Star swiveled his ears, thinking. “I want to bring him with us.”
Hazelwind snorted and lashed his tail.
“Why?” asked Dawnfir, who had been quiet until now. “How could you want that after what he did to you and Sun Herd?”
Star saw himself reflected in the dark eyes of his friends. With his head up, he towered over all of them, except the old Snow Herd steed Iceriver. Star appeared a stallion, though he was only a yearling. He understood why they thought he knew what he was doing—he looked like a pegasus leader—but Star was unsure. And now, with them pressing him, he had only one answer and it came from his gut, not his head. “I want to bring him with us because he asked us to.”
The pegasi were stunned for a moment. Then Hazelwind, looking baffled, said, “That’s ridiculous.”
Star shrugged his heavy wings. “I understand why Brackentail wanted me dead. He thought he was protecting Sun Herd and Anok. So did Thundersky.” Star glanced at the crimson-winged stallion who’d once promised to execute him. Thundersky sighed deeply, not arguing Star’s point. Star continued. “And I don’t believe Brackentail walked this far alone with the intent to harm us. He needs us. He’s asking for our help and protection, knowing he doesn’t deserve it. I think we should give it to him.”
“But he caused us to lose our territory,” said Thundersky.
“No. Rockwing did that,” Star pointed out.
The group shuffled uneasily. Silverlake spoke. “Star is right. Brackentail is not a threat to us anymore.”
“I’ll never trust him. Ever!” snapped Hazelwind.
Star studied Hazelwind’s clenched jaw and noticed how much he resembled his sire when Thundersky was over-stallion of Sun Herd, but Hazelwind had a good point: none of the herd trusted Brackentail. “Why don’t we bring him and keep a watch on him,” Star suggested. “Give him a chance to earn back our trust.”
Hazelwind and the others looked around and nickered. They agreed reluctantly to that condition.
“But what about the migration?” asked Dawnfir. “Because of Brackentail, we’ll have to walk, and we’re already late. Why don’t we travel in two groups: fliers and walkers?”
Silverlake shook her head. “It’s not safe to split up; there are too few of us. If we leave today and walk down the coast, we can reach warmer lands within a moon.”
“No,” said Star. “There’s not enough to eat along the coast, and we have pregnant mares ready to give birth any day. If you let me heal Brackentail, we can fly. It will be faster and safer.”
“Can you heal just the wing?” asked Hazelwind, his body still tense and angry.
“I don’t know; I could try.”
The council voted. “Our decision is made. We’ll begin our migration today when the sun reaches the peak of the sky, and Star will heal only Brackentail’s broken wing.”
The council disbanded, and Star trotted directly over to Brackentail, with Sweetroot following. Hazelwind coasted over the grass and landed next to Echofrost. They whispered heatedly and then Echofrost collapsed in a heap. She glared at Star from across the field, her ears pinned and her eyes bright with anger. Star felt terrible for causing Echofrost more pain, but he wouldn’t execute Brackentail. He couldn’t.
Star focused on his task and halted when he reached the brown yearling. Brackentail was much improved from yesterday, more closely resembling the colt who had tormented Star and his friends the first year of their lives. But now his ears and head were down and humble.
Brackentail cringed when he saw Star. “Have you come to kill me?”
Star touched Brackentail’s shoulder with his wing. “No. I’ve come to heal your wing. You’re migrating with us.”
“What?” Brackentail blinked his wide eyes. “I am?”
“Yes, but you’ll be closely watched. There are those who still don’t trust you.”
Brackentail nodded and exhaled. His quivering body stilled, but his eyes remained alert.
Star studied Brackentail’s wing. It was broken near the root, the worst place for a wing break. It would eventually heal on its own, but it would never support Brackentail’s weight in flight again—not without Star’s help. Rockwing’s captain, Frostfire, had purposefully grounded the yearling for life—turned him into a dud, a punishment almost worse than death.
