‘No, I think I understand a little too well. You humans are scary.’
‘Oh no, what did you find?’
‘Something called a “documentary” about this place called ARC. Turns out they mass-murdered several of us. And not just cats. There were dogs and rats too. All of them died.’
‘Hmm,’ he thought after several moments of silence. ‘I didn’t realize anyone could legally make a documentary about that, but then again, it’s been almost a century. And I think the initial experiment did get declassified at some point in the early twenties, back when they had the bounty. Anyway, I guess Michelle told you she’s getting you an ETAg, huh?’
Ember splayed out her forelegs and rested her chin on the cage floor. ‘Yes. So how is it going to help me more than a set of claws? I do need claws if I’m going to survive back at home. And I already have Thai. From what I’ve seen, an ETAg doesn’t seem all that different. Just maybe a little more physical.’
‘That’s just it. In addition to letting you ask questions out loud, it would also let any person who found you know you’ve been in contact with humans. The hope is that, if they take you in, they’ll think you belong to Michelle and bring you to her. Then she can bring you back home, safe and sound. Then, of course, I can’t forget its main function as a translation device. You can use it to speak with any human or domestic dog. Thai will be linked with your ETAg as an expansion, by the way. There’d be no point in giving you two separate AIs. If we did, you might end up with an echo effect.’
Ember smiled faintly. ‘That would be funny.’ Her mind showed her an image of Echo the Easterner. Her smile faded. ‘What will she think of me now that our colonies are probably at war and I’ve killed Tainu?’
‘As for the rest of the plan, I’m going to let you try to stand and walk tomorrow,’ he continued, as if he hadn’t heard her thoughts of war or death. Or maybe he already knew and simply wasn’t surprised. ‘In any other case, I’d recommend waiting a day or two more, just to make sure everything sits together, but we have to act fast. They know you’re here and will be coming to get you within the next few days. If they do end up wanting you, you’ll need to be able to move on your own if you want to ever see your family again.’
‘You didn’t hear that, did you? What I was thinking? You didn’t react, and I was wondering.’ Ember gnawed on her tongue. ‘Also, what will happen to you and Michelle if y’all help me escape?’
‘I probably didn’t hear it. There are many layers of thought, and it’s designed to only pick up the conversational kind, so anything directed at yourself won’t go through. And if everything works as planned, nothing. Oh, and here’s my stop. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Goodbye.’
Ember glanced at her paws. The dreary red of disappointment entered her mind. He hadn’t mentioned undulling claws at all. ‘Wait, one last thing. Yegor said I can’t have kittens anymore. I asked Michelle about it, and I think she agreed, but they both brushed over it, so I was wondering if I may have misunderstood. I mean, it just seems like a really odd thing to say, and I’m a little leery of finding out how they know.’
Hye hesitated again. Ember wiggled her toes while she waited. The tiny whirs following her movements were funny little sounds. Like whining, mechanical coyotes with sore throats. She didn’t enjoy them but hoped that, with time, she might at least become used to it all.
‘Yegor,’ he finally thought. ‘Of course he would tell you. That cat.’
‘So it is true?’ Ember asked.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so, but it’s the law. Every stray or feral we get in must be spayed or neutered, which is where we, er, remove the parts of you that make the kittens. The only exception to that law is purebred appalas, but at the time we’d gotten you in, what kind of cat you were was not our main concern. We don’t get a lot of your breed, for obvious reasons, so we kind of forgot about your exemption. There’s a whole list of other reasons aside from those, but I really don’t have time to name them. We can talk it over tomorrow.’
‘One less thing I have to worry about, I guess,’ she thought to herself. She directed her thoughts back to Hye. ‘Okay. We don’t have to, though.’ She pinned back her ears. ‘What’s done is done. I’d rather talk about getting some new claws. I need them a lot more than I need a litter of kittens right now.’
‘You aren’t upset?’ he asked.
