The Guardian Herd: Stormbound (12 page)

“Let's walk awhile,” said Frostfire, “give our wings a rest.” He led his group to an icy lake, and beyond it was another forest, so dense the sunlight couldn't penetrate it.

“That's the Trap,” said a gray stallion, pointing to the thick woods.

“Yes. The southern end of it,” Frostfire replied. “If Rockwing's scouts are correct, Star and his herd are just north of here.”

“Was that all of the Snow Herd steeds back there?” asked Larksong.

“I think it was,” said Frostfire. “I saw Twistwing and Petalcloud and many stallions but few mares, weanlings, or elders. They wouldn't leave their weakest steeds by themselves, so they must be dead.”

“The Blue Tongue plague is wiping them out,” Larksong said, looking pleased. “Snow Herd is vulnerable. It would be a good time for Mountain Herd to attack them.”

Frostfire nodded. “We should inform Rockwing of their losses. They are worse off than I ever imagined. But where is Shadepebble?”

“Maybe she got the plague and died,” said Larksong.

Frostfire bristled at the harshness of Larksong's words because he was fond of Shadepebble. It could be true that she had died, but he didn't think so. Most illnesses incubated first and then killed slowly. Of course this was a plague and not most illnesses.

The image of his mother's cold eyes surfaced. He would not be surprised if Petalcloud had murdered her sister. She could claim Shadepebble had died of the plague, and Rockwing would never know the truth.

But Rockwing could still blame Snow Herd for Shadepebble's death, for exposing her to the illness. He could still start a war with them. So where was she? Frostfire glanced at Larksong, thinking to discuss it with her, but he stopped himself. He didn't want her to know he felt confused.

Shaking his head to clear it, Frostfire spoke to his team. “Two of you will return home. Tell Rockwing about Snow Herd's condition and that his filly is not with them.” He didn't wait for volunteers, knowing none of his steeds would want the task of giving Rockwing bad news about his filly. Frostfire picked out the two youngest stallions. “Stay safe and follow the Vein to our territory.”

“Yes, sir.” The stallions lifted off and flew south.

Frostfire had five steeds left: four warriors and
Larksong. They flew north along the edge of the Trap until dark, then he landed them. “Rockwing's scouts last spotted River Herd traveling to the Ice Lands to avoid the Blue Tongue plague. Hopefully they are still there and haven't moved.”

“There's nothing to eat in the Ice Lands,” complained a stallion.

“There has to be,” argued Larksong. “Animals live there. Big animals,” she added.

“He makes a good point though,” said Frostfire. “Star's herd could be on the move to avoid starvation. We'll shelter in the woods for the night, but we'll keep watch. Star and Morningleaf could be anywhere.”

Frostfire led his mare and stallions to a lake. They chopped at the ice with their hooves and then drank the cold water slowly. He glanced at the snow clouds developing overhead. “After this storm passes, we'll fly to the Ice Lands and begin our search for Morningleaf.”

Frostfire kept watch while his team fell asleep in the thick forest that was as dark and foreboding as the black foal himself.

STAR AND HIS HERD MARCHED SOUTHEAST,
beginning their journey toward the interior of Anok. The River Herd pegasi were grateful to be on the move, even though no one was sure the lush and windy flatlands truly existed. Anywhere was better than the frozen north.

They traveled by hoof because the newborns weren't ready to fly higher than the trees, the still-pregnant mares were too close to giving birth to fly, and one filly couldn't fly at all—her bright-blue wings were too small to lift her off the ground.

The quarantined mares had rejoined the herd and still showed no signs of the Blue Tongue plague. Their unborn foals grew steadily in their bellies.

Star, Morningleaf, Bumblewind, and Brackentail followed at the rear of the herd, and Silverlake chose their path. Now that Echofrost was gone, Brackentail sought their company more often, in spite of the awkwardness between them. His guards kept near, but since Brackentail hadn't caused any trouble since joining River Herd, they didn't watch him too closely.

Star's herd slowly approached the Hoofbeat Mountains to the east, but Silverlake decided the terrain was too steep and icy to cross by hoof. Since the mountains formed a natural barrier to the interior land, River Herd was forced to travel south, to the end of the massive mountain range. There the herd could turn either east and take a shortcut through the Trap or they could continue south and skirt around the dense and dangerous forest.

Star guessed Silverlake would want to avoid the Trap. The intertwining branches of its trees created an impenetrable ceiling, blocking the sky. It was called the Trap because a pegasi who entered the forest could only escape from it by hoof. And a grounded pegasus was an easy target for bears, wolves, and lions—and those predators were plentiful. On the other hand, the Trap was a shortcut, and traveling through it would trim many days off their journey.

Without warning, Silverlake halted, ears pricked, wings tensed, her every feather standing on end. The River Herd steeds froze behind her, and all eyes scanned the landscape, including Star's. “There,” Silverlake whispered.

Star followed the direction of her gaze and saw the lumbering white bear. He gasped and stumbled back, remembering Dawnfir. Star's grief and anger caused the silver fire in his belly to shudder into a biting spark. Star clenched his jaws and resumed walking, trying to ignore the sensations battling inside him.

“She sees us,” said Silverlake. The bear's belly was round with unborn cubs. She padded across the sparkling snow, her head swinging from side to side.

Star noticed that the bear was keeping an eye on them, but she picked up her pace and kept moving, not interested in tangling with a herd of pegasi.

“We're safe if we stay together,” Silverlake said calmly, eyeing the foals.

The bear continued on her path without threat, and River Herd did the same.

Morningleaf nickered to Star. “Look at my father.”

Star's eyes found Thundersky, cantering beside Silverlake with his hooves in a jumble. He fluttered his wings to keep his balance, his expression grouchy. In all his life
he'd never traveled this far on land, and they had only just begun.

