Prune Pit said.

The elves considered. "How can we feed the monster a tarball?" Dampstar asked. He had come by his name when traveling at night, seeing a star reflected in the river.

"With an arrow," Prune Pit said. He picked up a stick, dipped it in the thick tar, and got a blob on the end. "We must have the tar-arrows ready, and light them when we approach the allos, then shoot them in when the time is right."

"But only the wolves know when the time is right," Soft-foot pointed out. "We can not connect to the mind of the reptile."

"I might do it, if Curlfur warns me," Hoverhair said. She was an excellent shot with her bow.

"But I will need some help in setting up my arrows."

Several male elves volunteered immediately to help. Prune Pit was left alone for a moment with Softfoot.

"It was a good notion," she said. "I'm sorry for what I thought."

"But I don't understand why she gave it to me," he said. "She said it was because she could not be chief, but I could. Does that make sense?"

"She wants her child to be the offspring of a chief," Softfoot said, biting her lip.

"But if no one knows the father—"

"The blood knows."

He looked at her. "You know I could not resist the Recognition. But my feeling for you—"