Young Writers Society

“Nera? Are you okay?” Fleck asked, blinking at Nera.

“I can’t- I can’t believe it.” Fleck glanced at Nera, touching the line across his chest. The blood was washed away by a quick stream, but there was still the wound. “Tyranos…”

“It’s fine, Fleck. He’s gone.” Nera took a tuft of fur from her face and pushed it behind her ears.

“Tyranos is different. If he came back once, he’ll do it again.” His voice shook with every word as he looked at the tall rusted gates of Wolf Plains.

“You’ve got rid of him. You should be focused on Highwhisker and if…” Nera trailed off. “If he’s still alive.”

“Of course he’s still alive!” he said, whirling on Nera. “Why wouldn’t he?” He kept on trying to convince himself, but he remembered the note. Trill would come back and say that the rest of them were dead, at least if she was still alive. Maybe she died. Hopefully, she died.

It was as if Nera read Fleck’s thoughts. “We didn’t see Trill the entire time we were coming back.” Nera took one step into Wolf Plains.

Fleck’s eyes widened, the truth hitting him. “Will you be okay?”

Nera seemed to get her usual demeanour back again. “You go. I’ll be fine with being called a traitor.” She waved her paws, like she actually meant it, but her tone gave it away as something different.

Confused, he nodded. “Don’t remind me. And, sorry.” With that, he turned and loped through the grass. He dodged and jumped over beetles that scuttled clumsily out of the way. He began to lose breath, but in determination and fear that Nera was right prodded him on. He turned at the rose bush, but instead of the calm and constant chattering of a complex, it was utterly silent. What had happened? He stopped at the court Burrow, as dark and forbidding as the night that Hazelwood tried killing him. But now it was different. Fleck realized he didn’t need to be afraid. The smell of blood hit him in the face, like something had died. Please, let it not be Highwhisker.

He took a look at the semi-circle, and then down on the ground at broken glass. A dread began to creep up into him as he called, “Sir Highwhisker?” he asked. No response. He looked down at his paws then at the blood-stained, shattered glass. “Father?”

There was no moonlight shining into the Court Burrow, but Fleck could see someone there. The fur on his neck began to bristle, but he tried to keep it down. His dark eyes looked at the other pair steadily. “Highwhisker?” He searched for a familiar blue glint, but instead was a pair of emerald eyes. “Highwhisker?” he repeated, but he knew it wasn’t.

Inside of him, a small part shrivelled as a mouse with sage green eyes stood up from the top of the semi-circle. “I thought you were dead,” she said, her voice hard. It was deep, yet slightly husky. “Trill lied, then.” She looked down at her paws, and then Fleck saw the shimmering metal in her paws.

He recognized the mouse, Rozalin. She’d been the one who ordered the expedition. If all else fails, Rozalin will be the ‘Whisker.

“Is he here?” he asked, holding the satchel at his side tightly.

Quickly, the mouse stood up from the table at the top and leaped down. She kicked dirt up into the air, making Fleck cough. “Highwhisker is dead, Flekkanos. I challenged him and won.”

Fleck stepped back, and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He flattened his ears and bared his teeth. She-she couldn’t have.

He lashed his tail, anger beginning to fill his every vein. “You couldn’t have! You-you…” he trailed off, lowering his velvety ears. “You did, didn’t you?” His ears levelled, coming to the fact. “You’re ‘Whisker now, aren’t you?”

Even in the darkness, Fleck could see Rozalin’s fur bristling. “I’m not sworn in, yet. Come dawn, I will be.” She seemed so calm.

Fleck narrowed his eyes and looked right at her, dark brown eyes flaring. “Then I’m still the heir to Wolf Plains, aren’t I?”

Roz glared right at him, holding the sword in her paws. She stepped forwards, holding the thin iron up to Fleck’s chest, right at the wound. “Look!” she began, “I don’t know who gave you that wound, but if you wreck this for me, I promise I won’t be near as clumsy.”

