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| - ❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅ No, we're never gonna die, we'll be the stars. — Sabrina Carpenter, We'll Be The Stars THE SUN IS SETTING on another mountain night by the time all the Clans cats are organized, and I sit with the Snow Guard and marvel at how much things have changed. Two mornings ago, I watched my family get torn apart by wolves. Last night, I fought off the same wolves with Lucifer and survived a small avalanche. And now I'm sitting with a group of cats who just hours ago were complete strangers. Most of the Snow Guard, in the short time I've known them, are fairly likable. There's sensible, wise old Ruta, and humorous, clever Jett. There's sweet, quiet Sasha, and a pair of rambunctious best friends named Farrah and Calder. There's chubby Miko, with his kindly face and constant herby scent, and the radiant midnight-colored Britta. In fact, I'm sincerely confused as to why Lucifer manages to be so aloof and detached from the rest of the group. I feel like I've stepped into the midst of cats who are tied by bonds closer than blood, yet there's no mistaking the fact that Lucifer has completely slipped these bonds. Even now, as we divvy up prey and settle down for a meal before sleeping, he is on the other side of the cavern, disregarding the merry chatter and jokes that drift through the air. He's not the only one who doesn't participate, though. One cat, the black-and-white tom I'd noticed a bit earlier, with the vacant eyes, is curled in on himself against a back wall. Another she-cat eats alone as well, though I can't for the life of me see why: she's absolutely gorgeous, with a shimmering silver pelt and bright green eyes, and she doesn't share the black-and-white tom's dull stare. Maybe she's having a bad day. Jett notices me staring at the few loners and takes it upon himself to explain. "Okay, time for a short lesson titled Who Not To Talk To. One, Turner." He nods towards the black-and-white tom. "His mate died a while ago, and he's never been the same since. I mean, it was kind of his fault, because Snow Guard cats aren't supposed to take mates in the first place. Tessa tried to convince him to join the Clans with her, because then they'd be able to be together, but he refused. She tried to go herself, but died on her journey." I blink in shock. "That's awful." "Yeah, but it happened a while ago," Jett says. "And Turner's been sulking ever since." Sasha sighs exasperatedly. "You have no empathy, Jett." "I'm with Jett, though," says Calder; he and Farrah have padded up just in time to hear our conversation. "Snow Guard cats are supposed to get up and move on, not stay in the past." "Anyway," Jett says, waving everyone else into silence. "That silver she-cat you see over there, the really gorgeous one, that's Cecily. She's Greer's daughter." I do a double-take. Upon closer inspection, I can see the mother-daughter resemblance; Cecily is an equally pretty, less cold version of Greer, though they share a haughty resting expression that makes me wonder how closely matched their personalities are. "I didn't know Greer had a daughter." Jett shrugs. "I have no clue who the father is, but I assume he was a passerby. Greer would never have a kit with a tom who would stick around; it'd be too much baggage." "And last of all, king of all undesirables, is Lucifer," finishes Jett. Sasha flinches involuntarily, and Calder's good-natured eyes darken. "That cat is unnatural," mutters Farrah. "Just stay away from him, Everly," says Jett. "I know you already survived a night with him out on the mountain, but that was because you two were being hunted by wolves and he couldn't kill you on the spot. You can't trust him at all. He doesn't understand anything about being a good cat, or about friendship. He laughs at suffering... He's sick and twisted as they come. The only one who can stomach him at all--besides Greer, of course--is Miko, and that's because Miko could befriend a porcupine." "If there was any trace of goodness in him, it was beat out of him. He's been Greer's since he was a kit, and Greer creates monsters," says Farah somberly. Calder spits angrily. "There was no goodness to beat out, Farrah. You've seen his eyes--that's just how he is. Bitter cold." I expect Farrah to argue, but her annoyance fades in a matter of seconds. She shakes her head and touches her tail to Calder's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get