talk to a few younger Druids and elves before finding one in particular.
“Amyr?” Uriel called.
Amyr smiled awkwardly and walked over. He seemed unorganized and frantic, holding what looked to be his son by the arm. His son was surprisingly a lanky and scraggy fellow, himself. He looked about nine or ten winters, and seemed just as out of place as I was.
“Nice to see you, Uriel.” said Amyr. They shook hands before Uriel told him they were about to begin the ceremony. Amyr said goodbye to his son and hurried off to the throne circle. His son stood there with us, seeming just as nervous as his father. He scratched his head and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, revealing a slight point. He was a half elf, with tamer versions of elven features. Uriel seemed to forget I was his responsibility and walked off to talk to a beautiful elven girl. As we saw the rest of the elves and Druids hurry and gather around the throne circle, we got up and followed, but our view was poor. I couldn’t find Uriel, even though I was sure he was with the elf girl.
“Welcome,” a voice boomed.
Everyone hushed each other and looked to the throne circle. The boy and I found two large rocks to sit on to improve our view. Every Druid sat, except for one. I guessed it was Ryx, for he stood by the throne next to Blodwyn.
“We are gathered here today to mark the man making of these three fine apprentices.”
The apprentices stood in front of the thrones, dressed in white robes as well.
“They will officially become a part of this forest, and be in line to become initiated into the circle.” Ryx walked towards the apprentices, standing in front of the first one. She was the skilled archer.
“Nuala, apprentice of Archdruid Fife. Fifteen winters.” He walked over to the next one. A strong and handsome young man with brown hair.
“My apprentice, Caine, seventeen winters.” Caine looked sturdy and able to survive any challenge thrown at him by the Druids. Ryx walked over to the last apprentice, who didn’t look the least bit excited. He didn’t look happy to see the boy, as if he knew he was trouble. Whispers arose from the crowd.
“Thor. Apprentice of Initiate Astral. Fourteen winters.” Thor sneered at Ryx, looking ready for a fight. I knew he wouldn’t dare touch the Druid, but if he could, I think the entire realm knew he would.
“My father told me he killed his own familiar. It was an owl.” the boy said.
“Why?”
“Because he’s out of his mind. Father told me Astral wants to keep him anyway because he thinks Thor will change, but I’m convinced he’ll be of no help to the forest.”
For such a small lad, he had quite a big mouth.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Amos.” he said. “I know you, you’re Wolfmoon. I know all about you.”
My eyes widened, then went back to the ceremony.
Ryx stood in front of Thor with eyes sharper than daggers.
“As some of you may know,” Ryx went on. “ Thor was responsible for the murder of his own familiar. I don’t know why Astral chooses to keep him here on our forest, but his challenges will be harder to face than the two other new Druids. If he doesn’t pass the test, he’ll be banished from this forest. Forever.”
Gasps and whispers got louder and louder. I saw Prism’s head buried in his hand. I looked at Amos and waited for his reaction.
“Before we start the games,” Prism said. “ I'd like to tell Thor he's disobeyed every rule of the circle by killing a woodland creature. Especially one that belonged to him.”
Astral the Initiate shot Prism a look.
“Thor is challenged,” Astral snarled. “He was raised that way.”
“People who are raised as feral children should not be brought up as Druids.” Prism snarled back. “I say he shouldn't participate in the games at all.”
Ryx and Blodwyn sat and watched the two bicker. I didn't understand how he wasn't banished right away.
“Enough!” Blodwyn stood and slammed his staff against the earth. “Archdruid Prism is correct. He should be banished. But if he's banished, he should be banished a man.” He looked around at the crowd, and then at Thor.
I could hear Amos’s heavy breathing.
Ryx pulled out three blindfolds from his pocket.
“The three apprentices will be blinded, and led into the forest to be in tune with the earth. They will have to communicate with certain elements only by using their senses, and what they've been taught.” he placed the folds over their eyes.
“If you cheat,” Ryx snapped as he blinded Thor. “You will pay the ultimate price.”
I gasped and turned to Amos.
“Ultimate price?”
He kept his eyes on the Druids.
“Ritual sacrifice amongst the inner circle.” Amos pulled at his robes. I wondered why Amos knew so much from his father, and Prism told me little. He and I would sit at the small table in the kitchen, where he would read from his book and teach me about the ways of the Druids by candlelight. Uriel would be up in the room we shared, playing his lute or watching the forest from the window. Maybe he thought I wasn't ready. I wasn't mature enough to learn about...ritual sacrifice?
