[THE Ka]

Kafkalina didn't wisper a song under her breath, or made a sound that night. Her head still bore the mark of the pole she made, and it still throbbed. Sitting about a mile or so away from the recently crossed gorge, she stared off into the distance to the west.

In the west lay the border of southern Mirkwood, and with it the peak of Dol Guldur standing out. Kafkalina had heard many times from trees and other creatures of that place, and that apparently at the beginning of this age, a 'necromancer' had taken the elves' home of Amon Lanc. From then on she only heard from trees the apparent darkness that shrowded the bald hill, and of the great spiders and dark Huorns that massed to the hill and in some areas of Mirkwood.

Hmmm, it would be best if I avoided such dark places for now. Great spiders do not frighten my bark, but Huorns under such sway are blind in their furry, and they can keep more company than that of trees. It would be best to head clear of that place.

Looking now north, the dark haze of Mirkwood, one of the last great forests of the world, faded into the distance. It seemed much lighter than that of the south, and Kafkalina's memories began to return to her.

I need to find Taurduin, my ent draught will not last forever, most of it is already gone. I wonder what trees of my memory still live upon it's banks, and with the young elves to the north. I wonder if I might find company of them, and learn more about this dark place in the southern wood. Ho Hmmm, maybe I can prepare myself for what is yet to come, the winds do not seem the same as they once were.

Kafkalina toyed with her pole, possibly not all had been lost. Her leaves and branch would grow back, and the pole could be made into a needed means of protection. If she was right about the winds, she would not be chancing upon only ent friends and the first children of Eru, the world was a wonderful, but mysterious place.

'Never the same bird in a tree, or rock in a hill side', as we ents always say. I guess it means more than just a greeting now.

The ent took a carefull drink from her ent draught, and prepared for a light nap (in enttish standards, of course) as her roots returned to the soil and ancient hazel eyes closed. The wind started to pick up softly, the reminants of an early storm once far away, and they began to murmur of change in the ent's branches.