Stoneslide - Chapter 12

Tulun opened her eyes and found herself beneath a dark sky with a dark purple hue. The stars above her twinkled, but as her eyes travelled down, a ceiling started to appear. She stood in a room, alongside a mouse. She was a fierce tricolour. She leaped back at the sneer she gave Tulun. Two scars ran over her eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice the star Tulun couldn’t help but give.

She looked down at Tulun, not exactly with anger, but with contempt and resignation.

“Your majesty,” she said, turning up to the end of the room. In the back of it, there was a chair of four stones. One for the back, another for the seat, and the last two for arms. “Your pup here doesn’t understand how we do things.” She looked gigantic, even though her proportions showed her she was normally sized.

In the darkness of the night, it looked as if nobody were in the chair, but the chair, a dark stony grey, had its back blocked by a shadow. When she looked closer, she saw two bright blue pinpricks. But Tulun was here, who was that one?

“Come here, Tulun,” the shadow on the chair said. Tulun heard a tap. Somehow, she felt a warm feeling in her stomach at the voice and walked closer to it. She hopped up on the chair, expecting her legs to land on like when she usually leaped. Instead, she only got to her stomach, and she had to scrabble in order to get onto the chair. As though she was too small to get on normally.

“Watch the dagger, dear.” The shadow moved a blade and out it onto her lap, placed onto another blade. They both had the same shape, fierce double-sided blades. One was white, with an old moss hilt in between each side, and the other was black iron with a red glass hilt. The only difference, besides colour, was that the white stone blade had etchings written all along it.

Tulun was dragged back into the conversation by a quick cuff to the ear. “Listen, Tulun.” She looked up at the tricolour steadily. “Occelle, I know you think Tulun can’t train, but you’re a simple soul.” She stood up, nearly making Tulun stumble off her perch on the chair. “Me and my pups are different. You were born a soldier, nothing more. We were born royalty. We were already made to hold command over others. So, she has to learn differently.”

Occelle seemed to clue in within seconds. “You’re not implying…”

“What? Is she not capable of leading a half-regiment?”

“She’s dumb.” Occelle shrunk under the deadly look the mouse gave her. “Not to be offensive or anything, Queen Tandrai.” The tricolour motioned to Tulun, who just got her balance on the chair’s arm.

“I am not dumb!” she shouted, but no sound came out. Her mouth didn’t even move.

The queen walked towards Tulun and put her soft paw on Tulun’s dark fur. “Make her a captain. She’ll lead alongside Tyranos.”

“Wh-what? She’s too young, and I won’t train her.”

“Then what about Kyran? Tyranos? You’ve got no problems with my sons being leaders, yet Tulun’s different? They started training at her age.” Tyranos was her son?

A thought began to creep in her mind. This must be a dream. She ran from the truck, then got hit by it on the tail. Then she found herself here. She had to be dreaming.

And dreams were never real.

“I’ve got nothing wrong with her,” she sputtered, her voice dropping to one of fear. Tandrai raised one of her curved daggers, the black one.

“Then you’d have no problem taking Tulun for one last training session? Carin’s still mourning for her pups, so you’ll have to do it.” Tandrai tossed one dagger in the air coldly, and then caught it as if she’d done it for seasons on end.

Tulun tried jumping from the chair that her dream-mother used to be on, but managed to tumble onto the ground instead of landing on her feet like the usually agile mouse. Then it hit her. Far too young? Tulun was basically a hopper in this space. She was truly tiny Tulun here, no avoiding it.

“I’ll take her, your majesty.” Occelle sighed. “Should I train her right now?”

“No time to train on the march. Do it before tomorrow.” The swished her long tail, the white tail-tip shining in the moonlight.

“Go to Tyranos and Kyran, first. I’ll tell Occelle to wait.” Tandrai nudged Tulun down the longhouse hall, which led into an underground tunnel system just like the guards’ complex. “They’ll be waiting.”