‘No. Well, I mean, it might mess up a few plans, mostly the plans of cats who are not me, and it will definitely lower my social status, but I was low already, so that’s fine. It’s not important right now. I mean, I’ve got robot legs. I still need to figure out how I feel about them. And I’ve got a family that probably thinks I’m dead. That’s important. Then, of course, there’s Hyrees, and he’s . . .’ She lowered her head against the den’s floor. ‘Tahg, I just hope he’s still alive. Anyways, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Bye.’
‘Okay, then. Goodbye.’
[call ended]
Chapter 10
Cloud
“Hyrees, please eat,” Songbird said.
“I’m not hungry,” Hyrees replied.
He shoved the slab of freshly roasted deer meat away, coating it with muddy snow. The once well-stocked fat reserves lining his ribs were already gone.
Cloud growled. “You know, she risked her life to help catch that for us. You will eat it, Hyrees. Now stop pushing it around the muck, or I’ll make you eat that too.”
Hyrees glared into his eyes. “Stop trying to pretend to be my parents. Mom and Dad are dead. Let them be dead, and leave me alone.”
He stormed away and disappeared into Wren’s old den. Cloud sighed. His muscles stung from a long day of patrolling. With Wren gone, he needed to cover nearly twice the distance in the same amount of time, and his body hated him for it. Songbird shot him a glance, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it meant.
Winter wind cut through the Glade relentlessly. The red glow of the evening sky did nothing to ease the chill. Scents of smoke and mustiness rode the gale, mixing with the stench of dead prey and unkempt fur. It was enough to make his stomach churn.
Songbird padded closer. She pressed her cheek against him, creating a spot of warmth on his neck. “If he keeps this up, we’re going to lose him. I don’t know what to do.”
Cloud rested his chin against her forehead. “I hate to say this, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do. It may well be best to let him have his way. Leave him alone for now, and let him go through the process of grieving on his own time. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”
“Maybe I could talk to him,” Farlight said. “I know what you said, but what if he doesn’t? I don’t want to have to wait until later to try to save him when I could’ve done it today.”
Farlight glanced around the Glade. Without Kivyress, he seemed more wary, but she was already asleep. With Ember gone, she’d started turning in early. For the first time in her short little life, she seemed to enjoy sleeping. Farlight, however, had gotten into a habit of staying up with Hyrees. Ever since that fateful battle five days ago, the two brothers spent the nights together in Wren’s den. Lupine made an announcement officially allowing them to stay there a day after the fight, which infuriated Cloud. As if the commander needed to give his consent before they were allowed to have the den they’d grown up in. It wasn’t a gift to be given—it was their right.
Cloud sighed. “I guess so, but if he doesn’t respond, leave him alone.”
“Yes, sir,” Farlight mumbled as he loped after his brother.
Once he got out of earshot, Cloud growled. “I can not believe . . . Tahg, Wren would be ashamed. There is a war prepare for. Cats have already died, and he’s over here trying to starve himself? Of all the selfish, immature—”
“Cloud,” Songbird hissed.
“What? He’s being selfish and immature. I lost the same cats he lost. You lost them too. Tahg, everyone’s lost someone important at some poin
t. Losing is a part of life. He needs to deal with it like an adult.”
“But he’s not. He’s dealing with it like him,” she said. Tears built up in her eyes, making them glisten in the fading light. “Listen, Cloud, Hyrees is not you. He doesn’t think like you, he doesn’t act like you, and he doesn’t feel like you. Insulting him behind his back isn’t going to do any good, especially if he overhears.”
He pinned back his ears and lowered his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No. I want you to take your own advice and leave him alone. If anyone has a chance at reaching him, it’s Farlight. Like you said, we’ll only make things worse.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “And if you need another reason to keep him alive—”
Her voice broke. She made no attempts to fix it and instead cried in silence. Cloud sucked in a deep breath, then let it out in another long sigh.
‘I know. If she really does come back, and he’s dead . . . But it would still be entirely his fault. Not mine. I’m sorry, Song, but I can’t feel sorry for him. He’s hurting himself, and he’s doing it intentionally. It’s not tragic, it’s what he wants.’
