The Guardian Herd: Landfall

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Star watched Silverlake, Hazelwind, and the others rush to his friends’ sides, sniffing them and nickering in joy. He wouldn’t listen to Sweetroot any longer, or Silverlake. They were driven by fear. His power was a gift. Star would use it when he wanted. He would save his friends over and over again if he had to. What had Silverlake said to him in the north: Focus on who you are, not who he is. Star would do just that. Nightwing was a destroyer, but he was a healer.

  Star considered the possibility that his power might be stronger than Nightwing’s. Perhaps he should have been practicing with the gold fire, not the silver. Star’s chest swelled as he followed his thoughts, feeling confident. How could he and the United Army lose a war, or lose to Nightwing, when Star could bring them back to life?

  Streaks of sunshine poked through the trees and landed on his friends. Their hides sparkled, and their eyes glowed. Their hooves were smooth and free of cracks, their hair glossy, and their muscles toned and relaxed. They were healthier than before Star healed them. Morningleaf galloped to Star’s side and buried her muzzle in his chest, and the others followed. They surrounded him and nuzzled him. Brackentail lowered his head and bowed. “Starwing,” he said.

  “Starwing,” the others repeated, and they all dropped to their knees in gratitude.

  “Please stand,” Star whispered. Across their backs, he locked eyes with Silverlake. She arched her neck and nodded to him, pride evident in her soft eyes. He saw she finally believed in him with her whole heart.

  Sweetroot shook her head and clucked, but she only pretended disappointment. Her eyes also glowed with pride and relief. “Starwing,” she nickered, her words twirling and settling in Star’s heart. His decision to save Dewberry and the yearlings was the right thing to do. He believed it, in spite of the inevitable consequences.

  “Nightwing knows you’re here,” Silverlake stated.

  “He does,” Star said with a sigh. “He’s already calling for Petalcloud and Frostfire to return with their armies.” Star looked at Morningleaf. “I’m sorry; I ruined all your efforts.”

  “Sorry?” Morningleaf sputtered. “You saved our lives. I know you probably shouldn’t have, but I’m not sorry about it.”

  Hazelwind interrupted. “We must make our final preparations before they arrive. Come, let’s return to the herd.”

  Echofrost raised her head. “Wait, everyone, please. I have something to say.”

  The pegasi halted, facing her.

  “This is all my fault.” She looked at each of them, her eyes glistening with tears. “It was my idea to eat the berries. It’s my fault Star used his power.”

  “You didn’t know the berries were poisonous,” Bumblewind said, comforting her.

  Echofrost rattled her purple feathers. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. If it wasn’t for Star, we’d all be dead.” She bit her lip and glanced at Brackentail. “I guess we’re each capable of making horrible mistakes.” She trotted to his side, the colt she’d hated with such passion, and placed her muzzle next to his.

  Brackentail startled, but Echofrost soothed him with a touch of her wing, and then they exchanged breath. After a few moments Brackentail relaxed and wrapped his neck over Echofrost’s. They stood together until Echofrost spoke again. “I was so mean to you, but I won’t be anymore.”

  Brackentail sighed. “I deserved it.”

  Deep pleasure erupted within Star as he watched Echofrost forgive Brackentail. Her hatred of the colt was poisonous, like the red berries, but she’d healed herself of it. As the tension melted out of her, her dull eyes shined. Brackentail’s head lifted as the shame he felt when he was around Echofrost evaporated, and Star understood how Brackentail felt: accepted. There was nothing worse than living with rejection by your own kind.

  “Let’s return to our camp,” Silverlake said.

  “Last one back has to eat a bird’s egg,” Echofrost neighed. She turned and bolted, her sleek body fitting neatly between the trees.

  Star whinnied and charged after her, followed by Brackentail.

  “No way am I eating a bird’s egg,” Sweetroot neighed, and she galloped after them, followed by the rest of the steeds.

  As they chased one another through the woods, Star’s heart bubbled with affection. His guardian herd had risked their lives over and over again to protect him, but today he’d saved them. He was no ordinary steed, and the time for hiding that fact was done. Star galloped with his ears forward, hopeful about the future, whatever it might bring.