Star shook his head, tossing his thick mane. He couldn’t believe Frostfire’s cruelty. Frostfire and Star’s mother, Lightfeather, shared the same sire: Iceriver. Star had learned the news from Iceriver himself after he joined River Herd. How could one stallion sire two pegasi who were so different? Perhaps it was the mares who made the difference. Lightfeather’s dam had died saving her filly from a bear. Frostfire’s dam, Petalcloud, had given her colt away the day he was weaned, selfishly trading him for her own freedom. Now Frostfire, the white stallion with one blue eye, plagued Anok as Rockwing’s cruelest captain, famous for his devastating injuries. And even worse: this vicious captain, half brother to Lightfeather, was Star’s uncle.
Star shuddered and returned his attention to Brackentail. Old memories assailed him like freezing gusts of wind: Brackentail calling him a horse, Brackentail mocking his mother, and Brackentail’s attempt to kill him in the canyon. Anger followed the memories, and his starfire flamed and coursed through his veins. Star battled a sudden urge to destroy Brackentail, to torch his ruined wing and watch the feathers burn.
“No!” he whinnied, choking on the sudden starfire that filled his lungs and throat. Something was wrong. He scooted backward, away from Brackentail. His body shook, and small silver sparks popped between his teeth.
Half of River Herd galloped into the sky; the other half stared at Star, tensed for flight.
Star trembled violently as the starfire roared through his body. It was cold, and wild—stampeding through his veins, throbbing like it might explode. He dropped his eyes, afraid to look at Brackentail, who cowered in front of him.
Morningleaf darted out of the trees and landed next to Star. “Star! Look at me,” she whinnied.
Star faced her as frothy sweat erupted across his chest and dripped to the ground. His hooves danced like those of a frightened land horse.
Morningleaf pressed her aqua wings against his cheeks, blocking his vision of everything but her. “Star, what’s happening?”
“It’s the starfire,” he whispered, and dark-gray smoke drifted from his mouth.
“You can’t heal him?” she asked.
“It’s not that. I might kill him.”
“What?” Morningleaf pricked her ears. “I don’t understand.”
Star shook his head, tossing his mane from one side of his neck to the other in a black arc. “Neither do I. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m angry with him. It’s not like when I healed you. It feels different.”
Morningleaf searched his eyes. “It’s your anger, Star. You have to let it go.”
Star nodded, grimacing. “I’ll try.” Morningleaf lowered her wings and Star refocused on Brackentail. The colt had bathed in the sea earlier. He smelled of brine and was free of flies. Brackentail’s raw wounds stood in sharp contrast to his clean coat. Jagged gashes crisscrossed his chest and back, swollen skin marked areas of extreme bruising, and his right front leg was sliced open almost to the bone.
It was obvious Frostfire had kicked the colt to near death, but it was the ends of Brackentail’s broken wing that captured and held Star’s attention. The frayed and bloody feathers, the inability to fly—Star had suffered the same torture. It was something so horrific he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. To take away the ability to fly from a pegasus was abominable.
Star stared at Brackentail’s mangled feathers and saw his own, from when he was a dud. The starfire settled and then rumbled through his belly, radiating a pleasant, tingling sensation across Star’s ribs. He drew on this gentle power, letting it swell in his chest, and then he opened his jaws and drenched Brackentail’s wing in golden light.
The colt gasped and stag
gered, steadying himself so he didn’t fall over.
Star pushed the starfire up and out, exhaling light and sparkling electricity into Brackentail’s orange wing. The yearling’s flight bones glowed, appearing as bolts of lightning under his skin, and the starfire vibrated the wing and coursed down through each broken feather.
Around them, River Herd landed and gathered. A hush fell over all of them like the quiet that announced the birth of a new foal.
When the feathered limb was restored, Star closed his mouth. Brackentail stared at his wing, unsure, and then he extended it and flapped it. It was healed, completely.
Star knew he was supposed to stop with the wing, but he saw that Brackentail’s leg wound was located across a knee joint. Movement of that leg would repetitively aggravate the wound, and it would never heal. Star quickly blasted the area with a burst of golden fire. He left the rest of the wounds to heal on their own.
When Star turned around, he was face-to-face with Echofrost. Huge, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook her head, turned her back on Star, and walked away. A kick to his gut would have hurt Star less. He staggered into Morningleaf.
