Stoneslide - Chapter 15

Tulun looked at the giant shadow over her. A brown blur was leaning over her. A brown blur with points.

Tulun blinked her eyes open. She couldn’t see anything in front of her, except a brown blur.

“I need a yarrow poultice, Tarlo. It’ll kill the infection. Probably stop it.”

“Probably?” someone echoed. Her mind told her it was Tyranos.

A sharp pain shot to her tail ever other second, or when a step echoed through the… wherever she was. It frustrated her. She knew she was somewhere, but she didn’t know. Not knowing itself was frustrating.

Her vision slowly went dark. She fought to keep her eyes open. Here she was, on the floor of this place, being taken care of by something else. Her body finally gave way and she closed her eyes. Maybe she was dreaming, once more.

A stab of pain through her tail corrected her. Dreams had no pain.

***

Tulun was pushed against the trunk of a pussy willow tree. “Think you’re so high and mighty, being a Captain. Remember this, sister. I’m an officer and I can exile you, kill you, whatever I see fit, if you dare cross the line.” His dark blue eyes bored into Tulun, and the tiny mouse squirmed beneath his paws. It was useless. Her paws dangled to the ground.

He reached to his side and pulled a sword. With his port paw, he swiped a line in the dirt. Then one more. And another, until in the dirt was a fully formed shape. It was a shadow of a mouse, with teeth like a wolf’s. “This is our army’s leader. We’re all just messengers for him, even Queen Tandrai. And you know what his message is?”

Tulun shook her head. There was no mouse like that. Ever. Some bogey to scare hoppers into their beds.

“Follow him, or die. That simple. If you do, you’re pure. If you don’t, you’re less than mud.”

Tulun shrunk in her pelt at the mouse’s words. She didn’t even bother responding. In these dreams, she couldn’t talk. Tulun looked in a moss cape over her body, cloaking her thin fur. Something in her pocket shone in the moonlight. Without a second thought, she grabbed for it. She willed her body to keep like a Wolf Plains mouse, not this dream mouse. Yet again, her body did something different. It reached, clutching the dagger. The tiny mouse held the dagger to Kyran’s stomach. “I’m just as strong as you,” she said, but no sound came out. Maybe it was a good thing. She didn’t even believe what she was saying. How could she? She must’ve been less than five seasons old. He looked fifteen, yet he still looked like he could take on any adult mouse. Almost like Tyranos did with Occelle.

Kyran growled and took his paw off her chest, letting Tulun drop to the ground. “I’ve heard pups aren’t the best at remembering things. Maybe this will help.” His paw shot forwards, but stopped as soon as the sword tapped Tulun’s face. His paw flicked artfully, and Tulun hardly felt the pain, but as Kyran’s paw moved back, a drop of wetness began to drip down her face. She put a paw up to her face, tapping it. She put her paw in front of her, and a dark red liquid began dripping down it. She ran her paw along her cheek, and realized Kyran carved a fine line down it, right beneath her starboard eye. Kyran smiled maliciously. “Think of that line as a reminder. It’s the fine line between the Hawk and Sandil. Remember.” He made a slitting motion over his neck with his port paw. “Also, if you tell Tyranos, I’ll kill the both of you.”

Tulun refused to nod as she ran away. Instead, she stopped, turned around, and stuck her tongue out. Then she sprinted off before Kyran could catch her.

***

In the camp, the first thing she saw was a square regiment of fifteen mice. In front of her, were three squirrels covered in mud. The first squirrel, the only one that was truly earth-coloured, grimaced. He then began to chuckle at Tyranos, who stood in front of the mice. “So. You’re the leader of this fine crew?”

Kyran stalked forwards, pushing Tulun to the side. He then shoved aside Tyranos. “Only eight of them, squirrel. Now tell us about Saldiro.” He held his iron sword to the squirrel’s throat.

“Completely full of weasels and stoats, mouse.” His fur bristled as he spoke. Tulun stood up, brushing the snow off of her legs with a moss cloak around her back.

“That’s Officer to you.”

