At the sight of Hazelwood, Fleck motioned for Nera to stand up with him. She did, and looked around. “Alright, Hex, Damma. Can you stay here?” Fleck splayed a paw out and held it down to signal to them.
Nodding, they looked around the corner to see what was going on.
Fleck looked around the training room and was slightly amazed at the amount of mice that had amassed silently. Now they were louder.
Hazelwood collapsed to the ground, and before Fleck could tell the twins to stay again, they ran up to their trainer.
“You okay, Hazelwood?” Wiping the tears from his eyes, Hex took a tentative step to Hazelwood.
“N-No…” he said, “No. I am not okay.”
Gathering mice were now louder, whispering carefully to one another. The familiar shape of the Gatherers’ leader, Silas, began to peak over a wall. Jumping down, the dark brown mouse stumbled. “Great Hawk,” Fleck heard him whisper.
Nodding, he turned back to Hazelwood slumped on the ground. “Hazelwood. Where were you?”
Looking up, he got onto his feet, though was swaying unsteadily. “I was seeing whether or not the Sewing Guild needed any grass string,” he said. “Then the complex lifted up. And…” Hazelwood looked around. “Where’s Highwhisker?” He paused, “Should the oh-so wonderful leader of Wolf Plains be here? I would think so.”
“Don’t insult Sir Highwhisker like that, Hazelwood.”
“You’re a trainee. You wouldn’t understand why I’d insult him,” Hazelwood muttered.
Curling his lip, he waved to Nera. “Let’s find Highwhisker. We’ll tell him about Fescue, at least.”
“Aye.”
A team of healing mice started to gather around the other gatherers. “Are you alright?” One asked at the sight of his bleeding ears.
“No. I’m fine,” he said. “I’m in a hurry.”
He was grabbed by the shoulder. “You’re all bruised and scraped up. Whatever you’re running to can wait,” he said. “For now, you’re in my care. Lana!” He called to a young mouse putting moss on a wound on Silas’ leg. “Bring some of that moss over. He’s got cut ears.”
The young mouse nodded. “Alright. Stay here, Silas.” She took a couple steps to the healer and tossed a wad of sopping moss to him. The white mouse caught it. “There you go, Adri,” the young mouse called again, and then turned back.
“Alright. Stay still.” The healer took the moss to Fleck’s ears. The water dripped onto Fleck’s eyes and he shook it away. “I said stay still.”
Hazelwood took the twins to a corner. “Just come along, hoppers. We shouldn’t get in the way of the healers.”
In between what must be the entire Gatherers’ Guild, the tall, slim, shape of Sir Highwhisker appeared. “How- How?” he asked. Highwhisker turned to Fleck. Shaking his ears, Fleck looked over to him. “I’m Sorry, Adri, but he can wait. Tend to somebody else.” The white mouse dabbing soaked moss on his ears disappeared into the crowd of injured mice. “Flekkanos. Are you alright?”
Standing up, he looked around. Nera was gone. He caught sight of Highwhisker. “Oh! Sorry, Sir Highwhisker. Yes, I’m fine,” he said, walking towards the chestnut mouse. He lowered his ears. “I- I wanted to say something to you.”
“First question is, where were you?” he asked.
“I was in the tunnels when it happened.” Fleck looked back for Nera, who was at the other end of the Storage Room. “It was a bit of an ordeal…”
“I know, Flekkanos. The only important thing is that everyone’s safe,” Turning around, Highwhisker flicked his tail.
“About that, Fescue isn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Fescue was caught in a mudslide.”
Highwhisker’s face fell. “Oh.” He looked to the side at the mice in the Storage room, all of them giving light glares to him. “It’s also the courtroom. Thank the Great Hawk there wasn’t a council meeting going on…” He changed the subject quickly. Nudging Fleck to the side, he started walking towards Silas. “Wait a moment, Silas. Flekkanos. Go check on the other trainees.”
He nodded. Turning behind a corner, he saw the twins in deep conversation with Hazelwood. Sneaking up to the trio, he wondered what the group of mice were talking about.
“It’s alright, guys. Highwhisker doesn’t seem to be doing much, so I think I’ll just tell your parents that the Gatherers Guild has been taken out. Destroyed.” The brown mouse said, stroking the heads of the dark grey hoppers. “But hey. Maybe I’ll get back to being a guard, and you guys won’t have to train. The Gathering guild was such a stupid idea anyways,” Hazelwood patted the hoppers’ heads.
