“Oh,” Ember whispered, “so it is ARC.”
Boreal sighed. “My . . . my brother was one of the ones taken. He was my only friend. I haven’t seen him in almost two winters. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even still alive, though I like to think he’s dead. That way the humans can’t hurt him.” she lowered her head and pretended to play with the snow. “I think it’s part of the reason Mother left. The loss was hard on her, and she and my father were always fighting anyway. I haven’t seen her in almost as long. It’s . . . it’s almost funny, though. Father started out an outsider, then ended up a colony cat, and Mother did the opposite.”
“Oh. So you’re a—”
Boreal spun around to face her. Ember jumped back.
“Half-breed, yes,” she growled. “The colony’s come to accept Father, but not me. Though I don’t think it has much to do with being part outsider. Or would that be all outsider now? I don’t know. Either way, I’m not well-liked. It’s a wonder I haven’t been sent off. And yes, we do ‘get rid of defects’ like your colony. Though instead of drowning them in the spring, we exile them. If they survive, they survive, if they don’t, too bad. So long as they’re ‘out of the main breeding pool.’ Not like that’s a risk with me. No one cares.” She swiped her paw against the snow, sending white powder flying.
Ember breathed out slowly through her nose. “These colonies, they really are no better than the outsiders. More organized and demanding, but not better. In fact, I think the outsiders may be more . . . uhm . . . I don’t know a word that really says what I want to say, but they may even be nicer, and more forgiving and accepting. While I was in the valley, I—er, we—met an outsider named Bracken who saved us from a blizzard and gave me a hunting lesson.”
Boreal cocked an ear. “Name sounds familiar. Maybe my dad knows him. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
‘Familiar name? Bracken’s met everyone, hasn’t he?’ Ember’s gaze darted around the evergreen forest and the mountain slope below. Light glinted off the snow and partially hidden buildings, making little spots dance in her vision. Massive stones, ones less rounded than those near the Western cliffs, broke up the snowscape. Their jagged outlines made the forest more interesting but also unfamiliar. ‘Not unfamiliar to Boreal, though, and she would probably feel this way if we were at the cliffs. Thinking of Boreal . . .’ She bit her tongue. “So, you said no one likes you much. Why is that?”
Boreal stared at her for a few seconds, long enough to make her wonder if she’d done something wrong again.
“I said I’m not well-liked,” she replied, “but it’s almost the same thing, just different words. It’s because I’m honest and I ask honest questions. They call me rude, but I don’t understand why. I’m not trying to be. When I’m honest and someone gets offended, they’re getting offended by the truth. It’s not my fault they want to stay blinded by lies. But lately I’ve just been keeping my mouth shut. You know, to spare myself the trouble.”
“Oh.” She looked at her paws and thought for a moment, getting her words together. “I like you,” she said. Her tail twitched as an awkward pause set in. “I-I know we don’t know each other very well, but we seem to have a lot in common, I mean. I don’t have a lot in common with most cats. Not that it really matters all that much. I’ve never had many friends. But, uh, what I was trying to say is that I don’t get offended easily, so you can be honest with me. The truth doesn’t scare me away. It’s interesting and informative, even if it’s against me.”
For the first time since they’d met, Boreal smiled. “Know what? I like you too. I’m glad Jade assigned us to be partners. We outsider colony cats should stay together.”
Ember realized she was smiling too and decided she was happy again, welcoming the vibrant oranges of joy into her thoughts. “Yeah,” she said with a chuff. “We should start a little group. The rejected felines.”
Boreal laughed. “I like the sound of that. We’re the rejected felines now, I guess.”
Cloud
Kivyress hissed as Fern poured a bowl of warm water over her injured leg. Cloud groomed her forehead in a futile attempt to keep her calm. His tail twitched with fury. He drew long, slow breaths to keep himself mentally steady enough to be any kind of comfort.
“I know. I know it hurts, but we need to make sure you don’t get an infection. Try to hold still, okay?” he said.