“Remember when he forbade me to travel by hoof?” whispered Morningleaf.

Star nodded. It was when he was still a dud and his wings dragged on the ground. Just thinking about it caused his shoulder blades to ache. Morningleaf had offered to travel with him, and Thundersky had balked, saying,
“I won't have my filly traveling by hoof like a common horse
.
”
“I remember,” Star said.

“Now look at him,” she whinnied.

Bumblewind grunted. “Grasswing was the best when it came to traveling on the ground.”

Tears sprang to Star's eyes at the thought of Grasswing.

“I'm sorry,” said Bumblewind, noticing the heavy pause in Star's breathing.

Star wiped his eyes with his feathers, suddenly realizing why he was sad. With Grasswing and Mossberry dead—and Silverlake confused about his powers—Star had no elders to guide him. “I miss Grasswing,” he said simply. Even with his best friends cantering beside him, Star felt alone.

They continued on, trailed by Brackentail, and Star was lulled by the smooth cadence of Morningleaf's
hoofbeats. They had a long journey ahead of them. It would be at least a moon before they reached the flatlands in the interior.

That evening they settled near a flowing river. “The snow is melting,” said Dewberry, joining them.

The pegasi dug into the tundra with their sharp hooves and feasted on the fragile lichen. The mothers, newborns, and elders lay down in the center of the herd. The rest formed a protective circle around them.

Star watched Brackentail as he pawed the ground, eating listlessly. The herd had become adept at ignoring his presence, and Star remembered how that felt. When a newborn wandered too close to the Betrayer, its dam whinnied a warning, calling her foal away. Star saw that this saddened Brackentail.

Right then Brackentail looked up and caught Star watching him. The two stared at each other for a long time, so long the herd noticed and grew tense. Star huffed, blowing fog from his nose, and then he walked to his oldest enemy and stood in front of him.

Brackentail hunched in Star's shadow but met his eyes. Feelings like lightning raced between them: distrust, anger, fear, and regret. Brackentail pinned his ears, ready for a fight, but Star did not advance. He just stared at
Brackentail, his ears forward, waiting. Brackentail's ears twisted, and his eyes softened. He lowered his head, looking at Star's hooves, and exhaled, surrendering to Star in front of the entire herd.

Star had won the standoff and could drive him off or kill him, but he chose to do neither. He touched muzzles with Brackentail and blew softly into his nostrils, accepting the yearling into River Herd.

“Come with me,” Star said to Brackentail, dismissing the guards with a flick of his tail. The big stallions glanced at Thundersky, who nodded, and then they trotted away. Brackentail's breath pumped fast as he followed Star through the herd. Star walked with his head high, and the herd made way for him and Brackentail to pass through. When Star reached his friends, he stopped. “There's untouched lichen here,” he said to Brackentail. The four yearlings who'd been foals together all stared, their hearts racing.

And then Morningleaf nuzzled Brackentail, and so did Bumblewind. The big, brown yearling dropped his head and grazed with them, relief and joy tumbling in his eyes. All River Herd relaxed and prepared for evening.

Star glanced at Morningleaf, and she nodded her approval. The four of them, plus Dewberry, grazed together
for the rest of the evening.

Later, as everyone slept, Star stayed awake, staring at the beautiful sky. Suddenly he saw a swirl of bright lights appear against the blackness, twisting and floating in a vibrant display. He nudged Morningleaf awake, and she nudged Bumblewind. Steed by steed, the pegasi woke one another. “It's the Ancestors!” neighed Sweetroot. “They're migrating.”

All pegasi knew their Ancestors lived in the stars, but few had ever seen them. Their ethereal bodies were invisible to the living, but their bright feathers left streaks of colorful light that could only be seen in the far north.

“Can they see us?” asked Morningleaf.

“I think they're aware of us,” nickered Sweetroot.

“Dawnfir is up there,” said Silverlake, and her wings relaxed at her sides as she gazed at the incredible colors.

The iridescent lights reflected off Morningleaf's eyes, making them shine. “I was with them,” she breathed, “almost.” All eyes jolted to her. Morningleaf's death was not something the steeds liked to discuss. How she had died and then come back to life confused them, even though they were grateful Star had healed her.

“Grasswing is there too,” Star whispered, “and my mother.” His eyes followed the bright colors drifting over
his head. There was pale green—Grasswing—and streaks of silver—Lightfeather—and shimmers of magenta—Mossberry. Star lowered his head, and all around him, the pegasi of River Herd followed his lead, bowing their heads to the Ancestors.

“We're not alone,” murmured Morningleaf.

“You're right,” said Star, returning his gaze to the night sky. His mother and Grasswing had died, but they weren't gone. They lived in the heights and flew through the stars. His heart filled with pleasure. They were on an eternal high flight, past where the blue sky turned black, to where he wanted to fly someday—in space, with the moon as his guide. His mother was there, watching him, swirling above Anok like an evening rainbow, and she was more beautiful than any living thing.

Star gazed beyond the twinkling sky, to the glossy ice and the rugged mountains that stood like sentries in the night. Miles upon miles of glittering white snow surrounded him, and a shallow bubbling creek spoke of the end of winter. Anok and its inhabitants, down to the smallest insect, were magnificent.

Star glared toward the west and folded his wings, resolved in his purpose. He was Nightwing's rival, and he would have to fight him—sooner or later. Star was only
a yearling and had never been in battle, or even sharpened his hooves; but he had the power from the Hundred Year Star, and he had a destiny—one his mother believed was good. He would learn to use the silver starfire, even though it robbed his mind of light, and he would protect all of Anok from the destruction that was coming.

Or he would die trying.