Fleck flared up by those final words. “Isn’t that Silas’ decision, Hazelwood?”
Hazelwood looked up from the twins. “I’m sorry?”
“Isn’t that for Silas to decide?” Fleck asked, raising a brow. Though he did say that louder than expected. Heads turned to him, and Fleck felt his cheeks warm beneath the fur.
Hazelwood raised his brow. “Not if no Guilds exist.” Getting up, Hazelwood bean to walk to the centre of the storage room. He narrowed his black eyes at everyone. He seemed to change. “The only reason we all live in segregation is the ‘Whisker of the city!” He shouted. “It didn’t matter whether or not we lived beneath the reign of Shalewhisker, Amberwhisker, Brightwhisker, or even the original Snowwhisker! We have been born into segregation, doomed never to see our siblings again.” Hazelwood shouted. “Do you know who caused this?”
Mice were beginning to grumble about now and cast glances at both Fleck and Highwhisker.
“Exactly!” Hazelwood cried. “It’s the ‘Whisker’s fault. And Highwhisker,” Hazelwood breathed in, casting a sly glance at Highwhisker. The chestnut mouse’s blue eyes flared at Hazelwood. “Highwhisker’s the worst of them all.
At the sight of Highwhisker, Fleck stood up taller. Right as Hazelwood was about to open his mouth, he interrupted. “That isn’t true, Hazelwood,” Fleck said evenly, though he was trying as hard as he could to stay calm. “Do you think that the Highwhisker’s the worst? What kind of proof-”
“Proof? Oh, young Fleck, do you have no understanding? Didn’t you know that the Gatherers Guild is only sixteen seasons? Highwhisker created just one more guild to keep us separated. And it worked.” Hazelwood blinked. “He’s done more to affect our lives for the worse than ever before.
“We’re the Gatherers Guild. We aren’t any waste of Guild,” Fleck said. “You’re just making this up.”
“That’s the problem. It’s you that is. I’m the only one here who sees the truth. For now that is,” Hazelwood muttered. Then, he turned to the rest of the Gatherers. “This Guild was a waste. All the Guilds are, and if we keep the ‘Whisker any longer, than we’ll be even more separated! Would you want that for any of your hoppers?”
This set off murmurs across the entire storage room, Nera included. Hazelwood was a far more convincing mouse than even Silas, leader of the Guild. Or even Highwhisker, governor of Wolf Plains.
Highwhisker walked towards Fleck. “Thank you, Flekkanos.” He rose again and started to speak. “Morlyle, have you no idea what you’re saying?” He was calm, as if the derisive comments in the crowd were nonexistent. A sliver of hate filtered in Hazelwood's eyes, but he was silent.
“I have full idea about what I’m saying. Your young ears have heard this comment many a time. The Storage Room was a bad idea that should never have been introduced.”
Highwhisker glared down at the brown mouse's hind paws. "Your trial will be held in two days at dawn. We'll prepare the courtroom just for you." He spat. "And don't you ever dare spit derisive word about any ‘Whisker again. It will be your undoing.”
Hazelwood glared. “Finally, a worthy death.” The two pairs of eyes met for a moment, blue against black, and Fleck began to back away in case Hazelwood burst out violently. He could never be too sure now. Hazelwood stood up, but still wasn’t near as tall as Highwhisker. “There will be no Guilds by the time this is done. By the time my revolution is done. Join me, and our city will be separate no longer!”
While cheers rang among the room, Highwhisker left without much notice.
Fleck sighed, and not even waiting for Nera, followed him.
***
Highwhisker looked across the expansive land of Wolf Plains. The mice were chattering quietly, turning and laughing a bit when they saw the chestnut mouse. He sighed, and looked to Rozalin, the argente mouse beside him. “It isn’t helping you know,” he said. “I’m old, and that means its already high time I retired. Now that Hazelwood’s gathering a rebellion, I think I’ll get killed first.”
Rozalin smiled. “You’re still respected by the Burrowers. You have my word as the leader of their Guild.” She put a paw on his back, looking back at the green stalks high above their heads.
