Stoneslide - Chapter 1

It was always a laugh, watching Hazelwood train the younger mice. Fleck sat on a wooden perch above the group of four, a smile cracked on his face. The group would be numbered five if Fleck went down there, but it was always fun to see what Hazelwood would do without him. And so he sat, legs dangling off of the plank, watching.

“Alright,” Hazelwood said. “I know that we’ve probably all done this before, especially you, Hex.” He brushed his ear with a paw, the old mouse muttering something under his breath. The younger mice nodded. “But besides the point.” Fleck heard Hex mutter something under his breath, but didn’t hear it. All he knew was Hazelwood got annoyed by it, and to be honest, it was always fun to see his reactions to the hoppers. For sure, he definitely wasn’t made to be a trainer.

“Come on, Hazelwood,” one of the three Trainees, Hex, piped up. From where Fleck was, he already knew what Hazelwood was trying to teach. And he had been taught the lesson before too. He probably knew where the storage room was just by feeling around with his whiskers through the tunnels.

Hazelwood narrowed his eyes when Hex’s twin sister, Damma, piped up. “Why don’t we call you by your real name?” she asked, raising her eyes to the trainer. Even Fleck couldn’t resist her blue stare, and he had grown accustomed to avoiding what younger trainees wanted.

Hazelwood, however, was much more sophisticated at it. “Real name? Hazelwood is a fine real name,” he muttered.

“No. Like a real name. Like Fleck or Hex. We call Silas by his real name. Not his last name.”

Hazelwood seemed to think for a moment. “Because,” he began, swinging satchels off of hooks, “If I told you my real name, Morlyle, you’d repeat it all day and we wouldn’t get any training done.”

Fleck tried not to speak, but it came out anyway. “Don’t give them any ideas,” the brown mouse said, trying to hide his laughter.

Then Hex and Damma looked at each other. They smiled devilishly, and then they started repeating. “Morlyle,” they both said. “It sounds so fun! Way funner than Silas or Roz!” they giggled.

Hazelwood narrowed his eyes up at Fleck. His black eyes blazed. “I was wondering what you were doing up there. Apparently, you were just making trouble.”

Fleck raised a brow. “How do you know?”

Hazelwood didn’t reply. So, he just continued. “What can I say? I didn’t mean for them to go off like that. Little buggers, aren’t they?”

“Get your tail down here before Highwhisker hears about this,” he said, sneering a bit at the word Highwhisker.

He’d grown used to the sneer, but Highwhisker never bothered to listen whenever Fleck had tried telling him. So he simply ignored it now, no matter how much he hated hearing it. He climbed down slowly, hopping off at the last step. “Now sit with the other trainees, little rogue,” he said, giving a hearty pat on the back. “Maybe when Silas is done being leader, you’ll be trainer,” he whispered, but Fleck heard it. He didn’t get hopeful though. Silas was young comparing to Hazelwood. He’d probably retire before Silas.

“Now, on with the lesson,” he continued, ignoring the little giggles and whispered ‘Morlyle’s being said. “Yesterday, you were taught the basics of gathering simple things, such as watching for thorns when you pick rose pits and things. Now you need to sort it into…” He trailed off as the young mice yawned, Fleck yawning louder than all of them.

“Well, Fleck,” Hazelwood muttered. “Want to train the hoppers? It seems you have a better idea.” The sand-brown mouse curled his lip up.

Fleck raised his paws. Hating to be insulted like Hazelwood typically did, he curled his lip right back. “Alright then, Hazelwood. As a matter of fact, I do.” He looked at the hoppers, the young mice training. “Well, I’ve done this lesson a good hundred times, so you should just know that,” he said.

Hex and Damma nodded, nudging at a younger mouse who had just got into training. Fescue yawned.

“Well, get used to sorting, mice,” Fleck said. “When you grow up, you’ve got to do normal things as well as the fun things. And you do want to grow up?” It was a common jab used by Hazelwood whenever a younger Fleck was disobedient in training.

Fescue nodded. “Course I do. Whenever there’s a party, I wanna be able to sit right next to…” He trailed off as Fleck raised a paw.

“Well, anyways, growing up begins with sorting those seeds. He shot a crafty glance at Hazelwood, who was watching with disdain.

“For all I’ve taught him, he goes off on some grass-minded ordeal.” He paused, and then louder, he added, “Keep it traditional. No nonsense.”

