Morningleaf squinted. “I take care of Star; that’s what I’ve always done.”
Dewberry shook her head. “And you’ve done it well, but he doesn’t need you anymore.”
Morningleaf took a deep, shuddering breath, and her wretched tears subsided. The two lay quietly in the shade for a long time.
Dewberry eventually stood. “Since we’re here now, you might as well peek at the valley and see what happened to him.”
Morningleaf sighed. “No. You look.”
Dewberry peered out of the blind and then turned back to Morningleaf. “He’s alive, and so is Frostfire.”
“What about the walkers? Did Nightwing execute them?”
“Nope. They’re fine. It appears Star and Nightwing have made an arrangement.”
Morningleaf grit her teeth. “How so?”
“The walkers have been let go, and Star is . . . well, he’s stacking rocks on a hill.”
“That makes no sense.”
Dewberry shrugged. “Nothing Star does makes sense to me. If I had that starfire . . .” Dewberry trailed off, her eyes bright with her imagined conquests. She blinked. “Anyway, Echofrost or Shadepebble will explain it to us later. Let’s get back to the den before Hazelwind comes after us.”
Before leaving the blind, they sniffed for wolves and checked the sky. When they were sure the way was clear, they returned to the den—but they returned to madness. Brackentail and Hazelwind were prancing in the first chamber, wild eyed and pawing the soil, their bodies shaking and their lungs wheezing.
“What happened?” asked Morningleaf.
Hazelwind trembled; his eyes were swollen with tears. “It’s Bumblewind.”
“What?” cried Dewberry.
“He’s dead.”
21
HONOR
MORNINGLEAF DID NOT BELIEVE HER EARS. SHE rushed to Bumblewind’s side and pressed his body with her wings. “Bumblewind? Wake up!”
His large eyes were closed, and his jaws were parted. Morningleaf nuzzled him, trying to exchange breath, but his lips were cold. She rubbed his chest and pulled on his stiff legs. “Get up, Bumblewind. Please get up.”
Dewberry reared, hitting her head on the den’s ceiling. “It’s my fault,” she whinnied, her eyes rolling. “My fault.” She kicked the walls, causing dirt to fall on their heads.
Hazelwind tackled her and tried to subdue her before she collapsed the den.
Morningleaf threw up her head and moaned. Brackentail wrapped his wing gently over her mouth. “Shh,” he said. “You’ll draw the wolves.” Morningleaf fell onto her side next to Bumblewind and pressed her nose into his stiff neck, crying silently.
Dewberry knelt by Bumblewind’s head and whispered into his ear, “I left you. I’m sorry. I let you fall asleep.” Her tears rolled down her cheeks and splattered the dirt floor.
Hazelwind soothed her. “This isn’t your fault.”
Dewberry tossed her mane, her agony causing her to twitch as though infested with bugs. She buried her head in her wings.
“No, it’s my fault,” cried Morningleaf. “I took Dewberry away from him.”
“No, you’re both wrong,” said Hazelwind, his voice raw. “I heard you both leave, and I came to see what was going on, and Bumblewind was awake. I stood with him and we talked for a while, and then I noticed he’d closed his eyes. I immediately pressed on him and shook him; I even bit his ear as hard as I could. He just . . . slipped away. It couldn’t be stopped.”
The lair blurred, and Morningleaf wiped her eyes. “Let’s take him to Star.”
Dewberry shook her head sadly. “We can’t. Nightwing is watching him.”
Hazelwind rubbed his face in his wings and then looked at each of them. “She’s right. Now listen, and please hear me. Bumblewind died in his sleep, without pain. He’s safe in the golden meadow with the Ancestors. This is over for him.” Hazelwind gazed at Bumblewind, who looked peaceful.
Fresh sobs wracked Morningleaf, Dewberry, and even Brackentail. Hazelwind curled to his knees, and the four of them soaked Bumblewind’s coat in salty tears. After a long while they began whispering their favorite memories of him into his motionless ears.
Hours passed, and finally the talk subsided and the steeds rested with Bumblewind until the temperature cooled and they knew it was dark outside. The four friends stirred. It was time to bury Bumblewind.