“They’ll kill you before you even see their shed, Officer,” he said, saying Kyran’s title as if it was completely normal. “I’ve said too much already.” He looked at his comrades, who were struggling with their grass bindings.

Tyranos stepped in front of Kyran, shoving him aside subtly. He grabbed he squirrel, pulling him up to his face. Both eyes met, one full of hatred, the other full of surprise. “Send a message to Deerwillow, squirrel. If this march goes well, we’ll spare your city. If it doesn’t…” He put a paw over the squirrel’s chest, flicking his finger across it with a slitting motion. Tyranos then looked at the other two squirrels. He motioned to Tulun. “You’re the newest captain. What do you want to do with them?”

Tulun nodded, her stomach sinking. She wouldn’t want to kill them, or even make death threats to them. But then, she was mute here. Maybe she didn’t have to say anything. She stayed silent.

“Alright. Run, squirrels. Back to your home, and remember that we’re the Frozenmoon army.” Tyranos lifted them up and sent them back. But one didn’t move, the earth-coloured one. His near-black fur lay flat, and he inspected his surroundings.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he began, “but I would like to fight here.” He looked completely nonchalant, as if being surrounded by a hundred armed mice was nothing. “Join. You know?”

There was a moment of shocked silence. With a look around, Tulun realized why they were. It was an army of mice, and not any other creatures were visible.

Kyran was the only one who didn’t look surprised. He stepped forwards, both arms raised. “Alright. You can join. What’s your name?”

“Aspen, Officer,” he said.

Kyran raised a brow, suppressing a grin. That grin scared Tulun, but now she knew why. Kyran was malicious.

“That won’t strike fear into anything. I’ll choose your new name, squirrel.” He seemed to stop, and raised his ears. “Leurce. That’s your name. You are cruel to abandon your comrades like that. Which if you don’t mind,” Kyran said, pausing, “Archers!” He motioned with his paw to both squirrels, and within seconds they fell to the ground. Tulun looked behind her and saw five archers take their bows down. She wanted to cringe, but her body didn’t move. Why didn’t she have any control?

Something echoed through the sky. “She’ll wake up in her own time, Tyranos. She’s not going to die, you know.”

Then Tulun’s eyes began to flutter open. But instead of the last dreams where they were forgotten nearly instantly, the dream lingered in her mind.

***

As she blinked her eyes open, her vision was still blurry, yet better than when she last woke up. She could make out the blurry shape of a rabbit, the brown creature becoming more clear by the moment.

Immediately, she looked up at Tyranos, who looked at her with so much worry, she felt her stomach clench. All because she didn’t listen for that truck.

Tulun averted her eyes from Tyranos’ serious gaze, and murmured, “I didn’t say anything, did I?”

Tyranos didn’t even frown at her question, which she realized was stupidly insensitive. Instead, he smiled. He began to laugh. “Great Hawk, Tulun!” He lifted her up and held her in her arms. Tulun’s fur bristled, with the dream of Kyran holding her up like that, and the fear that flooded through her, but then she reminded herself.

This was Tyranos, and not whatever creature that was in her dreams, either.

He put her down, ruffling her fur. A pain shot through her tail as she sat down and she looked back. The half-tail looked somewhat better, but also a bit shorter.

“She had to cut off some more of it. So it didn’t get any worse.” Tyranos motioned to the moss surrounding Tulun’s tail.

The blood drained from Tulun’s face. That explained.

“Sorry,” Tulun looked down at her paws, digging into the dirt. “I didn’t worry you, did I?”

“What do you think you did? I sure as scat wasn’t happy you were dying.” Tyranos leaned in again and hugged her. “You’re all I have left, you know.”

Tulun looked down. There still was Trill. She got Drea to take Trill to the Healers’ complex. She did it for Tyranos, and because the Guild was small enough already.

The rabbit sighed. “Well, head on out. That blond mouse, Edvard, wants to speak.” She patted Tulun and she stood up. She began walking down the tunnels, looking back at the rabbit, a muddy brown with black ear tips.

“Thank you.” Tulun lowered her ears and swished her tail, trying to ignore the obvious pain in it. “What’s your name?”

