Someone tackled him from behind. Cloud rolled, toppling over his assailant. “What are you doing?”
“I’d like to know the same of you.” Wren replied. “I thought you wanted to have a bit of fun for a change.”
Cloud grimaced as he got back to his paws. He shook himself off, then helped Wren up. “We aren’t kittens anymore, Wren. That time is over. Now I have a lot to get done, and a very difficult speech to prepare, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“You’re not excused,” Wren said.
He jumped between Cloud and his destination. Cloud tried to walk around, but Wren sidestepped to stop him.
Cloud held back a hiss. “Would you let me through? This isn’t funny.”
Wren chuffed. “It’s not meant to be funny, you big fluffhead. Come on, you know you want to fight me.”
“Yes, but for reasons you didn’t intend.”
“Go on, then. Get me.” Wren batted at his face, claws tucked safely in their sheathes. “I’ll not have you go around breakin’ your promises. A cat as important as you needs a reputation for reliability.”
Cloud sighed. ‘Okay, Wren. You win. One quick spar. Keep myself from being a liar.’
He feigned a jump to the left. As Wren moved to block him, he sprang right instead, then shoved Wren onto his back.
Wren laughed. “There’s the Cloud I know. Show me whatcha got, tomcat.”
Cloud half-smiled. ‘Okay, that did feel good.’
Before Wren could get up, Cloud tackled him. Wren snapped his teeth a clawlength away from Cloud’s shoulder. Cloud whipped his paw around and ran it across his neck. Wren faked an agonized yowl.
“You know, in a real fight, I could’ve leaned in and killed you like that. You’d better watch yourself,” Cloud said.
“You’d best watch yourself, you big coyote,” Wren replied.
Cloud jumped back, and Wren’s hind legs kicked air. Wren sprung to his paws. They circled each other for a moment. A tiny burst of adrenaline entered Cloud’s bloodstream, providing a high he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. More satisfying than mint and ten times more invigorating. The reason he’d become a border guard. He smiled.
As they fought, his mind raced, calculating Wren’s moves moments before he made them, then working out the best way to deflect him a split-second later. Wren reacted just as quickly. They swatted, jumped, and spun around the pine grove, each cat fighting to get the other back on the ground, and neither one succeeding. Despite his blinded eye, Wren matched Cloud nearly blow for blow.
In the branches above them, an owl called out, signaling nightfall. Cloud stopped, panting like a coyote. “Oh, it’s getting late. We should get back to the Glade.”
Wren pushed him off balance and he toppled over onto his back.
“Hey! Fight’s over,” Cloud said.
Wren collapsed beside him, chuckling like a trainee after an intense game of chase. “Now it is. See? You can have fun, you big tomkitten. It’s not the end of the world.”
Cloud stood up. He shook himself off, yet he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure.”
“Admit it; you’re not the best anymore,” Wren said.
“I never said I was the best.”
“Oh, you and that ego ’a yours.”
“First, what ego? And second, what does this have to do with anything we just did or said?” He pawed Wren’s side. “And get up, would you? I’d rather not keep everyone waiting.”
“You’re proving my point.” Wren rolled back to his paws. He bumped his shoulder against Cloud’s. “I’m afraid the Commander’s not going to make everyone wait to eat on your account.”
‘Right. Aspen,’ Cloud thought. ‘And I guess he has a point.’ He sighed. “Probably not. Let’s go before the food freezes.”
Wren smiled narrowly. “Assumin’ there’s any food left at all.”
Ember
Ember stared blankly at the dying fire. She’d left its side several times that day, but she always seemed to find her way back to it. It was the only place in the Glade outside of her parents’ den and the History Tree where she felt at home. The sun was sinking, and the temperature was dropping with it. Hyrees was out getting more wood. As she waited for him, she blew softly into the cinders, sending sparks and ash fluttering away in the gentle breeze.
Several leaps away, Tainu and Echo slunk into the Glade.
Ember forced herself to get up, then loped over to them. “Hey, where were you?” she asked.
They exchanged a look. Echo growled. “Watch your own rabbit, would you?”