“Just one more rinse before I pack it again, alright Kivy? Brace yourself,” Fern said.
Kivyress moaned softly and pinned back her ears. “Can’t we just leave it alone? I think it’s clean, and it hurts enough already.”
Fern poured the last bowl over her leg, ignoring her pleas. Kivyress winced and shuddered, but she didn’t try to stop her. Beside them, the fire pit crackled. Cloud leaned away from it; his fur was burning and his face was on fire. Yet the flames only aggravated his feverishness, they didn’t cause it. He glared across the pit to where Lupine sat on Aspen’s den. Two council members sat on either side of him, serving as bodyguards. The night before, Sumac, the young rebel, had tried to assassinate him. However, his attempt was sloppy, and he’d been discovered and stopped before he was able to complete his undertaking. He’d been publicly executed that morning. Cloud coughed twice, then locked eyes with the trembling commander.
‘You caused this. Are you happy with yourself, having a kitten mauled? Having a young, capable cat killed front of everyone? What are you trying to inspire? Fear? You’re only making your colony hate you. You’ve ruined the West, and all for what? Safety? Your own security? We’d be safer in the Lowlands at this point; safe from you and your plans.’
Fledge walked over to them with a fresh bowl of water. She set it down, then looked between them. Despite the sorrow in her eyes, she raised her tail and tried to smile. “Hey, calm down. If life’s taught me anything, it’s that everything seems to work itself out eventually. Hard times will end so long as we’re willing to push through them.”
Cloud gritted his teeth. ‘Everything will work itself out? Cats are gone. Cats are dead, and they aren’t coming back. Optimism is not going to fix this, and if you’re so naive as to think that—’
“How?” he snapped. “How is this going to fix itself, huh? Everything is not going to ‘work itself out,’ because we are at war. Cats are dead and dying, and no amount of hoping or wishful thinking is going to change that. Don’t you get it? We’re all going to die here if someone doesn’t stand up and do something about it, and I’ll tell you now, I’m not about to sit around and watch as our lives crumble out from beneath our paws.”
Fledge stumbled backward. A faint hint of fear flickered in her eyes as she looked to Fern for help.
“Cloud,” Fern said. Her voice was quiet but firm. “I know you’re upset, but yelling is not going to fix anything. Everyone being against each other is only going to make it that much easier for the East to come in and destroy us all.” She scooped up a pawful of herbs. “We are not each other’s enemies. This is the East’s fault—not mine, not Fledge’s, and not even Commander Lupine’s. Well, maybe it is his fault in part, but what we don’t need is an uprising. Not like the stir you’ve made. We’re vulnerable enough as is. Now, I don’t think that young tom should’ve died, but he also shouldn’t have been trying to kill our commander. All this death is not the solution.”
“He wouldn’t have been trying to kill him if Lupine were a better commander or if Farlight was still here,” Cloud replied. “The East is only making things worse.”
Fern sighed. “But you’re just proving my point. Don’t you see what those cats are doing? They’re tearing us apart by turning us against ourselves. If we want to survive them next time they attack, we all have to learn to work as a team. Got it?” She pressed the herbs into Kivyress’s wound. Kivyress winced. “So leave it alone.”
Cloud growled. “I’m not taking orders from you. Or anyone else. Believe what you want, but I can promise you this won’t end well. Something tells me positive thinking is going to b
e very difficult when there’s no one left to think at all.”
“Cloud, this is not the time. Let me work,” she said.
Kivyress pressed a paw against his leg. He realized she was crying again. “Dad, please. Just go, okay?”
He stepped back. “But Kivy . . .”
The fire snapped. Wind ruffled their fur, howling like a pack of wolves.
“Go,” Kivyress mewed. “Find Mom and go. I’m only holding you back, so leave without me. Please. I don’t want to watch you fight and die for a colony you don’t want to be in.” She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Please.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “We aren’t going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Kivy, and neither is your mother. We’ll find a way through this, alright?”