  32

  FEAST

  WHEN THEY RETURNED TO THE CAMPS, HAZELWIND called the herds to gather at the twin pines. “War is imminent,” he announced, the timbre of his voice vibrating through the trees. He explained to them that Star had used his power, thus giving up his position. “The time for training is over. Sharpen your edges and fortify your hoofholds. Load your baskets with rocks, and appoint your sentries.” Hazelwind arched his neck, looking confident and fearless. Ashrain, Clawfire, Redfire, and Birchcloud stood at his side looking equally fierce. Star glanced at Silverlake and guessed she saw in her son, Hazelwind, what Star saw: a young Thundersky—tough, committed, and protective.

  Hazelwind continued. “Return here at dusk. Tonight, we feast.”

  The pegasi from the four hiding herds trumpeted their battle cries, their voices rising and crashing through the trees, silencing the birds. They dispersed to prepare for the feast that preceded war, the last chance to fill their bellies as a united herd and to enjoy one another’s company before the coming battles.

  A tickling sensation teased Star’s gut. This would be his first battle as a trained warrior. Well, as a somewhat trained warrior anyway.

  “It’s happening,” Bumblewind whinnied.

  Dewberry trotted to them, her eyes on fire. “I’m throwing zappers. What are you two doing?”

  “I’m fighting on the ground,” said Bumblewind.

  Dewberry sized him up and nodded, for once not laughing at him.

  “I’m throwing bone breakers,” said Star.

  Morningleaf heard them and galloped to Star’s side. “I’m a spy,” she whinnied, her amber eyes shining. “I missed all the trainings, but Hazelwind knows I’m good with numbers. I’ll be counting the enemy.”

  “Shadepebble and I are relaying Morningleaf’s information to the captains,” said Echofrost. The two fillies leaned into Morningleaf, and they whispered, making plans.

  “What’s your position?” Star asked Brackentail.

  The tall yearling colt stood near Morningleaf. “I’m fighting on the ground with Bumblewind.”

  “I’ll be on the ground too,” neighed Clawfire, “and watching out for you two.” He pointed at Brackentail and Bumblewind.

  Star’s young friends nickered excitedly, and he knew how foolish they all sounded—Frostfire and Petalcloud were not playing games—but the excitement was catching. Star felt a strange peace about the coming war. Since it couldn’t be avoided, he accepted it. Besides, he could bring his friends back to life—so it was almost like a game—as long as nothing happened to him.

  “Which army will get here first?” asked Dewberry. “The Ice Warriors or the Black Army?”

  “Perhaps they’ll arrive at the same time,” Clawfire replied.

  “No,” said Morningleaf. “My mother told me that the Black Army has been spotted. They’re closer and should arrive first.”

  Her words rolled over the pegasi like cold fog, making them shiver.

  “But now that Star’s awake and the herds are working together, neither army will have an easy time with us.”

  Hazelwind interjected. “Listen, we can only guess at what will happen, but I think Morningleaf is right. The Black Army will arrive first. Our plan is to dispatch of them quickly. They don’t know we’ve united. We’ll use the trees and the fog to disorient them, separate them, and attack them. Silverlake, Birchcloud, and the Mountain Herd mares are acting as bait. They’ll lure the Black Army toward our snipers. Frostfire wo
n’t know what hit him.”

  Hazelwind nickered. “I’m off to prepare,” he said to the gathered herds. “I’ll see you at the feast.” He rubbed muzzles with his sister and then cantered down the deer trail leading back to River Herd’s camp.

  “We’re going to eat well tonight,” Morningleaf whinnied. “Sweetroot is sending scouts out for miles to gather fresh reeds, nuts, bulbs, and forest grasses.”

  “And my mother, Birchcloud, is collecting fiddlehead ferns, willow bark, fireweed, and late-season eggs,” Shadepebble added.

  “Where was all this food yesterday?” Bumblewind grumbled.

  Dewberry smacked him with her wing. “You’re always hungry.”

  Bumblewind rammed her and galloped into the woods. Dewberry tore off after him, and the two disappeared, squealing and nickering as they chased each other.

  “They should save their energy,” Brackentail nickered.

