The Guardian Herd

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  “Is that you, Star?” Bumblewind asked when Star entered his chamber.

  “Yes. I’m here.” Star dropped his head and nuzzled his friend.

  Bumblewind’s powerful muscles relaxed. “I knew you’d come.” He gazed at Star with his warm brown eyes. “Warriors don’t give up on each other.”

  “Not ever,” Star agreed. He glanced outside the den at the brightening morning sky. “I have something I have to do, but I’ll come back soon.” Star turned to leave.

  “Watch out for the wolves,” warned Bumblewind. “Dewberry said they attacked me.”

  Star glanced at Bumblewind’s bite marks. “I see that.” Star nodded to Dewberry and whispered, “Are you sure he’s going to be all right?”

  Dewberry tugged gently on Bumblewind’s tail, her eyes glittering. “He’s fine; he made it through the night. It’ll take more than a few gigantic wolves to get rid of this yearling.”

  Star saw Bumblewind was in good care. “I’ll watch out for wolves,” he promised Bumblewind, and then he stepped outside.

  Brackentail followed him. “It’s almost dawn. Where are you going?”

  Star turned and faced him. “I’m going to save the walkers,” he whispered. The horizon took on a hazy glow.

  Frostfire, who was still guarding the entrance to the den, heard them talking and trotted closer. “Take me with you,” he said. “No one wants me here.”

  Brackentail pinned his ears at the white stallion who’d once broken his orange wing at the root, but he looked at Star. “Take me too.”

  Star tossed his long, black forelock out of his eyes, staring at his two friends who’d each once been his enemies. “If this doesn’t end well for me, it won’t end well for you two either.”

  Frostfire snorted. “If this doesn’t end well for you, it won’t end well for any of us.” He turned to the brown yearling. “But you should stay behind, Brackentail. Nightwing already knows I’m here—he saw me with Star—but he doesn’t know about you. You’re supposed to be dead like Morningleaf—you can’t risk being spotted.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Brackentail, looking dejected.

  Star noticed Brackentail’s tight muscles and pinned ears. Frostfire was causing his friends nothing but distress. “I’ll take you with me, Frostfire.”

  “Saving the walkers is a dangerous idea,” warned Brackentail, looking from one to the other. “If we lose you, Star . . .”

  Brackentail didn’t finish the sentence, and Star faced him. “Just focus on that tunnel, no matter what happens to me.” Star lowered his neck and pressed his forehead against Brackentail’s. His breath hitched as he spoke. “And take care of Morningleaf . . . if I don’t come back.”

  “I will,” Brackentail promised.

  Star turned and flew toward the valley, followed by Frostfire. He had to save the walkers. It would tear his soul to shreds if he didn’t. As he flew away, he realized something awful: he hadn’t yet healed Morningleaf’s aqua feathers. “I’ll come back,” he whispered over his shoulder. “I promise.”

  19

  TEN THOUSAND STONES

  STAR AND FROSTFIRE GLIDED TOWARD THE VALLEY on the wave of a fast current. The sun was beginning to rise, swathing the green grass in pale streams of yellow light. The Ice Warriors had already marched Wind Herd onto the Flatlands to graze, and the harsh winds whipped their tails against their flanks.

  Star thought it was not the worst place to settle a herd of pegasi, and it was probably the best place to settle a herd this large. He scanned the terrain, viewing it as an over-stallion might. The interior of Anok provided enormous grazing space and hundreds of shimmering freshwater lakes. Rounded, leafy trees dotted the plain, shading the pegasi as they walked with heads down, their teeth ripping at the grass. But the high winds, giant wolves, and violent storms made this home less than ideal for the pegasus foals.

  Star circled the valley once, purposefully showing himself to the five herds that were now one—united, but conquered. He had not abandoned them, and he hoped that the sight of him would bolster their mood. Frostfire landed, waiting as Star swept over the herd. Thousands of heads rose and eyes blinked, mistaking Star’s shadow at first for Nightwing, but when they recognized the shining white star that marked his forehead, they nickered delighted greetings.

