#txmlen

     they'd leave just as dusk came to an end and twilight was settling in. the clear forest sky was perfect. they could stay there for hours—days even, if the laws of the world would have allowed it—staring up at the stars. sometimes they'd climb trees and rest in the branches. other times, just sit on patches of grass. wherever they sat didn't have to be comfortable and it wasn't always; they were just happy with the company.

     the first time, they're joking.

     "should we make a wish?"

     they laugh, but they do. and the tradition starts.

     their wishes are the same each time that follows.

     merrill wishes for happiness. for her, and her friends. she wishes for their well-being. above all she wishes for elves to thrive again. for their culture and history to be reclaimed.

     tamlen wishes to be strong for him and his people. he wishes to hunt well and to be brave, someone that the clan could look to for protection. lastly he wishes for the gods to return to them. for their prayers to be heard.

     mahariel struggles. she's never known just what to wish for. so she settles, wishing for simple things. for the clan to be safe when they travel? or what about healthy halla? she just doesn't know.

     they never broke their tradition. not until that day. that day merrill hates to remember, but refuses to forget.

     it took her years to look at the stars the way the three used to. they made her feel sad, reminded her that some wishes will never come true. but she did start to see the hope again.

     she didn't notice herself making wishes on the stars again. small things: for the next day to be good, to not mess up a spell in a fight. slowly the things she hoped for got bigger in importance. and soon she found herself with a new tradition. 

     from now on, quietly sitting under the vhenadahl in the midst of night, she wishes peace for tamlen. and she wishes safety for mahariel. that one day, she will find her way home. back to the clan, back to her.