Just then hoofbeats sounded outside the den. Shadepebble, the Mountain Herd filly who spied for them along with Echofrost, poked her head into the crowded chamber. “The wolves are near,” she whispered. The group squeezed aside to let her in. She saw Bumblewind’s stiff body and froze. “Oh no.”
Hazelwind grimaced. “Yes, he’s gone. We need to return him to the soil, but we can’t let Nightwing see the burial stones.”
“We could put his body in the last chamber of our den and then collapse it,” suggested Brackentail.
Shadepebble shuddered. “No. The wolves will dig him up.”
Morningleaf gasped.
“I’m sorry,” said Shadepebble, hugging her friend.
Hazelwind pawed the den floor. “We have to do something with him, and soon.” He shed a few jade feathers, showing his stress.
“I have an idea,” said Shadepebble. “Star is building a stone tribute for Nightwing.”
“A tribute?” whinnied Hazelwind.
“Just listen,” said the filly. “In exchange for the lives of the walkers, Nightwing is forcing Star to build a monument to him of ten thousand stones on the tallest hill.”
“That will take many moons,” cried Brackentail.
“Yes,” she said. “But Star saved the walkers, for now anyway, and bought you time to complete your tunnel.”
“But why would Nightwing want Star to build his tribute?” asked Brackentail. “He’s Nightwing’s rival.”
Hazelwind knew the answer. “It’s to make Star look weak in front of Wind Herd and to embarrass him.” Hazelwind exhaled, looking tired. “It’s not unprecedented. Rockwing once forced an enemy over-stallion to bury his own dead captains after Rockwing beat him in a battle. It was long ago. . . . He was a Snow Herd steed, I believe. After the over-stallion finished, Rockwing broke his wings. Then his warriors flew him up to the clouds and dropped him.”
Morningleaf shuddered, imagining Star with broken wings.
“So what’s your idea, Shadepebble?” asked Dewberry.
“If you want to give Bumblewind a stone burial and honor him—have Star bury him in the tribute.”
Hazelwind sucked in his breath. “How are we honoring Bumblewind if we put him in Nightwing’s tribute?”
“No, she’s right,” said Morningleaf, catching on to the idea. “It will make the tribute special to us, and it will encourage Star. He’ll be building it for his friend, not for the Destroyer. It’ll be our secret.”
“And something Nightwing can’t take from us,” added Brackentail.
The five pegasi agreed, and Morningleaf’s broken heart stumbled back to life. Bumblewind’s death would mean something.
“Now comes the hard part,” said Shadepebble. “Getting Bumblewind to Star.”
“Brackentail and I will carry him,” said Hazelwind. “Shadepebble, you’ll need to give the news to his twin since you’re in the same group. But wait until tomorrow and tell Echofrost on the open plain. The crashing winds will dry her tears and deafen her cries. Nightwing can’t know anything is amiss. Understand?”
Shadepebble nodded and slipped out of the den, rising into the sky, flying through the trees and heading back toward the valley. She would land at a rendezvous point where Graystone, the sympathetic Ice Warrior, would meet her and walk her back to her group. The risks of her friends’ comings and goings terrified Morningleaf, but she was glad Shadepebble had brought them news of Star.
Hazelwind turned to Morningleaf and Dewberry. “All right, we’ll be back as fast as we can.”
Morningleaf and Dewberry whispered their good-byes to Bumblewind, whi
le Hazelwind and Brackentail tugged on the pinto’s wings and slid him out of the den. They were careful, brushing away the dirt that lodged in his feathers. Once out, they lifted him by the roots of his wings and carried him away.
When he was gone, Dewberry dissolved, her body quaking with sobs. She’d teased Bumblewind without mercy when he was alive, but the two were almost always together, and suddenly Dewberry seemed half a pegasus without him. Morningleaf’s throat tightened. Bumblewind’s twin sister, Echofrost, would also be a half without him.
Dewberry kneeled and rolled on the spot where Bumblewind had died. “You were the best of us,” she said, her voice cracking. She sniffed the soil and the loose feathers that remained, and then closed her eyes.
Morningleaf rested near her, saying nothing, and they waited for the stallions to return.