The chestnut filly propped up Star with her body. “Echofrost just needs time.”
“She hates me,” neighed Star.
“She hates Brackentail,” argued Morningleaf.
Sweetroot inspected Brackentail’s freshly healed wounds. “Can you fly?”
Brackentail flapped his wings and flew a small circle around the meadow. “It feels like it was never broken,” he said in amazement. He turned to Star, baffled and awed. “You . . . you saved me, Star.”
Star was too confused and sad about Echofrost to speak. He nodded quickly to Brackentail, and then he and Morningleaf kicked off and flew away to graze together before the migration later that day.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Morningleaf when they landed in a meadow not far from River Herd. “I heard that Brackentail tried to apologize to Echofrost last night. She wouldn’t listen to him, but I think she’ll come around, in time. None of this is your fault.”
“It feels like my fault. All of it.” Star swept his wing, indicating the entire land of Anok.
Morningleaf chuckled. “Remember the things Grasswing told you, Star. There were kidnappings, and wars, and hurt feelings long before you showed up. You blame yourself too much.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Star glanced westward, remembering Grasswing, the wise leader of the walkers. He’d died in Sun Herd’s battle against Rockwing, killed by Rockwing himself in a heroic standoff. Star could just glimpse the sea between two hills. The light twinkled on the distant waves like the blue shimmer of Morningleaf’s feathers. Star sighed. “Or maybe that’s what bothers me. The world hasn’t changed, Morningleaf. War and death haven’t left the herds. I think the golden meadow is our true home and Anok is the illusion—but one that we must endure.”
“Endure?” Morningleaf snorted. “Don’t be so gloomy, Star. We can fly!” She kicked off and whinnied to him, “Come on. Let’s play one last time before the migration. Catch me if you can!”
5
BLUE TONGUE
STAR WATCHED MORNINGLEAF SHOOT ACROSS the grass, flickering her sassy tail. Several yearlings joined the game of chase. Star followed, angling his wings for speed. Morningleaf darted into the dense coastal forest that surrounded River Herd’s temporary grazing lands. She dodged the towering redwood trees and creeping branches, sometimes flying sideways. She tagged a spotted filly and then darted away as the filly gave chase.
Star was too big to follow at such speed. He cruised above the redwood grove, tracking the yearlings from the air and inhaling the musty scent of the forest. The spotted filly darted out of the woods and tagged Star’s wing. “You’re it!” she whinnied.
Tingling with pleasure at being included, Star tucked his wings and rocketed toward land, flying as low as he could. A bay yearling who was also too large to fly in the trees soared ahead of him. Star flapped hard, surging faster, and gained quickly on the bay, who glanced up when Star’s shadow covered him and neighed in surprise. He banked hard, but Star gripped the current and matched the speed of his turn. They rose and whipped over the treetops. Star dropped below the colt and then rolled, tagging the bay gently with his hoof. “You’re it!” he whinnied.
As the bay chased down another steed, Star circled around and searched for Morningleaf. He glimpsed her red body and big white blaze flashing deep in the forest. She glanced up, saw Star, and squealed, thinking he was still it. She braked, circled, and twisted through the branches until she lost him.
“Morningleaf!” he called.
There was no answer.
“Where are you?” he whinnied.
But there was still no answer from Morningleaf.
Star’s gut twisted, and his heart floated in his chest, drifting like a loose feather. He circled the part of the forest where he’d last seen her, squinting his eyes and wishing the bright light of the Hundred Year Star still blazed in the sky.
Then a blur of chestnut darted through a blind of tree needles. “Morningleaf!” He snorted. “I thought I’d lost you.”
She whinnied, looking back at Star while she flew. “You’ll never lose me, Star.”
Suddenly a foreign pegasus swooped in front of Morningleaf, but she was watching Star. “Look out!” Star neighed.
Morningleaf turned her head just in time to see the strange mare before she crashed into her. The two tumbled across the sky. Star trumpeted a loud alarm to River Herd. Morningleaf quickly regained her wings and so did the stranger. They circled each other warily.
