2

SECRETS

STAR PLUNKED INTO THE SHALLOW END WITH A loud splash, startling a flock of geese. He trotted out of the lake, shook himself, and collapsed, exhausted, in the coarse sand.

He lay for a long time, swatting flies with his tail and thinking about what had just happened. The Hundred Year Star blazed next to the sun, visible even during the brightest day. It followed him, seeming to stalk him from space, and it grew larger each day. In seven cycles of the moon it would be winter and Star’s birthday. At midnight the star would drop low in the sky, transfer its fire to him, and transform him, maybe into a killer—if he lived that long.

“There you are,” a voice rang out, its familiar tone lifting his spirits. It was his best friend, Morningleaf. He looked up to see the chestnut filly soar down out of the fir trees, followed by the twin foals, Bumblewind and Echofrost.

They landed next to him, chattering and cheerful. Morningleaf greeted him, blowing softly into his nose. His friends obviously had no idea he’d just been transported into the heart of Mountain Herd and back. Already it felt like a dream.

“We’ve been looking for you,” said Morningleaf.

“Did you see Brackentail and Stripestorm?” Star asked them.

“I saw them,” said Bumblewind. “They came running out of the woods like they were being chased by wolves.”

“Did they say anything?”

Bumblewind looked at his twin sister. She shrugged her wings. “Not to us. They joined up with the other foals to play.”

“Are you okay?” Morningleaf asked, nodding at the cut on Star’s shoulder. She rushed to examine it. “Did Brackentail do this to you?” She looked around for the brown colt, her ears pinned.

Star soothed her. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” But he couldn’t believe Brackentail and Stripestorm hadn’t gone for help. Members of his own herd had left him to die. Already he saw that Rockwing’s words were true. Heaviness and emptiness rolled through him at the same time.

Morningleaf looked back toward Dawn Meadow, Sun Herd’s main grazing land, and scowled. “He’s a featherhead, but Star, why were you out here alone? It’s not safe.”

Star twitched his ears. “I was practicing.” He wouldn’t tell anyone, including his friends, about Rockwing’s offer. His friends would worry, and Sun Herd was already suspicious of him, and they didn’t need another reason to fear him.

Star glanced at Morningleaf, feeling unhappy that he couldn’t tell her what had just happened. Her dam, Silvercloud, adopted Star after his mother died. Ever since, he and the chestnut filly shared everything. Morningleaf’s eyes swept his oversize black wings, dusty from dragging on the ground, his torn feathers hanging off the edges like moss. “Any luck with the flying?” she asked.

Star shook his curly black mane. “No. I can’t even lift my wings off my back, let alone flap them.”

“Did those colts see you trying to fly?” Morningleaf asked. “Is that how the fight started?”

Star swished his tail as if he could erase the day. “No. They talked about my mother.”

Morningleaf narrowed her eyes. “Don’t listen to them. Your mother is a legend.”

“I know,” Star whispered, nodding his head. Each century when the Hundred Year Star appeared, a black foal was born to one mare in Anok—and this century, that mare had been his dam, Lightfeather.

Morningleaf took a deep, proud breath. “No pregnant mare could have migrated alone, with no help from the herd, like she did. She’s incredible.”

Star knew all about that, but it didn’t make him feel any better, because his mother had died and was gone forever.

Bumblewind trotted to Star and wrapped his wing around his neck. “Anyway, if you keep practicing, you’ll fly one day, Star. I know it. Nightwing was born a dud too.”

Morningleaf smacked him. “Don’t talk about Nightwing.”

Star exhaled. Nightwing was a black foal that lived four hundred years ago. The prophecy of the black foal decreed that the Hundred Year Star would transfer its supernatural fire to the colt at midnight on his first birthday. The star would then disappear for another hundred years, and the black foal would become the most powerful pegasus in Anok. But black foals were not regular pegasi to begin with, the most obvious difference being their color. Black coats existed for land horses, but not for pegasi. And their long legs and oversize wings, malformations that caused life-threatening early births, also made them different from the others in their herd. The foals who survived were duds, and most starved to death. But Nightwing had been an exception—his mother had survived.

Since a mare from a different herd was chosen each century to bear the black foal, the herd that received the special colt was known in Anok as the guardian herd. It was the over-stallion’s right either to protect or destroy the rare colt, who some pegasi viewed as dangerous and others viewed as extraordinary. This century’s guardian herd was Sun Herd, and the over-stallion, Thunderwing, viewed Star as dangerous. Thunderwing didn’t believe any one pegasus should wield so much power and vowed to end Star’s life on his birthday. He’d sent messengers to all the herds informing them about his decision.

