Stoneslide - Chapters 16 & 17

Chapter 16:

Highwhisker couldn’t believe it. The Guildless actually were getting worse, despite his attempts to stop them. Every time he grabbed a wad of wet moss and wiped away dried blood from Serica’s back fur, he was reminded of it. The Guildless, driving them out for the Guards’ complex. Unbelievable.

There was no use in looking strong now. A wanted criminal, wounded both in spirit and body, it’d be foolish to pretend.

Raven wrung out a ball of moss over her back. “Where are those healers when you need them?” She cringed as she flicked her head to the dry moss on Highwhisker’s side.

Highwhisker opened his mouth, but the word died on his lips. Just like Lana and Janiel did. Whether it was the Guildless or someone else who got them, he didn’t know.

In the darkness of the ‘Whiskers’ Quarters, the mice had to rely on simple glowsticks for their light. And it was the only option they had, in case mice watched the Court Burrow and anyone in it. Though in the old library’s secret compartment, nobody would find them. Only Rozalin, Serica, and Raven knew where it was, though none of them would kill him. Roz seemed possible, considering the fight and…

The scroll was gone. Ketani’s ears pricked and he stood up. “Serica. Raven. The scroll.” His voice was raising to panic with each word. “Who took it?”

The Guards looked at each other and shook their head, giving him a sympathetic glance. Well, he didn’t want sympathy. He wanted answers, even if non of them knew. They could still help. He began pacing the quarters, looking on every shelf. He didn’t leave it on Shalewhisker’s shelf, did he?

No. The last time he touched that shelf was before he wrote the note.

He paced to his shelf, holding his side as he felt the newly-healed muscles tighten in protest. Eyes widening, he realized that there were no leaves on the shelf at all. Realization began to creep in, and then his legs shook. Somebody had stolen them. Taken them somewhere. But why? And when?

Serica stole a glance at Raven, and the glossy black mouse put her paw on Ketani’s shoulder. “These are dangerous times, Highwhisker.” Raven’s voice was calm as she turned him around with his shoulder. Highwhisker winced, but it didn’t look like Raven cared. Her black eyes blazed. “Follow the Guards’ rule. Stay alert. All the time.”

Highwhisker looked at her and Serica, both of them covered in wet patches. They had to be freezing, and he wasn’t even doing anything to help them. “We need some sleep. Take my covers.” He lifted his moss blankets off of the floor and immediately felt guilty. Why did he need four of them? “Two for each.” He tried it, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He’d used more than anyone else for sixteen seasons now. No wonder there was a revolution.

“You’re not listening,” Raven said.

“We need sleep,” he persisted, raising his ears. “That’s and order.”

Ketani rolled on the cold ground, letting the mice curl up soundlessly. He took his moss cloak, which he barely wore, and wrapped it around himself, teeth chattering painfully.

He remembered when he was younger, or even just before the rebellion, when he didn’t have to live in constant fear. He remembered Juniper, and then felt rage boiling in his stomach at Hazelwood. He caused this fear, this rebellion, Juniper’s death… Memory flooded into him as he closed his eyes in blissful rest. Any day could be his last. Maybe sleep could let him forget, even if only for a few hours.

***

“Way to go, Edvard. Really.” Tyranos stood up, cocking his head to the side as if he were stupid. “Look at me, standing up to a hardened warrior!” He put on a more serious face, “And I’m Tyranos. And believe me, I will not bow down to Sir Edvard Redwhisker.” He cast a baleful glance at Edvard’s rain-streaked back.

He didn’t even turn around. “You alright? I think those rabbits put something in your grain.” Edvard’s voice had an even more threatening tone. It silenced Tyranos, though in his mind, he was thinking all the ways that he could get the best of Edvard. Most of them were Frozenmoon thoughts.

But instead of mocking Edvard still, he turned to Tulun, who held her tail to avoid it hitting the stones and dirt of the ground. “Your tail okay?”

Tulun blinked and gave him a withering glance. “Following every bit of advice. Poultice hasn’t rubbed off and I’ve definitely made sure it’s clean,” she yawned. Tyranos wondered if the rabbit did put something in her grain like Edvard said, but shook it off. The thought still remained in his head, especially because Tulun had slept all day.

