Star tensed, hoping Frostfire wouldn’t try to change his mind about the visit. “If someone comes and I don’t hear your call, just say I’ve gone for a flight. Nightwing didn’t say I couldn’t fly. But you can’t stop me from seeing my friends tonight.”
Frostfire pricked his ears. “I’m not trying to.”
The two waited in silence for the sky to blacken, in case a patrolling Ice Warrior flew overhead. The heavy cloud layer blocked the moon and stars, and when the last trace of light vanished, Star unfurled his wings. “I’ll return in time for you to get some sleep.”
Frostfire nickered. “Don’t worry about me.”
Star kicked off, turned invisible, and flew southwest, toward the woods and the den, his heart soaring. He glided over the snow-flecked cottonwood forest, his sharp eyes looking for landmarks. When he spotted the tallest elm, he knew he was close. He landed and trotted to the low ridge and fallen tree that hid the den. He hoped his friends were inside and hadn’t traveled yet to work on the tunnel.
He swept aside the dried branches and ducked into the first chamber. It was empty, but still warm. He’d just missed his friends. Star checked the second two chambers; each was empty of pegasi, but not empty of their presence. Feathers littered the packed soil, and pretty stones were piled against a wall.
Star cocked his head, eyeing the stones. They were stacked exactly like his monument. His friends were making a miniature replica of the tribute! They’d also saved a feather from Bumblewind, and it was tucked into the stones, standing upright. His friends hadn’t forgotten him; they were keeping track of his progress. It was a good sign, a hopeful sign. He guessed it was Echofrost who’d built this replica when she visited the den so that Morningleaf and the others could see what Star was doing, and also to remember her twin brother.
Star exited the den and made himself invisible again. He flew toward the blind that hid the tunnel and landed when he finally found it. It was difficult to spot because it blended so well with the forest.
Star entered and dropped his invisibility, shocking Hazelwind and Dewberry, who were just popping out of the tunnel. Hazelwind reeled backward, blinking hard. “Star? How did you do that?”
“It’s a new power.” Star disappeared again to show them.
“That’s incredible,” said Hazelwind. “But won’t Nightwing track you here if you use your power?”
Star reappeared. “No. He can’t sense this one. It’s pure stealth, as Frostfire calls it.”
“How is the captain?” asked Hazelwind. “Causing you any trouble?”
Star shook his head. “No, he’s been helpful.” Star paused.
“What is it?” asked Hazelwind, suddenly alert.
“Probably nothing,” said Star. “Frostfire’s nervous about his coming colt. He’s asked me to make sure that Larksong and his son are the first two out of the valley when the tunnel is finished.”
Hazelwind flexed his wings, thinking. “Well, it all depends,” he said. “I’m not opposed to it, but I don’t want to make any promises.”
Star stared at the soil.
“Did you . . . make him a promise?”
“I think so,” said Star, trying to remember the conversation. “Frostfire brought me here to help him save his family. We have an agreement.”
Hazelwind met Star’s eyes. “Then I will honor it, if I can.”
“Thank you.”
“We heard a terrible noise today,” interjected Dewberry, “and we saw bright flashes of light.”
Star nodded. “I was attacked by dire wolves at the river, and I discovered another power, which is that noise you heard. It scared the wolves away from me.” Star peered at the dark hole in the ground. “How’s the tunnel coming along?”
Hazelwind answered. “It’s slow going. We work every night, but I feel like we’re getting nowhere fast.”
“I know how that feels,” said Star, thinking of the tribute.
“Morningleaf and Brackentail are hiding dirt, but they’ll return soon. Go on inside the tunnel and see it for yourself.”
Star ducked his head and entered. The dank smell of worms and mulch reminded him of the wolf den. The passageway angled downward, toward the valley far away. Star walked for what seemed a long time in the blackness, and then he reached the end.
Hazelwind’s voice drifted to him from the surface. “The dirt is packed tighter the deeper we go, but there are fewer tree roots, so we’re leveling off and digging straight. I hope this speeds things up.”