  The brown yearling was correct, but Star didn’t agree. This war would change his friends forever, even if it turned out well. They should enjoy themselves, but Star had a better idea than a game of chase. “Who wants to fly?”

  Morningleaf gasped. “Fly!”

  “Sure. Why not? The armies and Nightwing already know I’m here.”

  “I want to fly,” Echofrost said.

  “Me too,” said Shadepebble.

  “Let’s go.” Star threw an encouraging nod to Brackentail, turned, and galloped toward the edge of the Trap. His friends thundered down the path behind him.

  They ran for a long time and then settled into a lope. Finally Star saw bright sunshine ahead. “There’s the end of it,” he whinnied. A few minutes later he burst out of the trees into daylight. He skidded to a halt, blinded by the sun. His friends did the same, squinting in the harsh light.

  Star blinked, and his eyes adjusted. He gulped deep mouthfuls of fresh air that was untainted by the musty mulch of the forest. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” his friends nickered.

  Star trotted forward, flared his wings, and leaped into the sky. He ascended so fast it seemed he left his belly behind, floating below his hooves. He flapped harder, soaring faster, flying straight up toward the drifting white clouds. He plunged into the mist, reveling in its cold chill, and his hide soaked up the cloud sweat, dampening his lips and eyelashes. He trumpeted his joy to his friends and then burst from the cloud and glided, letting his long wings stretch out and grip the current.

  Morningleaf coasted to his side. “Great idea!” she whinnied.

  “Watch this,” Star neighed. He dropped his nose and plummeted toward the ground. As he was falling, he opened one wing and threw himself into a violent spiral. He whinnied happily as his body whipped in tight circles and the ground swirled faster and faster below him. He held the spin as long as he could and then he threw out the other wing, raised his nose, and pulled out of the dive. He rocketed across the tundra and then lifted back into the cloud layer.

  “Nice!” whinnied Shadepebble. “Watch me!” The little filly flew parallel to the land and picked up speed until her pink feathers blurred. When she reached her top speed, she flipped over sideways and rolled across the sky, tumbling with her hooves flashing in a circle. As she lost speed, she righted herself and flew back to Star. “The advantage of one short wing is that I’m good at rolling,” she nickered. “It’s flying straight that’s hard.”

  The six of them formed a V, with Clawfire at the head. They cruised high over the tundra, which was now green and dotted with bright flowers. The last time Star flew here it was still covered in snow. “Look there,” said Brackentail, nodding to his right.

  Star turned his head and saw thousands of elk moving toward a large lake. They had newborns with them, and they were cantering unsteadily between the legs of their parents. Two eagles coasted below the pegasi, but they returned to the trees when they noticed the larger shadows flying above them. Hordes of bugs swarmed near the banks of the rivers, and just seeing them made Star flick his tail in annoyance. Far away, a pack of wolves loped with efficient grace, heading toward the elk to hunt their calves.

  Star drank in the scents of the north. The land that had been so harsh in the dead of winter was bursting with life and warmth. His heart soared, thrumming with pleasure, and his starfire coursed through him, feeding him strength and hope. Gratitude that he had not been executed as a weanling overwhelmed Star, lifting him, flooding his thoughts, and leaving him feeling small and humble, but in the best way, like he was part of something larger than himself.

  “You were right all along,” Star whinnied to Morningleaf. “Anok is to be enjoyed, not endured!”

  “Yes,” cried Morningleaf. “We needed to fly, to remember what we’re fighting for.”

  “Not what we’re fighting for—what we’re living for!” Star whooped.

  His friends celebrated with him as the sun began to set, casting orange and pink rays across the land and setting their feathers aglow, like they were on fire.

  “Let’s head back,” said Echofrost. “It’s almost time to eat.”

  The six friends banked and turned, flying back toward the Trap and to the feast, which would strengthen their bodies for the coming battle.

  33

  PROMISE

  FOUR QUIET DAYS PASSED AFTER THE FEAST AT the twin pines, and the pegasi in the Trap were about to explode from the tension. Each twig that snapped, each rush of wind, and each deer that leaped past their camp caused a flurry of excitement—but every time that it wasn’t Frostfire or Petalcloud, the steeds grew more anxious.