“The Gods are watching above us,” Ryx pulled a dagger from a small sheath and pointed it to the sky. “And the demons down below.” he bent down and stuck it in the dirt.
“Now go!”
The apprentices scattered into the forest behind the throne circle. We watched as they stumbled over stray branches on the ground and tripped over their own feet. The silence faded from the audience as the crowd made their way to sit around the pond. I ran over to Prism and tugged on his robe.
“What do we do now?” I asked anxiously.
“We wait.”
This was the man making ceremony? We sit and wait?
I saw Arandil looking at Amos the same way he did to me, unsatisfied still. I searched for Uriel, and found him talking with a few other elves. What was I to do? I didn't feel like waiting for so long. I looked around to see if anyone was watching before sneaking my way into the forest.
       It felt good to get away from all of the chatter. I breathed in the sweet smell of the grass and trees, the sunlight kissing my face from the web of leaves above me. Wildflowers grew in patches, all different colors and all different shapes. I felt at home in all of the green, I knew my soul found its place within the trees. I kept walking, the bottom of my white robe soiled from the mud. I found a waterfall overlooking the lagoon. It was steep and many feet high, surrounded by sharp rocks and slippery slopes. I sat by the stream the waterfall came from and ran my fingers through it. I wondered why I felt so out of place when I was in my home. I was with the Druids. Why did I feel so alone? Was I not good enough? Why wouldn't Prism tell me as many things as Amyr told Amos? I could see my reflection in the water, crystal clear. I studied my own face; big blue eyes, almost too big, a crooked nose, full lips and thick black eyebrows. My hair now touched my shoulders, after years of not getting it cut. I took off my crown of flowers and placed it on a near rock.
        I heard rustling in the bushes and quickly turned around. Thor was pressed up against a tree, still blindfolded. He seemed to be listening to every move the earth was making. I didn't dare make a sound. He walked barefoot over twigs and dirt, closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. I didn't know what to do, or when to move. He kept moving closer and closer. I couldn't bear watch as he took another step, slipped on moss…
And fell to his death.
I heard the piercing screams of the poor boy as he plunged into the rocky lagoon. My body shook with fear. I couldn't just stay there could I? The only thing I knew how to do was scream.
I screamed until I felt as if my throat began to bleed. Tears stung in my eyes, and I grabbed whatever dirt was beneath me. I heard voices, and feet hitting the ground.
“Wolfmoon!” Uriel came through the thicket and knelt beside me. Prism and a small group of elves followed him. He wrapped his arms around me and steadied my shaking.
“What's going on?” Prism said.
“Thor,” I sobbed. “He fell off the cliff.” my eyes were red and raw from crying. Uriel stroked my hair and I held him tighter. Prism and the elves whispered words to each other in Elvish. I understood most of their nervous talking.
“Maybe the boy pushed him,” one of the elves said. “He wasn't supposed to be here anyway.”
“I didn't!” I screamed, my voice beginning to go. “He was walking with his blindfold and slipped on some moss. I didn't know what to do.” I buried my face into Uriel's chest.
“Why were you out here, anyway?” A blonde haired elf asked in a smooth voice. I didn't respond, feeling foolish about why I did leave.
“It's not his fault the buffoon fell. He deserved it, anyway.” Uriel snapped.
“Hush yourself, wise tongue. Or I'll cut it off with my dagger.” the first elf growled.
Prism yelled at both Uriel and the other elf for thinking such things before telling us we needed to get back. The ceremony was not yet over, but Prism said Uriel and I would be leaving soon after. The elves and Prism ran back, but Uriel stayed with me. My breathing was fast and heavy.
“Wolfmoon,” he said and sat beside me. “Why did you leave?”
I took a deep breath and wiped my nose.
“I don't know.”
“You must have gone for a certain reason…”
I thought about feeling powerless compared to the other apprentices and even Amos. The apprentices were so strong and warrior like, and Amos knew so much compared to me. I felt weak and weary.
“I didn't feel right. I didn't feel like everyone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn't feel like I was as good enough as the other apprentices. I don't feel as if I'm fit to even be one.”
“Don't speak like that now, young one,” Uriel settled. “If you weren't fit to be a Druid, you wouldn't be living with Prism and I in the great oak, now wouldn't you?”
I shrugged, then shook my head.
“Remember when you were still a small boy, and I told you about your talents up here?” He tapped my forehead. “Those talents don't have anything to do with the ones you're worried about, pen-tithen.”