Star shuddered just thinking about his upcoming execution. The fire of the Hundred Year Star terrified the steeds of Anok because it could be used to unite them or destroy them—and no pegasus, not even Star, was sure if he would have any choice in how the power affected him. All the old stories pictured Nightwing as a polite and friendly foal right up until his first birthday, and then he’d turned on the herds, attacking them, setting their grasslands on fire, and driving them to the edge of extinction. Star’s guardian herd feared he would do the same. So the fact that Nightwing had also been born a dud didn’t comfort Star.

But Lightfeather had believed Star was good. And because of Lightfeather’s belief, Silvercloud, the lead mare of Sun Herd, promised the dying mare she would protect Star as long as she could.

The sounds of his friends nickering reminded Star where he was and that he was soaking wet. He shook himself hard, dousing them in water, and his friends scrambled away, whinnying in delight.

“Well, since we’re all here, who wants to play water tag?” asked Echofrost.

“You’re it,” whinnied Morningleaf, tagging Star.

His friends galloped into the water. Star didn’t feel like playing, but he didn’t want to return to the herd either, so he chased his three friends into the lake.

He dived under and let the cool water soothe his throbbing wings and raise them off his back. He glided in a lazy circle around Bumblewind, who was not a fast swimmer. Morningleaf paddled above them, her wings extended and her neck flat, the sunlight filtering through her aqua feathers casting stripes of color across the water. Star floated over the tops of the lake plants. Fat fish and tiny minnows darted out of his path. Down here he could pretend he was a regular flying foal like his friends, a full member of Sun Herd with a proper herd name. He was Starlight the colt, not Star the black foal of Anok, and he could fly—until he ran out of breath.

The four of them played until Star’s heavy wings began to cramp again. “I’m done,” he said. He crawled out of the flat blue water and then rolled onto his back. The rough sand was hot, and it soothed his muscles. His friends shook themselves dry and picked at the plants along the shoreline, their ears swiveling with each croak of a frog. They were just days away from their weaning, but they still preferred warm, sweet milk to bitter grass.

“I’m hot,” said Bumblewind. It was early summer, and the low sun burned their pelts.

Echofrost was preening her feathers. “Let’s go back then.”

“Come on.” Morningleaf chose a narrow, winding path to return to the lower plains where Sun Herd grazed. She broke into a slow trot.

“You three can fly,” Star said. “I don’t mind.”

Morningleaf snorted and kept trotting. “Of course not, we’ll walk with you.”

The friends rounded a bend and skidded into the dangling hooves of Brackentail, Stripestorm, and a red roan filly named Flamesky, who were flying several feet above the path.

“Look, guys,” said Flamesky, “it’s a band of horses.” The group landed on the dirt path, blocking Star and his friends.

Star locked eyes with Brackentail. The brown colt appeared stunned to see him still alive. Star wondered if Brackentail was returning to Feather Lake hoping to find that the four Mountain Herd stallions had killed him.

Morningleaf pinned her ears. “Let us pass.”

Brackentail huffed and spread his wings. “Why don’t you fly over us?” He looked pointedly at Star.

Morningleaf whirled around and kicked Brackentail in the chest, knocking him out of the sky. The colt slammed into the ground, wheezing and coughing. Flamesky lunged at Morningleaf but pulled herself back just as fast. Morningleaf was the daughter of Sun Herd’s over-stallion, Thunderwing, and Flamesky was better off not harassing her. Brackentail’s friends looked at each other, unsure how to proceed.

Morningleaf took advantage of their uncertainty and pushed past them. “Just ignore them,” she said to Star, Echofrost, and Bumblewind. They followed her past the foals.

Brackentail regained his breath and flapped into the sky. “You better watch yourself, Morningleaf,” he threatened from the safety of the heights. “Hanging around the black foal is making you sour.” Brackentail’s entire body quivered as he said the words, and then he and his friends flew away before Morningleaf could respond to them.

“Don’t listen to that nonsense,” said Bumblewind.

“I’m not,” said Morningleaf, her feathers rattling with fury.

But Star heard it, and wondered why Brackentail cared so much about Morningleaf. The big colt was never anything but mean to her.

