Rather than fly straight up to the Family Quarter, Nightshadow circled the Mother Quarter, purely to clear his head and think. The damage to the trees looked even worse than the first time he’d gone out. He didn’t know what to do. He could check on the Elders or help the younger families, or he could visit the Star Keeper. He kept making circles as he considered his options. The peeweww in the Family Quarter were young and strong; they wouldn’t really need his help. They’d also undoubtedly seek out Keeper Greywing for aid and guidance as soon as they could. The Star Keeper would not be in need of his heir. That left the Elders.
Nightshadow flew up to the highest Quarter, ducking and weaving between dark branches. At one point, he almost clipped his wing in an effort to skirt around a fallen tree. He had to land on the nearest branch to catch his breath and strength after that. He wanted nothing more than rest; he knew his body was bleeding and aching all over.
Even so, he was Heir Keeper and he needed to look after the colony. As long as he could move (and no bones felt broken) he would do his duty, so when he felt confident that he could carry on he continued his ascent. The forest was silent. No chattering sound-voices, no shared thought-voices clamouring for his attention. No bird song, either. The only sounds he heard were those of the creatures far below and a breeze rustling the trees.
The wind grew stronger the higher he went. Though it was nowhere near as powerful as during the storm, it was still wild. Snapped off branches still threatened to be dislodged by the swaying treetops. Nightshadow could only pray that the Family Quarter had been luckier, and he was doubtful his prayers would be answered.
“Elders?” he called out, unable to keep his thought-voice from blurring. He received no response. Perhaps it wasn’t safe to look for them alone. That no other peeweww seemed to have had a similar idea worried Nightshadow more than he dared admit. Changeling, do not let us be the only ones.
When he called for the Elders again, he still received no answer. Nightshadow chittered and swung his tail irritably, swaying to and fro. Oil trickled down his body. He was alone. Keeper Greywing had taught him to calm his thoughts, but it was harder now, far harder, than he’d imagined it could be. Finally, he called out again, his thought-voice clearer and stronger.
This time, he thought he could just make out a faint sound-voice in reply. He could barely hear the chirp over the wind, but it seemed easy enough to locate for all that.
Getting there, however, was a challenge. The storm had ravaged the Elder Quarter far worse than the Middle Quarters; some of the trees looked like the Darkness itself had ripped them apart. Straining his ears to keep track of the Elder’s sound-voice, Nightshadow wove his way through the carnage. The nest the sound was coming from was blocked by a branch. There was no way around it.
Nightshadow darted around the tree to study his options. If his strength lasted long enough, he might manage to drag it out on his own. His strength would have to last long enough. Nightshadow landed, dug his claws into the wood and tried to pull it along with him as he flew off. The branch barely moved. When he noticed that the sound-voice had gone quiet, Nightshadow stopped altogether. Afraid he’d imagined the sound, he called out again, “Elder?”
“Young Nightshadow? Is that you?” Leafcarrier. The old peeweww’s thought-voice was even fainter than his sound-voice.
Nightshadow pressed his wingclaws together. Again, he sought for the calm within him before speaking. “Yes, Elder. It is. Are you all right?”
“It takes more than a little storm to rattle this old Starchild,” the Elder replied. His sound-voice chirruped a laugh and broke into a discomforting cough. Nightshadow’s wings fidgeted, even with linked claws, and he was grateful that the old peeweww couldn’t see him. Leafcarrier would only worry about him.
“I’m going to try to move the branch again, Elder.” Not waiting for a response, he took off again. The wood was so heavy and his limbs hurt so much, but Nightshadow told himself he barely needed to do anything. All he had to do was clear the entrance. Just one thing. Just far enough for a peeweww to get in and out of the nest. I can do it. He even wrapped his tail around the branch for additional grip. With it so occupied it was far harder for the peeweww to keep his balance, but it was doable.