It was night time, and Edvard still found a way to keep them working, while Edvard was the only one actually eating something to keep his energy up. A coward and a tyrant. Him and Kyran would get along nicely.

“Never trust a mouse? Never trust a rabbit,” Edvard spat.

Fleck, walking behind them in the rainy night, stood up indignantly. Great Hawk, he looked like he wanted to fight Edvard right there and then. And silently, Tyranos egged him on. “And what’s wrong with a rabbit?”

“He nearly killed me, thank you very much,” Edvard retorted.

“Well, mice did kill his family!” Fleck dug his paw into his satchel, piquing Tyranos’ interest. What could be in there?

Tulun stayed quiet, like she did in these kind of debates, or fights. She looked like she was thinking about something completely different. Tyranos on the other paw, was perfectly ready to leap into the fight. “And personally, if that rabbit did kill you, I’d give him a pat on the back,” Tyranos murmured, hoping to get a rise from Edvard.

It worked. The blond mouse stiffened, short fur bristling. “What was that?” Edvard asked, deathly quiet.

Tyranos didn’t care now. He shouldn’t have done what he and his comrades did back in the days of Frozenmoon, and now he was showing it. “You’re the worst leader I’ve ever seen. If you died, we’d actually get what we needed done.”

Fleck dug his paw further into the satchel, and Tyranos heard the shuffle of leaves in there. He interrupted before Edvard could do anything. “How many leaders have you actually seen before?”

Tyranos didn’t want to change the subject, so he stayed silent. But he’d seen too many, and all of them from different times and places. And Edvard wouldn’t be the last of the leaders.

Tyranos saw Fleck and Tulun exchange glances. The argument ended promptly.

The sky turned dark blue, indicating dawn was coming soon. Tyranos yawned, and soon the entire expedition was doing it. Tulun didn’t notice a difference, but Edvard had to clamp his jaws shut to stop the yawns.

“Alright,” he said stiffly. “We camp now. If there’s a muskrat or whatever else around, I don’t want to be given away by your…” He stopped and yawned, and this time his jaws didn’t close early enough. His jaws parted wide, and he then closed his mouth. “Incessant yawning.”

He took the fronds of grass above his heads, starting to weave them above. What a stupid thing to do. It was pouring rain, and yet Edvard would still pretend he was doing something by making the tents. Within a minute, he had a woven roof made.

“Alright. Tyranos and Tulun, get out and around to guard. Fleck,” Edvard said, closing two strings of grass together to form the base of another roof. “Get some seeds, and maybe some berries for water.” He turned away form Fleck, tying two strands facing opposite the other into another tent. “It’ll hydrate all of us.”

Tyranos clenched his paws. They could hold their tongues out and get hydrated. What a load of frogscat.

As Tyranos waved to Tulun, he heard Fleck start grumbling. “He’ll probably eat the berries himself.

***

Tyranos’ jaws parted in a yawn, as he stood in the centre of the camp. There was nothing to guard against out there, and Edvard hadn’t even noticed that the white mouse stood out there.

There was the sound of Fleck walking into the camp. He brushed his paws off, dropping a handful of seeds on the ground. “Alright. I’m hitting the tent.” He shielded his eyes form the rising dawn sun.

Edvard couldn’t be seen, but only heard from his bed in the tent. “Well, there’s one tent for you and one for me.”

Fleck’s cough could be heard. “Three mice in one tent?” Exactly Tyranos’ thoughts.

“Why not? Go in there and don’t complain like some hopper.”

Fleck lowered his ears, and his face showed that he was stung. Right down to the curled lip. So he turned and met eyes with Tyranos before stalking off into the small tent.

“And I know you’re there, Tyranos. Get to the tent.”

He crawled into the tent, trying to find room among the other two. He found a spot, but he had to curl up into an extremely uncomfortable position, with all his limps curled into his stomach.

There was silence in the tent, Tyranos too angry to speak, and Fleck probably feeling the exact same way, but he didn’t betray it.

