Star tossed those words through his mind. His mother had said something similar in a dream. But who was he? The truth was, he was two pegasi. He was the yearling who wished he was a regular steed like everyone else. But he was also the black foal of Anok, the immortal healer, and the only one who could save the herds from Nightwing.
How could he be both?
“I don’t want this,” he admitted.
“I know. Your mother had a plan for her life too, but when you came along you changed everything.”
Star hung his head.
“The point is that you were her greatest joy. She accepted you, and she died with no regrets. Stop wishing you were something you’re not. You need to accept your destiny like she did.”
Star wiped his tears, nodding.
Silverlake looked him in the eye. “You used that silver fire to try and save Dawnfir. You did the right thing with your power.”
Star’s throat tightened with grief, and he couldn’t breathe. He just nodded.
“Let’s bring her home,” said Silverlake.
They returned to the scene, but Dawnfir was gone. A score of huge paw prints circled the bloody snow where she had died.
“Those prints are from ice tigers,” said Star, horrified. He scanned the terrain. “It looks like they dragged her into the forest.”
Silverlake shuddered. “Please,” she whispered. “Let’s go back. I don’t want to see tigers feeding on her.”
Star nodded, feeling as though he’d just woken from a nightmare. He felt the golden seed of his starfire glowing deep inside, warm and comforting once again. With a sinking feeling, he recalled the hollow-faced stallion he’d seen in the sky. Nightwing was awake; Star was positive of that now. But why had he appeared to Star? What did he want?
Star swooped through a cloud, scattering it and feeling weary. Nightwing was using the power they’d both received from the Hundred Year Star to find him. Star didn’t know Nightwing’s plans, but he did know that there was one thing an over-stallion would not tolerate above all other things—and that was another over-stallion.
With a jolt Star realized Nightwing wasn’t the threat—Star was the threat! He had survived his birth, inherited his power, and now lived among the herds of Anok. He was a challenger to Nightwing’s reign—a rival. Though the four-hundred-year-old stallion had tired of his immortality and retreated into hibernation, he now had a grand reason to awaken . . . and to return.
14
DIVIDED
THE SHRILL TRUMPETING OF AN OVER-STALLION woke Star from sleep. He opened his eyes to bright sunlight, melting ice, and peaceful silence. Confused, he looked around for the noise, which must have carried into the Ice Lands from the depths of his dreams.
Star was with River Herd, and the horrible storm was over. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he barely remembered flying back to his herd last night. Silverlake had given the news of Dawnfir’s death and conducted a short memorial, and then Star had collapsed in the snow, overwhelmed. When sleep claimed him, he was grateful.
Now he stretched and shook the snow off his hide. He looked up—the sky was dusty blue. The fresh snow sparkled in the sun, blinding him. Ptarmigans rummaged for seeds and leaves in the weedy bushes, and the call of a bald eagle echoed across the tundra. Star realized it was the eagle’s call, not that of an over-stallion, that he’d heard in his half sleep.
He roused Morningleaf and Bumblewind, and they trotted to the entrance of the ice cave Morningleaf had discovered the day before. Inside, the mothers were huddled together, their hot breath warming the cavern, and the newborns were suckling. Silverlake landed next to Star and his friends. “Is everyone accounted for?” Star asked her.
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes swollen from crying over Dawnfir, “but the foals are cold.”
Star lurched at the chance to be helpful. “I can warm the cave,” he said, “like I warmed you during the storm.” He opened his mouth, ready to drench the cavern with heat.
Sweetroot overheard and galloped toward him, waving her wings. “Star, no! You’ll melt the ice.”
Star arched his neck, feeling silly. “Oh, right.” The cave was already dripping water from the pegasi’s hot breath, and if he blasted the cave with starfire, it would likely collapse. “Sorry,” he said, feeling embarrassed.
The newborns and mothers stared at him like he’d just hatched out of an egg. Sweetroot chuckled. “I see you want to be helpful, Star. I have something you can do. Follow me.”
Star nodded and followed the medicine mare to a clever shelter she and her apprentice had dug into the lee of a massive snowbank.