22
THE SECRET GRAVE
THE DAY PASSED SLOWLY AS STAR WORKED AT building the tribute. Clouds covered the moon, darkening the riverbed, and Star could no longer distinguish one stone from another. He’d moved nineteen huge rocks to the monument today, his first day. Nineteen of ten thousand. Star felt defeated and silly for agreeing to build it. Frostfire kept him company, but the strong stallion wasn’t allowed to help.
It was early evening now, and Frostfire glanced at the large stones Star had carried. “You should rest.”
Star wasn’t tired, but his wing and back muscles throbbed. It was difficult to locate the flattest stones underwater and then to pull them out of the river. They were often half buried under heavier rocks and mud, and the riverbank was slippery. He sometimes fell and then watched in frustration as his stone tumbled back into the water.
Once he was soundly on the shore, Star cradled the stones in his wings and carried them up the hill. It took time also to place the rocks correctly. Nightwing’s tribute would topple if not well built, but Frostfire had buried enough warriors in stones to give Star tips on how to construct the base. It would have to be substantial to support the expected height of the monument. Frostfire advised using the red clay in the river to help stick the rocks together, and so Star slathered it between the stones with his wingtips. But this extra step, while important, also slowed him down.
Star followed Frostfire down the side of the hill, and they grazed on oat grass as the sun dropped in the west.
“Your feathers are frayed,” said the white stallion.
“I know.” Star folded his wings across his back. He’d noticed the damage, but he couldn’t use his power to heal himself. If he tried, Nightwing would execute a walker.
Frostfire glanced at the sky, and Star followed his gaze. The Ice Warriors patrolled Wind Herd, flying in lazy circles. Star heard splashing and looked toward the pond. “There are the weanlings,” he said. Nightwing, Petalcloud, and the young pegasus steeds swam in the pond nestled at the southern end of the valley, splashing each other and then floating like ducks.
The weanlings’ mothers stood in the distance, guarded by Ice Warriors and forbidden to be with their foals. The mares twitched anxiously, molting feathers all over the trampled valley terrain. When one mother bleated to her youngster, an Ice Warrior kicked her hard in the flank. Petalcloud ignored the plight of the mares, but it was clear she adored the weanlings. “A good lead mare doesn’t separate foals from their dams,” said Star.
Frostfire watched his mother play with the weanlings, his entire body tense. “I can’t let that happen to Larksong. If Petalcloud takes away our foal, I’ll kill her.”
Star jerked his head toward Frostfire, studying the white steed, whose mismatched eyes were rooted on his mother. The stallion’s expression was twisted with confusion. Star knew the story; that Petalcloud had lied to Frostfire when he was a weanling and then sent him to live with her sire, Rockwing, trading him for her freedom. Rockwing had sired eighteen dead colts and two live fillies. He wanted a breathing colt so intensely that he was willing to take his daughter’s. But when he got Frostfire, he bullied him into the army, pushing and training him to the limits of his endurance. And now Frostfire faced the possibility that his mother might take his coming foal and keep the newborn for herself.
Petalcloud and Nightwing walked out of the pond, followed by the youngsters. They shook, tossing water droplets off their hides, and then lifted off on a short flight to dry their wings. The foals bleated happily, gliding across a pink sunset sky. Their mothers watched in helpless fear. When they’d all landed back on the grass, Petalcloud wrapped her wings around her belly and nuzzled Nightwing. Frostfire gasped and staggered into Star.
“What is it?” Star asked.
“Petalcloud is pregnant,” he said. “With Nightwing’s foal, I think.”
Star’s heart thudded at Frostfire’s words, and he thought back, remembering how plump Petalcloud had appeared when he first saw her in the valley. Nightwing pranced next to Petalcloud, and the ancient stallion glowed with pride. Understanding clunked into place, quick and simple. “This is what he wants,” whispered Star. “What he’s always wanted.”
“What?” asked Frostfire.
“A family.” Star turned away as sudden tears sprang to his eyes. He blinked rapidly, controlling himself but feeling desolate.
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” said Star. But he was certain, because he recognized Nightwing’s need in himself. Star wanted it too: a family of his own. He’d lost everything when his mother died. And now he was immortal, different from everyone else, but he just wanted to be a regular pegasus stallion. Maybe so did Nightwing.