***

“They’ll be waiting,” Tulun murmured, making Tyranos prick his ears. Her blue eyes opened in the midday light. Tyranos shook his head incredulously. Tulun sounded exactly like Queen Tandrai with those words. Tyranos sighed, continuing to walk on all fours, though his step faltered every time he hit a stone. The muskrat did a number on him, for sure.

“Good morning, Tul,” Tyranos said, standing up to let her slide off her back. She caught herself tiredly and stood up. She blinked her eyes and yawned. Tyranos paused to let her stretch, much to the dislike of Edvard, judging by the stare he gave the giant mouse. “Sorry about that, Tyran- Holy Hawk!” Half her tail was broken clean off by the tire, and the moss bandages were working better than the cotton stuffing. It had set the group back, but the fresh moss stopped her from bleeding out.

Tyranos looked down. “Just be grateful you’re alive, half-tailed or not.”

Tulun didn’t reply, so Tyranos kept walking. He didn’t put any more weight on his port hind paw than he would need though. The pain started to thin in his legs as his mind wandered into deep thought. They’ll be waiting, where had he heard that before?

He snuck a glance at his younger sister, now running just to get ahead to Fleck. She definitely liked him. It was like she wasn’t even sleep talking as she ran and leaped over Fleck, though without her tail she lost balance, falling to the ground.

Then he remembered what had happened. Right after Tandrai said it, the conversation started to flow back to him.

His half brother Kyran had started it. Don’t tell me she’ll be joining us. She’s nothing more than a whelp.

Tyranos spat an insult back immediately. I thought that’s what you were.

Tyranos remembered seeing him stand up tall, the fur at the top of his black head bristling with his white body. Take care of her on your own, but when I get my paws on her, then she’ll really know what Frozenmoon is. Kyran gave such a glare that silenced even Tyranos, leaving him keeping an eye on Tulun as much as he could.

“Hurry up, Ty!” Tulun called back to him. “Are we going to quickly for you, Mister Slow?

Tyranos shook his leg, trying to hide the pained glare, as he always had been taught. “Let’s race, then.”

***

Trill opened her eyes as she was tapped on the shoulder by Kanter. “Have you heard the news?”

Trill shook her head, keeping the small ball of snow attached in clumps to her head fur. “What happened?”

“Tyranos ran away or died. Serica’s picking a new Trainer right now.” He flicked his white head. “Come on!” He sprinted down the tunnels, tapping his paws on the ceiling.

Trill shook her head slowly and immediately began to follow him. Tyranos couldn’t have! She ducked at a particularly low part of the tunnels and swore quietly as the dirt clipped some of the snow from her head. It was the only thing that kept the wound on her head down, at least that was what the two Healers said. They wouldn’t be saying much more, would they?

She skidded to a halt at the common room, where only five guards actually stood. Serica and Raven were two of them. They all were covered in mud that was blown all over their faces. The wind never really died down around Wolf Plains after the day before.

“Who is it going to be?” A young mouse tugged at Trill’s arm and she shook it away.

“Not now, Madigan,” she growled. Serica, the biggest ‘Whiskerlover of all, would probably pick Raven, the second biggest. Scratch that. Rozalin was the biggest ‘Whiskerlover.

“It’s going to be quick, okay?” Serica trained her eyes on Trill, her nearly black fur laying perfectly flat. “There’s a council meeting at sunset.” Serica turned her head, but the Leader’s blue eyes were still trained right on Trill. She didn’t know whether or not to feel, sad, happy, or angry. All of them, maybe.

“Well, Trillium. You coming?” Serica said, raising a brow. A sneer lay on her face.

Trill couldn’t stop herself from walking forwards, but gave a glare to Kanter. She wouldn’t be the Trainer for long. It stunk of Guilds and segregation. It reminded her too much of her father, along with it.

Serica walked along side her for a moment, and then grabbed the young mouse, pulling her close. “You are going to live by the laws, and if I have to force you to train, then I will,” she seethed into Trill’s ears.

