Stoneslide - Chapter 4

“You do know you’re a horrible liar, right?” Smiling, Tulun nudged Tyranos playfully.

Tyranos smiled. “That Gatherer you waved your little finger at is the one who caused all this mess. He called Hazelwood out on it, and now he’s even crazier than before.”

Tulun shook her head. “I know you do this kind of stuff, Tyranos. That mouse didn’t do any of that.”

Tyranos thought for a moment. “There’s only one reason you’d defend that Gatherer,” Tyranos quipped.

“Yeah?” Tulun raised her brow. No one mouse could be guilty.

In the middle of the crowded common room, Tyranos looked like a young hopper. An absolutely mischievous one. “You… like him,” he said, grinning devilishly.

“Wha-? No!” she said, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. She didn’t. Just when it was said in front of the rest of the Guild was when it got embarrassing.

“Yep. Completely and totally,” he said. He began tapping his toes and hummed a teasing singsong.

Tulun narrowed her eyes at her brother playfully. “You toad,” she grumbled, kicking him in the leg. “You better just be teasing. And no, that mouse did not start the stupid thing.”

“Trill told me the whole thing when she got back from watch,” he said, “The whole reason that Hazelwood announced the revolution around there was because young Flekkanos pretty much told him to say it out loud.” He shrugged. “And if Trill’s happy with it, I’d be too.”

“Speaking of liking someone,” she murmured, smiling

“Not denying that,” he said.

The horn sounded throughout the entire tunnels. Another signal for another part of the day. Typically changing guarding shifts. Though at sunset it usually meant that any mouse not on the night shift should get to bed.

Tulun was knocked out of the way by a dark grey blur. She stumbled as she turned. “Oh! Sorry, Tulun. Bit of a hurry.”

Tyranos nodded. “You and Hjerral are on the night shift for Hazelwood tonight.”

Now the mouse was recognizable. It was Trill. “Why else am I in a hurry?”

Tulun raised a brow. “So he doesn’t escape?”

She bit her lip framed by a dark muzzle. “Yeah. Don’t want him escaping, right?”

Tulun didn’t respond. She watched as Trill began running down the tunnels and disappeared down a corner. Tyranos turned around, with a barely concealed grin on his face, and began to head for the rooms. Unlike the other Guilds, where there numbers were actually large enough to have dorms for each rank of mouse, there were individual rooms. The Guards’ numbers were that small.

As Tulun stumbled on a rock, she was quickly picked up by Tyranos. “Watch out.” He held her until she got her balance, and then he let her go. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Alright?”

“Got it.” She didn’t say anything about his big-brother tone. The white mouse would usually say it anyway and act like a sort of father.

Tyranos took a look at her quizzically. “Do you want a ride?”

“What?”

“Come on. Get on my back,” he said, shrugging. “Not to mention it’ll get you to bed faster.”

“I’m not tired. At twenty seasons- Oof!” The shadow-black mouse was lifted into the air by the paws and put on Tyranos’ shoulders. She rubbed her arms, pretty sure they’d be sore from where he lifted her.

“Ready?” From above his head, Tulun could see Tyranos’ fiery orange eyes blazing.

“No,” Tulun said. She was an adult. Not some hopper!

“Too late to get off now,” he teased and lowered down into a sprinting position. “Get down so I don’t hit your head.”

Tulun clung to his fur tightly, though in her mind she was grumbling. And to be frank, what she was thinking could never be said out loud.

As Tyranos took a jump before running, Tulun still nearly bumped her head on the ceiling. At the thought she remembered the trial. She had never seen an execution before, but Tyranos told her that Highwhisker never did it in private, a fact that chilled her to her stomach. “At least Hazelwood dies old,” she murmured. “And even without the complex, he would have gone mad anyways, right, Tyranos?”

Tyranos slowed down at the first room, which was empty save a moss bed on the dirt floor. “But the years haven’t been kind to Hazelwood.”

“How so?” she asked as she slid off the large mouse’s back. She looked into her room and back at Tyranos, looking for something that Tyranos might not be saying aloud.

“He used to be a guard. When the Guild was created, he was taken out of his guild and forced to train something he knew nothing about. Trill told me.”

“Oh.” Even if what Trill was saying was probably a lie, Tulun imagined if she was forced to become something like a healer. She would be completely unprepared. “At least the rebellion isn’t happening behind closed tunnels. The others know about it, and if they have any loyalty at all, will be prepared to defend against it.”

“Trill isn’t disloyal,” Tyranos whispered. In the darkness of the tunnels away from the skylights, only Tyranos’ orange eyes were fully visible. “I know she didn’t want to keep him from escaping. She wanted to hear more from him. She’s in for that rebellion.”