“I respect your opinion for that, Roz, but I don’t want your Guild to disagree with something you say. And they will. Morlyle’s a persuasive spirit.” Highwhisker paused for a moment, letting an idea form in his mind. “But Hazelwood’s revolution idea…”
Roz blinked her sage-green eyes at him. “You need to stop thinking about him. He’s an old mouse and we’ll deal with him at the next council meeting. But for now, will the library be a good option for a Courtroom? Or in this case, Court Burrow?”
He turned his head to the window leading to the basement of the House in Wolf Plains. It was a bit dusty, but it was an alright space. At least until the courtroom could be rebuilt in the complex.
Highwhisker nodded absently. “It’ll do for now. Is it okay if I ask some burrowers to help build the room again? You know, a couple chairs and of course the semicircle…”
“I don’t mind at all,” she smiled, bright green eyes shining. Highwhisker couldn’t help but reflect her contagious grin, one she had always had.
Highwhisker shrugged. “You don’t have to be on the job, you’re the Burrowing leader. We can talk in the secret room in the library. Er, the new ‘Whisker’s quarters in the Court Burrow.” He elbowed the blonde mouse playfully.
Roz smiled and batted away the elbow. “Actually, I’ll take you to my office. Better light there. When you’re ready, meet me at the Burrowers’ complex.” His best friend and student walked away, swishing her tail in the long May grass.
He sighed. When he was a new trainer, Rozalin was his best student. She was quick to understand new concepts, and was one of the mice that readily got the fact that Trainees couldn’t chew through wood, nor any mouse for that matter until they were eighteen seasons old. That was a concept that the young and disobedient Highwhisker, Highfeather then, didn’t understand. It ended with a broken jaw, and Highwhisker couldn’t eat until it healed enough that it wouldn’t hurt to chew. The healing mice had warned him not to chew through the hard substances such as wood again, because his jaw would never heal back to full strength. Highwhisker knew the pain and now that he wasn’t as young as he was, he didn’t eat much, and even then, ate delicately. Along with the disability, at least for a Burrowing mouse, his lower jaw was crooked, askew to the port side.
Rozalin could no longer be seen, and he stood in the Court Burrow alone. He pulled a pebble from beside him and rolled it down the small slope into the burrow. There was the first chair in the Burrow.
Next he looked at one of the old bookshelves in the ancient library. He pulled a lever on the port side of it. It slid open, and the records of the ‘Whiskers before him, Brightwhisker, Shalewhisker, Leafwhisker, were all visible on neatly piled shelves. The records of all the ‘Whiskers were kept here. Ketani Highwhisker though, was only looking for one, the one that could give hope to him on the worst of days. Maybe it would work for today too. He pulled a leaf scroll from the shelf that Tenzel Brightwhisker had. He’d recorded nearly every day, so the one scroll he was looking for was a bit hard to find on the records’ shelves. He lifted it and brushed the yellow leaf. The charcoal etchings on it were words that lifted his heart, and made him feel seasons younger.
Leaning against the wall he held the leaf up to him. “To any who read this…” he said. “I am going to die soon. Through the army threatening our borders for land, a silly conquest if you ask me, and through my old age. So, when I leave, I want to give the position of governor to the Burrowing leader,” he whispered to himself.
“Highwhisker?” A voice came through his thoughts.
Ketani jumped and nearly dropped the fragile scroll. “Yes, Flekkanos?” He saw the sandy brown mouse and smiled. As much as he reminded him of Juniper, he was always welcome.
“I didn’t know what would happen,” The young mouse breathed and lowered his head. “I shouldn’t have called him out. I should have just let him tell Hex and Damma what he wanted to and be done with it.”
Ketani shook his head, taking the mouse next to him. “You did the right thing, Flekkanos. Hex and Damma are important to Wolf Plains. All you young mice are. I am old and bound to die anytime soon. And I accept that. But when the young ones don’t believe in th ‘Whisker, then that will be the true death of the ‘Whisker. So let them kill me, but keep strong in yourself, Flekkanos,” he said, gripping Flekkanos by the shoulders. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you what to think.”
“I-I understand,” he said, shrinking in his fur. “But I won’t let you die. You’re my father, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.So if this thing gets to be bigger than just Hazelwood, I’ll fight with you.”
Highwhisker chuckled. He knew it would be impossible, but it was always good to hope. “I’m glad you’ll be on my side, son.”
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