“Cloud, do you really think she’s still alive? Be honest with me,” Songbird whispered.
‘I don’t know, Song. You know I don’t know.’
For a day or two after the fight, it was easy to think she might still be okay, but on the third and fourth days, hope dwindled. Now, five days later, he didn’t know what to believe. Hope was nice, in theory, but it was keeping him from moving on. There wasn’t enough time to mourn, or wait, or hope for the improbable. It was time to let go.
“I don’t know.” He lowered his voice so Kivyress wouldn’t hear. “But most likely not. I don’t . . . I don’t think she is. I’m sorry, Song.”
She sniffed a few times, then, to his surprise, she smiled. That gentle, sweet smile of hers could make anything better—okay, even.
“Thank you.” She sniffed again. “I think I already knew, but . . . I can let her rest now. And maybe I can get some rest too, since there’s no point in staying up all night anymore.”
She rubbed a forepaw against her face. When she pulled it away, muddy snow dotted her fur. “I should probably let Kivy know. I’ll take her out to the field tomorrow before training and tell her. Then we can say our goodbyes together and find something nice to put on her memorial.”
“Okay. I would come with y’all, but you know I have to work,” Cloud replied.
The wind grew stronger. Cloud’s gaze wandered over to the History Tree. Ember’s clayvine hung from the branch she’d left it on all those nights ago. He watched it sway in the breeze for a few moments, then stood.
“Sorry, Song, I have to go; there’s another mandatory council meeting tonight. I love you. Just wanted to make sure you know that.”
She got up and pressed her nose against his. He wanted her to never pull away. He wanted to spend the rest of his life near her, but those precious few moments each evening and those late, fitful nights were all he could get.
She backed away. “I know. I love you too. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
“I’ll try not to. Might not have much of a choice, though. There’s so much that needs to be done, and not enough time to do it. I still haven’t given Farlight a proper lesson yet, and I was supposed to be on day three of his training yesterday.”
“You’re setting up some really unreasonable expectations for yourself. You should take a break. Don’t hurt yourself. No one’s forcing you to work this hard except you,” Songbird said.
“But I have to try. Otherwise, we’re all dead. Everyone.”
“Well, all that being said, I guess you can tell Whitehaze to look for someone else. No use putting off dealing with the little problems. The longer we wait, the more little problems there’ll be. It’ll all grow and grow until it becomes a mountain so steep we can’t climb it.”
“I will. I have to go now.”
He turned to leave but stopped short; Hyrees and Farlight were walking toward him.
“Sorry for yelling,” Hyrees muttered.
He padded past them, Farlight at his side. Cloud and Songbird exchanged looks of surprise as he moved over to the meat he’d abandoned, then crouched down and ate.
“What did you tell him?” Songbird whispered to Farlight.
She’d never had the quietest whisper, and the wavering in her voice only amplified it. Hyrees flicked back his ears but said nothing.
“I just spoke with him.” Farlight lowered his voice to a more controlled, less-audible level. “I may have, er, influenced him a little, but it was either that or losing him. I know how y’all feel about that, but I don’t mind trading some integrity for my own brother’s life. He’s more important.”
Songbird sighed. “Well, it worked. I won’t complain.”
Cloud grimaced and walked away toward Lupine’s den. ‘Manipulation. Of course. Yes, I’m so glad you learned how to do that. It is, after all, a skill every good commander must possess.’
Doubt stabbed him in the head. Even mentioning manipulation tactics made his throat tighten. It made him second-guess everything. It made him wonder if Aspen had ever truly cared about him, or if he’d fallen for act upon act, pushing himself to the limit for a tom who only saw him as a tool—even after that tom’s untimely death.
He shook his head as he approached the gathering of council members. Lupine sat on top of his den, as Aspen had once done. But instead of looking up at him with admiration, Cloud glared at him with disdain. Lupine wasn’t fit to lead on a peaceful spring afternoon, much less for several mooncycles, in the middle of winter, during a time of war.