to sleep. I'm tired." He nods and bids us good-night, and the two of them wander off. "Are they-" "They're best friends," Jett says, cutting off my question. He gives me a meaningful look. "Snow Guard cats aren't supposed to take mates." I dip my chin at Jett, showing I understand. "Best friends, got it. Can I ask you something else?" "Sure," he says. "Why do you guys have the Snow Guard? Wouldn't it be easier to just... you know, have the Clans defend themselves? Isn't that what warriors are trained to do?" Jett stares at me strangely. "We--of course we need the Snow Guard. What would the Clans do without us?" "Defend themselves," I say. "Defend themselves?" he repeats. Then he laughs, as if he's never heard anything so funny. "We defend them from themselves. Of course, we fight off things that they can't--but we also make sure that they're strong enough to survive on Thorn Mountain. We help them be who they need to be, to fulfill their calling." "What would that be?" There is something off about the things he's saying, something I can't quite put my paw on. The terms he uses are too vague; they are superfluous, yet he states them like they're necessities. Suddenly, the warmth I felt upon being accepted into the folds of the Snow Guard vanishes. There is something cold about Thorn Mountain, and it isn't just the weather, the howling wind and relentless snow. Even at the heart of the tunnels, well sheltered from the frigid night falling outside, I feel a prickle of fear in my chest. I feel like a tiny flame, about to be extinguished in a gust of wind, alone and vulnerable. Jett's smiling face loses its friendly appeal, and everyone's voices are too loud for me to bear. I force myself to stay calm, to not lose my head. This is all I have, I remind myself. Without the Snow Guard, I have nowhere to go. So I force down the sense of foreboding that welled inside me, focusing on the sound of Jett's voice as he speaks, almost reverently, of the Snow Guard's purpose. "When winter comes," he says, "things die. The trees, the plants, the animals. Everything that is weak and cannot sustain itself through the harshest of all seasons passes away. It is sad, of course, unspeakably sad. But at the end of it, the weakest have gone, and the surviving blood is stronger for it. The Triad and the Snow Guard--we are a perfect balance on Thorn Mountain. As a member of the Guard, I am honor-bound to keep the balance in check, to make sure there are no weaknesses where the wind can blow in and freeze the heart of civilization on the mountain. Here, nature demands the toughest of cats--and yet it is such a delicate balance. There is such fragility, even here, in the midst of the most rugged landscape in the world." Involuntarily, I feel myself sway, lulled by the hypnotic assurance of his words. "But... what do you do to ensure this? It's such a big mountain--don't you feel small?" Jett smiles and purrs. "We try our best, kid. It's all we can do, y'know?" Ruta interjects. Both of us jump at the sound of her voice; we hadn't noticed the stone-gray she-cat sitting nearby, eavesdropping on our conversation. "You've forgotten something else about the ways of the mountain, Jett. Just like the snow that piles on the coldest peaks and refuses to melt, past mistakes start to heap in the recesses of our civilization, the dark, chilly places we hide. And when there's too much snow, when things go too far... it all avalanches." Her somber gray eyes meet mine, and my stomach clenches painfully. Jett frowns at Ruta. "Don't worry the kid." "I need to... get some fresh air." I stand unsteadily, wave off Jett's offer of accompaniment, and make my way out of the den where the Guard is eating. I pass Lucifer on the way out, and I feel the weight of his stony eyes resting on me for a second. In a random impulse, I raise my head and meet his gaze full-on, forcing a smile onto my face. "How are you?" I say, and I'm surprised to hear my voice sounds sincere. It's a relief to push out of my own dark thoughts for a second, to worry about someone else. Lucifer stares at me, clearly boggled. "Fine," he says in an almost defensive tone, as if I asked the question in an attempt to pinpoint weakness. "Just checking." To counter his assumption, I step back and keep my posture relaxed, trying, laughably, to remain unthreatening. As if I, tiny-statured as I am, could intimidate this tree of a cat. "You know, 'cause of the whole night with the wolves thing. That