Young Writers Society

“I honestly have no idea what Trill was doing on the branch. Serious,” Fleck said as he shifted uncomfortably on his pebble chair. Talking with guards was a strange experience, almost scary.

Tulun whirled on him, the tips of her black fur illuminated every time a flash of lightning echoed through the hollow. “She had to be up there for a reason, Fleck.” She clenched her paw on Tyranos’ wooden desk.

Fleck nodded, looking outside of the Trainer’s office, where the water from the rain was flowing freely into a stream. The rooms were raised just an extra inch in case of storms, Tyranos had told them. They’d stayed back from the boat races to talk. Well, Fleck would’ve liked to have gone to the races, but Tulun invited him to stay.

He stayed willingly.

Tyranos whispered something that Fleck couldn’t hear.

“What’d you say?” Tulun wiped a paw on her face, getting the rainwater off of it.

“She must have been listening in to something, Tul.” Tyranos breathed in and closed his fiery eyes. “I did it once, the bird didn’t move in though.”

“But what?” Tulun was fierce now, far different from when he met her. “She should have been guarding Hazelwood. Especially after…” she said, trailing off. “After what happened with Hjerral.” Her voice was calmer now, and she gave a sad glance to Fleck.

“What happened to Hjerral?” Fleck gazed steadily back at her, but a pit of dread was forming in his stomach.

“Hazelwood killed him. Threw him off a branch,” Tulun answered, lowering her head. Images of what Fescue must have looked like when he was buried flew in his mind, none of the images pretty.

There was silence, save the sound of rain falling on the ground above them.

“I saw Highwhisker going up there yesterday.” Fleck shrunk in his fur at the glare Tyranos was now giving him.

“Highwhisker? And you didn’t tell us?” Tyranos raised both paws.

“Well that could have been useful.” Tulun rolled her eyes. “Seriously, join the discussion. We won’t bite.”

“Well, you kind of are…” Fleck put a paw to his shoulder and rustled the fur on it. He took a glance at the ceiling. It reminded him of when the complex was lifted up.

“That’s what it’s like to be a Guard. We argue with each other for ideas,” Tyranos said a smile on his face. “It’s all playful banter. Well, until a fight breaks out.”

Tulun averted her eyes guiltily.

“So, Highwhisker went up there. Maybe she sent Trill away.” Fleck ran a paw through his fur, stopping at a scar on his back that he’d always had.

“To listen in on them?” Tulun raised a brow.

“She’s in with the Guildless,” Tyranos offered. Fleck recalled the dead leaves, a singled word marking them. Guildless.

“Maybe she was sent off by Hazelwood.” Fleck lowered his gaze. This Trill didn’t know what Hazelwood was really like.

Tyranos and Fleck both looked at Tulun, waiting for her to remark, but she didn’t say anything.

“It doesn’t add up,” she said finally, standing up. “If we don’t know the whole story, we’re overthinking it.

“You’re the one who asked,” Fleck said, raising his paws indignantly. He was getting the Guard spirit.

“Well…” Tulun said. “Alright. I did. I just needed to bounce ideas,” she sighed.

“Well, you have.” Tyranos said, and hesitated. “Maybe we

“We need to find Trill and ask her. Interrogate her.” He slammed his paw on the other side of the desk from Tulun. He shook it quickly, but a smile was breaking on his face.

“What?” Both Fleck and Tulun glared at him.

“She’ll just get defensive, and start lying. Best not to know.” Tulun closed her eyes.

“But you just said you need to know. Make up your mind.” Flack said as Tyranos shook his paw once more, and a drop of wetness landed on Fleck’s ears. He ran his paws over his hears, tracing the scars from when the complex lifted up, until he stopped at the droplet. It was still warm off of Tyranos’ paw. If Tyranos could do that, then there had to be some hidden strength under his long fur. Tyranos met Fleck’s gaze and glared enough to make Fleck turn away.

“Can I help being indecisive?” She shrugged.

“Well, it kills me not knowing, Tulun. We need to know as much as we could. Highwhisker’s life depends on it.”