Inside the shelter were four steeds wearing miserable expressions. Their hooves were dark purple from standing so long in the ice. “If you could just warm up their hooves a bit, please,” the old mare asked.
Star closed his eyes and focused on the power inside him, grateful to be doing something useful. He teased the starfire gently into his mouth, where it tingled on his tongue, then blew warm light onto the frozen hooves.
“Heat them slowly,” cautioned Sweetroot.
After a while the hooves began to thaw, and the steeds grunted with fresh pain. Slowly the hooves turned from purple to white and then to a healthy brown—except for one stallion. One of his hooves had turned black and would not warm. His frostbite was severe.
“That’ll be all, thank you,” Sweetroot said, excusing Star.
Star balked at her words. He nudged Sweetroot out of the shelter and whispered to her. “I can heal his hoof.”
Sweetroot paused, thinking. Finally she said, “Warming a hoof is one thing, healing a dead hoof is another. The stallion must accept his fate.”
Star flinched. “But he’ll be crippled.”
“I know that, but you can’t go around healing everyone.” Sweetroot placed her wing on Star’s back, drawing him closer. “Where will you draw the line? Will you bring all our dead back to life? Cure old age? Fix every problem? Will you rob us of our destinies?”
Star blinked at her in amazement. “Are you . . . angry with me?”
Sweetroot softened. “No. But I’m concerned your willingness to help will upset the balance of life. Star, if you make us immortal, we will lose our concept of time, the consequences of our actions, and the preciousness of life. You must use your power with wisdom, and in moderation. The golden meadow is the place where there is no death, no sickness, and no pain—but not here.”
Star nodded. “I hear you,” he said. He trotted away from the shelter, avoiding the injured stallion’s gaze.
“Where’s he going?” whinnied the stallion.
Star overheard Sweetroot murmuring to him, giving him the news that Star could not . . . would not . . . help him.
The stallion’s agonized whinny rocketed across the snow. “He healed Brackentail the Betrayer, but he won’t heal me!”
Disgruntled murmuring erupted from the steeds who’d heard him, and Star wished he could fly into a cloud bank and hide. His solace was that the stallion could still fly and he had three perfectly good legs to use for landing. Still, he would limp and struggle on the ground for the rest of his life.
Morningleaf noticed Star’s dour expression and trotted to his side. “Are you thinking about Dawnfir?”
“Yes, and that stallion’s hoof, and Snow Herd’s plague. I’m confused. My whole life, I just wanted to survive to my birthday.” He looked at his best friend, knowing it had been her goal too. “But I never thought I’d make it. Now that I’ve survived, I have all this power that isn’t easy to understand, and the herds are still afraid of me.”
“Yes,” agreed Morningleaf, “but they can’t hurt you now. You’re too powerful.”
She nuzzled him, and Star realized the source of her joy—she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. She’d accomplished her mission, which was to see him to his first birthday.
Star sniffed her mane, smelling fresh air and snow. “I’m not afraid of being hurt,” he said. “I’m afrai
d of hurting others. River Herd is starving.” But it was more than just that. With Nightwing possibly returning to Anok, all their lives would be in danger. But Star didn’t want to alarm Morningleaf or River Herd about that until he understood the visions better. He’d told Silverlake, and that was enough for now.
“I will prove to you that you worry too much,” Morningleaf nickered. “Look here.” She dropped her head and gently nudged the snow off the soil with her muzzle, revealing fresh green shoots. Star saw that the young plants had pushed out of the frozen ground and were stretching toward the bright, low sun.
“You see?” she said. “Soon we’ll have plenty to eat.” Morningleaf’s expression was triumphant.
Star scanned the landscape. Buds that had been absent before the storm had erupted on several trees. “You’re right,” he said in wonderment. The Ice Lands were fast and dramatic. The seasons changed in seconds, storms came and went in the blink of an eye, the winter days were short, and the nights were long. It was a fantastic and dangerous place, but not at all suited for pegasi during the winter, or even now, in early spring. The fresh buds were a good sign, but they were too fragile to eat. It would be another moon before River Herd could eat their fill.