“I’m not saying anything against Trill,” Tulun countered, raising her paws up, but not into fists. Her blue eyes blazed. “I’m saying that if they have any loyalty to Highwhisker, then they’ll fight for him. She can still be loyal to who she wants.”

“It didn’t sound like that,” Tyranos muttered. He then closed his eyes so he was nearly invisible in the darkness. “Never mind. I’m headed to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tulun nodded and turned into her room, sitting down on the plain moss rug. She pulled out a dark pink petal from beneath it, and held it close. Somehow it held a natural glow to it, so that the black mouse could just see it. She couldn’t remember anything about where she had got it, and it was the wrong colour to ever be a Wolf Plains rose petal. And as far as she knew, there wasn’t any near-purple dye lying around. But maybe there was. She sighed and rolled over into the bed. She remembered back in spring four seasons ago, and how it was so warm in the tunnels she wouldn’t sleep beneath a blanket. Now it was that time again, so Tulun just leaned into the crumpled petal.

She knew there had to be some memory associated with it, but never knew.

No matter how hard she tried though, Tulun couldn’t sleep. She stretched out once more, and looked out her door. It was just pitch dark now out there now that the sun had probably already set. Maybe she just needed a midnight walk.

So she got up, tucked the petal beneath the moss, and started out of the tunnels.

***

The moon was high in the sky, the may starlight shining down on the city of Wolf Plains, that was far more quiet than when out was at daytime. There were no mice running through the grass. No Guards to be seen, and most of all, no words of rebellion, that had been running through the Gatherers since it was lifted up. Fleck silently watched the moon and the silhouettes of the foggy clouds that covered it, and then were blown away just as quickly as they had been covered.

He caught sight of a dark shape in the grass. Another mouse awake now? He’d come out just to pass the time and clear his head. He didn’t want to hear anything that was circulating around the Gatherers complex. And as mice got their satchels and things ready, they told every one about what Hazelwood promised.

It was all lies. Every last word didn’t happen. He was the eldest of the trainees and the eldest Graduate, as Silas had told him as soon as the trial was over. Hazelwood lied to get his ways, pure and simple.

Fleck’s thoughts wee interrupted by the feeling of the branch he was sitting on vibrating. Fleck looked down the birch tree and saw another young mouse, pure black with blue eyes. She pulled herself up from each little crook hanging from the waxy birch bark, and she leaped up to the next minuscule branch. She looked up, and blue eyes met brown.

She got up onto a thicker twig and balanced on two legs, crouching down as she stepped from one lower branch to the one higher. Her white tail-tip was held high as she leaped up a branch that was at least three times higher than she was. And wow, did the tiny mouse leap. She paused and sat on a twig. She looked up, blinking. “You could help, you know.” She took another leap, and the mouse landed on her feet on the branch next to him. She shook her paws, and the small mouse blinked. “Never seen a Guard climb?”

“Course I have,” he said, shaking his head from the amazement. “Just, how did you get up here so fast?”

“Training. Seasons and seasons of it.” The black mouse looked at him strangely, as if he looked familiar to her. Now that he thought about, he might have crossed her path once or twice too. He remembered the mouse at the council. “Were you at the trial earlier?”

She nodded. “Did you tell Hazelwood to tell everyone about the rebellion?”

Fleck shook his head vigorously, wonder what she meant. Then it dawned on him. He raised his paws. “It wasn’t like that.” He hung his head down, looking at his dangling feet. The ground was so far below. He felt his grip tightening and his fur bristling.

The black mouse crouched down, and her toes curled perfectly to meet the end of the branch. “Then how did it go? As far as my Guild cares, you’re causing a lot of fighting back there.”

“All I did was ask him whether or not it was Silas’ decision to shut down the entire Gathering Guild. Or even Highwhisker’s decision.” He sighed, debating whether or not to tell the rest of the story. “And then he went crazy. Began spreading what you Guards are probably hearing now. And I don’t believe a word of it,” he said, pounding his paw on the white branch he was sitting on. He could see the silhouettes of the pine trees covering the driveway, and his eyes traced him back to the gatherers complex. “I hope it doesn’t hurt to ask,” he began, looking down at his hind paws. “But what’s your name?”

She stood up, starting to walk along the edges of the branch, balancing herself by spreading her forelegs out. “It’s Tulun. Tulun Brighteyes. Twenty seasons old.” She swung around, and Fleck could see why she was called Brighteyes. She had nearly luminous sky-blue eyes.

He stood up, carefully holding his toes so they stayed rigid in the branch. “It’s Fleck. Fleck Smallsnout,” he said, and then paused, “Seventeen seasons old.”

“Odd,” she said, looking out at the horizon. “Everybody says that it’s Flekkanos.”

