Cloud pinned back his ears. “No, but—”
“Then i-it’s not justified. For all you know, some rogue c-could’ve done it. I’m sorry, Cloud, but she committed murder. She is dangerous. A wildcat, Cloud. N-now come on, let’s take her back to say her goodbyes.”
‘Colors, colors, colors; too many colors, colors, colors. Everything. Everything. Everything is. It’s . . . this is it. They all want, all want me dead. I die a villain. I die. I die. End it. End this. End this war. Never be able to. Farlight. Oh tahg, Farlight. I failed you; I failed you. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.’
Grey static choked out all other colors. It filled her mind and strangled her thoughts, which echoed like words against stone. The wind, the snow, the lights, and the yelling attacked her from every angle. She closed her eyes, covered her ears, and moaned.
Her father’s voice rose over it all, “Wait! No! Please, banish her, send her into exile—throw her out. Anything. Just don’t kill her. Please. Not now. I can’t lose her again.”
“She just killed my chief advisor. And Farlight’s dead too. I don’t know who killed him, but it certainly w-w-was not Whitehaze. He’s been my guide longer than you’ve been alive. I know him better than any of you. He would not kill Farlight, but Ember certainly killed him. We’re weak enough a-already. I can’t take any more risks. From now on, all defects will be removed, as Dark intended. It’s for the best.”
‘Dark intended? Wanted to kill me? Were there others? What if I wasn’t the only one?’ Yellow pounded at her head. ‘What if there was someone else who felt colors, or had attacks? What if they existed and were drowned. Like, oh tahg, like Farlight. Why didn’t I know about this until now? Why did no one say anything? Why did no one do anything?’
Ember tucked her tail closer to her body and tensed her muscles, trying to make herself as small as possible.
“Please, Lupine,” Cloud said. His voice was subdued, defeated. “I’ll do anything. Just let her live. Look at her, would you? You care; I know you do. Do you really want to kill her? After all this?”
Silence came like a predator, attacking the air all at once. Ember’s ears rung. She lifted her paws from her head, but kept her eyes closed.
“Will you forfeit your position on the council, stop working on that r-r-r-ridiculous human ‘armor’ stuff, and promise to remain loyal to the West for the rest of your life in e-exchange for Ember’s exile?” Lupine asked.
More silence. A tiny flicker of dull orange penetrated the grey: some unsteady combination of sadness and hope, dripping in together. ‘What are you doing? What are you—offering to punish him for my mistake? Not worth it. Not going to say yes. He’s not.’
She opened her eyes. Whitehaze’s face and blood-stained neck filled her vision. She jerked her head back and tried to stop the stream of words still echoing through her mind.
“I will,” Cloud said. “I’ll do it. Oh, thank you. Thank you, Lupine. Oh tahg.”
Ember shivered. She strained her neck to look up at him. Cloud stood, tall and firm, between her and Lupine. ‘What? Dad, you don’t want this. You don’t want this. You don’t want this! What are you doing to yourself?’
“But remember,” Lupine said, “if she ever comes back, she will be killed. You’ll never see her again, or if you do, she’ll be dead. No matter what she decides to do with her freedom, y-your promise remains. If she comes back a-a-and . . . and gets executed after all, you still have to spend the rest of your life serving the Western Colony.”
Cloud growled, a look of pure hatred on his face. “Understood.”
“Then it’s settled. Go back to the Glade and tell everyone what happened. I’ll take her over to the fallen tree t-to lead her out. Bring anyone who would like to say goodbye.”
Cloud sighed. He lowered his head and started for the once familiar little clearing. To the home she would never see again. To the cats she would never see again; the cats who hated her; the cats who wanted her gone. Yet even after everything they’d done, the West was her home. It was all she knew in Dark’s Valley, and now she couldn’t even give it a proper farewell.
Ember staggered to her paws. “Dad, wait! Don’t go! Don’t leave me yet. Please!”
He didn’t reply, or stop, or even slow for a heartbeat.
“Daddy! Daddy, please! Please take me with you! I need . . . I need to—” her voice cracked.
