The Guardian Herd: Landfall

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Star broke into a canter and folded his wings on his back. With all his heart, he wanted to kick off and fly, but his long wings barely fit between the snug tree branches. He glanced up and couldn’t see the sky. Frustration nipped his heels, driving him deeper into the forest and farther from the noises of his friends as they squealed, enjoying the berries. He had to clear this emotion, whatever it was. It was dark and cold, like the silver starfire. It robbed him of joy, and it wasn’t Brackentail’s fault, or Morningleaf’s. It was Star’s problem.

  When he could no longer hear his friends’ voices, Star slowed to a walk, and then he stopped. The forest was silent. The busy chatter of birds and the crackling movement of the bunnies through the pine needles had vanished. He swiveled his ears, hearing nothing. He sniffed, and smelled nothing. The breeze blew his mane forward, and a chill raced up his spine. His mixed-up thoughts had thrown him off guard.

  Star felt eyes on him.

  Slowly, he turned, careful not to make a sudden move. His muscles flexed, ready to fight or to flee. He gulped, sensing the creature before he saw her, and then every sense jolted into high gear.

  He was face-to-face with an ice tiger.

  Her blue eyes blinked at him. Her small, round ears pricked forward. Her mouth dropped open as she panted, her breathes shallow. Star saw her canines, long and white, like tusks. Her paws spread, exposing her claws, and she growled so low and deep it rumbled Star’s rib cage.

  Sweat prickled his hide as he faced the white giant. His sharpened hooves seemed silly next to her massive head and quill-sharp claws.

  His starfire bubbled in his gut, but Star couldn’t deploy it without activating Nightwing’s awareness and putting all the herds in danger. Star locked eyes with her.

  She sprang, claws flared.

  Through his peripheral vision he spotted a small boulder next to him. He gripped the stone in his wing and threw it. It slammed her shoulder. She snarled and bit the rock where it landed, yowling with pain when her teeth clacked against it. Star leaped into the air, hoping he could fit between the trees and fly higher than she could jump. He flapped hard, trying to pierce the overhang of branches, shoving his nose into the largest opening he could find, but he couldn’t bust through.

  The ice tiger leaped and swiped at his leg. Searing pain split his thoughts as her claws ripped open his flesh. He kicked at her, but she’d already fallen back to the ground. She paced beneath him, breathing through her mouth and sniffing his blood that had dripped onto her black-striped white fur.

  Star surged higher and managed to stick his head deep into the branches, where he became stuck.

  The tiger sprang and snagged Star’s long, curly tail. She yanked him down. The branches scraped Star as he and the tiger fell. He slammed onto the pine needles, landing on his side and crushing his wing. The ice tiger pounced.

  Star lunged, meeting her head-on. He sliced her chest with his sharpened hooves, tearing deep into her fur.

  She backed away, shaking her head and assessing him, as if wondering if he was worth killing. She decided he was and sprang again.

  Star guessed she had a hungry cub somewhere. His starfire raced through his veins, heating him and threatening to explode.

  But he had to defeat her without it.

  They faced each other, both breathing hard. She was determined. But so was he. Her white hide sparkled, and her eyes gleamed.

  She blinked.

  Her mistake.

  In that split second Star spun in a half circle and let loose both back hooves, slamming her square in the forehead, just as Redfire had taught him.

  The tiger grunted and crashed onto her side, her eyes closed.

  Star sniffed her. She was unconscious but alive.

  He galloped away. He had to warn his friends before she woke up and discovered them. Star’s heavy breathing blocked out all sounds as he rushed back to where he’d left them. He flattened his neck, dodging trees and leaping over fallen branches and large rocks. Froth developed on his chest, and he left a long trail of shed feathers behind him.

  Where were they? He couldn’t hear a thing.

  Star skidded into the clearing where he’d last seen them and stumbled into a pegasus body. He had to jump to avoid trampling her. It was Dewberry.

  He tripped over another body—Bumblewind.

  He stopped and turned in a slow circle. His friends’ bodies littered the forest floor—their eyes closed, their bodies convulsing.