Thundersky, Hazelwind, and others from River Herd careened through the branches and surrounded the strange mare. She was white and furry, with yellow feathers and blue eyes, clearly a Snow Herd steed.
Iceriver spoke. “I know her.” He hovered and faced his friend. “Are you alone?”
The white mare flapped her wings, out of breath. “I am. I’m a messenger. May I land, please?”
“Of course,” said Iceriver. He and Hazelwind escorted the mare back to River Herd’s main grazing meadow.
The messenger mare didn’t wait for further introductions. She spoke so all could hear. “Plague has struck Snow Herd.”
The River Herd steeds reared and immediately backed away from her, frightened.
“I’m not sick,” she said. “But I’ve come to warn you, as is the custom.”
Star glanced at Thundersky, who was once criticized by Iceriver for his unwillingness to send messages. Thundersky spoke. “How is it spread?”
The mare folded her pale-yellow-feathered wings. “Through contact, the air, and our droppings. The exposed pegasi who don’t contract the plague are carriers of it. The sickness began after Star’s birthday. Since then, some members of our herd have snuck off to join your herd, which is why I’m here. If they aren’t sick, they are carriers. It’s the worst plague I’ve seen in my lifetime. Anywhere you go, you will leave it in the soil and ruin grazing lands. You must isolate yourselves immediately.”
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” asked Hazelwind.
The mare flattened her ears, and her voice trembled. “Come see for yourself if you don’t believe me. Snow Herd can’t stop you. Half of us are already dead.” She choked back a sob.
“Thank you,” said Iceriver. “You may rest here before you return.”
“No. I must leave now. I have more herds to warn.”
“Is it like the White Death or Black Hoof?” Sweetroot asked.
The messenger shook her head. “Neither. It’s totally new. We call it Blue Tongue.” She glanced at the pregnant mares and then said, “Our foals are dying in their mothers’ bellies.” With that she kicked off and flew east.
The River Herd steeds stared at one another, bewildered and afraid.
Silverlake spoke. “We have to cancel our migration today. If we head south, we could infect Jungle Herd.” She looked at her mate, Thundersky. “We can
’t live in the Vein between the herds. We could infect the land, and we can’t stay here where we’ve eaten almost all the food. We’ll have to travel north, to the Ice Lands.”
“But who says we’re infected?” asked Bumblewind.
Silverlake nodded to Sweetroot, and the old medicine mare spoke. “I’ve been keeping an eye on three sick refugees, all from Snow Herd. They haven’t responded to any of my medicines, and their tongues are blue.”
“And you didn’t tell us!” whinnied Dewberry, the battle mare who flew patrols with Hazelwind.
Sweetroot lowered her head, looking miserable. “Only Silverlake. I—I didn’t understand it, and I’ve never seen anything like it. The mares are eating and drinking, but they’re weak, and their throats ache. I didn’t think too much about their blue tongues.” Her ears drooped. “They must still be in the early stages, but it’s too late for all of us—we’ve been exposed.”
The pregnant mares whinnied in terror, and Morning-leaf glanced at Star. “If the herds ever needed a healer, it’s now,” she said to him.
“You’re right.” Star caught Silverlake’s eye. “Let’s gather the council. I want to travel to Snow Herd’s territory to heal them.”
Sweetroot pricked her ears. “All of them? You can do that?”
Star flicked his tail. “I don’t know. At least I think I can.”
Sweetroot huffed, her eyes glittering. She reached out and touched Star’s shoulder with her wingtips. “Your power is like a mighty river, Star. Calm on top but ever flowing beneath. Sometimes I forget . . .” Her voice drifted off.
Star dipped his head. “Forget what?”
“That you’re fantastic.”
6
HIGH FLIGHT
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, THE RIVER HERD steeds gathered together. The council had met the previous night and confirmed the decision to travel north. Star healed the three sick pegasi mares, but he couldn’t guarantee they weren’t still carrying the disease. All of River Herd could be carrying it by now.
The Guardian Herd: Stormbound Page 3