  Silverlake was there. Star spotted her shining feathers quickly, but her gray coat was dull and her eyes barren. She didn’t know that her filly, Morningleaf, and her adult colt, Hazelwind, were safe, and so close to her. But it was her genuine grief that made Morningleaf’s “death” all the more convincing. Star wished he could land and whisper the good news into her ears, but Silverlake’s relief would change her attitude, and any sudden joy would alert her guards that something was amiss. Star flew away from her, noticing that many of the pegasi were in similar shape: dull coated and slouching, empty of their former fire. In this land of plenty, they were not thriving.

  Nightwing thundered across the grass, whipping his tail and looking stunned. “You’re back,” he brayed.

  Star landed in front of him, and the two stared at each other. The starfire rumbled in Star’s belly, and he prepared to project his shield should Nightwing attack him. He advanced on the ancient stallion, biting back his rage. “What are you doing with those walkers?” he asked.

  Petalcloud and her Ice Warriors had forced six hundred walkers, mostly elderly pegasi but also dozens of disabled warriors and several dud foals, into a straight line. The dark stallion watched Star, his head cocked, his eyes curious. “I think you know or you wouldn’t be here,” said Nightwing. The nearest Wind Herd steeds had stopped grazing to watch the two black stallions meet on the plain.

  Standing before the ancient Destroyer, Star felt young and inexperienced, and his long legs threatened to crumble beneath him. But he arched his neck like an over-stallion and pricked his ears, feigning confidence. “If you don’t want them, set them free,” he said.

  Nightwing slit his eyes. “I won’t do that.”

  “Then return them to the herd.”

  “They’re duds, Star,” hissed Nightwing. “You remember what that’s like, don’t you—being stuck on the ground like a horse. I can’t protect them.” He flattened his neck and panted, fanning his starfire.

  “Then give them to me,” said Star. “I’ll protect them.”

  Nightwing pricked his ears, realizing Star was serious. “Why? They’re useless.” The walkers lowered their heads, seeming embarrassed by all the attention.

  “Stand tall,” Star whinnied to them. “It was Grasswing who ended the battle in Sky Meadow. He’s a legend now, and he was also a walker. You’re not useless, you’re needed.” Star turned back to Nightwing. “I want them and you don’t. Does it matter why?”

  Nightwing paused, his eyes narrowing. “Suppose I let them go, what do I get in return?” He glanced at Star’s chest where he’d once pierced it with his silver fire, almost killing Star.

  Star winced, remembering the pain of that attack, but he would not offer the Destroyer his life in exchange for the walking herd. “What do you want?” he asked, and then cringed. The Destroyer could ask for anything.

  Nightwing’s silver starfire crackled across his back and down through his hooves, sparking against the moist grass. He pranced, and Star saw the hatred glowing in his dark eyes, the telltale heaving of his sides.

  Star threw up his shield.

  Nightwing roared starfire at him.

  The pegasi in the Flatlands spooked and bolted. The Ice Warriors tore after them, and Petalcloud whinnied commands.

  Star braced, but the massive blast of silver light streamed around his golden orb. He spoke from inside his shield. “You can’t kill me.”

  Nightwing threw back his head and poured starfire into the sky.

  Star pricked his ears, waiting for the Destroyer to finish.

  Then Nightwing turned on the walkers and took a huge breath.

  “No!” Star leaped in front of Nightwing and kneeled
, lowering his head like an under-stallion. “Tell me what you want!”

  Nightwing pranced around him. The Wind Herd pegasi regrouped and stared, their wings limp. Star knew how it looked, like he was submitting to Nightwing, and he was, but not in his heart. Star hoped they could strike a bargain.

  Nightwing’s eyes snapped to Star’s, and his expression changed from frustrated to triumphant. “I’ll tell you what I want—a tribute! One that is greater than Spiderwing’s nest in the Jungle Herd lands. One that will reach the clouds. One that cannot be destroyed by fire and that will stand for ages.” He arched his neck around the idea, savoring it. “And I want you to build it for me.”

  Star rose from his knees. “I don’t understand. How would I do this?”

  “Build it on the top of that swell,” said Nightwing, pointing to the eastern side of the valley at the highest ground. “There’s a riverbed on the other side. It’s full of large, flat stones. Pull out ten thousand and stack them as high as they’ll go. I want my tribute visible from the ocean in the west to the ocean in the east.”