Lupine stepped between her and her savior. She watched helplessly as Cloud climbed up the creek bank, then disappeared over the top. Lupine shoved her side. The sudden force sent her stumbling sideways. A gut-wrenching squelch made her throat tighten. She didn’t have to look to know she’d stepped on Whitehaze’s mutilated neck. She yanked her paw back into the snow and tried her best not to look down. An all too familiar darkness slithered in around her peripheral vision, creeping closer and closer every second. Her legs weren’t programmed to get weak, but something about the mechanics inside made them feel like they might fail at any moment.
“Let’s get moving,” Lupine said. “A-and don’t try to hurt me. Cats will hear and come to end you.”
The rebel part of her wanted to come up with some kind of sharp-worded reply, or even a dull-worded reply, but nothing seemed to be working. Her legs refused to move. Her mouth refused to speak. Her mind refused to think. Wind and snow froze her toes, her sides, and everywhere else. The heating grid did little to stop it. Her conscious and body disconnected for a split moment. Acting on instinct, she spread her legs to keep from toppling over. Her head hung limp, vacant eyes facing the bloodstained ground.
‘Dying . . . What if I die? What about Hyrees? Farlight, he’s . . . Hyrees, what have I done to you? What if I—’
“I said move, Ember.”
Lupine pushed her again. Her legs scrambled to compensate. She tripped over Whitehaze’s corpse and face-planted in the rocks. A high-pitched ringing drowned out all other noise. Her nose throbbed and burned. The world moved in slow motion again. The snake of darkness constricted her vision even tighter. She rolled over to look at her assailant. His mouth moved, but no words came out. She couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything, anything but the ringing and the water-muffled yowls Farlight must have cried during his last moments. Her imagination recreated them so vividly, she glanced at Farlight’s half-frozen body to make sure it was still there. When she realized it was, she let her head roll back against the stone, closed her eyes, and caterwauled.
A dull pain cut into her side. She closed her mouth and opened her eyes. Lupine stood over her, claws hooked into the skin behind her shoulder. He spoke again. Again, no intelligible words came out. She tried to ask him what he wanted, but only tiny, pathetic huffs of air escaped her throat. He shook his head, helped her up, then nudged her in the right direction. As they walked along the creek bank, Ember looked over her shoulder at the two dead cats behind her.
The fog cleared enough to let a single thought escape into her conscious: ‘Maybe I was wrong about everything.’
The thought made her stomach lurch. Halfway to the log, she coughed up a puddle of fur and bile. It eased the nausea some, but also left an ache in her diaphragm, a bitter taste on her tongue, and a tingling sensation in her mouth. Her hearing faded back into existence. A chirping grey bird, the wind, and the crackling snow beneath their paws were the only clues to its return.
When they reached the log, they waited in silence for Cloud to meet them. The snowfall around them grew heavier. Ember’s chest tensed as she remembered the forecast from the previous morning: a blizzard.
“Ember, what’s going on?” Lupine asked.
She winced at the sudden noise. “I messed up. I messed up so bad.”
“Yes, you did. I-I-I know that well enough. What I want to know is why you said Farlight was in danger this morning. What made you come to that conclusion?”
Ember swallowed hard and looked away. “I . . . I . . .” She closed her eyes and breathed in. ‘One, two, three, four, five.’ She let the breath out in an
equally long sigh. “Last night, Farlight took me to Wisdom Monument, and he . . . he said Whitehaze wanted him gone.”
“S-so why do you think he’d say that, huh?”
She rubbed the smooth, reinforced coverings on her toes. “Because, uhm, because Whitehaze was working with Jade. Farlight said he saw him talking with that rogue from the other day. Eclan. He, er, he might have been threatened. Into doing it, I mean. Spying on us. And I’m . . . I-I-I saw someone moving the-the water bowls away from the fires last night.”
Lupine growled. “I’ve known him my whole life, Ember. He was like a father to me. He was not, nor was he ever a-a-a spy. I don’t know who or what Farlight saw, but he was wrong. I don’t even understand how you could believe something like that. Whitehaze would never betray us. He would never betray me. Not even u-under threat.”