Muscles straining and oil gushing down his skin, Nightshadow struggled and fought until, finally, the branch toppled out of the entrance. Its weight pulled him down and he almost didn’t manage to let go. He snagged his wingclaws on another branch and it slowed him enough to let the weight fall without him. However, Nightshadow was weak from the struggle and he couldn’t hold on for long. How he managed to fly back up to the Elder’s nest, he did not know, but he managed. Exhausted and in pain, Nightshadow all but collapsed on the skewed entrance ledge, clasping his wingclaws together.
Finally, he said, “It’s gone, Elder.” His thought-voice was laced through with weariness and pain, but he couldn’t help that. He didn’t have the strength to block the feelings off.
“You’re a good boy, Nightshadow. A good boy.”
Nightshadow didn’t answer, only craned his neck as far into the nest as his muscles would let him. He couldn’t make out Elder Leafcarrier in the mess, but he could see the nest-ground. The shades of moss were too irregular.
“Trees took a bit of a beating, eh?” the Elder asked as Nightshadow carefully started to scoop some of the moss and debris out with his tail. Some of the darker patches looked like blood and tasted like it too. Leafcarrier’s voices were growing weaker by the moment. “That’s all right. They’ll recover.” But the colony might not.
Nightshadow froze. Stars vanish! This can’t be happening, he thought to himself, and if the Stars took offence at his blasphemy, it was Their own fault for not warning Their children of the catastrophe. Fearful of what he would find, Nightshadow kept probing and digging through the nest. Perhaps it looked worse than it was. Perhaps the other nests hadn’t been hit so hard. Perhaps, like him, Leafcarrier was merely exhausted.
Nightshadow’s tail found squishy matter that, when he tasted it, turned out to be faeces. No! he cried out. Changeling’s light, don’t take him. Stars, don’t let the Changeling take him. Not Leafcarrier who knew so many stories it was a wonder he wasn’t Keeper. Not another of the Stars’ clear favourites.
Nightshadow forced himself to be calm and methodical; tearing blindly through the nest could only do harm. He knew nothing with certainty. Leafcarrier’s sound-voice was still chittering and chirruping. There was hope. Even if Elder Leafcarrier’s sound-voice was the only thing that told Nightshadow the other peeweww was still alive and his heart was heavy.
After a while, he asked, “Elder? What happens to a blind peeweww?” If anyone knew the answer, it would be Leafcarrier or Keeper Greywing and, Nightshadow hoped, it would help focus and grip the old peeweww until others came to help them. “Elder?” Constellations, no!
“Who’s blind? I’m blind. You’re blind. We’re all blind, young Nightshadow. Only the Stars can see.”
“Elder, this is important. I need you to focus!” Nightshadow hopped down into the nest, but he dared not go further inside.
“Teach them. Teach them all to see with the Stars.”
Nightshadow smacked the leaf of his tail against the wood. He barely felt it amid the rest of his aches. His training was far from done; he was only the Heir Keeper and the Stars hadn’t spoken to him for many nights now, hadn’t shown him anything. He looked and felt around for the Elder and found him at the far end of the nest, covered in leaves and twigs. Nightshadow brushed some of it away with his tail. Leafcarrier’s skin in the cleared patches was covered in clouds of darkness instead of its normal light pattern. Nightshadow clenched his jaws to keep his sound-voice quiet and he kept his thought-voice carefully private, wishing he could scream at the Stars.
“She’s gone,” the Elder said, stretching his wings forward. Leafcarrier’s wingclaws grasped at empty air like a grounded mating gesture. Nightshadow wasn’t sure whether the other pee
weww was still aware of him. “The Changeling took her from me. My family. All taken from me. The Changeling won’t have this Starchild. Won’t have. Won’t have. No. No. Can’t have frail, old Leafcarrier. Why can’t They call poor Leafcarrier home, Star Keeper?”
Nightshadow didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He desperately needed a scrub and a chance to rest. Blood and oil mingled on his skin and he wondered whether even the Stars had miracles that could heal Leafcarrier now. Heal him, heal him, heal him. Please. But nothing happened. I pray the Changeling comes for you soon, Elder. But he couldn’t make himself say it to Leafcarrier for a long time, not until the Elder’s sound-voice had died away again and his thought-voice showed nothing more than his long-dead wife. Help us. Stars, help us. Nightshadow’s sound-voice wailed.