  Star’s eyes rounded. “Ten thousand stones?”

  Nightwing peered at the walkers who were gaping at Star. “Do it and I’ll let them live.”

  Star squinted toward the riverbed. Spiderwing was the Destroyer’s rival four hundred years ago, and the Jungle Herd pegasi had turned his nest into a monument to honor him. Now Nightwing wanted to be honored too, and since no one would do it, he would force Star, his current rival, to build it. Constructing a tribute to Nightwing would also serve to humiliate Star in front of the Wind Herd steeds, but it would save the walkers’ lives. Then he glanced at the hill where the tribute would be built. It would take many moons to complete. But so would the tunnel. Building the tribute would give his friends time to finish their project and begin smuggling pegasi to safety.

  Finally Star spoke. “All right. I’ll build it.”

  Nightwing folded his black wings and drew in his starfire. “I’m setting three conditions,” he said. “No steed can help you, you cannot use your starfire for any reason, and you must live alone, in banishment.”

  The closest pegasi who were listening gasped. To them, banishment was a punishment worse than death.

  Nightwing continued. “Every time you violate a condition, I’ll kill a walker. If you fail to finish the tribute, I’ll kill them all. When you’re done, I’ll let the walkers go, but until then they’ll live with Wind Herd.”

  Inside Star, his resolve melted. Moving ten thousand stones, by himself? It was near impossible. But when Star turned his head and looked at the walkers, he saw their relief. “And what about him?” Star asked, nodding toward Frostfire.

  Petalcloud interrupted with a huff. “Keep him or kill him. He’s banished too.”

  Star heard Frostfire’s short gasp of shock, and he felt sorry for the white stallion. Perhaps it was better to have no mother than an evil one.

  Nightwing glanced at the hill. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get started.”

  The six hundred walkers dipped their heads gratefully to Star and then trotted back onto the grassland, guided by seven Ice Warriors. Star flew to the riverbed, dropped his wings into the water, and lifted out the first stone. Frostfire stayed close, still too shocked to speak.

  Nightwing trumpeted his victory into the sky and then joined his massive herd on the Flatlands. Star noticed that he wouldn’t let the pegasi fly higher than the trees—like they were all newborns. The herd returned to grazing, looking dejected. Star was building a tribute to Nightwing—and he understood how it appeared, like he was doing the opposite of fighting for them. Like he was giving up. But what the pegasi didn’t know was that Hazelwind was near, and that he was a digging a tunnel to save them.

  Star turned to the work ahead of him. The sun rose higher, and the heat awakened the bugs. He knew Echofrost would tell Morningleaf what he had done, and the reality of it was settling on him, more cloying than the heat.

  He would be busy building this tribute for many moons, and Nightwing would be watching him. When would he visit Morningleaf? He hadn’t said good-bye to her or healed her wings. With his heart heavy and his wings already tiring, Star set down the first stone.

  20

  LETTING GO

  MORNINGLEAF WOKE IN THE COOL DEPTHS OF the den. Brackentail had slipped into the chamber and fallen asleep next to her. His warm breath blew against her singed feathers, making them rise and fall. His ears twitched and his eyelids fluttered—he was dreaming.

  She stretched, being careful not to wake him. The bright splotch of sunshine that streamed from the hole above her head indicated that it was near the middle of the day. They normally slept until dusk. What had awakened her? And where was Star?

  The sound of whispering sifted gently through the silence, and she recognized the soft voices of Bumblewind and Dewberry. Morningleaf slipped out of the lair and crept through the center chamber where Hazelwind was sleeping. She followed the tunnel to the den’s first chamber and entered, yawning.

  Bumblewind glanced at her with startled eyes. “Why are you awake?”

  “That’s an odd question. I can be awake if I want.” She peered at her two friends, who looked guilty. “Why? What’s going on?”

  They looked at each other, arguing with their eyes as they often did. Morningleaf realized Star was missing, and her belly twisted. “Where’s Star and Frostfire?” Before they could answer, she knew where they’d gone. “They went to save the walkers, didn’t they?”