Fleck shrugged. “Well, Fleck’s short for that.”

Tulun sat down, letting her hind paws dangle alongside Fleck’s. “See why you’d shorten it.”

It was silent for a moment, until Fleck raised a paw. “How’d you become a guard? I mean, I thought you’d be a healer just by your,” he paused, “Size.”

Tulun turned. “Why are you a Gatherer?”

“Because I had a knack for finding things. At least that’s what Highwhisker said.” That was a stupid question.

“And I was chosen by Highwhisker for the Guards because I had a knack for fighting,” she said, pausing. “And again, to be the same, Highwhisker said that about me too.”

So Tulun and Tyranos didn’t have any parents to choose their Guild? She always imagined the Guard Trainer to have a father at least. That also explained why their last name described them perfectly. It wasn’t a mix of both their father’s last name’s prefix, and their mother’s last name’s suffix. Though Fleck never understood why he was called Smallsnout. He heard that he was taken in once.

“Oh.”

Tulun pricked her ears, turning them towards the Guards Complex, the pine trees dotting the edge of the dirt driveway.

“It’s the horn. Sorry,” she said, blowing off a scrap of leaf that fell onto her head. She dipped her head down, as if she was looking for another branch. “It was great to hang out with someone. Well, besides my brother. He’s been fawning over a certain someone recently, who’s fallen completely for the Hazelwood thing. And I can’t convince him.”

“Tell him that Hazelwood has nothing for him. Or whoever he’s going after,” Fleck called as Tulun leaped down another branch, long tail seeming to help her balance.

She looked up, putting all four paws to grip on the branch. Though Fleck didn’t know why. “Not when your brother’s Tyranos,” she said dismissively, hopping down one more branch.

“Wait!” Fleck held a paw out. Tulun turned her head again. “Maybe we can talk more. Just wander around Wolf Plains and discuss things.” He raised his ears hopefully at the sight of her twinkling blue eyes.

“Alright. How about noon-ish in the tree circle?” She used one paw to point down to the stone in the middle of the trees. “You know, right around here.”

Fleck nodded. “I’d be glad to. Meet you then!”

The black mouse leaped down from branch to branch, gracefully landing each branch. She must have been training for a long time.

Fleck yawned as he saw the moon sinking in front of them behind the pines.

He knew he would have to get sleep to do his first real day of Gathering. So the young mouse started down the trees. And he thought he was a fast climber. That Tulun was up the tree in a matter of minutes and down even faster. By the time Fleck got down, it could be well into dawn. At least if he didn’t fall asleep first.

***

“I can’t believe it.” Hazelwood whispered to himself. “After all these truths I’ve told, and they won’t listen. “Everything’s true, Hjerral,” Morlyle said. “Highwhisker did kill my wife, with his own spear. Stole my daughter away right after and told me never to see her again.” He sighed. His wife was a lovely mouse, the spitting image of Trillium. Just because she was from the army, didn’t mean anything. She could still have feelings. She wasn’t a mindless drone, and Carin was no exception.

The pure white mouse with blue eyes scoffed. “Really? And in December it’s warm and sunny,” he spat from the edge of the orange painted birdhouse. “Highwhisker’s done nothing of that. I bet you don’t have any family anywhere.” He shook his head at Trillium, who was listening with rapt attention. “You were probably taken in as a hopper from some rogue-ish city out there. Maybe even the army.”

Morlyle glowered at the mouse, whose long fur bristled, but fell limp at the ends.

“You’re pathetic, Hjerral. Do you want to really know whether or not I used to be Frozenmoon?” he growled, training his eyes on the only weapon in the birdhouse. At the sight of Trill though, the old mouse knew he would regret this. He hoped she didn’t ever resent him for what he was going to do. Something changed into him, and he felt his judgement clouding.

“Show me,” he spat. “Show me that you actually have a place in this city, and you’re not some sorry excuse for an old mouse.” He lowered his brows into a scowl. “Tell us why I shouldn’t push you off the edge of this birdhouse right now and be done with it.” The young mouse glowered.

Hazelwood shrugged, deciding whether he should kick the spear from Hjerral’s paws or not. “Because I’d push you off first.” To Frozenmoon with what Trill would think. His wife taught him something. It didn’t matter whether or not they understood what you were doing, as long as they stood for their leader and cause.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Trill didn’t say anything, just began to back away from the older mouse.

“Be careful, Hjerral,” Hazelwood heard Trill whisper.

The white mouse nodded, and though it looked as though he was able to fight off anything, Hazelwood knew better. Hjerral was scared. By the way his eyes were wide and Hjerral’s jaw was set. He was terrified, and Hazelwood knew it.