“And with his great wings, he took the clouds and pushed them into the air, separating air from land,” Fleck’s voice murmured.

Tyranos pricked his ears, and careful not to touch Tulun’s tail, rolled over. “What was that?”

“A story Highwhisker told me. About the Great Hawk.” Fleck met eyes with Tyranos and held his gaze.

“I haven’t heard it. Please tell me.” He stopped at the sound of Tulun snoring.

“Well, first, there was land. On it, were clouds, plants, water, rain, everything together, and everything mixed.” He sat up, his paws making motions.

“Though one creature found his way from the mix and, well, chaos. The Great Hawk. He saw it all, and decided to make things better for everyone, and less dangerous. So he flew up into the sky, and with his great wings,” he continued from where he started, and Tyranos felt a smile crack on his face. Oh, how different this story was compared to the ones about Sandil. Fleck continued again, “he took the clouds and pushed them into the air, separating air from land. With it, the rain moved into the sky. Though the sky was always dark, scaring the other birds who now found their way up there. So he took two lights, the sun and the moon, and carried them up. The birds always had light of their own, and allowed even the creatures of land to see.”

Tyranos’ smile grew. Some stories, they allowed thought, yet somehow, he began to see a theme in his life. Separation.

“So, with each beat of his wings, over days, everything moved into its own right. He started winds, storms, winters, and springs with every flap.” Fleck rolled over onto the ground with a yawn. Tyranos shuffled uncomfortably. With wonder in his voice, Fleck said, “And then he realized that though he did everything he could, there were two things he couldn’t help. One of them was how a creature lived, and another was death. So he took stone and suspended them on a cloud, one that always stayed in the sky. And that was where anything went when they died.”

Tyranos nodded, and thinking he knew the rest of the story, spoke. “And when they die, that was where the real judgement begins.” He’d heard this story, from somewhere deep in his memory, but the version he heard was far darker. “If that animal was good in life, he was lifted up to somewhere else that nobody ever knows, but Eversun. But if that animal ever committed an act of anything considered wrong, the hawk ripped the head off the creature and threw him into Frozenmoon, where they spent the rest of eternity looking for their head.” His voice darkened with every word.

That was the true trickery, Tandrai told him. All mice were doomed for it, but if they could appeal to Sandil, there was a promise that seemed far more hopeful than whatever story they’d spun of some fake deity. Sandil could help find their head, and even put it back on. That way, they could have an existence, just like in Eversun, but able to rule over the blind and deaf creatures that foolishly decided to follow some fake promise.

And as much as Tyranos hated to admit, everyone was doomed to it.

Fleck didn’t respond, and in the dawn sunlight, Tyranos could see the brown mouse’s chest rising and falling in even timing. He curled next to Tulun, sleeping quietly.

Tyranos tried to do the same, but all the thoughts of lies and fake work got his mind running again. He kept thinking about Edvard, creating fake promises just to manipulate. And with every thought, it became harder to sleep, until he couldn’t even close his eyes any more.

***

Tulun closed her eyes beneath a dawn sky. She looked to her side, standing next to a mouse, who looked just like a shadow. Tandrai, whose fur shone in the dawn light, ruffled the fur on Tulun’s scruff. “The battle’s tomorrow, my love.” Her voice was soft, though it seemed she was seething in her own right. “Lead your regiment well, and don’t let anybody get in your way.”

Tulun’s mother clutched Tulun in her paws, holding her close. She ran her paws over the fur on Tulun’s head. “And if they do, kill them.” The words seemed so nonchalant, like Tandrai said those words every day. It sent Tulun’s fur raising. It wasn’t every day she was told to kill anyone who got in front of her path. Yet with every caress from her mother, on top of that rock, as if there was no army behind them, Tulun began to take that advice to heart.

“I love you, Tulun, and remember my advice.” Tandrai let Tulun go. Tulun felt a moss cape fly in the wind. Tulun looked at Tandrai and met a mirror of herself. “And be brave at Saldiro.”