“Talaniah, Tulun.” The rabbit nodded, her brown eyes twinkling. “Now go on, before that Edvard mouse goes nuts.”

Tulun blinked in confusion. Girls had the short names, and boys had the really long names. Among mice, that was.

As soon as she left the small room in the expansive burrows, Tyranos grabbed her and hugged her. Tulun’s mind cleared fully, and she tilted her head. “You hugged me. I’m definitely dreaming,” she said, grinning.

“You could have died,” was Tyranos’ prompt reply. He was completely different from the younger mouse in Tulun's dreams. The dreams weren't real, were they?

“You aren’t exaggerating, are you?” Her voice was serious now. After a second, she looked up at him. One look at his gaze was enough to tell. It was really serious. “How-How long was I out?”

“All day,” he said, stepping down the corridors. He took a port turn. He whirled around. “Are you okay? Not hurting at all?” Too different from the dream-Tyranos. “Come on. Before Edvard does exactly what Talaniah says.”

They walked in silence, Tulun trying to keep her tail above the dirt, as every time it bumped against the ground, a pang went through her.

“Fleck’s so worried, about you that is, that he’s talking to Edvard.”

Tulun felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she looked away, as a smile began to creep on her face. Really?

“Great Hawk, Tulun, I thought you were dead!” Fleck ran towards her and stopped. He turned away. “Though, it’s good to know that you’re alive. Talaniah told us it was bad.”

Tulun blushed and turned away. She put a paw to her face, and felt a small… line… across her face. Her eyes widened as she touched it. Why had she never noticed it?

Edvard sniffed. “That kills the plan. Well, let’s get to business. Now, they’ll let us talk. Strange names, they have, though.”

***

Tarlo led the four expedition mice into a giant room. Fleck hadn’t seen this one before, or like any of the rooms in it. The roots of the pussy willow trees couldn’t even reach around to the burrow, it was so deep beneath the ground. At the realization, Fleck’s fur began to bristle. Was it really safe?

In the giant room, the only thing decorating it an ancient wooden table, scratch marks laced the sides of it. Yet they were not rough, but soft. Beneath the giant ones in the high-ceilinged room, smaller claw marks tore at the dirt, contrasting completely to the giant ones in every way. Yet there were still those soft claw-marks. Then beneath even those claw marks, long lines carved through the dirt, scarring it forever. Mixed with it, was darker brown dirt, nearly tinged red. It could be blood, with the dark brown tones it had, but it just might be the dirt. Fleck didn’t know.

“This isn’t a rabbit den, is it?” Fleck head darted this way and that. He tried to forget it was a burrow, but every detail of it reminded him. It was in fact a tunnel, like back at the disaster.

“Badger sett,” Tarlo replied absently. “Not like the badger’s alive anymore, though.” He sat down at a table, black ears twitching. “Sit down, will you?” He motioned to the table, full chairs, like there used to be an entire group of rabbits nearby.

But Fleck only caught glances of young rabbits. Nowhere near enough to fill the table, once more scratched with rabbit claw marks. So, of course, he asked why. “Where is everyone?”

“This was Clan Sandbar.” He stood up, but didn’t meet Fleck’s eyes as he spoke. “If it weren’t for Frozenmoon’s army, they’d be here…” He stopped at the sight of Tyranos and Tulun sitting at the table, and narrowed his eyes. What’d the rabbit have against them, of all mice? “But they wiped them all out. Starved them to death, and those that didn’t? Cut down.”

Edvard raised his paws up. "If you wouldn't mind, Tarlo…"

Tarlo clenched his paws on the table. “What is it?” He sat down on a chair, still glaring daggers at Tulun and Tyranos. They didn’t have anything to do with… what happened. As he looked around, he realized what the dark red dirt was. Ancient blood. He was right.

Edvard sighed and shrugged. “As much as we’d like to hear stories about Frozenmoon, and believe me, I have some of my own,” Edvard said calmly, also glaring at Tulun and Tyranos. They had nothing to do with Frozenmoon. Get off of their backs, he wanted to shout at them, but he didn’t. “I would like to talk about what we need to build. Or maybe for you to dig.”