  “We couldn’t stop them,” said Dewberry.

  Morningleaf’s eyes burned, and her throat tightened. She stood for a moment, her wings trembling, and then she charged out of the den and galloped toward the blind that overlooked the valley.

  “Morningleaf!” Dewberry grunted, and sped after her.

  Morningleaf flattened her neck and galloped faster.

  But Dewberry was older and stronger. She caught up to Morningleaf and snatched her tail in her teeth, tugging hard to stop her.

  “Let go!” Morningleaf squealed, kicking Dewberry in the chest. The mare released her, and Morningleaf resumed her gallop toward the blind.

  Dewberry lifted off, flying just over her head. “Get back to the den,” she snapped. “Now.”

  “No,” whinnied Morningleaf. “I have to know what happened to Star.”

  “But it’s daylight! It’s not safe.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Morningleaf reached the hiding place, out of breath, and skidded inside.

  Dewberry followed and bit Morningleaf’s mane, yanking out some hair.

  Morningleaf whirled on her. “Why did you do that?”

  Dewberry nipped Morningleaf again, hard, like an angry dam.

  Morningleaf snapped her jaws, but Dewberry’s dark eyes hardened to stone. “Don’t try it, filly.”

  Morningleaf closed her mouth and rubbed the top of her neck with her wing, which throbbed from the bite. “What’s your problem?”

  “You,” huffed Dewberry, pointing behind them. “You tore out of the den without scenting for wolves, without checking the sky, and without telling us where you were going. Are you trying to get us all killed, or just yourself?”

  “But Star—”

  Dewberry stamped her hoof. “Star left the den without telling you for a reason, Morningleaf. Did you consider that? He didn’t want you to stop him or follow him.”

  “Why?” asked Morningleaf, trying to catch her breath.

  “Because of stuff like this,” said Dewberry. “When it comes to Star, you don’t think about anyone else, or yourself.” Dewberry folded her ruffled wings. “You take too many chances.”

  Morningleaf tossed back her flaxen mane. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about everything you’ve done,” rasped Dewberry. “Baiting armies, flying in jet streams, galloping through a wolf-infested forest by yourself. Do you expect Star to drop everything and save you?”

  “Of cours
e not,” said Morningleaf, tears forming in her eyes.

  Dewberry continued. “Did you ever stop to think that you’re putting Star in danger too? He can’t focus on Nightwing if he’s got to run after you and save your life. It’s why he left you behind. He’s not the dud foal you grew up with, Morningleaf. He can take care of himself.”

  Morningleaf exhaled as if the mare had kicked her.

  Dewberry leaned toward her. “Let Star go so he can become who he is meant to be.”

  The two friends faced each other, panting, their eyes shining. Dewberry had said too much, pushed Morningleaf too far, but the fierce mare did not back down. Morningleaf’s thoughts swirled madly, leaving her confused and sad. Was she holding Star back?

  Dewberry softened. “You don’t see him the way we do, but I wish you would. His love for you will destroy him one day, if you don’t release him of it.” She stroked Morningleaf’s mane. “He’ll throw us all away for you. Running off and putting yourself in danger will only distract him from his purpose, and it will probably get you killed. Let him go.”

  Morningleaf staggered toward the nearest tree and leaned against it. Her throat closed, and she couldn’t breathe. She dropped her head and sucked at the hot air, drinking in bugs and dust and coughing terribly. Dewberry stood near, watching. Morningleaf’s knees gave way, and she sank into the soil. She knew Dewberry was right, but her heart was breaking. “How?” she wheezed. “How could I do something like that?”

  Dewberry sank down next to her. “I don’t know how, but I know you must.”

  The two mares pressed their foreheads together. Morningleaf sobbed, feeling lost.

  “Echofrost’s dam told me your story when we were living in the Trap,” said Dewberry. “That Silverlake forced your birth early so she’d have milk for Star, and that you tried to protect him from the mean foals like Brackentail. And I saw you take the deathblow that was meant for Star, and I watched him bring you back to life. You’ve lived for him and through him since your first breath of life, but you have to understand that maybe you have your own destiny.”