I rested my head against his shoulder.
“I'm sure Prism awaits our arrival. We should be on our way soon.” he stood and held out his hand for me.
I dragged my feet along the dirt and held onto Uriel's sleeve. I still felt like a small child, depending on my elven brother for support and love. Prism had always told me I acted more like an elven boy, gentle and sweet, instead of a human boy, who liked to fight and hurt. I didn't feel the need to fight. The air was heavy and silent between the two of us, who didn't say a word as we approached the circle. The sky was already dark, and candles were lit along the floor. Ryx and Blodwyn stood before the crowd, speaking words from the Druid language. Nuala and Caine were granted their own green robes and staffs topped with a colored orb. I tried to hide my face from the accusing eyes of the woodland elves. Uriel and I rushed over to where they kept our horses. I hopped on without Uriel's help and whipped the reins. I only wanted to leave and return to the comfort of the great oak. We galloped through the tunnel of trees, guided only by the moonlight. The wind in my hair made me forget the screams and the accusing eyes. All I could feel was the rush of excitement and the cool night air.

                                                          Chapter Two

        About two years had passed since that Moot, and I had been in intense training. Prism had taught me the secret language of the Druids and I had begun to learn Elvish. I had to learn how to heal wounds with only herbs and my hands, cure slight sickness, do magic, and of course, fight.
I was trained with a tall sickle, and I learned to whip it around myself with ease. The heavy silver blade could slice through skin instantly. I was also trained with a dagger and a club, but I was never allowed to use a sword. Prism had told me the Druids were forbidden I to use weapons made of steel, for steel was the material that could harm nature. Silver was sacred to us, as was gold. I wasn't allowed to use a shield, only a wooden circle tied to my arm with leather straps. It barely protected me, and only splintered and broke apart. The club was easy to handle, and the first one I was ever given was made out of sacred wood from the Elven King. It was a gift for my fifteenth birthday.
          One night at dinner, Prism had brought up the fact I was becoming a fine young Druid.
“You will replace me one day, Wolfmoon.” He shoveled another spoonful of stew into his mouth and some dribbled down his beard. Uriel snorted and spit out his water. Prism shot him a dirty look and wiped his face with the back of his hand.
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
“It's the cycle,” he looked at me as if I should have known this before. “When the Druid dies, the apprentice takes over.”
“Oh but Prism,” I rolled my eyes, “ that will come so much later. I've barely learned how to heal yet.”
Prism scarfed down more spoonfuls of food.
“Not true. You've improved over these past two winters with us.”
“How long has he been with us?” Uriel said through a mouthful of slush.
“Well,” Prism looked up at the ceiling and scratched his forehead. “Almost six winters.”
Six winters. I put my spoon down and stared into my bowl. I had spent six winters without my mother. Six winters with a man and an elf I had met in the woods. And I had forgotten all about Riverglen.
“Wolfmoon?” Uriel whispered.
“Huh?” I jumped out of my trance, but I stayed silent. Uriel and Prism both stared at me, confused. Maybe they had forgotten about the boy I once was. Maybe because my freckles had faded and my frame became wider and broader over the past few years. My hair had reached below my shoulders and was now darker than ever. I looked like a man now, and it frightened me. The only thing that reminded me of who I once was was my slightly crooked nose from breaking it on a log when I ran into the woods.
“Well… I'm finished.” I picked up my bowl, put it in the water bucket and headed upstairs to my room to sulk. I didn't remember the last time I thought about any of the things that had gone on earlier in my life…
“Wolfmoon!” Prism called as I was halfway up the stairs.
“Yes?”
“Your man making ceremony.”
The moot. How could I forget the moot? I hopped off the stairs and went back to the table.
“What about it?” I asked.
“It's in a fortnight. You should start practicing your skills again in the morning.”
“Alright.” I knew it was important to Prism that I was made into a man sooner or later. He didn't want me to be weak, or fail. I couldn't disappoint him, after all that he'd done for me. I stayed on the stairs and looked at him. I admit, at the time I was a little afraid of his capabilities, his strength, and the fact he was next in line to become the next Great Druid of the realm. I knew I couldn't fail him. He would lose all respect for me in every way. Maybe even banish me? I overthought the situation and kept pondering about what this man would do to me if I ever did him wrong. I sat down at the table again. Things were silent for a while before Uriel kissed the top of my head goodnight and headed upstairs to rest. He and I had been out all day practicing with my sickle and going out to the nearby village to pick up supplies.