“There’s truth in Trill’s words.” And it was true. It was in Trill’s blood to know what was right. Just as Hazelwood knew it was right to get rid of the Guilds, and be forever Guildless, Trill knew never to question Hazelwood. Because Hazelwood was going to get his way, and get it in any way possible.

“What in Eversun’s name does that mean, old fool? It’s bad enough that your Guild likes you enough that we have to watch over a skinny corpse like you for one more week, we’re not doing anything with our famil-”

“Listen to me,” Hazelwood said, cold fury tipping every word. “You can leave this guard post now, or be willing to see the truth and listen to the cause.”

“Or what?” the white mouse smirked. “You’re going to toss me over the edge?”

Hazelwood took his eyes off the spear. His black eyes glimmered like the night sky. “I was thinking about stabbing, but I did say that I’d push you off first.” He shrugged. “It’ll also look like an accident, so I’ll still have the time to speak to the other mice about things.” He saw the right angle to push the guard mouse off. Hjerral would just need to hit his back on a branch so the fall wasn’t too clean. Accidents were never clean.

Before Hjerral could turn and counter Morlyle’s attack, he was kicked over the edge of the birdhouse. Hazelwood stepped over the edge of the birdhouse, leaning on the back wall of it. Screaming, Hjerral hit his back on the branch that was always sticking out at a dangerous angle. Turning Trill’s head away form the scene, he wondered what would happen if Trill really knew. He turned back, and saw Hjerral hit the ground forty feet below, a barely visible patch of white in the grass. With ears that had always been trained for hearing small sounds, he heard the dying groans of Hjerral, and then nothing more. There was blood dripping from the branch he had fallen on.

He turned back to Trillium, who was now looking at the body on the ground, and then up at Hazelwood. She looked as if she didn’t know what to think.

“We are the winning side of the war, my Trillium,” he said, smiling. Maybe Trill wouldn’t remember anything of back when the two were in the same Guild. If she did, then maybe she already knew.

“I understand, Hazelwood,” she murmured, hanging her head. Her yellow eyes were glazed over.

“It’s alright, Trillium. Nobody’s going to hurt you in any way. You’ll be safe forever more.”

“And why would you say that?”

So Trill didn’t know. Hazelwood blinked back a tear, trying not to show it to the dark black mouse. “Trill, look at me. We have the same dark patches above our noses. You have the same dark grey fur and yellow eyes of Carin.”

“I-I don’t understand,”

“You’re my daughter, young’un.”

“I can’t be,” she said with such certainty it surprised Hazelwood. “I can’t be your daughter. If you were my father, you’d have stayed in the Guards’ Guild and completely rejected the offer for the Gatherers.”

“That’s because Highwhisker forbid me from ever seeing you again, after the battle. He said it would spark disloyalty,” he breathed. “Don’t you see? Highwhisker, or any ‘Whisker for that manner, strives to separate everyone, so nobody can join together and fight back against their…cowardly reigns.”

Trill nodded, but by the frown on her face, she couldn’t be sure whether he was lying or not.

“Believe it, Trill. You are Trillium Hazelfang. Not Eelfang.”

He closed his eyes tightly, fighting the lump in his throat. How Trill reminded him of Carin, the Frozenmoon mouse that Ketani Highwhisker had struck down first, forever killing his emotions. All he had was Trill, who couldn’t even understand that he was her father.

He looked down at Hjerral’s body, and clenched his jaw. It was a moment before he could let it loosen. “Ignorance is bliss, Trill. But this is a time of war. You have to accept the truth, because war is not for the ignorant. And it sure isn’t bliss.”

Trill looked at the wall and slammed her fist in it. She turned to Hazelwood. “What is wrong with you?” she said. “Now. Now you tell me.” She turned, paws clenched into fists. “What gave you such a… sudden burst of courage?” she laughed shrilly. “Did Highwhisker tell you to tell me? Did he tell you all about it, are you just pulling my strings?”

Hazelwood stood up taller. “Wait. I didn’t say that!” He wasn’t lying. She had to understand that.

“I’m not some little puppet, like the others are,” the dark grey mouse flared.

“I’m not saying that, either.” Hazelwood tried to keep his voice calm, hoping his daughter would follow suit.

“Then what are you saying? Cause I sure as Frozenmoon am not your daughter,” she spat.

“Do you need more proof?” he asked, raising his paws up.

Trill looked like she needed to lean against the blue wooden wall of the house. “Yes.”

Hazelwood couldn’t help but smile. “So much like me.”

Trill’s eyes widened. “Holy Hawk,” she could only murmur.

Hazelwood waited for her to stand up tall, understanding. She just stood there, cradling her head in her paws. “Do you understand?” he persisted.

Trill looked up, looking as though she would be sick. “I do,” she murmured.