Star twisted his head around and squeezed his body into a turn so he could walk back to the surface. He emerged from the tunnel to see that Morningleaf and Brackentail had still not returned.
Hazelwind read his expression. “They have to travel farther and farther away to hide the dirt.”
Dewberry swiveled her ears, listening. “But they should be back by now.”
That was all Star needed to hear. “I’ll go look for them.” Without waiting for a response, Star blinked out and trotted into the forest, completely invisible.
“I wish I could do that,” nickered Dewberry.
Star kicked off and glided over the treetops, eyes down since he knew the pair wouldn’t be flying. A snowfall began, light and fluffy, and excitement reared in his chest—he missed Morningleaf and he would see her soon. Star spotted two dark shapes walking beneath the cottonwoods, and their whispering voices drifted up to Star. He dropped closer and hovered over them, about to interrupt.
“Why are you walking so slow?” Brackentail asked Morningleaf.
She trekked ahead of the young brown stallion, placing her hooves carefully so as not to slip on the frozen ground, but at Brackentail’s words she swished her long tail across his face. “So I don’t lose you,” she answered.
Brackentail nudged her flank. “You couldn’t lose me if you tried.”
Star grimaced, hating that their friendship irritated him so much.
Morningleaf’s carefree expression evaporated. “Right, of course. I couldn’t lose a one-winged butterfly.” She ruffled her ruined feathers, shaking off the fresh snowflakes.
Brackentail halted. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
She halted too. “I know you didn’t. But I can’t fly . . . and when this is all over . . . you’d be wise to forget about me.” She turned and walked on, her breath drifting toward Star like smoke, and he felt awkward. He should have announced himself right away.
Brackentail cocked his head. “Don’t do that,” he said to Morningleaf. “Don’t shove me off.”
She exhaled. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I know Hazelwind ordered you to protect me, and I appreciate it, but I don’t need the extra . . . help.”
“He didn’t,” rasped Brackentail. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes.”
Brackentail flinched, and Star saw the hurt in his golden eyes. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I’m not under orders to do anything except hide dirt. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
Morningleaf faced him, blinking as though waking from a bad dream. “Hazelwind really didn’t ask you to watch me?”
“The only steed who ever asked me to watch over you is Star, and it was a request, not an order.”
“He did?” Morningleaf’s eyes softened. “When?”
“It was before he took off to save the walkers. But it doesn’t matter—that’s not why I’m here either.” He stepped closer to her, then halted, his body tense. “I follow you because I want to. It’s my choice.”
Star jolted as if struck, and he soared higher, away from them. He should go, but he couldn’t look away.
Morningleaf trembled softly and lowered her muzzle to Brackentail’s.
Brackentail inched closer, then slid on the ice, falling at her hooves.
Morningleaf stifled a loud nicker and helped him up.
Brackentail wiped the frost off his knees with his wings. “Anyway, if a wolf comes, I’m counting on you to protect me.”
M
orningleaf pricked her ears. “Is that so?”
“Yep, it’s why I stay behind you. I’m hiding.”
Star watched Morningleaf’s amber eyes flicker and her jaw relax as she resumed walking.
Brackentail trailed her, looking pleased. “You know what today is, right?” he asked her.
Morningleaf exhaled. “Of course I do; it’s Star’s birthday.”
Brackentail snorted. “It’s your birthday too.”
She halted again, and Brackentail almost bumped into her. Star, who was hovering a tree length above them, accidentally struck a branch with his wing, making it whip back and forth. Morningleaf’s head snapped upward and she stared right at him, but through him. “I heard something,” she said to Brackentail. “We better hurry back.”
Star watched his two friends trot away, his thoughts tumbling. Even though he’d accepted Brackentail, Star’s original dislike for the brown steed returned in full force, shocking him. He was over the past, wasn’t he?
Star shook his head. No, he wasn’t over it.
And now, like daylight, it was clear to him. Star had never been angry at Brackentail for calling him a horse or harassing him when they were foals—that was not at the root of it. Star’s dislike of Brackentail had been because he’d tried to keep Star and Morningleaf apart when they were young. Star thought it was because the brown colt had feared him, but it was because he was in love with Morningleaf, had always been in love with her.