“Don’t ever think I'd lose any respect for you.” Prism sat on the opposite side of the table with his hands folded. His deep green eyes stared into mine. I felt ashamed and hung my head.
“What makes you think I would ever think less of you? Even if you didn't pass the tests, my son?”
I took a deep breath in and let it out through my mouth.
“I want to be strong like you.”
“And you are. Look at all of these obstacles that you have overcome in the time we’ve spent together. I am very proud of you, Wolfmoon. Do you think I was as strong and powerful as I am now when I was your age?”
“I can’t say I do.”
“I wasn't. I grew. And that is what happens when someone grows. In time you will become even more powerful than I, and I do not doubt that you will become a great guardian of our home.”
I grinned a little and looked up at Prism again.
“You are very special to me, Wolfmoon. I have raised you like my son, and that is what you will forever remain to me, my boy.”
I got up from the table and headed upstairs to my bedroom, where Uriel sat by the window. We said nothing to each other for a long time. The only thoughts that were racing through my head were about the moot. What would life be like if I was still back in Riverglenn? Who would I be? Surely not a Druid. I would have probably ended up working as a blacksmith, or a poor innkeeper. Just like everyone else was.

The next day, I went down to the river with Amos to discuss the moot. We both needed to escape our studies and take a swim to survive the thick and heavy summer air.
“What if I meet an untimely death? What if I don’t pass? What if I end up like Thor?” I said.
“Oh, hush. You worry too much.” Amos splashed me. “It’s unlikely that you would fail.”
“I’m not as smart as you are.” I looked down into the clear water and started scavenging for stones.
“Not true,” Amos rolled his eyes “Prism has already taught you more than I know. My father wants me to read about the Circle instead of taking part in it.”
It really sounded like something Amyr would have his son do. He was the Druid someone went to for knowledge, not so much for healing or anything else. He was the keeper of sacred spell books and old ritual scrolls some Druid’s would have loved to get their hands on in times like these. Human fighters and careless villagers had been polluting the world around them. I’ve walked through those villages and noticed how dirty they were. I was happy I didn't end up like them.
“But that's a good thing, Amos. Every Druid has different strengths,” I remembered what Uriel told me when I was young “and different talents.”
“Talents?”
“Not all Druids are the same. If they were all the same, the forests would be places of monotony. It would almost be too perfect. To keep balance in the world, we all have to be different.”
“And that’s our job,” Amos said. “To keep balance.”
“Exactly.”
“So why are you so worried about the moot, then?”
I floated there in the water and thought for a while. Then I remembered what Amos had told me two winters ago at the last moot.
“Ritual sacrifice.” My eyes widened and my body began to shake. I would have to be sacrificed by my own mentor. In front of the entire circle. But then Amos let out a hearty laugh and had to hold onto my shoulder to steady himself. Tears began to form at the corners of his eyes as he rocked back and forth.
“Spit it out you jabbering buffoon!” I whacked him on the head with the back of my hand. “What’s so funny about ritual sacrifice?!”
“Because,” he heaved in a mouthful of air to try and stop laughing. “That was a joke!”
“You dirty halfsie!” I wailed and grabbed a handful of his brown hair.
“Ow!” He tried to pry loose, but instead grabbed onto my hair instead. We wrestled there in the river for a solid ten minutes, flailing our arms around like madmen and wailing like banshees until Uriel came out from the tree and had to tell us to shut up, or else he’d knock us both senseless.
“Ha! I’d like to see you try!” I laughed from down in the water. Uriel was about to take off his riding boot and throw it at my head when we heard the loud pounding of a horse’s gallop ring throughout the air. He drew his shortsword from his sheath and told us both to stay put before calling out for Prism as loud as he could. The pounding became louder and louder until the three of us saw the unthinkable.
A knight, in shining silver armor was rushing towards us at full speed. Just as the horse almost ran Uriel over, it stopped dead in it’s tracks, sending the rider flying face first into the dirt. Prism stood with his hand raised to the horse, keeping the animal still with magic. He looked at it, communicating with it through his mind. Uriel held his shortsword up to the knight’s head.
“Who are you?”
The knight stumbled back in fear, taking of his helmet and discarding it with haste. His hair was the color of rust and gold, and it was matted, tangled and dirty. He looked malnourished, and overall harmless.
“My name is Olofire. I escaped the Academy.”