Fleck didn’t listen. “So then, you have to go and fill your satchels with one type of seed,” he said, pointing to the small pile of satchels on the floor. Hex and Damma forgot theirs, and Fescue didn’t have one. Fleck’s satchel hung on his side, decorated with a grain on it, as a Guild symbol. “Only one seed. So sort the big pile over there with only one thing, and then I’ll tell you the way to the Storage room.”

“We already know,” Hex replied drily.

“Bear with me,” Fleck said, raising his paws. “Now, go.” Fleck walked towards the pile that all the gatherers brought in, and started sorting out the wolf food. He was faster than the other trainees, being at the peak strength of seventeen seasons old. Soon, his satchel was full of the food, and weighed heavily on his shoulders. So he sat down and raised a brow at Hazelwood triumphantly. “So, how was that?” he asked.

Hazelwood didn’t reply. Instead, he just looked around.

Soon, the other mice had sorted the large pile into smaller ones. Oats, Birdseed, Nettle for the Healers, and wolf food, which was often used only for the winter when it was needed the most. Fleck breathed in, ready to tell about the Storage room to young Fescue. Hopefully the five season mouse knew Port from Starboard.

“So, what now?” Hex asked.

“First we-” Fleck was cut off as Hazelwood intruded.

“Fleck, you’re too young to be a trainer. You’re seventeen seasons, and when you’re eighteen and graduated, you’ll be able to. Of course, that will be after I’m retired…” He reminded the sandy mouse bitterly.

“But-” Fleck was cut off as Hazelwood put a paw in front of him. But Highwhisker said he got to be a trainer at fifteen.

“Now the rule of paw is three starboard turns, one port. In that order too. Don’t miss a turn,” he said in the monotonous teaching voice he always used. Fleck narrowed his eyes. Hazelwood gave him permission to teach and now he was taking the position away. “Now, Hex and Damma, keep an eye on Fescue. Fescue, don’t let go of their tail.” Hazelwood then turned back to Fleck, who tried to hide the anger on his face by raising his ears. “And Fleck, stay back. You can wait a few minutes.”

“But the hoppers-”

“The hoppers will be fine. If they know Port from Starboard, they’ll get there in a matter of minutes.”

***

Fleck dusted his paws off. Hazelwood had asked him to sort through the satchel and clean the training room up a bit. Admittedly, the hoppers did some running around before training even started, leaving a disaster zone in places that he could never expect to find a hopper. He caught the last trail of thrown around grass string, and followed it to a curtain leading to a door out of the ever-warm complex, even if the complex lost its heat in the dead of winter.

Warmer air blew in from there, but then he noticed a mouse’s paws jutting out from the curtain. He raised his brows. “What’s this?” Maybe a Sewing trainee tried to sneak in to play. All he knew was that the trainer of that guild wasn’t near as lenient as others, which could be reason enough to try skipping training. He lifted back the curtain to find a silver mouse, with darker speckles on her shoulders. It was Nera, who could very well be the best burrower he knew. Of course, he knew only two. Highwhisker used to be one, and Nera was still a trainee.

Fleck jumped back as the silver mouse leaped forwards, smiling. “I was wondering how long it would take before you saw me,” she said, inspecting her claws for any dirt.

“Sorry to ask, but aren’t you supposed to be training? I mean, if the Gatherers are, then why aren’t you?”

Nera looked up. “I just graduated. Course I didn’t have the ceremony, but that’s tonight.”

Fleck didn’t respond, but slowly he felt his brows furrow. He had been a Gathering trainee for seasons. He was seventeen seasons, and Nera had only just turned fifteen seasons. And even then, Nera told him that fifteen seasons was considered late. “So. Larx told me to see what the other Guilds were like, and because you’re in the Gatherers Guild and I don’t want Larx to choose a Guild like the Messengers for me, I decided just to head over here. So, anything I could help with?”

“Well…” Fleck paused. “You could take the nettles…” he said slowly, and Nera picked them up eagerly. He swung his satchel over his shoulders. “Well, come on. You put nettles in the spare one.” The brown mouse pointed over to the small pile of nettles, valuable resources for healing. “Be careful. They hurt to touch.”

“Got it,” the silver mouse said. She just held it, grabbing the other nettles and dropping them into her satchel. The nettles even pricked her, but she didn’t appear to react at all. She just continued until her satchel was full.