By the way the sword dug at Fleck’s chest, enough to bring pain that throbbed at the sword-tip’s location, but not enough to draw blood, Fleck gave a silent nod, even though his paws dug through his satchel. Then he stopped. He had a choice, like with Tyranos. They’d both done unforgivable things. But if Rozalin could kill Highwhisker, then she’d have no problem running Fleck through. It’d even be easy.

“I won’t do anything,” he said, clenching and unclenching his paws. How he just wanted to kill her. He could do it, while she wasn’t looking. Then he realized that he wouldn’t even be able to be the ‘Whisker. He’d be killed right after.

He bared his teeth at her though, to let her know he wasn’t doing this out of forgiveness. He could get back at her later. For Highwhisker.

***

Dawn came too quickly. Throughout the entire night, Fleck didn’t get any sleep, yet Roz would sleep right in front of him, like she had no fear. And with one look at himself, he realized that the argente mouse was right. There was no way he could ever beat her.

The mouse got up and gave a cool glare at Fleck, lashing her tail in frustration. At who, he didn’t know. “I’m going to ring the bells. One question. Who else is alive?” She muttered something under her breath.

Fleck turned away in fear, rinding his paws into the dirt. “Nobody. I-I was the last,” he lied. He knew Tyranos was still alive, but why-ever Tulun wasn’t nearby meant that she had to be hurt badly or something worse. Poor Tul. Even if she was lying about not killing Edvard, she was still a good mouse.

“Well, meet me at the platform, and don’t say anything. Understood?” she asked, and it sounded like it was through clenched teeth.

Fleck looked up, and all he saw was a swish of a tail, and then Rozalin was gone. Soon to become Sunwhisker, while the real heir of Wolf Plains, Smallsnout, would stay that way.

She shouldn’t be. It was wrong. She shouldn’t have challenged him! Fleck found his ears raising, and he was staring into dead space, but still looked like he was ready to attack something.

He grabbed his glass blade and threw it. Why did Highwhisker have to die? The glass hit the wooden block at the Tailors’ seat in the semicircle with a clatter. It seemed to suspend in the air, and then fell apart right before his eyes. The only gift that Highwhisker’d ever given him, and the last.

Then the bells rang, a summons for all the mice in Wolf Plains. Fleck left the Court Burrow, keeping his head low. The high-pitched ringing rumbled through his round ears, and Fleck tried to block the sound. The toll of bells was like a death toll. One ring for every death that he’d seen, or knew about. More probably happened. That was a fact.

***

Underneath the porch slats, Rozalin had Fleck guarded by a dark grey mouse with bright yellows eyes. She took one glance at Fleck and her eyes widened. Soon, she kept staring at him, first in fear, then in anger. She must’ve been the mouse who lied to Rozalin, Trill.

Roz climbed down from the porch slats soon after the bell rang, the same bell that signalled the expedition’s leaving. “I trust you’re watching him well? Don’t lie.”

Trill nodded, eyes wide. From the porch slats came another mouse, white with black patches. She shrugged with blue eyes and cast a glance to Trill. Was she guarding Rozalin?

Fleck shuffled uncomfortably on the stone chair. He tried to keep his back straight and his tail still, but his tail kept twitching in an anger that he just couldn’t hide. What was Fleck doing up here?

Roz stepped forwards to the front of the raised platform, shafts of sunlight streaming through and onto the floor that was now filling with all the mice of Wolf Plains. And being on the platform, right in front of them, made his neck fur bristle in embarrassment.

Rozalin shrugged, motioning to a fawn-coloured mouse with black eyes from the crowd. “Larxas, will you please come up?”

Of course, the Burrowing trainer. Or maybe leader. The fawn mouse nodded and stood up. Fleck strained his large ears to hear Larx whisper in Roz’s ear. “Why the formality?”

“You know the ‘Whisker oath?” she asked in the darkness.

Larx’s black eyes widened. “Everyone does.”

“Then you’ll know why.”

The sunlight ran through the porch slats, casting light on some things, but leaving the rest in darkness. “Highwhisker is dead,” Rozalin began. “I’ve killed him.”