She nodded and leaned closer to him, face resting against his neck. Her tears burned against his cold skin. “Daddy, I’m scared,” she whispered. “What’s going to happen to us? I don’t want to die yet. I don’t want you or Mom to die yet. I just want things to go back to how they were before. I want Ember back and Farlight alive.”
His chin slid to rest on her back as he lay down beside her. Fern and Fledge finished packing the hole in Kivyress’s leg, then went together to refill the water bowls.
He watched them go in silence, and when they left the Glade, he sighed. “The thing about life is you don’t always get what you want. I . . . I can’t fix this. I’m sorry. I failed you, your mother, Ember, Farlight—everyone. I can’t protect anyone anymore. It was fluffheaded of me to think I might actually have any kind of control in a war.” He snorted and lifted his head. A renewed surge of resolve coursed through his body, making him feel more awake than he’d felt in mooncycles. “So I guess we’ll have to find a way to stop the war.”
Kivyress squirmed. He got to his paws as she pushed him away. With shaking joints, she propped her front half up.
“What are you—”
“Standing up. The sooner I get used to walking on three legs, the better.”
A look of pure determination appeared on her face; her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. With her good legs, she pushed herself into a stand. It was like seeing her walk for the first time all over again. His chest expanded with pride. ‘You did it. My little molly did it.’
She hobbled a few steps forward, then toppled toward the fire. Cloud pounced between her and the flames. Kivyress landed in a heap against his side. She yowled in pain and started to cry again. He nuzzled her flank, trying to calm her down, to bring her some form of comfort.
“Cloud.”
He looked up. Lupine stood across the fire pit from them, bodyguards eyeing them with askance from the commander’s den. Cloud flattened his ears and growled. “I could kill you, you know. I should.”
“E-e-easy, Cloud. I’m just looking for advice,” Lupine said.
Cloud wrapped his tail around Kivyress, ready to defend her from anyone who might ever want to hurt her again. “I’ve given you advice before. You don’t listen, so why bother?”
Lupine lowered his head. “Because this time I will. Everything i-is falling apart, Cloud. Cats are turning a-a-against each other. Cats are turning against me. Even the council is breaking apart. You’re the mastermind here. You’re the only one I know who can fix it.”
“You should’ve realized that sooner. Would’ve made for less to fix, that’s for sure.”
Lupine’s posture loosened in uneasy relief. “So you’ll help me?”
The breeze lulled. The forest fell silent, as if the world was holding its breath, as if his reply would change the world. ‘Because it can. It can change my world, and right now, that’s the only one that matters. I will fix at least one fox-fighting problem in this valley, I swear.’ He grimaced and stood up, lifting his head high enough to look down on the shaking tomcat. “You haven’t given me much of a choice, but if you want to make everything work again, you’ll have to do exactly as I say.”
“I will. I-I-I promise.”
“Good.” Cloud’s eyes narrowed. His tail remained protectively against his daughter’s side. “First, stop all work on the second abatis. It’s useless and a waste of time. Next, instead of having all the border guards walk their patrols, give some of them fixed posts along the Eastern border, situated close enough together for adjacent guards to hear each other yowl. Tell them to kill any non-Western cat on sight. Outsiders could be Eastern assassins. We can no longer afford to take any chances. They will learn not to try us. Finally, make a public apology, and let anyone who wants to leave go. Just reminded them that once they leave, they cannot come back.”
“Except for you. Y-you can’t go, because you have a promise to fulfill,” Lupine said.
‘Of course, my wonderful liege. Don’t worry. I don’t have to leave. All I have to do is sit back and watch as you get yourself killed. It’s only a matter of time at this point. An apology will do nothing; cats are getting upset. They’re getting angry. And I can promise you that once they snap, Rowan will not become the commander.’ Cloud’s eyes narrowed. “But you will not hold back anyone else. Am I clear? Cats who don’t want to fight will only run or hide when faced with a battle. Cowards and harehearts won’t be of any use to you. In fact, they’re more likely to become threats.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll-I’ll do that.” Lupine lowered his head. “Thank you, Cloud.”