As Fleck shrunk in his fur, Tulun looked steadily at Tyranos. She stayed still, serene as a rose. “You’re right. We do need to know more, but we aren’t going to hurt others. Least if they don’t deserve it.” Tulun stopped, and Fleck followed her blue gaze to the water flowing like a torrent down the tunnels and lapping at the edge of the office.

Tyranos sighed, but he shuffled uncomfortably. “Fine. Tomorrow we’ll ask her a couple questions all casually. Okay? If she’s got a guilty conscience, then we’ll know.”

“Or she’ll lie.”

Fleck didn’t bother to interrupt the siblings’ arguments.

“Never mind.” Tyranos pricked his ears up. “The horn. Sorry, Fleck, I’m on the night shift.”

Fleck didn’t say anything at the glare that Tulun gave Tyranos.

“So, you’ve got to go.” Tyranos stood up, waving for Fleck to leave. “Sorry to be so sudden, but we Guards like to keep our own in the complex. Now, go.”

Fleck shrugged. “Okay, Tyranos. Silas’ll be picking a new trainer any time anyway. See you.” He began stepping out of the hollow. He then turned and began plodding through the mud. The stream was slowing, but the rain still pattered on the ground.

The walls looked like they could bury him in, as they had done with the complex. Except if the rain caved the mud in, there wouldn’t be an ice chunk to save him. He remembered Fescue, the young mouse on his first day of training. It could easily happen to him. Fleck found himself wading faster as he looked at the now dripping ceilings.

Finally, a skylight. Fleck climbed up the slope of mud, and shook away the mud that climbed over his paws. Nope. He would never be cut for the Burrowing Guild. The complex lifting up and digging with Nera was proof enough for that. He shook his fur off, and looked back down in the tunnels. Maybe it was just how mice were raised.

The rain fell down from the pines onto Fleck’s nose and face, reminding him of Tyranos’ bloody paw. He shook his head and looked at the puddles forming on the gravel road separating the Guards complex of Wolf Plains from the rest of Wolf Plains. Yet still he could see the rose bush from the low vantage point behind a hill. Its thorny branches reached nearly as high as the house, the light pink petals setting it apart from the lilac trees.

“One step, Fleck. Two steps,” he tried whispering to himself as he plodded out through the streams pouring into the hole. “Don’t be afraid. Just get back to normal.” But that was the thing. Fescue still died. The Guilds were still being torn apart. And Highwhisker might still die. Fleck clenched his jaw. He would be afraid. He always would be. Fleck looked down as he took tentative steps across the gravel driveway. “If only…” he breathed, thinking of Tyranos’ paw and the strength he could be if he joined the other side, “living normally was as simple as it sounded. Oh, if only.”

***

The memories of being a Frozenmoon mouse were coming back to him. He remembered his mother’s kind words. They all made sense now that he was an adult. Being ten seasons, a pup couldn’t understand anything. “Tulun, I’m going to volunteer for the shift. I don’t need to sleep.”

His younger sister didn’t listen, her black fur bristled. “I’m not stupid, Ty. You’re going after Trill.”

“She’s guarding Hazelwood. Getting even more so-called ‘information,’” he scoffed. It was a lie. Trill was watching in the trees. He saw her there before.

He lifted his necklace off the desk. Tandrai taught him how to make it, and how it was a very easily disguised sling. Tulun had her petal, Tyranos had his weapon. Tying the thin straw braids behind his neck, he sighed. He’d always miss those days. Even survival was a constant battle.

“Alright, Tyranos. Whatever you say. I’m on shift too, you know this. I’ll be watching.” She put two fingers to her eyes and then pointed them at him. “Serious. Don’t hurt Trill. You should be the first mouse to know this.”

“I do. Now let’s go.” Tyranos started to take calm steps into the river, until he hit the skylight. He felt the watchful gaze of Tulun under him, but the white mouse didn’t mind.

“I’ll be on the fence,” Tulun said, a weak smile on her face. “Remember.” She leaped up, scrabbling only a bit on the ramp to get up.

Tyranos nodded. “I promise.” He waited until Tulun’s pawsteps couldn’t be heard for the rain. He quickly glanced in the walls. This was always where his sandballs were, at the second skylight. They weren’t enough to kill, unless they were hurled with all his might, but easily enough to knock a mouse out for a few moments.