There was complete silence from the mice, like the Gathering complex. It was like nobody was even there. “And I’d like you to know I will not be a shadow of him. I will be the new leader of this place.” She stopped and motioned to Larx. “Will you repeat to me?”

Larx nodded, with a bitter smile. “I, Rozalin Sunhide, swear to keep this city as it is, secure and safe from all further threats,” Larx started calmly, though her paws stamped with irritation.

“I, Rozalin Sunhide, swear to keep this city as it is, secure and safe from all further threats.” Larx nodded and whispers started to come from the ranks of mice.

“I will take the place of my predecessor Ketani Highwhisker in not only position but also spirit.”

Roz nodded, but edited the line. “I will take the place of my predecessor Ketani Highwhisker in only position. I will not live under his cowardly spirit.”

Whispers of assent came from the groups. Larx gazed at her for a second, and Roz hurried her on with her paws. “I hope I can keep his sense of foresight through my reign as Governor.” Larx probably made that up on the fly, but Roz couldn’t possibly abridge the entire oath.

“I hope I can keep his sense of foresight through my reign as Governor,” Roz said, emotionless.

Larx tapped her hind paws more lightly now, like Roz was. Fleck curled his lip slightly at the two being so happy about the death of their leader. “I swear upon the Great Hawk. My name has now been changed. I will be known as Lady Rozalin Sunwhisker for as long as I live or reign.”

Roz breathed in deeply. “I swear upon the Great Hawk. My name has now been changed. I will be known as Lady Rozalin Sunwhisker for as long as I live or reign.” There was a dead silence for a moment, and Fleck turned to look over at Roz. She didn’t even bow or curtsy or anything to mention that she was done. In fact, Roz held up a paw. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t ring the bells just to get myself sworn in. I’d like to thank the mouse that made it all possible. By killing Highwhisker’s heirs she did a fine job. Come up, Trill.”

Fleck saw Trill walk forwards, smiling happily. Yet it was sort of bittersweet. “Thank you Roz. Though we’re Guildless, I’d like to propose that our group does nothing to harm Loyals or you under your leadership. Our mission was to get rid of Highwhisker and you did that for us. Provided of course, Loyals respect the Guildless boundaries,” Trill said, though it sounded if Trill were slightly angry.

Fleck wondered where Nera was. Probably avoiding Roz and Trill, for good reason too.

***

“But,” Rozalin started, raising a paw. “You didn’t kill Highwhisker’s heirs.” She motioned to Fleck, who shrunk in his brown fur.

Trill narrowed her yellow eyes at Fleck, but didn’t say anything. He was the reason this was happening, and Rozalin didn’t seem to be done, just calling her out on it.

She did this for Hazelwood. For the Guildless. If Highwhisker’s heirs were dead, then that meant the process of killing Highwhisker would go more smoothly.

Tyranos and Tulun might have been right not to come back.

Roz blinked emerald eyes, making Trill shudder. There were no ways to tell her emotion, then. Her face was just blank, but her voice held a warning on the edge of it. Trill dug her hind-paws into the wood, scratching it quietly.

“Just a thorn in my side, aren’t ya? Little lying Trillium. Can’t allow that, can I?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lady Sunwhisker,” Trill replied, starting to back away.

Rozalin had her paws clutching the rapier on her waist faithfully. “I mean, Trill, that I’m feeling merciful. Killing Highwhisker must’ve sapped the energy from me. Yet, I still need to get rid of you.”

“Not exile, please not exile.” Funny how the hopper behind her, Flekkanos, was the one causing all the problems, yet didn’t want her out. Funny little mouse. Drea, right next to Rozalin, gave her a contemptuous glance.

“Drea, take her to the birdhouse,” Rozalin said, without even a blink. She acted like she rehearsed every word of it. “Liars don’t need to be executed in front of the city.” Whispers started to echo through the porch slats, many of them in anger and fear.

Drea started to walk towards Trill, with a face of plain contempt visible as a clear day in her blue eyes. “I know I shouldn’t do this, but I took an oath.”