“Echo, be nice,” Tainu hissed. “I told her I’m looking for my mom.”
“Ah, okay. So we’re sharing secrets with her, are we?” Echo said.
“Some of them,” Tainu replied. “She usually finds things out anyway, so we might as well.”
‘Okay, that’s not suspicious at all,’ Ember thought. “So that wasn’t the only thing you were doing.”
Both cats’ eyes darted around as if something would jump out and attack them at any moment. Even Ember recognized the fear in their expressions.
Tainu touched her nose to Ember’s. “Let’s not talk about this here, Em. I just really wish we could’ve done those hunting lessons this morning. I probably won’t be able to do them with you for a while.”
Ember pinned back her ears. ‘Alright, now you’re really scaring me.’ She stepped closer to Tainu and sniffed. “So who were you meeting with?”
“Ember, I said don’t talk about it here,” Tainu snapped. She stepped away from her. “Look, I need some time to think, little cousin. Okay? So please just leave me alone.”
Tainu pushed past her and walked into the bustle of the meeting.
“Wait!” Ember called, “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Leave it, kitten,” Echo said. She trotted after Tainu. “You’ve done enough already.”
Ember pawed at the ground. Dark and misty oranges shrouded her thoughts. “Okay. Sorry,” she whispered.
Behind her, near the fire pit, Hyrees struggled with an oddly twisted stick. She walked over to him and nudged the dangling end of the branch over one of the spires. “Need some help?” she asked.
Hyrees hefted the other end up and into the fire. “Thanks. I guess I did. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it may help get it burning again.”
Ember’s eyes locked onto a clayvine dangling from his jaw. Hanging from the woody loop was a clay bijou in the shape of a maple leaf. Her eyes widened. “Oh, you didn’t.”
He smiled. “What do you think of my new clayvine?”
“Hyrees!” she mewed as he slipped it over her head.
“What? Don’t you want it? If you don’t, I can see if someone else would like it.”
“No,” Ember said. She rested the maple trinket in a forepaw and lifted it closer to her face. Even the shade of clay was perfect—a flaming orange-red, the color of autumn leaves; her favorite color out of all the colors in the forest, and all the colors in her mind. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. Tahg, it must’ve cost all your work credits. I-I hope it didn’t.”
He nuzzled her cheek. “Don’t worry about it, Ember. It’s yours now. Just don’t break it, and we’ll call it even. Okay?”
She laughed. “I’ll try my best. Might not wear it much, though, just to keep it safe. It’s not exactly something to take to work.”
“True,” he replied.
They settled down once again beside the fire pit. Together, they stoked the flames back into existence. As the shadow engulfing the Western Mountain darkened, the meeting died down. After a light-hearted feast, which Cloud briefly appeared for, the Easterners gathered together at the southern entrance. With a few Western escorts, they made their way to the fields. Ember and Hyrees climbed the History Tree full and, for the most part, happy. Hyrees curled up in his usual spot near the sturdiest branch in the fork. Ember lay on her side in front of him, watching stars through the branches and clouds.
Hyree
s licked his lips, then yawned. “That was some meal, huh? The turkey was delicious.”
“I know,” Ember said, still watching the sky. “Mom helped catch it. It was the one who gave her that bite.”
“Oh. You know, when you mention how our food bit someone earlier, it makes it lot less delicious.”
“Sorry.”
Hyrees chuffed. “No, it’s o—”
“Hyrees, look,” Ember mewed, cutting him off.
A single snowflake fluttered down from the sky, barely visible through the darkness. It missed the History Tree, flew toward the ground, then disappeared into the shadows. A few more tiny particles of white followed.
‘Snow is terrible to work in, but at least it’s pretty to look at,’ she thought with a smile.
A flake landed on her nose. She wiped it off with her paw instead of her tongue. She’d learned better than to lick snow last winter; it didn’t taste pretty.
Ember shuffled closer to Hyrees. They would need each other’s warmth to survive a snowstorm, no matter how lightly it came. Hyrees shivered and curled into a tighter ball. Within a few moments he was snoring. Ember sighed. Yet again, she couldn’t bring herself to sleep, but unlike most nights, not even the cool, blue-greens of drowsiness would come to her.