  Then he saw Morningleaf’s aqua wings flapping uselessly. She was lying on her side, struggling to lift her head. He rushed to her. “What happened?”

  She opened her mouth, and a red berry slipped off her tongue and rolled onto the moss. “Help,” she gasped.

  30

  DOOMED

  STAR REARED, THREW UP HIS HEAD, AND TRUMPETED a distress call. His deep bray rumbled through the Trap, carrying for miles. River Herd would hear it and send help. Then he dropped to all four hooves and darted to each of his friends.

  Echofrost was in the worst shape, with her hide drenched in sweat, her feathers crushed by her jerking body, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She wheezed, and her ribs shook hard. Star’s heart galloped ferociously at the sight of her. “You’re going to be all right.” He lowered his head, listening to her heart. It was fluttering like a trapped bird.

  Bumblewind groaned, and Star cantered to his side. “Hold on,” he said to his friend. “Sweetroot is coming.”

  Bumblewind’s glazed eyes looked past Star, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he couldn’t.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Star said. Tears rushed down his cheeks and soaked Bumblewind’s hide. White flowers erupted around the colt.

  To Star’s left, Brackentail crawled toward Morningleaf, dragging himself over stones and twigs, but he couldn’t make it all the way to her. He stopped, gasping for air, and Star whinnied to him. “Don’t move, Brackentail. Just hold still. Sweetroot is coming.”

  Star turned in a circle, speaking to all of them. “Sweetroot is coming.” He repeated the words as though they could stop time until she arrived. Feathers and tears shed from Star as he waited in agony for the medicine mare. His starfire bubbled deep inside him, but he couldn’t use it to heal the yearlings—not if he wanted to keep them safe from Nightwing.

  Star heard hoofbeats approaching, and then he saw Sweetroot, Silverlake, Hazelwind, and others galloping toward him.

  “What happened?” Silverlake asked, her voice croaking like a frog’s. Sweetroot and the other steeds skidded to a halt, their eyes round and their wings drooping as they stared at the downed pegasi.

  Sweetroot spotted the red berries immediately. She lifted one with her wing and sniffed it. “Did you eat any?” Her eyes scanned Star’s body for signs of distress.

  “No. I—I went for a walk.” Star’s throat tightened. Why had he left his friends?

  “Do you know how many they ate?”

  Sweetroot’s calm questions soothed Star, but rattled him too. The medicine mare was taking charge, and that was good, but Star didn’t know the answers to her questions. “Just help them. Please.”

  “I am helping them. Who ate first, can you tell me that?”

  “Echofrost,” Star said, relieved to know an answer.

  Sweetroot nodded and kneeled beside Echofrost. Using her wings, she lifted the mare’s eyelids, felt her heartbeat, and pulled open her mouth, revealing red-stained teeth.

  Behind her, Silverlake gasped.

  “It’s juice, not blood,” Sweetroot explained.

  Silverlake dropped next to Morningleaf and stroked her back. “Shh,” she said when her filly struggled. “We’re here now. We’ll help you.”

  Bumblewind groaned as a painful spasm gripped his gut, bending him in half. The healthy steeds each chose a fallen herdmate to soothe. Star stood in the center of them, swishing his tail, overwhelmed.

  Sweetroot evaluated the other yearlings and Dewberry in the same manner she evaluated Echofrost. T
hen she gave instructions. “Gather water, as much as you can.”

  Clawfire and Shadepebble galloped off toward the shallow creek. They would carry the liquid back by overlapping their watertight wings in front of their chests, creating a pouch.

  Sweetroot continued. “Straighten their necks so they have a clear airway to breathe.”

  The remaining pegasi gently straightened each steed’s neck. Star noticed it did ease their breathing.

  “Open their mouths and pull out any berries or leaves inside,” the old mare neighed.

  The pegasi pried open each mouth and swept out any debris. Sweetroot paused.

  “Now what?” Silverlake whinnied.

  Sweetroot dropped her head. “Now we wait.”

  “That’s it?” Hazelwind asked. “There’s no medicine for this?”

  “I’m sorry, but no. When the water arrives, we’ll offer it to them. Maybe it will dilute the poison. It’s all we can do for them.”

