(This story was an entry for Clue #9 in the 2013 Treasure Hunt -- see the collection for related stories and images! )
“Here!” Knifemaker called to Spearpoint, throwing a chunk of rock toward him. “Catch this!”
The blue-eyed crafter looked up at the last moment, throwing his arms out to catch the chunk of black obsidian the older elf had tossed at him. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but he could tell by the feel of it that it held potential — they would get a lot of blades out of this piece. They had arrived at Deer-Lick Creek earlier that night, having agreed to look for good knapping stones closer to Elder Peak. Judging by the pretty piece his mentor had just found, they had made the right decision.
“Why are you throwing rocks at my son?” a voice called out from the trees, surprising Spearpoint out of his thoughts.
He groaned at the question. It wasn’t that his father was overprotective, it was that Bravestride seemed to be serious in the question — as if he thought that Knifemaker was really trying to hurt him or something. Though everyone knew that she had a reckless side to her, no one would ever really accuse her of trying to harm someone.
When Bravestride appeared, though, he had a grin spread across his face, and he was carrying evidence of a successful hunt. Spearpoint knew then that his father had been joking. He smiled in relief.
At that moment, Knifemaker called from the river, “Hey, Bravestride, come help me with this chunk of rock - it’s heavy!” Then, with laughter in her voice, she added, "Unless you want me throwing it at your son like I did the other."
Bravestride laughed at the redhead's joking and readily agreed, heading into the water toward where Knifemaker stood waiting. Spearpoint watched as his father and his crafting teacher worked together to lift the large rock out of the water. Spearpoint guessed it was onyx, though a rare piece to be so large, and black. It wouldn't be very useful for knapping stones, but it might make some pretty jewelry.
Watching his father and friend struggle, Spearpoint wished that he could have helped — but the wound from childhood which had caused his limp would have made him a liability in the endeavor. As it was, the two wielding the rock were having a hard enough time managing it — but Spearpoint knew that their effort would not go to waste. They wouldn't be able to carry it back to the Holt, but crafters would come to this point of the creek to take pieces of it and work it when back at the Craft-trees.
The knapper turned his attention to the piece Knifemaker had tossed him, examining it and trying to decide where to start. He knew better than to work it right away — his mentor would want a good look at it, too — not that he needed her permission, but he still liked to hear what she had to say on it. She had been an invaluable teacher in his short life, and there was still so much to learn. He knew this chunk of obsidian would yield some excellent knives.
The sound of a gasp, and a splash caused him to look up. Bravestride and Knifemaker were staring at each other, sending. By all appearances, they seemed to have lost sense of everything but one another. Spearpoint smiled to himself. His father had Recognized, again. And Knifemaker, too. He liked cubs, and looked forward to meeting the one that would surely come.
He wondered if this pair would choose to lifemate — as neither had done so with previous Recognizeds. Knowing that only time would tell, Spearpoint looked to where the rock stuck out of the water; it would wait. Deciding to slip away, he sent his congratulations to his father and Knifemaker, picked up the obsidian and headed slowly back to the Holt.