Ember transitioned to chewing on her toes. “Is it true?” she asked after a few painful seconds of silence. “Was Commander Aspen going to kill me?”
“Aspen ordered that no one tell you this, but he’s gone now, so I’ll tell you. Kittens who are defective in any way g-get eliminated. As Dark and Flare have written on the sacred commander’s tablet, it’s cruel and dangerous to let them live. The only reason you’re still alive right now is because of your father’s stubbornness. You were always his-his biggest weakness, you know. He went through so much, leaped logs and scaled trees for you. He cried and pleaded for days to let Aspen keep you alive. He worked so hard to fix you. And how have you repaid him? What gratitude have you shown? Are you even capable of-of feeling for him? Did you even try?”
She closed her eyes as deep orange speckled the fog. She didn’t remember reading anything about the Founders calling for the deaths of imperfect kittens, yet it fit together, forming straight, logical lines across her head. Pieces clicked—the historian trial, her colonymates’ shunning, and the pure spite some cats seemed to have toward her for no apparent reason. She wasn’t even supposed to exist.
Ember sniffled. ‘I did. I tried, I tried so hard, and I failed. I’m not good enough, okay? I couldn’t protect Farlight, and I murdered Whitehaze, and I’ve trapped Dad, and now Hyrees is going to die. I tried, and I ruined everything, just like I always do.’ Her jaw quivered without instruction, making her feel even more helpless. ‘What if Dark was right? Maybe they should have killed me.’
Distant pawsteps crackled toward them, catching her attention. She strained her neck and ears, both dreading and longing for whatever was about to happen. Cloud, Songbird, and Kivyress trod toward them. They all looked upset. Ember waited a moment more, trying to see if Hyrees had decided to come. He hadn’t.
‘Maybe he went to go see Farlight first,’ she thought. ‘Makes sense. Farlight is more important than me. But I guess this means Fern and Fledge don’t care. Don’t blame them.’
Songbird broke into a run when she saw her. She caught Ember up in her paws and squeezed her tight, sobbing. “Ember, what have you . . . what have you gotten yourself into?”
“I-I’m sorry, Mom,” Ember whispered. Another round of tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I didn’t . . .”
Songbird rested her chin on Ember’s shoulder. “Calm down, Ember. Calm down. Now I need to ask you something, okay? Can you make me a promise, Ember? Just one promise, please. It’ll be a hard one to keep, but . . . but it’ll be for the better of everyone.”
“W-what is it?” Ember asked.
“Don’t come back. No matter what happens, and no matter what you hear, just don’t come back. I don’t want to see you here again. Because if I do, you’ll be dead. Please, Ember. Stay away for me. And do good for me. Don’t turn into a rogue or a wildcat. I know I probably won’t see you again, but . . . just don’t forget who you are. Please.”
‘Mom . . . You feel like you have to say that? To ask me not to go crazy?’
“I’ll try,” she replied.
“Ember.” Kivyress stood beside her, ears back and tail dragging. “Ember is it true? Is Farlight really dead?”
“Yes,” Ember choked out. “He’s gone, Kivy. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I wanted—I-I tried so h—”
Kivyress started to cry. “Did Whitehaze kill him?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I think he did, but I’m not sure, and . . .”
Kivyress pressed against her side. She sniffed back congestion and whimpered into Ember’s fur. “I never liked him. It was him, I know it was. And you killed him for me. For Farlight. Thank you.”
The nausea came back.
“S-so do you have to go?” Kivyress asked.
“Yes. Sorry, Kivy. I can’t stay here anymore.”
“But who will be weird with me? And who will I talk to? Who will listen to me? What if I never see you again? Ember, please don’t go. I know you don’t have a choice, but . . .” She buried her face farther into Ember’s fur. “Take me with you. I hate this place. I hate war. I hate all these stupid rules and all this fighting. Please take me with you. Everything would be so much easier.”
“I can’t. I-I’m sorry. You have to stay here. Help Mom and Dad for me. You can do a lot more good here. You can finish Dad’s leather and make the armor for him.” She rested her chin on Kivyress’s shoulder. “Remember when we used to play guard and outsider, and you were always the guard? You’re the . . . you’re the hero, Kivy. A-and I, uhm, I guess I get to be the villain again. Maybe they’ll make legends about us one day.”