“I will.” Whether Tulun was talking about Tandrai’s advice, the battle of Saldiro, or even both, Tulun didn’t know. But she just knew that Tandrai was calm, collected, and even a good mother. And if this was a dream, memory, or some fake thing her mind conjured up to torture her, she didn’t care. She just hugged into Tandrai, watching the dawn before her.

Chapter 17:

Fleck woke up yawning and stretched both paws out. Tulun and Tyranos had… disappeared. He found a mossy blanket on him, waving in a cold wind from last night’s rain. He pulled them closer to shield from the cold breeze, but before he closed his eyes a shadow passed over the woven grass tent.

“Huh?” he asked himself, but as he looked again, the shadow disappeared. Silently lifting himself up from the ground, Fleck scanned the camp. Nothing was there, except that two pairs of paw prints ran through the camp. Fleck brushed his paws off, and started walking down the camp. He stepped slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible so he didn’t wake Edvard. It wasn’t even midmorning yet, and by the way his legs protested with every step, he definitely didn’t get enough sleep.

But Tulun and Tyranos were most definitely gone. If anything, they’d left together, like Hex and Damma always did.

Fleck blinked the sleep from his eyes and left the camp, following the dual trails of paw prints. As he passed, he brushed his tail over the muddy prints, making sure that they were invisible in case Edvard woke up. If they snuck out of camp, then they wouldn’t want Edvard to follow. Fleck wouldn’t want him to come along, either.

After minutes of walking, the paw prints still stretched out in front of him. He paused at the pussy willows bordering off a forest. “How far do these prints go?” he muttered to himself. These were dangerous territories, and the tales from all the older Gatherers, including Hazelwood, told him that the most sly of creatures like foxes and coyotes lived in there. Still, the prints continued, as if the two just didn’t care about the forest.

Brave.

Fleck shook his head. “You’re just being a pinkie, Fleck. Go on and see what they’re doing,” he found he was talking to himself, and he didn’t care. He strode over the pawprints, but he still got a basic idea of where they were headed, especially now that he could hear voices, however quiet they were, coming through the wildly swaying trees.

He sniffed the air, and the scent of the two were definitely there. He never usually relied on his nose because of the chaotic smells of thousands of mice in that city made it hard to discern any others. But out in the open, he found himself more able to recognize everyone else’s smells. Edvard probably could tell where they were headed by his nose too, but for now Edvard wasn’t following. Though Fleck still found himself casting glances back to see if Edvard actually was. He started running closer to the scent of Tulun and Tyranos, and stopped as he reached a wild rose bush. The voices were definitely louder, and Fleck could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

“Edvard is a problem, Tulun. When you were out, he nearly got us all killed,” Tyranos’ voice was heard as Fleck stepped through the branches. Tyranos and Tulun weren’t there, but it set Fleck’s mind thinking again. That muskrat had something with him. Coughing like he had a never-ending cold, eyes wild with an unthinking fury. That muskrat was sick without even noticing it.

Fleck couldn’t hear Tulun, so he put a paw onto the first branch he could see. The sounds were there, for sure, but coming from above. So Fleck’d climb up there to hear. He shouldn’t be so nosey, but he needed to hear. He grunted quietly as he leaped up to a thorny branch above him, pulling himself up slowly. The thorns were spaced widely apart, making it so Fleck didn’t have to run his paws through on the thorns. He stationed his hind paws on the branches below him. It was a slow process, with him pulling himself up a half-inch at a time with every upward stride.

He stopped, his head at the level the two mice were at. “I tell you, this is why we’re on this stupid mission. Not because of Hoof Spots, but because we might just be the heirs of Highwhisker.” He raised his paws, like he was trying to drive in a point. Fleck and Tulun both cringed beneath the paw, even though Fleck was a good foot away from them. “I’m just surprised Roz ain’t here.” Tyranos muttered something else under his breath, but Fleck didn’t pick up on it.

“This is just some sick way to pick off the ones unable to survive this mission. Whoever comes back alive, would have Wolf Plains in their paws.”

Fleck lost the rest of the conversation as his paws grew wet with sweat. With a small yelp, he fell down into the thorns, getting scratched by the branches and prickles.

He could hear Tyranos standing up, and through the bramble floor, he saw the bottom of Tyranos’ paws, weaving through the branches. “Better not be Edvard or we won’t even need a plan.”