The four friends finished their journey home in silence. Eventually the sloping path led them out of the trees and revealed the lower plain. Four thousand Sun Herd pegasi grazed in the green valley, their glossy feathers shimmering as they fanned themselves. Compact foals darted between tufts of grass like hummingbirds, their agile wings short and bright. Captains drilled their platoons in the foothills to the west, and fragrant summer flowers dotted the grassland.

Star paused, surveying the impressive sight of his herd. “Let’s look for a moment.”

Bumblewind gave a hearty sigh and pawed the ground. “I’m hungry.”

“Just for a moment,” Star promised. He enjoyed watching sunsets, pretty birds, rainbows, cloud formations—whatever caught his eye, but his friends had little patience for those things.

He looked to the left toward the edge of the forest where his mother’s grave was, a mound of rocks piled inside a circle of tall redwood trees. He’d only spent a few hours with Lightfeather before she’d died. He could still remember how the glow from the Hundred Year Star had made her white body look gold. While Sun Herd had argued to destroy him immediately, she’d ignored their threats and whispered secrets into Star’s ears until he fell asleep. Then she’d died with him curled between her front legs. He’d been too young to understand the words she’d spoken, but he knew they resided in him all the same, engraved deep in his memory.

Lightfeather was a legend to some Sun Herd pegasi and an unlucky orphan to others. She’d been born to Snow Herd in the far north, the illegitimate foal of Icewing. But the lead mare there had driven Lightfeather and her mother out when she was just a filly. A Sun Herd patrol had found Lightfeather hiding in a tree a few days later. A bear had killed and eaten her mother, so she was alone. They’d brought her to Sun Herd’s territory, where Silvercloud took pity on her and adopted her. When the filly grew up and became pregnant with the black foal, many pegasi in Sun Herd wished Silvercloud had left Lightfeather to die in the woods. Lightfeather became an outsider, just like her colt was now.

“I’m really hungry,” Bumblewind said again, groaning.

The words pulled Star from his reverie. “All right. Let’s go.”

They continued their descent and separated when they reached the long grass in the field.

“There’s Mother,” said Echofrost. She and her brother kicked off and flew to Crystalfeather to nurse. The chestnut mare welcomed her foals with an anxious whinny.

Star and Morningleaf trotted to Silvercloud’s side. She nuzzled them and then noticed Star’s wound. “Star, what happened to your shoulder?”

“He fell,” said Morningleaf, covering the truth.

Star was grateful for her quick response because Morningleaf knew he didn’t like Silvercloud to worry about him. But Silvercloud was lead mare of Sun Herd and responsible for the safety of all the foals. She was not so easily fooled. “Fell, huh?” she asked, pricking her ears.

“I was trying to fly,” said Star.

The gray mare nodded. “Would you like Sweetroot to take a look at it? She may have some medicine to heal it.”

“No. It’s fine.” Sweetroot was Sun Herd’s medicine mare, and Star saw her often enough as it was. Each morning she rubbed a mixture of marigold and comfrey across the torn ends of his wings.

Silvercloud nodded and returned to grazing. She nickered with contentment as Star nursed from the ground and Morningleaf nursed from the air, her rapid wingbeats a blur of aqua as she shoved her nose into Silvercloud’s side. When they’d drunk their fill, the two foals collapsed on a blanket of dandelions.

As Star closed his eyes, dark thoughts entered his mind, and within minutes of falling asleep, a nightmare gripped him.

He was a newborn foal visiting the fresh grave of his mother when a black shadow suddenly blotted out the sun. Star raised his head and saw Thunderwing flying to Lightfeather’s grave with his captains in tow. Silvercloud, who was standing next to Star, inched closer as the stallions landed and folded their wings. Star noticed that even the daylight was tinged by the gold fire of the Hundred Year Star, and it was under this light that Star met the crimson-feathered over-stallion for the first time.

Thunderwing stared into Star’s eyes, and Silvercloud flared her wings protectively.

“He’ll never fly,” Thunderwing said, directing his comment to Silvercloud.

The mare said nothing.

Thunderwing spread his wings to their full length and reared, towering over Star, who was only hours old. He lunged forward, slamming the ground with his front hooves, and the force of the blow rattled Star’s teeth. “If you survive,” he said, leaning toward Star, eye to eye with him, “you will not live past a year, for I will execute you on your first birthday. I won’t let you threaten the five herds of Anok.”

Thunderwing lashed his tail and addressed the fresh grave. “Fly straight and find your rest, Lightfeather.” He turned and flew away into the bright gold light of the Hundred Year Star, his bloodred feathers floating in his wake.