Tarlo sighed and looked at the blond mouse steadily, yet with such a look that looked more like ice than it did a pair of eyes. “Go on.”

The table stayed silent, waiting for Edvard to say something.

He breathed in, clenching and unclenching his paws. “Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Back at Wolf Plains, the man that lives there… he’s lifted the Gathering complex-”

“Gatherers? New Guild?” Tarlo narrowed his eyes, and Fleck lowered his ears. With every glare the rabbit gave, the place just got worse and worse. He kept sneaking glances at Tulun, who was giving him the same look.

Edvard continued, "Yes, Tarlo. Now he's got it bordered off. If you could help us dig it out so we can get to the storage room…"

“Storage room? Oh,” he seethed, “Highfeather’s done it now! How could he- the stupid, insufferable… mouse!” Tarlo stood up, stalking around the table with a hop-like step.

Tyranos glared at Edvard from next to Fleck, and Fleck followed suit. “Way to go, Edvard,” Fleck said, but was silenced by another foul-mooded glare from Tyranos.

“I told him. I did too. Told him what would happen, all of the scat we’d be in, and look where we are!”

Tulun put a paw to Fleck’s shoulder from next to him, the black mouse smiling weakly, but Fleck shook it off. Much as he was happy she was alive, there was an angry rabbit, and it always felt wrong to him to feel happy when another was fuming.

Tulun raised her voice to try and combat with Tarlo, who was now shouting. “We know you’ve got a grudge against Highwhisker, but you’re probably killing him if you don’t help us.”

Tarlo looked down at the mice with such contempt, that Fleck shrunk in his dark brown fur. “Bah! What would I want with you mice anyway? You’ve killed my family, my friends,” Tarlo growled, his eyes trained on Tyranos and Tulun, and Fleck felt his pelt bristling.

Fleck stood up before the rabbit could continue on any further. “They’ve done nothing wrong!”

Tarlo grinned. “There are so, so many things that you don’t know, Fleck. You waste our time with all your useless, over-organized ways, your stupidity in leader choices, everything. Now I know this for a fact.” Tarlo stepped towards the wall, yet with every hop-step he took, it sent a blazing fear through Fleck. These rabbits were huge, and they probably didn’t even need swords to kill a mouse. “Mice are untrustworthy vermin. How do I know that you don’t have some extra backup group right now, sneaking in now and killing my bunnies?” His voice raised even higher.

Fleck caught Tyranos giving a look away from the table, his eyes tracing the red sword-marks on the wall.

Tarlo glared, motioning his paws to circle the table of mice. “Exactly what I thought. Leave now. Take a poultice for your sister, but after that, get away. Mice never change, so you can all tell Highwhisker I never do either.”

Tulun and Tyranos got down first. Soon, Fleck did, leaping down from the chair and catching his balance. He caught a glance at Tarlo, then his eyes wandered to Edvard. And he wasn’t moving. In fact, he stood taller on that chair, blond fur bristling.

“I don’t care what you say, rabbit. If you don’t want safety from Frozenmoon, then I suggest you refuse.” Edvard, still being the mouse he was, was still trying to scare a creature into doing what he wanted.

Tarlo raised a brow. He reached at the top of the ceiling and something unhooked, scraping against the dirt ceiling. He bounded towards Edvard, a snarl on his lips. As much as Fleck would have wanted Edvard gone, it shouldn’t end in a bloody death. He tried to move, but his feet were rooted to the spot, as if his body wanted to stop him.

“Frozenmoon’s gone, save the little wrecks you brought home with you,” Tarlo growled, “Now leave. Before your head is on this spear.”

Without a word, Edvard backed away, until he started going in a full-blown run down the tunnels.

With a silent nod to Tarlo, the other three left the tunnel, soundlessly kicking up loose dirt.

When Fleck looked back to see Tarlo, his spear was dug into the ground, and Tarlo now sat at the table, the white patches on his fur flat in the darkness. “I’ve lost too much to let it happen again. Maybe Clan Sandbar would return.” Tarlo looked up to meet eyes with Fleck. His eyes blazed in hatred and fear. “If only it could.”