  “Maybe they won’t come,” Echofrost nickered. She and Star and Bumblewind were standing head to tail swatting mosquitos off one another.

  “No. They will,” Bumblewind said. “Hazelwind’s scouts spotted Frostfire and his Black Army in Mountain Herd’s Canyon Meadow two days ago. Petalcloud’s Ice Warriors are flying north along the Tail River.”

  Echofrost shook the bugs out of her mane, still blaming herself for causing Star to use his power. “I shouldn’t have eaten those berries. If Star hadn’t healed us, Nightwing would not have called the armies back, and we’d be training right now instead of preparing for battle.”

  “No,” said Star. “It would have happened sooner or later. I didn’t inherit this power to hide it, and I’ll use it in the coming battles. I won’t let anyone die.”

  “We can’t lose,” said Bumblewind.

  “As long as nothing happens to me,” agreed Star with a nod.

  Bumblewind tensed, looking around him. “Has anyone seen Morningleaf?”

  “She and Shadepebble are spying at the outer rim of the forest,” said Star.

  Just then the wind carried a truncated sound toward them, and Star flicked his ears. “Did you hear that?”

  Bumblewind and Echofrost tensed, listening. The sound came again—louder this time. It was the screeching whistle of a hawk. “Is that Redfire, or a real hawk?”

  Star closed his eyes. The whistle came a third time. “It’s Redfire,” he said. The copper-colored stallion had explained this unique Desert Herd trick to the other herds. They imitated the sounds of animals so they could communicate with one another without their enemies understanding them. Redfire had taught them the code, and three hawk screeches meant a foreign army was flying their way.

  “It’s beginning,” Echofrost whinnied, her voice cracking.

  Star’s brave heart tumbled. This was real. The killing would be real, but Star’s power glowed inside him, fueling his muscles, sizzling and ready, calming him. Star was finished with the silver fire—the dark power that caused only death, and had almost caused his own. He would use the golden fire and save his guardian herd if they fell. This war would be like no other. Star’s friends couldn’t die. He would bring them back to life, heal their wounds, and their enemies would be defeated. But that didn’t mean it would be easy, or free from pain.

  Bumblewind faced Star and Echofrost. “We have to get to our positions,” he said, his eyes eager a
nd wide. “We might not see each other again . . . until after.”

  Star’s throat tightened. Bumblewind rushed forward and threw his wings around Star and Echofrost. The three huddled and didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. Star closed his eyes. A single tear fell to the ground, and one of Star’s white flowers sprang up between their hooves.

  Bumblewind broke the embrace and backed away. “Let’s meet at the twin pines, when it’s over.”

  “Yes,” said Star, his voice tight.

  “Promise?” asked Echofrost. Star saw she was shaking.

  “Promise,” Bumblewind said to his sister. He lifted off the ground, hovering in front of them like a hummingbird, his brown-tipped gold feathers vibrating so fast they blurred, and then he darted into the trees, landed, and galloped away to find Clawfire.

  Star exhaled, wishing Morningleaf were with them. As if reading his mind, Echofrost said, “Morningleaf, Shadepebble, and I are not fighting, Star, we’re just spying. And Ashrain is going to slather us in mud to camouflage us and hide our scents. We’ll be fine.”

  Star didn’t answer. They both knew that every job was dangerous in a war, and Star didn’t want his friends to get hurt.

  Echofrost nuzzled him. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  He nodded, his heart aching.

  “The coming battles are not for land or food,” she reminded him. “They’re for power. Whatever happens, we’re doing the right thing to fight against Nightwing’s armies. Even if we lose.”

  Star pressed his forehead to hers, overwhelmed by the pegasi who were willing to die for him and who resisted the authority of Nightwing to follow him. He was just a yearling stallion, still learning about his power, and he wasn’t mighty like Thundersky, or decisive like Hazelwind, or fierce like Dewberry. But he had the golden fire. He could heal his protectors, and he would. “We won’t lose,” he said.

  Echofrost nodded and lifted off, paddling her purple feathers, and she cruised toward the outer rim where Morningleaf was spying. Star galloped to the hoofholds, where he knew Ashrain would be waiting for him, and Bumblewind followed, his ears pinned, his jaw clenched, looking every bit a warrior.