Trill wasn’t listening. She had other plans for the council meeting. In the name of Hazelwood, she would convert them all.

***

“Alright, crew.” Edvard’d been appointed leader, much to the dislike of Tyranos. He was a horrible mouse, asking for order from everything. In Edvard’s world, if a bird called in the morning when he didn’t want it to, he’d probably fight the bird. Of course after tying it up. “We’re going to camp here. It’s only going to get hotter, so we’d better get used to night travel.

Tyranos nodded, though he was waiting for Edvard to give the same distrusting glare that he always gave Tyranos at every sight. Edvard put his satchel down on the sandy dirt next to him. “Alright. I’ll set up leaf tents. You guys grab some seeds. Right now, we’re relatively close to Wolf Plains, so we’ll be safe from muskrats or rogue rabbits. Speaking of rabbits, we can probably cut this mission short if you find one or two of them.” He lifted a brow at Tyranos and Tulun, who looked at her tail worriedly.

“We guard. We don’t gather,” Tyranos said, white fur bristling. He tried pushing the mouse’s buttons. He always did it at any chance he got, enjoying the look on Edvard’s face when he tried to keep calm in front of Highwhisker.

Edvard glared at Tyranos. “I’m the leader, I need you to grab seeds so that we can eat before leaving tonight. Keep an eye out for rogue rabbits too. If we need Burrowers, then a rabbit will be best.”

“Fine. Come on, Tulun.” He couldn’t help but give small glares to Edvard as he passed. “Stupid Tailor, he murmured, “Why can’t somebody useful actually be the leader?”

***

Fleck looked down at his paws sheepishly, and then back at the stalk of grass. “You’re a great friend, teaching me all those moves, and I really like you,” Fleck began, and started mumbling to himself. He sat down a rock. He shouldn’t be talking to grass. “Well, you’re a great mouse. I wish I could stay with you forever,” he paused, her face fresh in his mind. “Maybe we could?” The sun started setting now, and after searching around for seeds for an hour, he decided to take a break. He started out looking at Wolf Plains from a distance, but ended up pretending to propose to a stalk of grass. Fleck stood up, brushing dirt off of his knees. “Why am I even talking to you?” he sighed, waving at the stalk as he started heading back to camp.

He only had a handful of seeds in his satchel, but maybe the others had found more. The group had something else to keep them going, that worked for extra energy. He didn’t even know what they were called.

For now though, the grass waving in a light sunset breeze was calming. Least until he came closer to the camp. Sure enough, there was fighting. If it wasn’t between Tyranos and Edvard or Tyranos and Tulun, or even all of the mice at once, there was always fighting.

Fleck started walking closer to the camp, lowering his ears to stop the sounds of Edvard whacking to flints together, but a spark didn’t even show. He swore to himself under his breath, his fur bristled like he was scolding a hopper. “Took your time coming back, didn’t you?”

Fleck didn’t reply. He just looked around for the other mice.

Edvard seemed to read his mind. He twitched his tail up the large grey boulder. “Up there. Soon as they got back, I sent them up,” he said absently.

Fleck raised his brows. “Really, Edvard? We’re going to travel overnight and you’re keeping them awake.”

Edvard turned around, green eyes blazing. “I’m the leader of this mission, not you,” he spat.

Fleck glared right back, but wouldn’t persist. “Well, excuse me,” he muttered, putting his satchel on the dusty ground. “I’ve got seeds.” He pulled out the seeds, dropping them onto a small pile. More like throwing them.

“Good. Now go on rabbit patrol. They might not be able to see through the grass.”

Tyranos’ voice was clearly audible over the stone. “And what exactly are you going to be doing down there? Sitting and writing? Such hard work.”

“Does the ditch seem like a warm spot to sleep, Tyranos?” Edvard grabbed his satchel and pulled out a charcoal and set of bound leaves. He’d made it clear how every night he wanted to log what happened in a journal, and nobody was going to disturb him.