***

The light brown mouse in front of Nera, Wren, seemed to hate everything Nera did. Though they’d only been walking for a few hours because Terris got stuck in some mud, she’d found herself hating Wren just as much. This might have been the chance to get away form Rozalin that she’d been hoping for, but it was certainly no walk in the morning sun.

Finally, Terris spoke what was on all the mice’s minds. “Alright, Trill. What’s this mission about?”

Trill turned, a frown on her face. “I wouldn’t have gone on it, but we need Roz on our side.” She sighed, stopping right after a small pebble on the ground.

“That didn’t tell us anything.” Nera stepped up, the fur on her back bristling. She nearly shrunk from Wren’s one-eyed gaze, but still stood tall. The weapons, the Guards, who were known for fighting, and yet Trill wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Alright. You want to know, Nera?” Trill stood up. “It’s an assassination mission.”

Nera nearly leaped backwards, but only stopped herself by digging her hind paws into the dirt. “What?”

“You should’ve listened to Rozalin. Well, now you’re here, and I’ll tell you who it’s for.” Trill didn’t even raise the scroll in her satchel, which had its Guild Sign torn off. “First? Edvard Redwillow,” she said, muttering something under her breath afterwards. “Next is Tulun.” Trill started looking down at her paws. “Anybody want to head home now?”

The others looked at their paws, but didn’t say anything. Nera didn’t either. She knew what would happen if she said anything. An assassination mission was something she wouldn’t want to be part of.

“Good.” Trill’s face just fell further as she said, “Next, we’ve got Flekkanos Smallsnout.”

Before Trill could finish the next mouse, if there was any, Nera immediately put her sword down. “I’m not going to do it. Not for you. Not for the Guildless.” Nera backed away slowly, trying to hold the now-infuriated gaze of Trill. As Trill took one step toward her, motioning to the other three, Nera turned and bolted.

She’d only made a few steps before she was tripped and she fell face-first in freezing mud. She rolled over and picked herself up, and wiping the mud from her eyes, continued to run, though much slower.

A spear whizzed by her, and she ducked as it nearly hit her shoulder. She fell into the mud once more, but before she could get up, Trill stood above her, pointing her spear at Nera’s back. She rolled over to face the dark grey mouse, and glared. “Ah, Nera, Nera…” She smiled, yet her eyes still blazed. “You think you’re the only one here with a friend. Guess what? I have to kill Tyranos, and to me, he’s much more than just a friend.”

“Yeah, right,” Nera seethed, grinding her teeth. She wiped mud from her face.

“You know what? I’m not doing this for the Guildless or for myself, either. I’m doing this for Hazelwood.” In the now-falling rain and muck, Trill looked even more menacing, a mouse that would go against all odds for what she deemed right. “And we’re more alike than you think,” she growled through her teeth.

“We aren’t like each other. At all.” Nera sat up in the mud, but still sucked in her chest to avoid the sharp tip of Trill’s spear.

“Oh, we are. We’re so alike, we want to stay alive until the end of this mission. So stay here, wield that sword proudly, and don’t desert.” Trill lifted her spear off of Nera’s chest. “Or you’ll be the first to die.” Trill stood tall and turned around, leaving Nera in the mud. “Come, mice.” She raised her paws, leaving young Nera to pick herself up and follow. Her ears lowered, and she tried even harder to avoid the gazes of the others. Yet there she was, doomed to kill her best friend.

“Once these mice are gone,” Trill began, “Highwhisker will be, too. Then we’ll have truly won.” Though she held her spear high, walking with a confident stride, her voice faltered. Who was she trying to convince?

To Nera, Trill was convincing herself. By one look at Shayn, it was the same. They both held each others’ gazes and nodded. At least two mice here had emotions.

Nera picked herself up fully and held her spear. It wasn’t held high, nor was it held low, but just enough to convince Trill, even if by one look on her face, she wasn’t buying it. What had she gotten herself into?