Fleck held his breath, hoping his dirt-coloured pelt could save him. If Tyranos saw him, Fleck couldn’t be too sure whether or not he’d come out of it.

Eyes tightly shut, he could only operate on sound, and by what he was hearing, Tyranos was thoroughly amused. “Well look who it is.” Fleck felt a paw on his side. “No use hiding, Fleck.”

Fleck opened one brown eye to see Tyranos grinning down at him, one level lower. “Need a paw?”

He opened both eyes. “Thank the Great Hawk. I though you were going to kill me,” he breathed, sitting up and wincing as he pulled thorns from his pelt.

“I’d never kill you. We both hate Edvard.” Tyranos’ smile was warm and kind, though he had a hint of warning in his voice.

“You didn’t have to scare me, you know.” He paused. “Though I’ve never thought of the mission like that.” More so, he never expected Edvard to be so high on Highwhisker’s list.

Tyranos raised his ears as he voiced Fleck’s thoughts perfectly. “Yeah. Edvard, though, is beyond me.” He waved a paw, beckoning him over. “Climb up like it’s a ladder. And be faster, you won’t fall.”

Fleck tried Tyranos’ suggestion of going fast, and smiled. He’d gotten up way quicker, and without worrying where his paws went, he found himself with less pinpricks in his paws. He shook the sweat from his paws and noticed Tulun. She held her head down, staring down a bramble with deep thought.

“What we were talking about earlier, Fleck, was about getting rid of Edvard. Because if I’m right, I’m not bowing down to Edvard Redwhisker.” He murmured something under his breath again, and Fleck didn’t hear it.

Tulun raised a paw, breaking from whatever she was doing to meet Fleck’s gaze. “In other words, we’re chasing him off. Not killing him.” Her mouth twitched with the words, and Fleck looked at her with a flash of suspicion, but didn’t say anything.

Fleck looked up. “Thank the Great Hawk.” Tyranos stiffened every time Fleck mentioned the deity’s name, and Fleck wondered why Tyranos would say that kind of rendition of the story. Another question, where had he heard it? “If we’re going to chase Edvard off, it needs to be done early in the day, but not too early either.” Fleck felt his chest rise with the thought of actually doing what they wanted to, and actually getting their part of the mission done, finally.

Tyranos stood up. “Don’t steal the idea away.”

“We’re fighting against Edvard. It doesn’t matter who adds to it,” Tulun defended.

“Exactly.” Fleck raised a paw. “So just hear me out.” He raised a paw to stop Tyranos, and it seemed that it worked, though Fleck could still hear his mutterings. “We need to plan it out, Tyranos. We’ve got to sync our movement so it doesn’t end up in…”

“Chaos,” Tulun said, raising a paw from her seat, hunched over.

“Like a codeword?” Tyranos raised his ears and sat back down on a thorn-less branch

Fleck nodded silently.

A smile cracked on Tyranos’ face. “Redwhisker’s gone?” It was followed by suppressed laughter from both Tulun and Fleck. Already, Fleck was working on

“Too obvious.” Fleck tried to hold his laughter in. One glare from Tyranos though stopped him and got him serious. “If we’re chasing him off, we don’t want to tell him what we’re doing. But I’ve got something different.” Something that started the entire mess. The revolution, the expedition, the barriers… everything.

“Well?” Tulun queried.

“When Nera and I were in the tunnels,” Fleck started, images flashing in his mind, “with all the dirt and rocks, it was almost like a stone avalanche. A Stoneslide.”

“Stoneslide?” they both echoed.

“Everything that happened after the complex was lifted all went downhill,” he found himself rambling, but the idea was too much to leave there, “it just got from one mouse until it was so big…” he trailed off. “Just another reason it could be a Stoneslide.”

Tyranos and Tulun looked at each other and raised their brows into a nonplussed smile. “Welcome to Operation Stoneslide, then.” He shot Tulun a dark glance, but Tulun didn’t seem to respond to Tyranos. Tyranos held his paws out, holding them out invitingly, but Tyranos still had his claws more splayed than Fleck would have liked.