“Done,” she said, looking over at the other piles. “Well, it seems that the others aren’t coming back…” Nera raised a brow. “Come on.”

“You do know the directions, right?”

“Nope. But you can tell me, right?” Nera asked back. “I mean, it’s not that hard.”

Fleck shrugged. It really wasn’t that hard. He’d just tell Nera when to turn, and that’d be all. “Sure. Into the tunnels we go, Nera.” He made a mocking face. “Not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“You jerk. Course I’m not,” she said, though there was laughter in her voice. He started walking into the tunnels, hoping to get the training session finished. Even though he wasn’t a burrower mouse, he did like the idea that the Guilds Trainer had. Check out the other Guilds. And what better time to do that than after training? Trainees only worked during training sessions. Sometimes though, he could see envious glances from the other trainees who had graduated before him. It wasn’t his fault Morlyle wanted to see him suffer.

Fleck had walked too quickly into the darkness, and blinked to adjust his eyes. His night-vision wasn’t the best at the moment, the brown mouse only able to make out the tunnels’ dim outlines. He saw the first starboard one, and Nera grabbed his tail as he turned sharply. He raised a brow in confusion, but Nera couldn’t have possibly seen it.

“Burrowing practices. The echoes from a pawstep get confusing, so we grab onto the mouse in front of us’ tails. So we don’t get lost,” Nera replied promptly. “Why else did you think we would do it? Fun and games?”

“No-but…” Fleck trailed off as he saw a new tunnel. Grass roots still hung from the ceiling of the tunnel, and it looked only thin enough to have one mouse in it. Fleck never saw it before. Wow, he thought. The dirt was still loose from mice digging it out. He could probably go in there.

“A thief’s tunnel?” Nera asked. “Anti-thief or…?”

Fleck shook his head. Though he was actually uncertain whether or not it was. He just wanted to prove to Nera that he knew more about it than she did. Why should she get graduated before him? “Nope. It’s an anti-thief tunnel. Want to check it out?”

“It doesn’t seem safe,” Nera replied, and Fleck heard her kick the walls of the new tunnel. A pile of dirt came tumbling down.

“Yeah right,” Fleck muttered. “This is probably a completely fine tunnel, and you’re just too scared to go in it.” Fleck took a step into the port turn, knowing that it was the wrong way to go.

“I’m serious here, Fleck. The dirt’s loose and there’s grass hanging from the top. I, as an official Burrower Graduate, say no-go.” The Burrower took a step back, walking back away into the patted down dirt and relative safety.

Fleck rolled his eyes, taking another step in. He tossed his satchel towards the direction that Nera was in and he heard the silver mouse squeak. “Alright, Nera. I guess I’ll just tell Roz that you don’t want to help dig a tunnel out, while I, a simple Gatherer, do,” he said, shrugging carelessly.

“Alright,” Nera muttered. “Just don’t tell,” Nera said, then paused. He heard her tail brush aside some still-loose soil with a tumble-like sound. “But I’m in charge when we get into that tunnel.”

“Alright, Nera,” Fleck said. Though it was logical that a burrower was in charge of a tunnel, especially in the pitch black, Fleck still wanted to show her that he was a capable mouse. And to be honest, only working whenever Hazelwood wanted to have a training session wasn’t impressing her. “Let’s leave our satchels at the entrance,” he said.

He heard Nera’s satchel drop, and then her walking ahead of Fleck. Her fur brushed against his in the tight space.

“Don’t bump against the walls, and only pat around the flooring area. The structure will hold up better,” Nera said, her voice echoing through the dirt walls. Fleck’s vision in the dark was better now, and he could see the dim silhouettes of the new turns in this tunnel. Odd, if it were a new tunnel dug by a thief, there wouldn’t be the endless amounts of turns.

Soon, Fleck began to notice a pattern. All the turns were a pattern. Port, Starboard, Port, Starboard. Then the tunnel hit a place where it had only one starboard turn. It was a clever ploy to make it look like any other anti-thief tunnel, but its flaw was that it was too organized when it came to the turns.

He began to feel the fur on his nape rising. Nera didn’t notice. She was kicking dirt in and as it looked, sometimes the yellow-eyed mouse would glare at Fleck, like she didn’t want to be one of the Guild.

“Nera, I think I was wrong,” he mumbled, looking back at the tunnels. He could see the dull shape of a dead end. All the turns and new tunnels were starting to get to him. The thief that made this tunnel could be near. He could be around even the next corner, ready to jump Fleck or Nera.