Interrogation didn’t mean hurting. It was intimidation. Even then the idea seemed less inviting now that he thought of it. He could very well hurt Trill if it got forceful. Hopefully it never got to that. He imagined her dark grey fur in a heap, lying on the ground. His paws might not be speckled with black fur could easily have blood on them, but that was no different. He might just be a Frozen mouse in a Wolf Plains mouse’s fur. Maybe not.

No. He narrowed his eyes, stepping along the tamaracks. He was a Wolf Plains mouse. He was doing what he had to so that he could stay Wolf Plains. If he knew more, he could help Highwhisker, the mouse that took him in even after on of his kind - his old kind - killed his wife. It was the only logical idea that a Frozenmoon mouse did it. Even Tyranos didn’t know.

He stopped at the lowest branch beneath the tamarack at the sight of a silhouette. Only a few Guards were on shift. The schedules were on a new leaf sheet in the common room every day. Kanter was supposed to be on the night shift with Trill and Tulun. But Kanter always left the city at night to the other side of the road. He always came back with blood on his paws long before any mouse would wake up, but Tyranos wouldn’t confront him.

He lifted himself up, using his sling to wrap around a branch to pull him up. It was easier, especially when the bark was slick with rain. One pull. He was on another branch. Two pulls. He was higher, but not on another branch. Just one more pull of the sling, and he could be up. He tightened his arms, pulling them close to him as he scrabbled up with black speckled hindpaws. He reached one hindpaw out onto a branch wide enough to walk on comfortably, and pulled himself on. He took his sling and tied it around his neck. The pine scale on it held a sandball in place, though from the night and the fogginess from the rain, it could easily be seen as a stone.

He sat down, looking out angrily at the misty silhouettes of Wolf Plains. None of them had to live like him. None of them had to get glares from Hoof Spots veterans, especially Edvard. But Tyranos was a trustworthy mouse of the city. Even Highwhisker didn’t understand that. And none of them had sworn never to tell their sister about their pasts, however glorious - horrid it was.

Occele was the first mouse to come to mind. The tricolor would always haunt Tyranos’ nightmares, but Tulun never said anything about it. She deserved that death. He dropped his legs down the pine tree with a sigh. But maybe Kyran didn’t die. After the battle, he never saw the mouse again. Yet he was a crafty creature. He should probably be the mouse to haunt Tyranos’ nightmares, but Occele managed to do worse to Tulun.

Then a sheet of rainwater poured onto his head, chilling Tyranos beneath his fur. Then he remembered the dark grey silhouette. Of course it was Trill. Not that he was complaining.

Tyranos glared up at her. “What did you do that for?”

Trill shrugged. “To grab your attention. We need to talk.”

Standing up, Tyranos smiled. It would be this easy? He didn’t have to hurt her or intimidate her at all? “Sure. What is it.” He untied the simple knot around his neck and began climbing up the slick bark.

“Hold your breath, Tyranos.” She smiled warmly, and slid down the bark of the spruce easily until she was on the fan-like branch. “It’s about the Guildless,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t be telling anybody this or… You know what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’re still loyal to Highwhisker. I can’t trust you.”

Tyranos shook his head. “Don’t worry, Trill.” Tyranos found himself lying for her. “I- I’m not. Please tell me.”

“Well, Larx won’t be happy, but never mind.”

Larx? That threw Tyranos off completely. Maybe Trill didn’t know anything and was just spreading lies. Hopefully. Larx was the closest mouse to Roz, besides Highwhisker of course. Not exactly one that would go Guildless.

“See, I knew it.” She ran a paw through her fur. “I knew you’d spill. I knew you would, I see it on your face,” she repeated, her yellow eyes glowing with fury. “Sure, Tyranos, I bet you want to go spill to the mouse who took me away from my father as soon as I came to the city. What a friend you are.” She jumped up a branch.

Tyranos looked down at his paws and sighed. He shouldn’t need to do it. He never should. The sand ball weighted the sling, braided in so that it wouldn’t slip until it was un-knotted. “Wait, Trill!” he called weakly, and she stopped. The rain made her fur even more beautiful. “Look. I’m sorry.” His prayers needed to work.