Fleck took the paw, only holding it lightly so he didn’t get hurt by Tyranos’ claws. “For getting rid of Edvard.”

Tyranos smiled, though Fleck could see a small glare in his eyes. Fleck looked over at Tulun, but she didn’t put her paw into the shake. After a second, Fleck pulled his paw out and backed away on the branch. “Let’s go back.”

It was a shorter walk than it had felt earlier that morning. The sun shone high in the sky, and as they got to camp, Edvard was there, tapping his hind paws in disappointment. “Come on, Hoof Spots is only a small walk away.” Edvard motioned to the satchels and made a distrustful glance at Fleck. Had he found the glass shard?

Without argument, and with crafty glances between the two siblings, Fleck noticed, they started moving along. And at the rate they were going, Hoof Spots was definitely a longer walk than what Edvard was saying.

***

Had Edvard heard anything? Was he tiring the mice out on purpose? The mice were forced to run on all fours because of the way Edvard was acting. He paced along at an even quicker rate than the others and by one look from the others, Fleck knew what he had to do.

“Slow down, Edvard,” he said. “We should talk. Without a fight.” He glanced and met eyes with Tyranos and Tulun, who were already slowing their paces.

“Good to see you acting like an adult,” Edvard said. Even though his voice was calm, he still had the breathy sound of a tired mouse. He slowed down and stopped at the nearest stalk of tall grass, shaking his paws from the mud. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, we’re all worried about Wolf Plains. Could we get to Hoof Spots quicker, but not at a run like this?”

Edvard cast him a distrusting glare, but continued. “You shouldn’t be so worried.”

Fleck raised his brows. He’d nearly been killed by it, and it’d surely gotten worse! “We’ve got to be worried, Edvard. It doesn’t matter if Hazelwood’s probably dead. It’s just going to get worse and worse, like some…” he trailed off, casting a sly glance at Tulun and Tyranos. “Stoneslide.”

Edvard scrunched his face into a scowl, but breathed in calmly. “Keep practical, here.” Edvard’s patronizing voice cut Fleck even further and he curled his lip. Already, Tyranos and Tulun surrounded Edvard on both sides, growling. “What are you-I knew it.” Fleck nearly laughed at the pure dumbfounded-ness of his voice.

“We’re always working. You aren’t. We haven’t eaten a good meal since we left, and yet I get enough seeds to feed an army.” Fleck’s voice was calm, as if he’d rehearsed it. He hadn’t.

“Is that it? It’s not fair?” Edvard managed a chuckle, but his voice became shrill. “Highwhisker picked us for this mission for a reason.”

“It doesn’t matter what Highwhisker said!” Tulun said, voice raising. “He made the wrong choice.”

“So, Redwhisker.” Tyranos splayed his claws out. “Any last words?”

Tulun and Fleck both stopped. “Last words?” Fleck’s paw dug into his satchel, reaching for the glass shard.

Tyranos continued, raising his brows like he killed every day. “He’s just going to run back to Wolf Plains, Fleck. He’ll rat us out, and look. We’ll be outcasts.” Tyranos’ voice faltered at the last word, but Fleck tried to ignore him. It had to be some sick joke. Already, he began making paces to Edvard, holding the glass in his satchel. “Killing him is the only choice.”

Fleck stared, wide-eyed. “But you said we won’t-”

“That was Tulun.” Tyranos’ voice grew more savage and he held his claws out even more. This wasn’t the Tyranos he’d made friends with, nor was this the Tyranos he’d ever like to meet again. Fleck met eyes with Tulun, and she nodded. Yet she didn’t move from Tyranos’ side.

Tulun sighed, motioning to Edvard. “And I lied, just like Tyranos would. Now,” she said, digging her toes into the ground, “Do you want him gone?”

“I-I do, but,” he stuttered.

“Then let us kill him.” Tyranos took one step through the mud. “Now, move!”

Even in the face of anger, fury, and death itself, Fleck didn’t budge. He held still. “No. I won’t let you kill him.” He caught a glance from Edvard, grateful yet angry.