Nera whirled around to face him. “So, now you’re wrong,” she said. “Let me guess. We just walked ourselves into a dead end, didn’t we?”

Fleck shrugged and bit his lip, but he didn’t reply.

“Great!” Nera spat. “So, you’ve got us lost. You do know I didn’t want to dig today, right?”

“Hey, don’t blame me!” he said. “I wanted to just,” He stopped. All he wanted to do was impress his friend.

“What?”

In the blackness, Fleck hung his head. “I just wanted to try something new. Okay?”

Fleck swore he could hear Nera roll her eyes. “Yep. Your undying sense of curiosity gets us digging. Now, help me head up.”

Fleck started to dig up at the ceiling, before Nera pushed him to the side. “Do you understand even the most basic of tunnelling rules? Don’t ever dig up.”

Fleck curled his lip at her. “Do you know the basics of Gathering? And why not?”

Nera ignored his retort. “First off, we’ve gone down. Not up and out of the ground, straight down. Next, it takes days to make a tunnel. So, because of your not bringing the satchels, we’ll starve to death first. Next after that, We’ll collapse the tunnel before we even hit half-way up. So. Now what?” Nera spat back.

“Dig diagonally,” Fleck suggested.

“Ergh. I can’t ever go digging with a Gatherer,” Nera growled. “Of course, Fleck, if you want to crush yourself and suffocate faster, be my guest.”

Fleck was silent for the moment, and then Nera calmed down. “Sorry, Fleck. I just am so used to the other burrowers that know what they’re doing…”

Fleck raised his brow, hoping Nera didn’t see.

“Shut up,” Nera said, raising a paw and putting it over his face.

“What is it?”

“I said shut up,” Nera said. Her ears, though only barely visible, twitched like mad.

“What is it?” He didn’t even need Nera to answer. Finally he began to hear the sounds. A thumping, loud and in a pattern now. Like footsteps. The wolves of Wolf Plains were now barking madly, and Nera started to dip to the ground. Fleck mimicked it, crouching low onto the ground.

“It’s the man.” She twitched her ears. “He’s close to the complex.”

Fleck raised his eyes to the dirt ceiling, watching the white grass roots flailing about. “Him and his children did this nearly every day before the complex lost its heat. It’s no different now.” Even as he said it, he realized he was just trying to convince himself.

Nera swung around. “No different? He’s carrying something big, making it even louder. And to be quite frank, worse.”

The dirt started to tumble above them, the loose black soil stopping at their hindpaws. “Alright. We have no choice. Dig like there’s a wolf behind you. And straight up!” Nera leaped up to the low ceiling of the tunnel, and the kicked at it. A pile of dirt fell down.

Stomp.

Fleck stood up and with both claws grabbed a grass root, pulling it down. More dirt fell, battering his face.

Stomp.

Dirt was now falling more, and the steady rolling sound of something was nearly vibrating the entire tunnel system. Now he understood why every so often Hazelwood cancelled a training session. It was whenever the man and his hoppers were above the complex.

“Dammit!” Nera shouted. Whatever glimpses of light got in here was enough to show that a giant block of ice was above them, glistening white. Even in May, there was still the rare block of ice.

“Now what?”

Stomp.

“We need to find another way out.”

Stomp. Another long stride from the man caused the ice to start shaking.

“Get out of the way, Fleck! It’s going to fall!”

Fleck leaped out of the way.

Thud.

This time, something huge dropped down, shaking the very tunnel. That was the last sound before Fleck and Nera were buried by stone and soil. Like a Stoneslide, he thought. A rock hit Fleck’s head and he lost all senses.

***

Fleck looked up around the darkness, waiting for the last bit of dirt to fully take him under. He braced himself by holding his breath underneath the small layer of dirt, but he didn’t feel the extra weight fall onto him. He just shook the dirt off his head, and looked up to see what saved them.

The chunk of ice did, which didn’t fall, thank the Great Hawk. He still tried in vain to inch away from the ice chunk. The stomps were still heard, and dirt was still tumbling around, but not at the rate it was before. Nera’s head popped out from the dirt. He was in for it. Nera was not exactly known for her tact. “Yeah, way to go, Fleck! Let’s get us into some scary tunnel and get buried!” she spat. “You’re lucky I don’t have some inner Guard in me.”