As if reading his mind, Hazelwind and a group of pegasi approached, galloping toward him and sliding to halt. Star tensed. Hazelwind did not mince words, and his expression was bitter. “We can’t survive here with these newborns.”
Star knew Dawnfir had been one of Hazelwind’s closest friends, and the young stallion was devastated by her death. It seemed it had pushed him over the edge.
Hazelwind continued. “Nor is it safe here. We need an over-stallion, a lead mare, and an army to defend us . . . and to watch for predators.”
“Hazelwind, what are you saying?” Morningleaf asked.
Silverlake and Thundersky heard their son’s voice and flew over to listen.
“I’m saying, we need a leader,” Hazelwind said, glaring at Star. “And we don’t have one.”
Star pawed the ground, unsure what to say. Hazelwind was right. The herd was starving; they weren’t safe. And something needed to be done.
More pegasi, mostly refugees, gathered behind Hazelwind, and among them was Echofrost. Hazelwind threw up his head and neighed so all could hear him. “This group has asked me to lead them to Sun Herd’s old territory. It’s empty. No one has claimed it.” He swept his eyes over the pegasi. “And Sweetroot has lifted the Blue Tongue quarantine. We aren’t carriers, so we won’t infect the land. Now is the time to go.”
Star was not surprised by Hazelwind’s words, and he sighed in frustration. The steeds had followed Star thinking he would give them an easy life, a safe life free of pain or death, but Star had disappointed them.
“You are free to go,” said Star, surprising himself by speaking without consulting the council first.
“Wait,” neighed Silverlake. “Let’s discuss this.”
“They’ve made up their minds, Silverlake. We can’t force them to stay.” Star folded his wings, feeling more miserable than ever. Morningleaf squeezed next to him, reassuring him with her presence.
Dewberry was furious. “It’s safer for everyone if we stay together.” All eyes snapped to her, and Silverlake exchanged a desperate look with Thundersky.
“Sentries aren’t enough to protect a herd,” Hazelwind pointed out, looking somewhat apologetically at his mother, who had organized the sentry patrols.
Star gazed at the young stallion. Hazelwind had his sire’s powerful build, his dam’s calm intelligence, and his sister’s decisive mind. He would make a capable over-stallion someday, and clearly his supporters believed in him.
Star felt the heat radiating off Morningleaf’s body next to him. She pinned her ears as she listened to her brother, her fury palpable. Star caught her eye and shook his head, hoping to stop her before she blasted Hazelwind with her anger.
Hazelwind’s chest swelled, making him appear larger. “We’re leaving with or without your permission,” he said to the council members.
Bumblewind shuffled his hooves, looking confused. “Why don’t we all go back to Sun Herd’s territory together?” He looked at Silverlake. Every member of River Herd had gathered now to hear what was happening.
Star listened but shook his head. “Sun Herd’s territory is bordered by our enemies: Snow Herd to the north, Desert Herd to the south, and Mountain Herd to the east. And the ocean is to the west. We cannot settle there. War will be hard to avoid in such tight quarters.” He threw a helpless glance at Thundersky.
The old stallion seemed to read Star’s mind. “I have another idea,” he said. “We have time to travel inland, to the center of Anok, before the next batch of foals is born. Legends claim there are rich grazing pastures there and plenty of fresh water.”
A shiver passed through Star suddenly, but it wasn’t caused by the cold. He glanced at Silverlake, then the western horizon, sure he felt Nightwing’s presence. It was almost as if Nightwing was listening to their plan. But Star didn’t think it mattered where they settled. If Nightwing returned, the pegasi wouldn’t be safe anywhere, but Star wasn’t ready to panic his herd with this news. Not until he had a plan of his own.
“How do you know of this place?” Dewberry asked.
“Before I was over-stallion of Sun Herd, I was a captain. I flew the Vein like all captains do, but I also explored the east, past Desert Herd. I wanted to see the ancient territory of Lake Herd.”
“And did you make it there?” asked Bumblewind.
“No,” Thundersky admitted. “It was too far away. But I do believe it exists.”
Echofrost interjected. “I’ve heard the stories about Lake Herd, and they aren’t all good. The interior of Anok is dangerous. There are tornadoes, lightning storms, and an overabundance of wolves. Big wolves. No pegasus has traveled there in almost six hundred years. We don’t know what it’s like now. The Sun Herd lands are perfect.”