couldn't have been easy on your body, not even with your... training." I sound stupid even to myself, and I know it sounds a thousand times worse to Lucifer's judgemental ears. My cheeks grow hot, and I finally lose my nerve. I turn and head out of the den, hurrying towards the exit of the tunnels. Lucifer doesn't call after me, but I can sense his gaze on me till I vanish from sight. Once I'm outside, I feel a lot freer. It's cold, yes, but I almost welcome the sting. It revives me, reminds me who I am. I look up at the clear black sky and the thousands of stars scattered across it like so many watchful lights. Are the spirits of my family up there, looking down on me right now? My throat closes up and even though I'm now standing in the fresh air I claimed to need, I suddenly find it hard to breathe. "Mother, Father," I say quietly. "I need you." Survivor's guilt has tormented me incessantly for the past few days. Why should it be me, out of all my kind, warm-hearted family members, who lives on? I miss them all so much, more than I thought possible. I constantly find myself turning to my right or left to ask a question of Juniper or Starlight, only to remember with renewed anguish that they're gone. I miss my brother's grave, factual interjections and my sister's flippant, witty comebacks. I long to feel Mother run her fluffy tail down my back and murmur softly, "May your star shine strong through the night, my little Everly," before we bed down for the night. I long to crouch in the thickets with my father, practicing hunting together, only us, white snow underfoot and gray sky above our heads. I stay outside for a long, long time. Behind me, the murmurs of the Clan warriors fade into nothingness, till only Greer and the Clan leaders are left still talking, heads bowed as they confer in serious tones. My paws slowly grow numb, and my breath has frozen in a thin shell around my nose and mouth. Somewhere down in the valley, the wolves begin to howl. There are only three voices tonight; one of the younger wolves is dead. But One-Eye and two others still roam the grounds, and even though they're not on Thorn Mountain tonight, it makes me feel faint to think of them racing through the woods where I used to live, continuing on in their bloodthirsty hunt. At least they're not hunting me tonight. When I finally stand and turn around, a thin sheet of snow falls forward over my forehead and across my eyes. My vision is temporarily clouded, which is why I'm sure I'm imagining things--surely I didn't just see a flash of white duck out of sight. That flash of white must've been the snow, it couldn't have been anything else. But the thought nags at me anyway. Was Lucifer watching me? For how long? Why? I slip silently back into the tunnels, intending to do a quick scan, but there is no sign of the tom. Instead, I'm forced to duck behind a crooked ledge of rock as Greer, Moonstar, Shadowstar, and Blackstar approach. They're no longer bothering to talk in hushed voices anymore; the sound of snoring from the main cavern covers their conversation anyway. That is, to anyone but me. They stop right in front of my hiding place, and I press myself against the rock, willing myself to melt completely into the shadows. Shadowstar, a dappled gray tom with dark golden eyes, is speaking. His voice is quiet, but it is brimming with barely-restrained anger. "... three warriors left. Three warriors, Greer! We cannot afford another Collection. Take an extra from the other Clans, if you must--" "Excuse me?" interrupts Blackstar. "I am not giving up another cat." "You have the most warriors," counters Moonstar. "If any Clan should take another Collection, it's you. One of your warriors, that Riverfrost fellow, he's getting a bit up in moons anyway, isn't he?" Looking outraged, Blackstar hisses, "We have no apprentices, though. You have two." "But apprentices aren't-" "Silence!" shouts Greer. She turns to Shadowstar. "I am sorry, Shadowstar, but your appeal for a Pass has been declined. Had the circumstances been different, we might've been able to work something about, but every Clan must shoulder its share of responsibility at a time like this." "But Greer," begs Shadowstar, "please reconsider. The wolves are threatening us all--we need all the cats we can get. And we have three warriors, and three apprentices--one will be missing a mentor if you-" Greer cuts him off, her voice sharp. "Treeflight. She's old enough to Collect, isn't she?" Shadowstar