Fleck glared at her. “Look, Nera. I had no idea that the man was coming. And you’re the Burrower! Shouldn’t you be the one keeping track of turns?”

“I didn’t make the tunnel. And you led me in here.”

“Well that’s an excuse!” Fleck shouted. It was silent for a moment as Nera stuttered to form a retort, but then she stopped. She lowered her head, and Fleck realized that it was definitely much brighter in the complex. The ceiling of wood was visible in some parts, and the tunnels had all collapsed, save the one they were in.

“Nera-”

“Look. I didn’t stop talking because I didn’t have anything to say. Believe me, I have things to say, but if we keep talking, we’re going to suffocate and die.” She pushed herself out of the dirt fully. “Now. Help dig us out.”

“Okay," Fleck said, heading to where Nera was now standing. She was pulling pawfuls of dirt out of the way.

“We need to find an air source before the tunnels collapse again. Though next time, there won’t be no ice chunk to save us.” She kicked a sheet of soil at Fleck. “Hurry on!”

Fleck started to shovel its away in the direction Nera was digging from. Soon, they had passed a new nook, where the elbow turn used to be. Fleck sighed. However they had survived was beyond him. But maybe they wouldn’t even survive.

“We should just dig up," Fleck muttered. He looked at the wood ceiling. “You know, head towards the top.”

“And the complex floor? The ceiling? And what I just said?” In the dim light, the silvery mouse lifted a brow.

“You’re a burrower. I’ve seen you guys chew through wood.”

With that, Nera stopped digging right there. “The adult burrowers do the chewing. Know why?” she spat. Fleck shrugged. Nera knew her share of Burrowing, while Fleck knew about Gathering. It should be that simple. “Oh, of course you don’t. Bad things happen to mice who chew before they’re twenty. The last mouse that did it broke his jaw. It’s been askew for the rest of his life," Nera sighed. “Never healed back either.”

“Oh," Fleck said as a final pile of dirt fell forwards from Nera. He couldn’t imagine what Nera would look like with her jaw out of place. A new tunnel appeared, mostly intact until the end a foot away. The end being the new wall of dirt. A draft started to flow in though, and mixed with the air cooled by the icicle, it ruffled his fur and made him colder.

Nera sighed. “Thank the Great Hawk," she muttered. “We can breathe now.”

Fleck nodded. Something popped into his mind, as he was still thinking about the burrower who broke his jaw. “Do they ever heal?”

“What do you mean? Course they do," Nera said, pushing aside more dirt.

“Not like that. I heard from a Healer that normal bones get stronger when they heal. But with jaws they get weaker.”

“Then don’t ask me. Ask a healer.” Nera climbed up ridges in the wall until she hit the ceiling. “Now we can dig diagonally. I can see sunlight from here!” she said. “If we can get over these tunnels there’s enough space to crawl out…”

Scuff.

Fleck looked around quickly, then realized where the sound was coming from. “It’s the man again.”

A blast of dirt went up and hit Nera in the face. She fell backwards, shaking the soil off her face. Fleck went to help her, but she scowled and pushed him away. “I’m okay.”

Scuff.

Fleck nodded as another blast of dirt came their way. It flew over Nera’s head, but hit Fleck right in the back of it. He was knocked over on the spot, coughing.

“Alright. Until he’s done doing whatever he is, then we keep low," she said while getting into a crouching position.

Fleck nodded.

They sat in silence until the scuffing stopped a few minutes later. Fleck raised his ears, then one more blast of dirt flew through the air. His ears were whipped forwards and then back as soon as the dirt was on the ground into a new pile.

Fleck put a paw to his ears, A drop of blood ran down them and onto his face. “It-It cut my ears.”

“Scat happens,” Nera grumbled, her ears triangulating for the next sounds.

The man stomped once more, and then all motion in the tunnels stopped. It was dead silent except for the two mice’s own breathing.

Something whacked against the complex. Fleck heard feet above him in the complex, running frantically.

Something whacked once, twice, and then a giant shuffling sound rang through the tunnels, making Fleck’s ears hurt.

Fleck lowered his ears as a giant plank was shoved above where they were just going to start crawling. The tunnel was thrown in darkness once more.

“Nera?” Fleck asked as he heard pawsteps. He saw the dim silhouette of Nera leaning against the soil wall. “Alright. You’re okay.”