It was past midnight before Nightshadow managed to gather the strength and courage to move and leave the nest. He wasn’t sure whether he felt better. Sitting on the edge of the entrance, he called out to the colony again and was relieved by how many thought-voices responded to him this time. Though some faint sound-voices echoed through the Elder Quarter, most of them came from the Family Quarter.
Reluctantly and weary of heart, Nightshadow set off for the younger peeweww. He could do nothing for the Elders on his own, even had his body allowed it. It was disheartening to note how few Elders had responded. He would need help. He would need to see how much damage the Family Quarter had sustained and how much aid they could give the Elders. How many have been injured like dear Leafcarrier? How many have already died?
Nightshadow wanted nothing more than a scrub to clean off all the grime and oil. He wanted nothing more than to check on his brother and cry the pain and sorrow out of his chest. How can the Stars do this? Don’t They care about us anymore? In the old days, when the Starchildren were young, their parents had aided them, the stories said. They had healed and protected; Their light would rejuvenate the Elders and age what few fledglings there had been. In those days above the canopy, all peeweww had been able to speak to the Stars.
But those days were gone; even the Heir Keeper could no longer hear Them and there was no aid when it was most needed. Should we have let the Darkness consume us? Nightshadow wondered as he made his way below the leaf-sea. Why did They massacre the Elders? Without them, much of the colony’s heritage would be lost and Nightshadow liked none of the answers he could think of. Caught in his own thoughts, he flew on to the Family Quarter.
“Heir Keeper!”
Nightshadow froze and plummeted before catching himself. That voice didn’t belong to the Stars! Quite how the peeweww had managed to break through his barrier, Nightshadow didn’t know and didn’t care to know. He looped upwards to face the other peeweww, his tail twitching in recognition of that speckled pattern: Morningshade.
He was acutely aware of the impression he had to be making on her, coated as he was in blood, faeces, dust, oil, and Stars only knew what else. He was certain his heart was about to race out of his chest like a startled tree-glider. At least his dark skin stood a chance of hiding the worst of the grime.
Morningshade swayed as her tail swished irritably; at least it kept her from noticing his looks. “What happened, Heir Keeper?” she asked. She shone almost as bright as the Daystar with the oil gleaming down her skin. Nightshadow could see her mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear her sound-voice at all. The loss happened sometimes, but only in younger peeweww and Morningshade had not been one of them. He prayed she was merely in shock. Yet… Swaying and hovering before him, she didn’t seem scared; she seemed angry.
At length, Nightshadow answered, “I don’t know. It’s too early to ask the Stars for guidance.” Always an acceptable answer, it made a great excuse whenever he needed time to think. It made him feel sick and in his private thoughts he prayed that the Stars would answer him when he called out to Them next. “What can you tell me?” he asked Morningshade. Say you don’t know anything. Please. He longed to leave matters to Elder Greywing, but the Star Keeper was too old to fly and his voices too feeble to carry far. Nightshadow, still in training, had been the colony’s leader in all but name for some time. He cheeped softly at his thoughts. I don’t want this. Stars, I never wanted this.
“Nightshadow!”
Morningshade’s thought-voice, his name, startled him back to listening to her. He swung his tail to offer an apology, then propelled himself closer accidentally. The report the Morningshade gave dealt with the Family Quarter and how many of the peeweww had become trapped. When Morningshade had gone in search of him, only a few had been found grievously wounded by the storm. As he listened to the damage, Nightshadow’s heart dropped like the branch he’d moved earlier. The colony would be expecting him to restore miracles to their world.
And he had none to give them.
Reluctantly, Nightshadow told Morningshade about his experience in the other Quarters and with Elder Leafwing. His throat dried out as he forced himself to stay moving and speaking. To her credit, Morningshade only wrapped her tail around his once, when he was almost done, and squeezed it lightly. Nightshadow screamed, sound-voice loud, in pain, because he just hurt too much and he could not bear her pity, not her, not now. She could have been, could be, hurt too, though she looked whole and safe, if frightened by his cry. Nightshadow landed on a vine dangling between the trees and hung from it, folding his wings and tail around him as tightly as he could. Morningshade followed, hovering in front of him.