blanches. "She's Owlpaw's mentor. My son's mentor, Greer, you can't-" "Don't tell me what I can and can't do," Greer hisses. "You're lucky I'm tolerating all of you in the tunnels right now. All of you, this meeting is done. Get to sleep. We need to figure out hunting patrols tomorrow; all of your cats will have to earn their keep." Moonstar and Blackstar exchange looks that clearly spell relief that they're getting off lighter than poor Shadowstar, and hurry back to the main cavern. Shadowstar hesitates for one last second. "Greer," he whispers quietly. "I can't have you Collect Treeflight." An empty smile spreads across Greer's face, and she fixes him with an expectant look. "Oh, really?" He bows his head. "I'll do it instead." She pauses dramatically for a second, then gives him a nod. "I shall allow it," she says, with an air of condesendence. "Come on." The two of them make their way outside. Despite the fact that the warmth of the caverns is calling to me, I force myself to follow them back out. I may not be as skilled as Lucifer is, but I have trained myself. I trail Shadowstar and Greer noiselessly, undetected. They snake around the mountain a bit, so that the entrance to the tunnels is lost to sight. I'm sincerely confused by now. What does it mean to Collect? What is going on? What kind of unspoken deal has passed between Shadowstar and Greer? Up ahead, the two cats stop. Greer says, "It's nothing personal against ForestClan, Shadowstar. You, as a leader, should understand: we must maintain power. The cost of doing so is nothing compared to what would follow if we lost it. There can be no exceptions, no pardons. Only then can we save cats from themselves." Then, in a move as fast as lightning, Greer lunges forward. Shadowstar doesn't flinch, doesn't even cry out, as her claws rake down his throat. It is a practiced, efficient move that needs no follow-up. Shadowstar jerks forward, his eyes bugging out, and then collapses forward. Greer steps back so that blood doesn't spatter her, watching as he convulses on the ground. A scream builds in my throat; I bite down on my tongue to keep it from escaping, and a bubble of blood bursts in my own mouth. Greer wipes her paws on the snow and lopes back towards the tunnels. She doesn't notice me. I dash up to Shadowstar as soon as I dare. Red foam covers his mouth, and the gash on his throat yawns raw and nasty. I don't know what to say. Our eyes connect. "It's... okay..." he says thickly. "I have... five left..." I don't know what he's talking about, but all I can think is, I can't see another cat die. Not like the vision of Lucifer's mother dying, in this same fashion. But there's nothing I can do to stop it. Shadowstar trembles, and then he goes still. A sob wrenches its way out of me, but before it can escape, a tail lashes across my face and fills my mouth, silencing me. Gagging, I spin and find myself face-to-face with Lucifer. I struggle violently, thrashing my limbs, but I'm soundly caught. He drags me away from Shadowstar's body. All I can think is Jett's face when he told me how Lucifer was Greer's. He's going to kill me. Greer killed Shadowstar and Lucifer's going to kill me. I dig my claws into his chest and bite down on his tail as hard as I can. He recoils, fury igniting his eyes in cobalt fire. "What are you doing?" I yell. "Shut up!" he says, his voice quiet but just as angry as I am. "What am I doing? What are you doing, following Greer around?" "Were you watching me while I sat outside?" I counter, lowering my voice in spite of myself. "You're going to get yourself killed." "What does it matter to you?" "I need you," he says. Then, as if realizing how that sentence sounds, he rephrases, "You're of value to me. Greer is hiding something, and I need you to find out what it is." "Why me?" Lucifer scowls blackly. "Like it or not, you're dragged into this. When we fell into that... that silver stuff, boreas lux, whatever it is, you were with me. I know you're the only other cat who can figure it out, or at least help me with it-" I straighten. "If you want me to figure that out for you, then you need to help me with something. I want to know why Greer killed Shadowstar." Lucifer raises his eyebrows. I see realization flicker across his eyes. He shakes his head almost pityingly at me. "Come on. I can explain, but we need to go somewhere else." He strikes off again, and I have no choice but to follow.
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