Star faltered, dipping toward land. How had he lied to himself for so long? And why did he care? He and Morningleaf were just friends. No—not just friends—they were best friends.
Star wheezed, trying to breathe, and his chest tightened, hurting him. This must be how Nightwing felt about him—threatened.
It made Star want to rip Brackentail’s wings off his body.
But he liked Brackentail. And Brackentail liked him.
Star flew faster, swiping at his thoughts, trying to untangle them, but new understanding slammed him. Morningleaf was two years old tonight. Someday she might want foals, and someday she might choose a stallion. Things between her and Star would never be the same. She was mortal and so was Brackentail—they would grow old, and he would not. They would die, and he would not. It struck him that he and Morningleaf could not—would not—be best friends forever.
Star gulped, overwhelmed. He shed invisible feathers, turned, and fled. He would not let Morningleaf see him this way.
He left the forest and returned to the swells, sick and confused, and feeling exactly as he had when Silverlake had hid him on the coast as a weanling and left him on his own—alone. No. Abandoned.
25
STARFROST
STAR COASTED ACROSS THE FOOTHILLS, RETURNING to Frostfire, and landed beside the white stallion. “I’m back,” he muttered.
Frostfire heard him but couldn’t see him. “I don’t like talking to you when you’re invisible, Star.”
“Sorry.” He retracted his power.
His uncle studied him. “Why don’t you look happy, Star? What’s wrong? Is it the tunnel?”
Star plunked onto his haunches in the snow, mentally exhausted by his visit. He glanced up the hill to the tribute. “No, I think they’ve made more progress than I have.”
“So what’s wrong with you then? You were as excited as a spring filly before you left.”
Star shrugged his wings. He didn’t want to explain what was wrong with him.
Frostfire pawed the snow, crunching it under his hoof. “All right, don’t tell me.”
“Was it quiet here?” Star asked, glancing at the heavy layer of clouds.
Frostfire’s eyes shifted quickly toward the valley, but he didn’t answer. That’s when Star noticed the hoofprints. They were small and didn’t belong to him or Frostfire. “You had a visitor,” Star said, pointing at the prints.
“It was Larksong,” the stallion admitted.
Star bristled. “We’re banished, Frostfire. We aren’t allowed visitors.”
The white stallion erupted. “You saw your friends!”
“That’s different. I—” Star stopped. It wasn’t different. He’d also taken a risk. “What did she say? Does she have news from the valley?”
“Yes, she’s afraid for our foal, for all the coming foals. She thinks Nightwing and Petalcloud will steal them.” The stallion paced, his anxiety building.
“Look,” said Star, stopping Frostfire with his wings. “They might take the newborns when they come, I don’t disagree, but they can’t do it until they’re fully weaned. By then the tunnel will be finished, and I spoke to Hazelwind tonight. Larksong will be the first steed out.”
“He said that?”
“He did.”
“What if he was lying?”
Star jerked up his head. “He wouldn’t do that. He would just tell me no.”
“It’s that simple, is it?” said Frostfire with a huff, and Star remembered how easily the captain had lied to him in the past. How could he convince his uncle that he and his friends were different, that they were trustworthy?
But Frostfire’s throbbing pulse slowed, and his wings relaxed. “I have no choice but to continue to rely on you,” said Frostfire. “Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t.”
“Larksong told me the name of our colt,” he said, changing the subject. “She’s going to call him Starfrost, after you and me.”
Star blinked, letting the name settle into his heart—Starfrost. He and this colt shared the same grandsire, Iceriver, and this colt would carry Star’s name, Star’s blood. They would be cousins. He turned his face away, hiding the tears that threatened to fall. “Why would Larksong do that?” Star asked. The mare had been part of the Black Army that had tried to kill Star.
“It’s obvious, don’t you think? You saved her and our colt’s life in the Trap when you could have let them die.”
Star turned to his uncle. “And you still don’t trust me?”