Fleck saw the giant plank bend only the slightest bit. He heard the man grunt outside.

Soon, he saw something begin to lift. He didn’t know whether he was sinking in the dirt or if the… the complex was being lifted up. Fleck stood with rapt attention as dirt started to fall, and now the ice chunk fell over. It rolled to the side so that it touched Fleck’s hindpaws. He didn’t move though. He turned his head back down so dirt didn’t hit his eyes. He looked over to Nera, who watched the lift with rapt attention. “Nera,” he said. “Turn away before you get blinded,” he said, lowering his head.

He didn’t know if Nera responded or not. All that he heard was the sound of things falling over, the screams of distraught mice, and the creak of old wood. Pieces of the foam lining the bottom of the complex fell down and hit his head, or more so floated down quickly. He heard a cry from Nera. A chunk o wood clattered above their heads as it fell to the ground. Fleck could only think of chaos.

Suddenly, there was no sound. It was almost like it didn’t happen at all. He heard the footsteps of the man walking away now, and Fleck looked out. The late May sun shone brightly, nearly blinding him for a moment. He turned to Nera, who coughed and looked out. She didn’t blink or turn back. Just stared out at something. Fleck turned around. “Holy Hawk,” he breathed.

The entire complex was above on its side. Fleck blinked. “How? Just…how did it happen?” The complex was big enough for the man’s entire family to sit in it, and somehow, he managed to lift it. Then, worse thoughts began to creep into his head. Who could have died in the fall? What about the… “The Storage Room!” Fleck shouted. He climbed over the wall of the burrow as quickly as he could, sand-brown fur bristling. He burst into a run, leaping over the other tunnels. He turned back. “Come on, Nera!” He stumbled at the next jump, avoiding the wall that started to cave beneath his weight. He stopped at the edge of the storage room, or what it used to be.

It was utterly destroyed. The Storage Room, usually a secure space in the darkness, was bathed in bright morning sunlight. The seeds that used to have their own separate piles for everything were destroyed, the man only leaving behind scattered remains.

Fleck felt his stomach drop. The Storage Room was the world that he was tasked with keeping safe ever since he was four seasons old. Now, it was nothing.

Nera looked around frantically and leaped into the storage room. Fleck followed her and coughed as he saw the dust that lingered in the air below. “Fleck, there were trainees with you, weren’t there?”

Fleck nodded, brown eyes widening. “Great Hawk. Damma! Hex! Fescue!” he shouted.

“Here,” two voices weakly called out. Fleck ran towards the voices and turned behind a corner.

Fleck dropped down at the sight of Hex and Damma. Damma was having a coughing fit, and Hex was looking at her and back at Fleck. “Great Hawk, guys,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. We-We Just dropped off the satchels when…when…” Damma stopped and lowered her head. “We’re sorry. We couldn’t save nothing. Not even a seed!” she sobbed into Fleck’s shoulder.

Fleck stiffened in the hopper’s grip. He looked at Hex, who was starting to cry on his own. “It’s alright, guys. Just stay here until Hazelwood or your mother finds you.” Under his breath he added, “Hawk knows the entire population of Wolf Plains will be here.” Fleck looked around. “Where’s Fescue?”

The hoppers didn’t respond, giving each other a sad glance.

Nera looked around. “We’ll find him. We promise.”

Hex shook his head immediately. “You can’t find him. You never will.” Hex breathed in deeply, his voice ragged.

“Why not?” The dust had started to settle onto Hex’s pelt, making the grey mouse look brown.

Hex choked in a breath. “We couldn’t dig him out, and then we couldn’t…” Hex stopped and bent over, pushing his face into his paws. “Me and Damma couldn’t hear him.”

Fleck’s face bent into a frown. His shoulders sagged. “You don’t mean…” Damma let go of Fleck and sat back with Hex. She wiped her bright blue eyes.

“Fescue was buried?” Nera asked, a certainty edging her voice.

Hex nodded, his tail sweeping away the loose dirt.

“Great Hawk,” was all Fleck could say. His throat tightened painfully.

Nera stood up taller. “Then you wait here. We need to report this to Sir Highwhisker.”

“He’ll come. For now though, we need to keep an eye on them,” Fleck said. “If there’s another mudslide, we want to be able to dig them out before,” Fleck paused and looked over to Hex and Damma. “We’ll keep you safe,.” He patted Hex’s shoulder. “Just trust us.”