Her heart wanted her to run and chase snowflakes as they fell. Her mind wanted to leave entirely to try to find the missing part of her. Instead of listening to either side of her, she stayed and looked for the moon through the few cloudless patches of sky. Tomorrow morning, she and the rest of her family would toss up snow at each other like they did last winter. The Kivyress would start to freeze over, and Fernburrow Falls would sparkle with tiny icicles. Winter was a time of hardship, yes, but it was also beautiful.
“Beautiful hardship,” she whispered. “Sounds poetic.”
‘I think today worked out pretty well, all things considered. Dad didn’t say anything else about that talk he wanted to have, so I guess that’s something I’ll have to do tomorrow. But how bad could it be? No worse than what you just survived today, that’s for sure. Whatever happens, you can take it. I hope.’
She looked down at her new bijou, which hung dangling from a nearby branch. ‘You can do it. Wear your leaf and think of Hyrees anytime you start feeling overwhelmed. That’ll work.’
Paws tapped against the icy ground. Ember’s ears perked up. A shadow of a cat padded across the Glade toward the tiny hill housing the commander’s den. She sniffed the air. Nothing smelled out of the ordinary. There were too many scents strewn around the Glade for her to make out which cat so urgently needed to see Aspen, but it didn’t matter.
‘Lupine, probably. Anyway, what was I doing? Oh, right. Look for the moon, Em. Then tonight will be not-terrible.’
An ear-piercing yowl filled the air. Ember jumped to her paws, heart racing. The shadow cat darted out of the commander’s den and raced out of the Glade.
Her head locked up, but pictures of the shadow cat hurting Aspen in various ways managed to get through. Before she could even process what was happening, Ember charged down the History Tree and out the southern entrance.
“Help!” she called out. “Someone please help!”
She tried her best to ignore the chaos behind her. Voices meowed and caterwauled in an agonising uproar. As she ran, they faded into the sounds of the forest and paws on slippery leaves. Snow flew against her face and stuck to her fur.
“Hey!” she called between breaths. “Stop! What did you do? Who . . . who are you?”
The cat ignored her. Ember sniffed the wind, but it wouldn’t carry the cat’s scent to her nose. The moon refused to show itself or reveal the perpetrator. Grey and shimmering silver swirled through her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to think about Aspen, or what could’ve happened to him. She also couldn’t bring herself to think about what might happen to her if she caught this cat, or how she would catch him or her in the first place. Another image entered her mind: one of the fields. She saw herself and the mystery cat running in the tall grass and to the Eastern camp. A flash of yellow followed.
‘Oh no.’
The cat made a series of sharp turns, jumping off tree roots and pouncing over logs. Still, Ember continued onward, ducking and leaping like her life depended on it. Wind blew at her tail. Snow flew in her face. Behind her, she thought she heard the sounds of more paws, but she couldn’t make them out over the pounding of her own heartbeat.
“Ember, stop! Go back to the Glade—this isn’t your fight,” a muffled voice called. It sounded like Cloud.
The forest thinned out. Up ahead, dead grass waved her on. Ember bit down hard on her tongue and ignored her father’s faint orders. The cat wouldn’t be able to hide its identity once it entered the fields; thick underbrush held more scent.
Moonlight appeared through the clouds a second before the cat vanished into the grass. Black and white. Another round of adrenaline hit her core. She felt both exhausted and ready to fight. Her teeth felt warm, but she didn’t have time to wonder how that was possible. She dove, face first, for the same grass the cat disappeared in. She slid to a near stop as shock took over.
‘Tainu?’
Pictures of confusion and fear, stained with purple and green, filled her mind. She shook her head, numbed her non-verbal thoughts, and kept going.
“Tainu! Wait! Please stop! What are you doing? What’s going on? Please tell me something!”
Her vision blurred as her body threatened to fail her yet again. She did her best to ignore it. Tainu’s scent veered to the right. Ember turned and found herself in the middle of the Eastern camp, yet before they could even react, she followed the scent back to the fields. Ember’s heart caught in her throat.