Frostfire stiffened. “I don’t trust your friends.”
The two stallions fell into silence for a long while, and they dug at the snow, hunting for grass to eat. Star’s thoughts ventured to his adoptive mother, Silverlake. Now that he could turn invisible, he could visit her too.
“I’m going to visit the valley. I need to speak to Silverlake.” Star exhaled, and his breath curled like smoke in the cold air. “The herd is depressed. I want them to know this won’t go on forever.”
Forever . . . the word bounced through Star’s mind like a falling rock, reminding him that he was immortal and Morningleaf was not. It wasn’t a concept he’d thought much about until he inherited the starfire, but could anything really last forever? Star shook off his thoughts. “It’s almost dawn,” he said to Frostfire. “I’ll visit Wind Herd tomorrow night. Why don’t you sleep for a bit?”
Frostfire peered at Star, curious. “Tell me what happened at the den, Star. Does it have to do with Morningleaf?”
“Nothing happened,” Star snapped. His loud denial shattered the winter hush.
Frostfire spread his wings, looking innocent. “I pressed; you flinched.”
“What?”
“It’s how we find injuries on our warriors. We press on them until they react.”
Star’s head was so full he didn’t understand what Frostfire was getting at, so he ignored him, shooing him off.
Frostfire strolled away but said, “You sleep, Star. You’ll feel better if you do.”
Star sank into the snow, right where he sat, not caring about finding his shallow bed. I don’t need sleep, he thought, closing his eyes.
26
NEWS
WHEN STAR OPENED HIS EYES, IT WAS PAST dawn. He lurched to his hooves and shook off the snowflakes that had floated down from the clouds and stuck to his black hide.
Frostfire cantered toward him, his breath streaming from his nostrils and blowing away in the blistering winds. The fresh snow deadened his hoofbeats. He halted next to Star and blinked
the snowflakes off his lashes. “This place is worse than the Trap,” he grumbled. “Too much shelter there, not enough here. I can’t stay dry.” He shook hard, flinging melted snowdrops off his body. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes,” Star admitted. He imagined Morningleaf and Brackentail in his mind’s eye, walking together through the cottonwoods, and then he stared up at the tribute. He had to let Morningleaf go, let her live her life. He’d known this for a while, but now that he’d seen how much she’d grown without him, he was certain.
Feeling resigned, Star toiled, working harder than usual, clearing his mind of all thoughts except his tasks: chipping ice, finding and lifting stones, carrying them up the hill, placing them, and then setting the rocks with clay. He could move about forty stones a day now, but he had to travel farther downriver each time. The river ice and the deep snow also slowed him.
Nightwing and Petalcloud soared overhead while he worked. The ancient black stallion liked showing Petalcloud his monument and taking her into the storms when they came, especially the lightning storms. Nightwing encircled Petalcloud in his shield, keeping her safe from the electric power of the sky. He flew her through blizzards too, shining his starfire ahead of them—and her happy whinnies reverberated through the sky, a sharp contrast to Wind Herd’s utter lack of joy on the ground.
When night came, Star was anxious again to leave, this time to visit the Wind Herd steeds. The dark clouds had returned, threatening more snow. He drew his power, vanished, and flew toward Wind Herd. Soon he crested the eastern swells and dropped into the shallow valley. It stretched for miles in each direction but was still inadequate for twelve thousand pegasi.
Nightwing and Petalcloud slept at the western edge of the valley, under a large sycamore tree. Petalcloud’s guards patrolled each grouping of pegasi, but they’d relaxed since the early days. Each Wind Herd steed had learned that disobedience led to immediate execution, and disobedience had all but disappeared.
Star landed near the elder mares and lurched across the pitted soil and crushed, dirty snow. A few eyes peered his way, attracted by the soft noises he made, but since he was invisible, the concerned mares went back to dozing. Silverlake and Sweetroot stood huddled together with their heads low and their eyes closed. He lowered his muzzle to Silverlake’s ears and whispered, “Wake up.”
The Guardian Herd Page 14