“It’s not your choice. It was Edvard’s,” Tyranos seethed. “He made that choice over the past sixteen seasons, abusing us in whichever way he could. Hurting his own son, his wife… Oh, he made that choice.” His voice seemed deathly quiet. The white mouse leaped forwards and he pushed Fleck aside. He rolled over on the ground and looked up, but the sight made every bone in his body seize up. Tyranos sent one swipe, from the top down, Tyranos’ well placed paw crashed down and sent blood into the air. Edvard fell down onto the mud, and stood there for a second. Fleck got up slowly, his heart racing. There was Edvard, laying still, with one eye gone.

It took a moment, with Tyranos just standing there like he was waiting for Edvard to respond, or even get up at all.

Then it happened. Edvard stood up, and blood streamed down his face despite the paw that he held over it. “You want a fight?” he asked, fur bristling. The blond mouse’s voice faltered, even with the deadly determination in it.

Yet it wasn’t as deadly as Tyranos.

In a second it was over. Tyranos swung with his claws splayed out, and Fleck tried to look away, but he couldn’t. Edvard flew to the ground, the one eyed mouse just short of death. His body shook on the ground, small coughs coming out of it, and Edvard opened his mouth. No words came out, just a strangled sigh. His throat had been ripped clean open, the blood still pooling on the ground. It nearly touched Fleck’s paws, and as much as he tried to move away, he was too shocked to even do anything.

Fleck’s mouth hung open. It opened and closed in shock. His paws couldn’t move, save the steps he took backwards.

“You want the same to happen to you?” His voice was tipped with fury, and the white mouse began advancing on Fleck. His amber eyes blazed with something different, chilling Fleck’s very soul.

“Tyranos, no!” Tulun shouted. She grabbed him by the foreleg, but was whipped off and thrown to the ground by a mouse so different he couldn’t even be called Tyranos any more. Immediately, Fleck was reminded of that sick muskrat, yet Tyranos wasn’t sick. This was some sort of sick psychopathy.

“We can’t have traitors, mice who run off at the last minutes. They’re no better than Edvard there.”

Fleck stood speechless, holding his satchel tightly in his paws. Tyranos leaped and Fleck’s body took over, instinctively, without even feeling it, Fleck ripped his hands from the satchel and held the knife in front of him.

Tyranos stopped. Just that one second. And he could run. But that savage gaze of Tyranos, the unseeing one of Edvard, it made his blood boil.

Fleck turned and whipped the knife across Tyranos’ legs, and the giant mouse fell to the ground immediately. Tulun gazed wide-eyed at Tyranos, who lay on the ground, trying to pick himself up with clenched teeth, and then at Fleck.

Fleck turned and ran. Now there was no choice. He looked around. Somewhere he couldn’t be tracked. Found. Somewhere. His mind raced just as quickly as his feet did, and Fleck didn’t even look down at the glass, a marker of what he’d done. Possibly crippled a mouse. A mouse who deserved it.

He looked up at the sky and the pussy willow trees covering it. The trees were shaking, but not with mice. One squirrel, dark as earth, barrelled through the trees in the direction of Tulun and Tyranos. He’d probably regret it.

Fleck turned into the cattails and fescue grasses without a second thought. His paws dragged in the wet mud, slowing Fleck down. Behind him, he heard the agonized shouts of Tyranos. “Damn you! Damn you to Frozenmoon!” The words didn’t sting Fleck. A sting passed quickly. Instead, it was like a spear, stabbing itself right through his chest. And the words would never be forgotten.

Yet, when Hazelwood tried to kill him, he never was this afraid. He ducked behind a clump of Fescue, shaking off the dew and any thoughts. Yet those words seared his mind. Damn you to Frozenmoon. The mouse whom he’d called his friend said them. And because some otherworldly force had taken him over.

Raw fear pumped through them as his breath began to get shorter. “I will not die,” he whispered, “I will live.” His limbs became leaden, covered in mud from the creek. His satchel didn’t help the matter swinging at his legs to remind him. Fleck dropped the sword in his satchel, and with blood pumping through his scarred ears, looked for a place to hide. He wouldn’t be able to stop Tyranos next time. He just needed to wait until the danger of Tyranos died down. Yet he still didn’t stop running until he reached a pile of sticks that stunk like a swamp. He crawled in with haste and turned around.