With a few flicks of his tail, Lupine walked back to his guards. As he left, the wind picked up again, no longer interested in either of them. Kivyress pawed Cloud’s leg, reminding him she was still there.
“What is it, Kivy?” he asked.
“Why are you helping him now? I thought you hated him. I thought you still wanted to leave.”
He sat beside her and pressed his tail closer to her flank. It wouldn’t do much against the gale, but every bit of warmth counted. Cloud lowered his voice to a whisper. “I do hate him, but in order to keep everyone safe, I need to work with him. Then, when he gets himself killed, I can take his place, end the war with a new peace treaty, and you can eventually become the first molly commander. How would you like that?”
Her golden eyes lit up. The flames reflecting in them sparked with excitement. “I would love that. You’d make a great commander. I don’t know about me, but I’d like to try—it might be fun. Lupine would be so angry if he heard us talking about it, though.”
“Then hush.” Cloud groomed the fur on her forehead the wrong way, giving her a lopsided deerlick. She giggled like a kitten and tried to paw it back into place, tears long since dried.
He smiled. “Just let this be our little secret, okay?”
She smiled back at him. “Okay. Yes, sir.”
“Good molly. Now let’s see if you can stand again. Take it slow this time. I know you can do it.”
He watched in silence as she pushed herself back to her paws, giving him another burst of pride. ‘You’ll be okay, Kivyress. I will give you a future. I promise.’
Chapter 28
Ember
Snow flew in every direction. Wind whipped Ember’s whiskers against her face. It played with her fur and pounded at her ears. The familiar hum of a hovership thundered overhead. Its roar caused pulses of cyan to flood her mind. Ember dropped to her stomach and pressed her paws over her ears. The sound continued on. A few leaps away, Boreal pressed herself against the side of a boulder. As the hovercraft descended into the human territory below, the noise died down and became a soft, resounding echo.
A sharp ringing noise filled her ears. Her nose stung. ‘Stop already. Please. Would you please?’
The sound and the ringing faded. The cyan drained from her head, almost painful as it faded to grey, then nothing at all.
“Hey, Em, it’s gone. You can get up now,” Boreal’s voice said, breaking the unusually loud silence.
She exhaled, trying to calm herself, and opened her eyes. Boreal stood in front of her. She wasn’t smiling, but something about her words made Ember feel like she was. I
nvisible emotions with Boreal were more clear than visible cues with most other cats. She couldn’t place why or how it worked, but it was almost scary how well they understood each other.
“I know,” Ember replied.
In the week she’d lived in the East, she’d taught herself a half-baked Eastern accent. If she didn’t focus on pronunciations, however, it bounced back and forth across the valley. When that happened it made her feel purple inside, as if even her own voice didn’t know where it belonged.
She got to her paws and gazed down the mountain. The cluster of buildings was cloaked in shadow, almost invisible in the dying light.
“So what color was that?” Boreal asked.
“Kind of a really bright turquoise. I never get any green when those things fly by. I’m not scared of them—at least not anymore—but something about the noise seems to trigger a fight or flight response in me, and I see that color when I panic.”
“Interesting. And the color is gone now?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t linger with things like that. Fortunately. It disappears, and I’m fine again.” She breathed out slowly through her mouth. “Speaking of lingering, we should start back now, right?”
Boreal chuffed.
“What?” Ember asked.
“When you said ‘speaking,’ I’m sorry, but you exaggerated it far too much. It sounded fake and I found it funny.”
Ember raised a brow. “How about this? Speee-kin’.”
Boreal laughed. “What even was that?”
“I don’t know, but in all seriousness, I’d like to see you try a Western accent.”
She chuffed again and sat down. “In all seriousness, ah? Well then. What do I ev’n say? Y’all wanna help me with de abatis n’ din go fer a romp in da’ Kiv’eers?”
Ember stared at her for a moment to let the words sink in, then burst out laughing.
Boreal smirked. “How’d I do?”
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