  Echofrost shuddered, groaning, and Star looked from her to the others. Morningleaf lay on her side, panting like a fish out of water. Bumblewind twitched, and his body tensed into a ball, causing him to choke. Ashrain quickly uncurled his neck so he could breathe again. Dewberry cried silent tears and clenched her teeth, and Brackentail, the largest of them, quaked uncontrollably.

  Sweetroot turned to Star, her eyes welling with tears. “Perhaps you should begin gathering stones,” she whispered. “If they don’t . . . survive, we’ll need to bury them quickly, before the animals arrive.”

  “No!” Silverlake whinnied. “No, no. Don’t say that.” She sobbed into her filly’s fluttering aqua feathers.

  Agony squeezed Star’s heart, causing his chest to burn. He would not gather burial stones. He stared from Silverlake to Sweetroot and then to his friends lying on the moss. His starfire flared, hot and ready. “I won’t let them die,” he said.

  Silverlake’s head snapped up, and she stared at him, her expression torn.

  Ashrain nickered, alarmed. “You can’t use your starfire. Morningleaf risked her life to lure the armies away from here. You’ll undo everything she did for us, and for you.”

  Sweetroot trotted to Star’s side. “You can’t heal every injury or make us immortal, Star. We’ve talked about this before. Sometimes you have to let us die. It’s natural. It’s part of life.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t like it either.”

  Hazelwind stood, his thoughts racing wild behind his narrowed eyes. And Ashrain also stood, but Silverlake remained on the ground, crying into Morningleaf’s feathers. Each steed stared at the other, and no one knew what to say.

  “I won’t let them die,” Star repeated. He felt empty inside, like he was the one dying.

  “No. You can’t use your starfire,” said Ashrain. “We’re not ready for the Ice Warriors or the Black Army to find us. We need more time to practice, to build hoofholds, collect rocks, and sharpen hooves. Isn’t that right, Hazelwind?”

  “Yes,” agreed the buckskin stallion.

  “Will another moon or another season really make a difference?” Star asked.

  “Yes!” Ashrain answered. “We have all the advantages in the Trap, and the ability to use the trees to divide their armies. We can defend ourselves against numerous foes. All we need is more time.”

  Star spoke to his adopted dam, his voice tight. “Silverlake? You can’t agree with letting Morningleaf and the others . . . go.”

  Just then Bumblewind moaned, loud and low. It was eerie, like he was a foreign creature and not a pegasi.

  Silverlake tossed her head, throwing her forelock out of her face. “Don’t ask me what I think,” she cried, her lips quivering. “Don’t ask me if it’s okay to do nothing.”

  Star turned away, unable to bear her ragged expression and grief-stricken eyes.

  Echofrost’s breath rattled and slowed.

  “Sweetroot, please let me help them,” Star said to the medicine mare.

  She closed her eyes and said nothing.

  A hard, painful lump formed in Star’s throat.

  “Listen to Ashrain,” wheezed Brackentail from the ground. “She’s right; we’re not ready for war.” Then the brown yearling turned his eyes on Silverlake. “Your filly won’t be alone in the golden meadow,” he whispered. “I’ll be with her.”

  His words crushed Star to the core.

  Silverlake shook her head, flinging tears.

  Echofrost groaned and then relaxed. Her wings sagged, and the gleam of pain left her eyes. Star watched her chest flatten, her breathing slow.

  He made up his mind. “I won’t let them die.” Star closed his eyes, seeking the dormant golden ember. He panted, fanning it into a flaming inferno of power, swirling it up through his chest and into his neck.

  “No!” whinnied Sweetroot.

  Star heard sudden hoofbeats, and he braced himself as a body slammed into his. A glimpse of yellow and green feathers told him it was Ashrain.

  Star neighed at her, “Out of my way.” Sparks flew from his throat and bounced off the moss, sizzling the driest ends. Star twirled, shedding more sparks. His hide crackled, and his hooves glowed gold.

  Hazelwind rammed him next, but Star was bigger. He shoved the buckskin right back and knocked him over. “Move away,” Star trumpeted.