Kivyress didn’t say anything. Her shoulders shuddered as she cried into Ember’s fur. Songbird shifted to the side as Cloud approached them, but she never once let go. Cloud pressed his forehead against Ember’s. “Hyrees is coming. He just wanted a moment with his brother.”
Pine green relief painted the fog, releasing some of the weight crushing her sides. ‘He didn’t abandon me.’
“Why would you do that?” Ember whispered.
“Do what?” Cloud asked.
“Agree to do all that to let me live? Why? Why would you—you wanted to escape, didn’t you? You wanted to get out of here. Now it’ll be so much harder. Why . . . why would you do this for me?”
He leaned back to look at her. “I agreed because it means you get to live another day. I said I’d do anything, and I meant it. It’s worth it already, if for nothing else than to have this moment, right now. But Ember, you knew? You knew I wanted to go, likely leaving you behind? You never said anything.”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? I want you to be happy. And now you won’t be able to be because of me. To leave, to be able to leave. You can’t leave because of me. And what about your project? All that work and waiting.”
He pressed his neck against hers. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m tired of working. No, I’m sick of working my tail off for a colony that’s never done anything for me. You know, I’d give almost anything to have back a single day from last fall. There are so many things I’d do differently. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve been there for Wren. I should’ve been there for all of you, but I was too busy trying to please Aspen and prove my mother wrong. Lot of good that did for me now.”
Ember didn’t know how to reply, so she didn’t. She let herself be engulfed by her family. Or rather, three-fourths of her family. She sniffled and breathed in their scents, trying her best to memorize them all.
‘Never get to see them again. Never . . .’ The thought alone made her whimper.
“Alright. Y-you’ve said your goodbyes,” Lupine said. “Time to go, Ember.”
Cloud stepped back. Songbird wrapped her paws even tighter, then she released her, licked Ember’s cheek, and moved to join Cloud.
Kivyress remained huddled up against her side. “Please, just a few more moments? Hyrees isn’t here yet. We have to wait,” she mewled.
“Come here, Kivy,” Cloud said softly.
Kivyress pushed closer to Ember’s side, then, with a moan, she walked over to her parents. She sat between them, leaning on Songbird,
and groomed away tears as they formed.
Ember tried to capture them in her visual memory, but remembered how quickly Wren had slipped from her grasp. She pulled up the photograph from the day of her return to make sure it was still there. Their smiling, fire-lit faces contrasted how they looked now: crying, grey, and speckled with snow. Her focus shifted to the image of Farlight, with his goofy smirk and a gaze forever fixed on his brother. It occurred to her for a moment that being exiled meant she could go back to imagining everything was okay in the West, but not yet. Not so soon.
“C-come on, Ember,” Lupine said.
“Wait,” Cloud said.
Ember closed the image and opened her eyes.
“Go see the world for me, okay?” he asked. “Conquer all the mountains, explore all the valleys, and forget the colonies. Forget us. Live your life. Enjoy it, no matter what happens here. Okay?”
Ember tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept coming. “I promise I’ll try.”
Lupine strode in front of her. “Ember, I-I-I banish you from the Western Colony for the murder of Whitehaze, my chief advisor, mentor, and long-time friend. I-if you are ever found in this territory again, you will be k-killed on sight. Now get out of here, kitten.”
Ember stepped back, head low and ears flattened. “But Hyrees, he—”
“Go, Ember,” Lupine hissed.
“Wait!” Hyrees ran toward them along the cliff edge. His voice sounded more broken than she’d ever heard it before. “I’m coming!”
“W-with her?”
Hyrees stopped beside her. “Yes, that’s what I said. I’m coming. I’m going. There’s nothing left for me here. This pack of wolves can burn in a forest fire for all I care. I just hope, if that happens, you let your hostages escape.”
Lupine growled but said nothing.
Ember brushed her head against Hyrees’s cheek, wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time. I could’ve saved him, I could’ve—wait, want to come? Are-are you sure? You’ll never get to see this place again.”
Wildcat Page 34