She sighed. “I can’t stay mad at you for too long.” She hopped down and caught herself just as she landed on Tyranos’ branch.

“I heard a saying,” Tyranos began to say. He was trained well at Frozenmoon. There, he was a true warrior. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” It was partly true. Highwhisker and Tyranos, though at the same height, never saw eye to eye. Yet Highwhisker took him in. That was a special kind of good.

“All you need to know is that Highwhisker’s going down.”

Tyranos’ eyes widened. “No,” he whispered beneath his breath. Highwhisker fought Kyran at that battle. Kyran nearly had him too, but somehow, Highwhisker won.

And showed mercy.

“You don’t understand, Trill,” Tyranos found himself saying. “Trill, Highwhisker’s damn near invincible.”

“I tried again. And now again,” Trill said, anger in her eyes once more. “I’ve already told you too much.” Without another word, Trill ran up the tree. “Excuse me, Tyranos, but I’ve got a city to Guard.”

She was disappearing among the branches, her tail now barely visible.

Frantically, Tyranos racked his mind. He had to get more information, and if he hit her with a sandball, knocking her out, so be it. Tyranos was already climbing the trees without another thought. He stopped as she did, crawling onto another branch. But Tyranos went higher. He needed that information.

Two branches more. The memory of Kyran, the mouse who hated both Tyranos and Tulun, nearly killing each of them every day, but letting them live only so they could in fear, ran through his mind.. He was at that last branch, covered in soft downy moss. Like the moss that Tandrai always managed to find.

He could never be another Kyran though. Yet already, against all his heart, he was untying the string of the ‘necklace.’ The string that held in the sandball was unbraided.

“I know you’re there, Tyranos,” Trill murmured. “And I know what you’re going to do.” Her voice was so soft, like the sweetest night’s whisper.

Tyranos continued swinging the sling. It was gaining momentum. It would fly off on its own any second.

“I guess, I’ll tell you one more thing.” She paused. “I’m Hazelwood’s daughter.”

“What?” Tyranos couldn’t even stop the sling. It flew out of its paws, the sandball flying so fast that it made a sound like a whip’s crack. “No!”

The puff of the sandball making contact rang in Tyranos’ ears. He remembered the first time he used the sling, with a real stone and a band of healing squirrels. Tandrai had been impressed. Then it was the gasp of Trill, and then the sound of pine needles separating that brought Tyranos back to attention.

He didn’t say anything as he began running down to the needle branch. He leaped down branches, rolling over to catch the fall.

He then stood up. There she was, a heap of grey fur slumped on the pine branch. She faced the sky, eyes closed tight. Drops of scarlet laced the tips of the pine needles and soaking the sand that exploded from the ball, while dropping down onto the branch below.

“No. No!” he began to murmur. Not Trill. “No, not you, Trill.” He did it. He became a Frozenmoon mouse. A monster that killed for what it believed was right.

He closed his fiery amber eyes, backing away slowly. He dropped the sling from his paws, leaving it on the pine branch.

He turned around. “I didn’t mean for this. Wake up. Please.”

There was no sound from Trill, not even the rustle of pine branches.

“Did you get the information, then?” Tulun’s voice was grim. Yet it was level, like it was when she saw Tandrai’s body. The first time she ever spoke.

Tyranos opened his mouth, and then clenched his jaw. He put his paws into tight fists and took them out. “Just go, Tulun. Now.” Tears began stinging his eyes, and his throat started to hurt. “Just go!” Swinging his paw out at Tulun, he felt it connect with her face. There was a small cry, and Tyarnos immediately stopped.

His eyes widened as she stood on the ground, looking up at him. She put a paw to her face, bleeding from his claws, and muttered something silently with wide blue eyes.

Not Tulun too. “No. Please, Tul.”

Tulun didn’t respond. She was slowly getting up to her knees, only giving him a silent, frightened glance. Then she started running so quickly that the pine needles didn’t even rustle. All Tyranos could do was watch helplessly.

Blinking painful tears from his eyes, he walked silently down the pine branch. What had he done?