  Hazelwind rolled to his hooves and thrust his chest into Star’s. The two stared at each other for a second that felt like an eternity. All Thundersky’s fire burned in his adult son, and Star braced for a battle, because he would not back down from Hazelwind. His stallion blood raced, his muscles quivered, and his nostrils blew starfire.

  Hazelwind’s eyes widened, and he took a step backward. Star advanced on him, neck arched, ears pinned, threatening the older stallion with his taller stature and bared teeth. “I won’t let them die,” Star repeated.

  Hazelwind tensed, debating battle, but when Star flared his wide black wings, Hazelwind shuddered and lowered his head, submitting to Star. The other steeds followed Hazelwind’s lead and dropped their heads. “Do what you must, Starwing,” said Hazelwind.

  Star pricked his ears, shocked that Hazelwind and Ashrain and the others had backed down. Star panted, bringing his starfire into his throat. He would save his friends, but he would also bring Nightwing’s wrath upon them.

  31

  STARWING

  CLAWFIRE AND SHADEPEBBLE RETURNED WITH their wings full of water, but they halted when they saw Star rearing, his eyes glowing. The air sizzled with static power, and Star’s black hide shone bright, his eyes and hooves turned gold, and his sides heaved.

  Star narrowed his eyes, and the gathered pegasi backed away from him. Shadepebble flared her wings, and the water she held splashed onto the ground. “What’s happening?” she asked, but no one answered her. Clawfire dragged her out of Star’s way.

  Star eyed his dying friends, who were spread across the clearing. He sensed their heartbeats and heard their breaths—they were each still alive, even Echofrost, but barely, and not for long. He closed his eyes, circulating the power that he’d subdued since his battle with Nightwing. His thoughts calmed as his starfire awakened, and Star felt a connection to the land through his hooves and a connection to outer space through his heart—like a branch ran from the stars, straight through his body, and into the soil of Anok, staking him between two worlds.

  As the heartbeats of his best friends faded, his starfire thumped through him, more powerful than he’d ever felt it before, as though not using it had made it stronger—or perhaps more eager. Star leaped off the ground and hovered over the strewn bodies. He opened his mouth and roared golden starfire over all of them at once.

  The watching pegasi galloped out of the way, then turned, their eyes huge.

  The power crackled forth from Star and engulfed Dewberry and the yearlings, standing their hair and feathers on end. Star’s energy circulated through him and then out of him, renewing itself as he used it. He took a breath and deluged his friends again, dousing them in a second wave of
starfire. The flames licked their hides and then lifted their bodies off the ground. His five friends floated a wing length above the moss and then slowly began to tumble around and around.

  A flash of light blinded Star, and he stumbled.

  “Star?” cried Silverlake.

  “I’m fine.” The light was followed by sharp pain behind his eyes. As he healed his friends, the image of Nightwing appeared in Star’s mind. The Destroyer stood on a high ridge in the Blue Mountains, and he was looking northward. Star shook his head. “Go away.”

  Nightwing clacked his teeth. “I see you,” he said, and then he reared and brayed for his two armies, his voice carrying for miles and miles, farther than any normal over-stallion was capable. The echo of it reached the Trap.

  “This isn’t good,” Sweetroot whispered.

  Star narrowed his eyes and stoked his power, keeping his blaze on high, soaking his friends in healing flames. Soon all five bodies glittered with health, their eyes bright, and they blinked at one another. Star was reluctant to put them down, unsure if he’d healed them completely. Morningleaf stretched her wings, and he noticed that the chewed ends where the crocodile had bitten her were healed.

  Then he turned to Echofrost. Her ragged mane and torn tail, ripped out during her captivity, were restored. Her scars from Mountain Herd were erased.

  Star lowered his friends, and they each twirled right side up and landed gently on their hooves. Star roared the fire through his own body, healing his injuries from the ice tiger, and then he closed his mouth, and the starfire evaporated from the air, popping as it vanished.

  In spite of Nightwing’s abrupt appearance in Star’s mind, good and hopeful feelings overwhelmed him. He’d saved all five of his friends from certain death. It struck him how incredible that was, that his power was fantastic. He was not a regular steed; he had a destiny, and hiding from it served no one.