The difference between them was that Nightwing wanted it badly enough to kill for it, while Star—he’d accepted his fate. Still, he thought he understood now what was happening. Nightwing was stealing foals to create a new herd, one that respected him. Star peered at the pregnant Wind Herd mares, which included Frostfire’s mate, Larksong. Once Nightwing had enough steeds to start a new life, what would he do with the adults? Star shivered. All of Wind Herd was in great danger, more than they knew.
“Morningleaf must dig that tunnel quickly,” Star said, his panic rising. Just then a small pebble bounced off Star’s forehead. He looked up, but the darkening sky was empty. The patrol had moved on. Another pebble stung his neck. He turned in a slow circle. Frostfire became alert, noticing Star’s flexed muscles.
“Someone’s trying to get our attention,” Star whispered. He lowered his neck and crept toward the direction of the flying rocks, with Frostfire following him. He crested the hill and walked down the back side, which was hidden from the valley. Two pegasi stood in the shadow of a small cottonwood tree. Star recognized Hazelwind’s wide blaze. Brackentail stood beside him. Star signaled to Frostfire to remain silent. “What are you two doing here?” Star whispered.
Hazelwind glanced down at a steed lying at his hooves.
Star followed his gaze and recognized Bumblewind stretched on the grass, but something wasn’t right. Star dropped his nose toward his friend and touched his shoulder, which was as cold as snow. Sadness drove him to his knees. “It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hazelwind, and his grief emanated from him in waves, like summer heat.
Star’s soul groaned, and his throat closed. “He—he’s been gone too long. I can’t save him.”
“We’re not here for that,” said Hazelwind, touching Star’s shoulder.
Star looked up at Hazelwind. “Then why have you come?”
“To bury him,” said Hazelwind, and he explained their idea of hiding Bumblewind in the tribute.
At first Star balked. The idea seemed backward and wrong, but as the thought sank deeper into his brain, he understood the gesture. He would be building the monument for Bumblewind, not for Nightwing. And this knowledge would give Star the strength he needed to finish it. Each and every stone would mark his love for his friend. “Leave him with me,” said Star, agreeing. “As the tribute rises, it will stand for Bumblewind, and our freedom. Our future freedom.”
Hazelwind
and Brackentail nodded, looking relieved.
Star drew closer to Hazelwind. “Petalcloud is with foal.”
Hazelwind pinned his ears. “I wondered. I saw signs . . . ,” he said, trailing off.
Star continued. “Nightwing is creating a new herd out of the stolen weanlings, and I think he’ll take the coming foals too. He’s just using the Wind Herd steeds, but eventually he won’t need them anymore. Do you understand? You must work faster.”
Hazelwind arched his neck. “I understand. We’ll increase our shifts.” He and Brackentail retreated, skirting the back side of the hill, remaining low and hidden from the valley as they returned to the den.
Star and Frostfire stared at each other, thinking.
“I want Larksong and our colt to be the first ones out of that valley when the tunnel is finished,” said Frostfire.
“That’s a long ways off,” said Star, distracted. “Look, we need to bury Bumblewind by morning. You might have to help me.”
Frostfire nudged Star hard with his chest. “Not until I know you’ve heard me. I helped you find your friends because I need your help rescuing Larksong. Don’t forget what you promised me, Star. She gets out first.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Star. “I’ll save your mare.”
“And my colt.”
“And your colt.” Star sighed. He could promise Frostfire the moon too, but right now he didn’t know how he was going to rescue anybody.
The two stallions waited until the final glow of evening had faded and it was true night. Then Star turned to Frostfire. “Help me lift Bumblewind.”
They carried the pinto’s cold body up the hill. Star broke apart the stones he’d spent all day placing and mudding together, and then he dug a shallow grave.
When it was ready, the two stallions stood over the body, and Star spoke. “Bumblewind, colt of Stormfire and Crystalfeather, lover of milk and friend of all friends, you will be missed. You may have died in a den of wolves, but you have risen to the golden meadow, where you will always be free.” Star took a ragged breath. “Fly straight and find your rest.”
The Guardian Herd Page 12