‘Oh.’
The grass shrunk to a less obstructive size. Up ahead, a human-made barrier separated the upper field from the Wolf Trail. The Wolf Trail, a path made of solid stone and two metal strips, carried sleek machines along them at speeds no cat could outrun. Crossing at the wrong time meant getting crushed to death.
Ember slowed, panting, as she neared the Trail. “Please stop! Please! I don’t know . . . what you just did . . . but please . . . don’t run from me.”
Tainu complied, and came to a halt by the barrier. She turned to face her. Ember inhaled a frigid breath of air and stopped, frozen in shock. Blood coated Tainu’s muzzle. The spatter extended to her neck—a spatter that could only be produced by a torn artery.
Aspen was dead, and Tainu had killed him.
Ember’s jaw quivered. “W-what did you do?”
“Ember?” Tainu asked. “No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be you! Go back to the Glade. Let someone else chase me. You have to!”
Green, the brightest green she could imagine, filled her head. “You k-killed him. W-w-why would you do that? Why would you ever d-do that?”
Tainu trembled. “It’s not what you think it is. I did what I had to do. I’m sorry, I really am. If I’d had a choice, I promise you things would be different. Listen, I don’t want you getting caught up in this, so you have to leave.”
“You just killed our commander,” Ember said. Her paws and face grew warm. Her teeth and muzzle burned. She imagined herself sinking her fangs into Tainu’s throat. For the first time in over a year, she didn’t shove aside the thought of violence. A painful ringing filled her ears. Her field of vision narrowed until Tainu became all she could see.
“Go back to the Glade,” Tainu said. “Go! Run! No one needs a little kitten on a battlefield. You’ll just get in the way. Because that’s all you are, Ember—a little foxing kitten in an oversized body. NOW GO!”
Ember winced. All the terrible things she’d heard whispered about herself in the past came back. She wanted to run away from it all, but one word stood out, sending a yellow shock through her mind. ‘Battlefield?’
The ringing became louder. Beyond it, yowls of cats in pain echoed in her head. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining them, o
r if they were real. Her ears went numb. Ember snarled. “You killed Commander Aspen and led us into an ambush?”
“I said ‘go,’ you stupid kitten. I never . . . I never liked you, okay? You’re weak. A little coward—that’s what you are. And you never listen to anyone. So go already.” Tainu spat. She was crying.
Ember yowled. Without thinking, she hurled herself forward and tackled her cousin to the ground. Ember raked her claws across Tainu’s neck. “You brought them here to die! You brought me here to die!”
“It’s not my fault you followed me,” Tainu growled.
She kicked Ember in the stomach. Ember staggered backward, then lowered herself to fight. The world seemed to spin around them. Her legs threatened to give out. Ember panted for breath. She wanted to hide, but part of her was paralysed. The other part of her wanted to take away the threat by force. “You k-killed him,” she said.
“Okay, so screaming at you doesn’t work,” Tainu said, getting back to her paws. “Not that I expected it to. Ember, I don’t want to fight you. I want you out of this, and I want you to stay out of this. Go back to the Glade. I’ll leave, and you won’t have to ever see me again. Please, just go already.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I want to, but I-I can’t. I c-can’t move.”
“Then let me help you,” Tainu said.
She swiped at Ember’s face. Ember jumped back. Tainu’s claws tore through her cheek, missing her eye by a clawlength. Ember hissed and stumbled backward.
“Stop fighting me, Ember,” Tainu said. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. You know what I can do to you.”
‘She killed him. She betrayed you, and everyone else.’ The thoughts echoed through her mind until they became all she could think. Her head became a thunderstorm, and she struggled with it for self-control.
“Get out of here, Ember. Now!” Tainu spat.
‘She killed him. She killed him!’ Something in her mind snapped. Ember’s eyes narrowed. She leaped at her cousin. Tainu swatted at her shoulder. Ember ducked and slashed Tainu’s chest. Tainu came down hard on top of her. Claws cut into Ember’s back. She held back a yowl.
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