It was lost on Fleck though, why Edvard would want to record every little thing, unless he thought he was going to be the next ‘Whisker.

That seemed to silence Tyranos.

To Frozenmoon with watching out, Fleck thought.

The sun began to go fully over the horizon, the sky now turning to a dark blue. Even it got ready for the night.

Fleck stopped as water started flowing at his paws. He was just at the hill that led up to the gravel road that the expedition was travelling along. He jumped back at the icy water, and then saw where it was headed. He started walking in it, slowly getting his paws used to the water. At the end of the trail was a culvert pipe, large and round.

The water was flowing much faster now, nearly making Fleck trip in the water. He dug his hind paws into the grass, and decided to walk back.

To Frozenmoon with watching out. They were too close to Wolf Plains in order to have to watch out for things. Edvard was just being wrong.

"If I were leader,” he began, listing all the things that Edvard had done wrong for the day, and finding a way to change them, no matter how unrealistic. "If I were leader, I would have stayed and help Tyranos fight that muskrat. Or at least taken Tulun off his back."

***

Ketani tapped his spear on the wooden block. “Thank you for coming to this meeting.” His blue eyes met everyone else’s, but they didn’t say anything. Even Rozalin and Larx didn’t have the same look to them.

“Attendance check, please.”

“Tailors,” Rica looked at Highwhisker accusingly, but didn’t say anything. His mouth twitched at the corners.

“Guards,” Serica said.

“Blacksmiths.”

“Healers,” Adri said slowly, giving a glare to Highwhisker.

“Messengers,” Agenta said sharing a sympathetic glance with Highwhisker.

“Scavengers.” Damas said it this time, a wry smile on his face. Ariak averted her eyes from the light brown mouse.

“Burrowers,” Rozalin said flatly. She stood still, not even bothering to look Ketani straight in the face. It unsettled him.

“And…” Silas paused, then continued, “the Gatherers.” He looked just as strange as Rica on the other end of the semi-circle, with only two mice on his side of the semi-circle. One of them was just a trainee. Hex, his name was, Highwhisker thought.

“I do want to keep this meeting quick. I just need to know how your guilds are faring.” He almost added ‘against the Guildless,’ but quickly decided against it.

Silas started. “We haven’t picked a trainer yet. Though it seems that we’re getting a new trainee early. Mia.”

Odd.

“We’ve lost an important mouse to the storm two nights ago, Zekarie, due to injury,” Rozalin said. “I guess the meshing broke through too much of his skin. He won’t be able to dig until the next season.”

Trill looked away, and then glared at Highwhisker, her yellow eyes flaming.

Damas piped up, and Ariak cringed as he spoke. “The Scavengers have no business to send, besides a mouse stealing some coffee beans, rope, and a weapon.” Highwhisker shrunk in his fur at Damas’ deadly tone.

Next was Agenta. “We aren’t getting any messages to send any more. The Guilds are all doing it themselves.” The sound of his paws tapping on wood was barely audible.

“We’re fine, but we found two of our graduates dead this morning. Janiel and Lana.” Adri’s voice had true sadness in it, like it was a surprise that a loyal mouse would be killed.

“More mice have asked for weapons than ever before, at least since back when-” Highwhisker silenced Pyrill with a glare. He was going to bring up Frozenmoon. They’d all sworn not to talk about it, and they knew it.

“Two mice have run away last night. That’s all,” Serica said stiffly.

Trill shook her head angrily. “No. That is not all.” The dark grey mouse stood up, casting a glare at Serica. She rolled her shoulders. “I would like to introduce myself as the trainer of the guild. First, I am Trillium Hazelfang, daughter of Morlyle Hazelwood.” Trill stepped down the stairs, holding her satchel by a finger. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and stood at the centre. “My mother used to be a Frozenmoon mouse.” Highwhisker should have expected this. He tried to silence her with a quiet look, but she seemed to ignore him completely. “Highwhisker killed her and then forced my father never to see me again. So, he started the Guildless as soon as he saw the opportunity.” Trill chuckled, swinging the satchel by her paws. “And just because he is dead,” Trill began, aiming a gaze directly at Highwhisker, “does not mean that the Guildless is.”