“Except for being surrounded by our enemies,” snapped Dewberry.
Hazelwind flared his wings. “We’re going to Sun Herd territory. You can join us or not, but your Betrayer is not welcome.” He glared at Brackentail. “My steeds won’t live with him, under guard or not.” Echofrost lifted her chin, and Hazelwind stepped nearer to her. Star saw that the two had grown close.
“We won’t abandon Brackentail,” said Star, regretting that his support of the yearling continued to upset Echofrost. But the council had agreed earlier not to banish their prisoner.
“Then we will part ways with no hard feelings between us,” said Hazelwind.
Morningleaf exploded, rearing and stomping her hooves like an over-stallion. Star pranced out of her way, and every glittering eye turned toward her. Morningleaf’s words blasted from her mouth, colder and more biting than the arctic storm that had just passed. “Who said following Star would be easy?” She stared down her brother and her best friend, Echofrost, and then swept her eyes over the rest of Hazelwind’s followers.
“But we’re starving,” one of the refugees said. “And I have a filly to nurse.” Her tiny pinto foal fluttered next to her.
“Go ahead,” snapped Morningleaf. “Take Sun Herd’s land, build your army, and prepare for war, because that is what’s coming for you.”
“Morningleaf!” whinnied Silverlake. “These are our friends.”
Morningleaf whirled around, her aqua feathers rattling and her ears flat. “I’m telling the truth. There is another way for us to live. All herds can be one.” Morningleaf hiccuped, sniffling back her tears. “I saw it when I died.”
The herd mumbled and whispered in surprise.
“What did you see?” asked Sweetroot.
Morningleaf pricked her ears forward. “I saw all the herds living as one, sharing the land, caring for one another, and being friends.”
The gathered steeds lashed their tails. A yearling snorted. “Never!”
An elder mare spat on the ground. “Desert Herd stallions kill
ed my mate. I will never make peace with them.”
An older dam shuddered. “My filly was stolen by Jungle Herd.”
Flamesky, the filly who’d once teased Star for being a dud, stepped forward. “Both my parents are dead because of Mountain Herd.”
“But look at us,” said Morningleaf. “We’re all from different herds, and we’ve learned to get along. Let’s not separate.”
Sweetroot patted Morningleaf’s back. “What you saw was the golden meadow, Morningleaf. That world doesn’t exist here. It’s there.” She pointed to the sky with her wing.
Morningleaf tensed but said nothing.
Then Echofrost’s voice rose above them all. “I was tortured by Mountain Herd steeds.”
The pegasi ceased arguing and turned toward Echofrost. Hot tears fell from her eyes and melted the snow. “And it’s his fault.” She pointed her sleek purple wing at Brackentail, then she looked at Star. “I won’t live with him another day. I’m going with Hazelwind.”
Bumblewind stood in a pile of his own shedding feathers, his entire body quivering with emotion. “You’re leaving me, Echofrost?”
“You can come with me,” she said to her twin.
Bumblewind glanced at Star and then back at his sister. “No. I’m sorry, Echofrost, but I won’t leave Star.”
“Neither will I,” said Dewberry. Half of River Herd moved behind Star, and the other half gathered behind Echofrost and Hazelwind.
“Well, we won’t stay,” Echofrost said. She exhaled, and the tension melted out of River Herd as the pegasi accepted the inevitable: River Herd was splitting. The twins trotted to each other and rubbed their muzzles, exchanging breaths.
Bumblewind nickered into Echofrost’s mane, “This is terrible.”
She shook her head. “We’re going to train an army,” said Echofrost. “We’ll stick to the western border of Sun Herd’s territory, by the Great Sea.” Echofrost lifted her chin and looked at Morningleaf. “We will rebuild Sun Herd.”
Star’s gut lurched at her words. How could they want to return there? Grasswing and so many others had died in Sun Herd’s territory, and the lush, grassy fields of Sky Meadow were still spoiled by their remains.
The Guardian Herd: Stormbound Page 8