Breathing quickly, heart racing, Fleck remembered something else in his satchel. The image of Edvard’s dead body, lying in the mud, ran through his mind. Yet he lifted the satchel with quick shallow breaths and looked for that scroll. His eyes narrowed. That damned scroll. And Highwhisker knew it’d happen.

His paws brushed by the familiar leaf and he lifted his paws angrily. Edvard. Fescue. Hazelwood. Hjerral. The thoughts became so repeated, that they began to lose their meanings as names. But as images they could all be images that scarred Fleck forever.

He started reading, trying to avoid the anger and fear boiling inside of him.

Flekkanos, if you’re alive, you’re reading this. All you need to know is the mission was a ploy. I did it to keep you safe. Wolf Plains is your only hope now, especially if the others are pursuing you. And if I’m dead, you’ll be the next ‘Whisker. Destroy this after reading, and I apologize so deeply for putting you through this.

Ketani

Fleck couldn’t say anything. His father - His foster father put him through this for exactly the reason that Tyranos said. Highwhisker knew he’d probably die, and he’d known that this mutiny would happen. But why would he send Tyranos and Tulun out if he knew this could happen?

Fleck closed the scroll and left it on the wet platform. Tulun and Tyranos were after him now, and he might not even survive the trip back to Wolf Plains. With thoughts of Edvard in his head, he willed his eyes to close, but his body wouldn’t let him. So he lay there in the pile of twigs on the second level, and kept a watch.

***

Wren and Terris walked behind Nera, keeping their weapons pointed at her. Nera tried to ignore them, but her hackles raised unwillingly. Then a scent hit her nose. She raised her nose and stood stark still. “Does anyone-”

“We do,” Trill said evenly. “A bit of a scuffle here, I see,” she mused.

Nera stepped toward where Trill was standing and all the blood left her face. “A scuffle?” she stuttered. “A battle. A mouse died here!”

“We’re on a mission to kill mice. You shouldn’t be so worried. Especially because that’s Edvard right there.” Trill’s voice had an edge to it, a warning. She sighed. “Well, the only important part is that they split up. But by the tracks, it was already a couple days ago.

And it was a couple days that Nera went without any good rest. With the dawn sun behind her, she tried stifling a yawn. Who knew what Trill would do if she took that as some sort of rebellion?

“Wren. Nera,” Trill said sharply.

Immediately she raised her ears, over-enthusiastically. “Yes?”

Trill narrowed her eyes, and motioning to the one-eyed mouse too, smiled. “You go along these tracks here. We’ll follow the other ones.” Her spear traced the single trail of prints through the mud. “At sundown, we’ll meet at the bridge. If you aren’t there, we’ve got no problem leaving you behind.”

She motioned to Terris and Shayn. “Come on with me.”

Wren began walking down the tracks. “Come on, Burrower.” She ran her paw up Nera’s scruff, grasping it and lifting the young mouse up. “And don’t even think of deserting.”

That was exactly what Nera was thinking. If she could just warn Fleck. They’d be able to head back to Wolf Plains first, beating the others back home. Quickly, she took a scimitar in her paws and started walking to get ahead of Wren. If she saw Fleck first, she’d be able to take Wren on a false trail.

Running now, she was stopped by a sword landing near her hind paws. “What’re you running so quickly for, now?” Wren’s voice was dry.

Nera slowed down, but still cast an “innocent” glance at Wren. But before Wren could say anything, Nera turned and jogged. She needed to stop rousing suspicion. She needed to act like a plan didn’t burst into her mind that could save the life of Fleck. She just sighed and put on a fake mask of despair.

But this time, she felt lighter than she had since the complex had been lifted up and this rebellion had been started int he first place. She could be out from the Guildless and Fleck didn’t need to die.

Even if it wasn’t under the reign of Highwhisker. Nera’d put two and two together in her mind. Kill the heirs, kill the ‘Whisker. Of course, kill all the heirs but one.