“Ah, good, y-y-you made it, Cloud,” Lupine said. “I-I was beginning to worry you’d abandoned us.”
“If I abandoned you,” Cloud said. He sat down, tail thrashing with indignation. “This colony would likely collapse. Those Easterners have us on the ledge already. I’m not going to be the one to push us over. So long as everyone here continues to do their part, we will make it through this. Until that happens, though, I expect you all to work like wolves.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Whitehaze asked.
“You’ve been sitting in the History Tree, wandering the forest, and coming to meetings.”
Whitehaze growled. “You know I’m getting old. I can’t patrol anymore, and I’m too slow to hunt. There’s only so much good someone can do when he’s lived through sixteen winters, kitten. What do you want me to do?”
“Find a new apprentice.”
Whitehaze flicked back his ears. “A few days ago, you were insisting your daughter would come home. You told me to wait. Against Lupine’s initial orders, might I add.”
“I was mistaken. Use tomorrow to look for a willing enough young cat, and start training them. We need to get the little things out the way as soon as possible so we can focus on the bigger problems, like how we can better fortify the Glade, and what supplies we’ll need to get, or make more of. The longer we wait to prepare, the more vulnerable we become.”
“Cloud, who is the commander here?” Lupine asked.
Cloud met his gaze, and considered, for a moment, saying, ‘I am.’ Yet he knew better than to challenge him. He’d lose his position in a heartbeat. “You are, sir. What’s your plan for tomorrow?”
Lupine snorted. An icy puff of steam left his nostrils. “A-as suggested, Whitehaze, you should t-try to find a, uh, a new apprentice. The daily tasks still need to be taken care of, so-so most of your schedules will not change. However, I-I’ll be sending several clayworkers out with you and other hunters and guards to h-help lighten the load. Some of you are currently working alone, which is not safe. Your new partners may need some refreshing on fighting and hunting techniques, but there-there shouldn’t be anything too difficult for them t-to remember. The rest of the clayworkers will be sent out with the gatherers to get supplies to reinforce the a-abatis wall. Does anyone have
any problems with this arrangement?”
A murmur of ‘noes’ rumbled through the council.
“Does anyone have any i-i-ideas as to how this plan c-could be improved upon?” Lupine asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Cloud replied.
“W-what’s your suggestion?”
“We divide the remaining clayworkers into two groups; one group works on the abatis wall, and the other helps make us some personal protection: guard pieces for our most vulnerable places. Neck and leg protection especially, as those are the most common places for one-bite kills.”
“A-and how are you suggesting they make these protective pieces?”
“I have some ideas for designs. I can help them with the basic concept, then they can improve it as they see fit. It would require me to take some time away from the council tomorrow, and I may need to skip a meal, but I can do it. It may well save lives when the time comes.”
“Y-you may be putting a little t-too much faith in yourself, Cloud. I’ll allow you two of the clayworkers of your choice to help you out with this experiment of y-yours, but the rest will work on the wall. Like you said, we c-c-can’t afford to wait. I’d rather put more effort into something I know will make a difference than something that might a-amount to nothing. I’m sure you can understand this logic.”
“If my idea does work, will you give me a bigger team?” Cloud asked.
“Y-yes, but only if it-it looks like something we can actually use.”
He gritted his teeth together. “I’ll make sure it is, sir.”
“V-very well,” Lupine said. “Now, what about long-term p-planning? I p-p-propose waiting until spring to make any moves they might consider offensive. Thoughts?”
“Sir, the real question is, should we do anything offensive at all?” a sable brown tomcat named Redwater asked. His piercing orange eyes looked from cat to cat. “I suggest we prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. The positioning of the Rift gives the East a tactical advantage, so attacking them would only be Stone Ridge over again. We’d kill ourselves off. Besides, our recent fight might well have been a misunderstanding caused by that outsider, Tainu. War or not, we can’t risk jumping to conclusions.”
Wildcat Page 17