Trill stood still in the centre of the courtroom, in the exact same position that Morlyle was in during his trial. “So, would you like to live under the reign of a coward?”

The council mice began murmuring to each other, but Roz sat on the pebble, silent as a stone.

“I’d like to offer you refuge, where you don’t need to live segregated by Guilds.”

“Trillium, watch your words,” Serica seethed.

“Why?” She turned to the other mice. “Just throw your satchel down on this pile,” she whipped her leaf satchel on the pile, and smirked at Highwhisker. “And the Guards’- Guildless’ complex will be yours to live in.”

First, Rica stepped down the steps, glaring at Highwhisker. He tore his satchel off and dropped it onto the pile. The tailor even left the needle in it.

Then came Adri. The healer curled his lip at Highwhisker. “Maybe I could see Kanter again.”

Soon, it was Pyrill, who looked at Ketani sadly as he dropped the satchel, caked with soot, onto the pile. There lay five satchels now as Agenta tossed his down. He looked over at Ketani. “This is for Juniper.”

Trill stepped around the pile, kicking dust and dirt onto it. “Alright. Is that all? Silas, Rozalin, Ariak?”

Ariak gripped Damas’ shoulder tightly, but he shook it off, not caring as she gave a cry of dismay. He pulled the strap off of Ariak’s satchel in one swift move and threw both satchels on the pile.

Silas cast Highwhisker a sad glance, and followed by the stares of all the mice in the Court Burrow, dropped his satchel onto the pile.

Highwhisker started running down, wincing with every quick step. “No,” he whispered. He stopped at the pile just as Serica began walking down, egged on by Trill’s fiery stare. “Wait. You can’t do this.”

Trill stepped onto the pile of satchels, digging her claws into the mix of fabrics. Serica’s satchel hit the pile. “You think you can choose what we do? Well, guess what?” Trill spat, “You are now wanted by the Guildless. You have ten minutes to leave this court Burrow. Hide, Highwhisker, as soon as the meeting is over.” She stepped forwards, pushing him on the chest. He crunched in half as the wound on his side sent a jolt of pain through him. “Because when we find you, we’ll treat you like we treat all murderers, thieves, and criminals.” She made a slitting motion on her neck.

Highwhisker stepped back as Trill turned to Rozalin. She didn’t do anything, just looked down in their direction with contempt.

“And you, Rozalin, we don’t need you or Larx’s support. We just need your mice. So leave the choice to the Guild, not you.” Trill stepped up the Court Burrow stairs, a last patch of snow falling off her head. “Now, everyone, the meeting is dismissed.” Trill tapped the spear on the wooden block and tossed it down to Highwhisker. “Take this. You just might need it. Now, your time is running out.”

Highwhisker ran, clenching his jaw to avoid the pain that each step gave him. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the leader anymore, but a criminal.

It would probably stay that way.

***

Highwhisker stopped at the top of the Healers’ complex and hid behind a plank of red wood. He looked back over the thin plank, seeing the mice head towards their complexes, probably to start preaching the rebellion. A small shape poked through the grass, not even headed for the complex. It looked up, meeting eyes with him. Serica? Or Trill? It was bolting towards the complex, but didn’t even stop. He saw the mouse disappear beneath the complex.

Just a second later, he heard claws on wood. Highwhisker looked up at the wood but stopped. He wouldn’t hide from this one. Grabbing his spear, he stood up. He held it out, holding his legs forward.

The claw scratching stopped and a near-black poked up over the stairs. “You up here?” she whispered. Thank the Great Hawk it was Serica.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Thank the Great Hawk.” She scrabbled up the last stair and stood up, a satchel swinging by her side. “I know a place to hide. Come on.”