Trill narrowed her eyes at the plain lie on Drea. “You’re Guildless, Drea. Don’t forget it,” she spat. She looked for anything. She wasn’t going to die just like that. She was the leader of the Guildless. She wasn’t going to let Hazelwood’s last cause die.

“I’m a Guard,” Drea replied simply, and with a movement faster than a blink Drea had Trill’s paws behind her back. Traitor. Turnpelt. It was if Drea read Trill’s mind. “Hate to break it to you, but Highwhisker’s dead. We don’t need the Guildless anymore.

Trill looked around frantically until her eyes settled on Larx, the mouse that had helped spread the Guildless ideas through the Burrowers’ guild. The hardest nut to crack, and Larx had offered willingly, provided she could become a leader of the Guildless. “What about you, Larx?” she curled her lip, revealing sharp teeth. “What a faithful second-in-command you turned out to be.”

Larx didn’t even raise a brow. She just gave a look that said ‘Guess I’m in first command, then.’

Trill was held fast by Drea, and then within a moment, Trill felt grass binding around her paws. “You’re lucky I’m letting you live. You’re mad, and forced us all to live in that complex, with nothing gained. Nothing.” Trill was dripped onto her knees, held down by Drea’s large paw. She was the leader of the rebellion. Against all ‘Whiskers. Not some rag doll prisoner.

In a final act of defiance, Trill glared daggers right into Roz’s eyes, yet she didn’t move. Trill realized that Tyranos was right. Highwhisker was right near invincible, and if Rozalin could take him down, then Trill would be an easy fix. She bit her lip though, trying to hide her falling features. She shot a glare at Larx. Coward wouldn’t even say that she was Guildless.

The whispers were actually getting so loud that they couldn’t be called whispers anymore. It was more like a loud cry of outrage. Trill smiled. At least she had the Guildless by her side. “Seems they actually like me, Lady Sunwhisker,” she sneered. How the mood had changed so quickly.

Roz didn’t respond, save a sly grin. She turned to the rest of the mice, all of them ready to unsheathe whatever weapons they had, or even hold their teeth and claws at the ready. They were right to do so. Trill and Hazelwood’s way was the right way to go. Wolf Plains didn’t need to be segregated from one-another with Guilds and other things. “Fine. You want to see Trill live?”

Larx didn’t show anything on her face as she said, “Trill lives or the Guildless will kill you.” She tapped her paws lightly, clearly visible from Trill’s view on the ground. She was good, Trill had to admit. Sweeping the command of the Guildless from right under Trill’s paws, while pretending to be loyal to Rozalin at the same time.

“You can have her alive, but you have to be back to your complexes. Tomorrow morning, or I’ll kill her right now.”

Trill opened her eyes wide in surprise. She didn’t know if she was surprised that she was actually going to die or that Roz could bring that up. “No!” she shouted. Her father died for the Guildless, and if need be, the apple wouldn’t fall far from the tree. “No, Guildess! We’re the way! We are the workers, the driving force behind Wolf Plains! You can kill a leader, but never an idea!” She tried leaping up from her knees, but Drea kept her paw on Trill’s head. “Mice die for the Guildless, and if you think that the Guild’s segregation is worth it, then fine! Take your brothers and sisters and shove them in another Guild.” Trill blinked. She didn’t know if she had a brother or a sister, but it was likely. Especially if they weren’t allowed to claim their fathers’ name. “You’ll never see them again. That, my friends are what Guilds do.” She breathed in, and gave a defiant sneer to Rozalin. Then quietly she whispered, “You are no different from Highwhisker, Sunwhisker.”

Rozalin gave a silent nod, then turned back. “If you need a bit of a push, I’ll change one law. Parents will no longer choose another mouse’s guild. The mice themselves will.”

The last thing Trill saw was the Argente mouse’s right green eyes blazing with hate and fury. And of course, a few last words from the so-called leader of Wolf Plains. “I’ll be checking your complexes tomorrow morning. Remember whose life is in your paws.”

Drea kicked the back of Trill’s head, then there was blackness.