“We found some Elders, Heir Keeper, blown from the branches they’d been resting on. They talk nonsense, Shadow.” His heart soared despite the news. “What are we going to do? What happened? Why did it happen? Didn’t the Stars warn you or Elder Greywing?”
It was Nightshadow’s turn to squeeze the other peeweww’s tail as she threw question after question at him. He was careful not to squeeze too hard and curled his tail around the vine after he let go. “I need to see Elder Greywing, Morningshade.” But he didn’t move. He remained hanging from tired limbs. Please be able to guide us, Elder. Stars, let him be able to guide us. Nightshadow certainly couldn’t. “You said most of the peeweww in the Family Quarter seemed fine?”
“Yes, Heir Keeper.”
“Good.” Nightshadow wiggled the leafless end of his tail as he thought. The colony needed a plan, a structure. “You’ll have to coordinate the peeweww.” Before she could protest, he continued, “The Mating Quarter and the Mother Quarter are in fairly good shape because they’re the furthest down. We need to move everyone there for the time being. It’s safest. We’ll need to clear the debris and help the injured.” He paused, chittering softly, but he heard nothing unusual. Morningshade’s skin was so slick she gleamed like a clouded Star. His own, perhaps. “Clear the nests one by one. Divide the peeweww into groups. We’ll need some to nurse and transport those too injured to fly. Once you’ve done that, watch Starglow for me, Morningshade. I’m putting you in charge of the nest distribution and they’ll need to know where to find you.”
Not wanting Morningshade to have a chance to protest once his orders sunk in and afraid he was too tired to continue hanging upside down, Nightshadow unwound his tail and let go of the vine to glide down to a branch he could sit on. The other peeweww followed him anyway.
“But I can’t –” Her tail twitched and her wingclaws were clenching and unclenching themselves, so Nightshadow cut in.
“You’ll have to. We’ll all have to. At least six peeweww went down to forage for berries and we need to send out search parties to look for them when we can. We need to help the Elders. We’ll have to move all the food and the waterbaskets the storm didn’t destroy lower down. We need to convert the lowest nests into storage nests. We’ll need to ration our strength and divide the work accordingly. If– When we find the foragers alive, we’ll need to help them. We need to clear the nests, find out what happened, fix the damage… I need someone in charge with me, Morningshade.” Changeling knows I can’t do it alone.
“Are you all right?”
“I…” He faltered, thrown. “I’ll be fine.”
“You need rest.” Nightshadow knew it in the very marrow of his bones, but he could not. Faintly, the sound-voices of the colony reached him. The peeweww needed him. They needed a leader and he was all they had. His tail twitched when Morningshade landed beside him, but he didn’t protest as she started grooming him cautiously. Morningshade used the leaf of her tail and her wingclaws to do it; if he’d still been hanging from the vine, he’d probably have tumbled tail-last into a tree trunk. As it was, he tried to sit as still as he could instead of twitch and cry out each time she touched him.
Nightshadow had no idea how long they say there, together on the branch, while other peeweww were in pain and perhaps struggling for their lives. Finally, he managed to persuade himself to protest. They were both needed.
Curse the world. I can do this. I have to do this. “I’m needed,” he said, thought-voice blurry. His sound-voice seemed to have deserted him as well.
“You’ll do no one any good if you work yourself to death.” Morningshade’s thought-voice was so sharp and clear it almost hurt. “You’re injured. You can go to Keeper Greywing, but you’re staying there. You can think about leadership all you want, but you’ll do it from within a nest.”
“You can’t order me about!” He puffed himself up, turning a circle to face her and spreading his wings to prove he was bigger than she was.
“Darkness devour the Changeling I can’t! You just put me in charge of the injured, Nightshadow. You’re injured and you will do as I say or I’ll tell the entire colony you won’t obey the Keeper’s orders!”
Feather by Feather and Other Stories Page 2