26
NEWS
WHEN STAR OPENED HIS EYES, IT WAS PAST dawn. He lurched to his hooves and shook off the snowflakes that had floated down from the clouds and stuck to his black hide.
Frostfire cantered toward him, his breath streaming from his nostrils and blowing away in the blistering winds. The fresh snow deadened his hoofbeats. He halted next to Star and blinked the snowflakes off his lashes. “This place is worse than the Trap,” he grumbled. “Too much shelter there, not enough here. I can’t stay dry.” He shook hard, flinging melted snowdrops off his body. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes,” Star admitted. He imagined Morningleaf and Brackentail in his mind’s eye, walking together through the cottonwoods, and then he stared up at the tribute. He had to let Morningleaf go, let her live her life. He’d known this for a while, but now that he’d seen how much she’d grown without him, he was certain.
Feeling resigned, Star toiled, working harder than usual, clearing his mind of all thoughts except his tasks: chipping ice, finding and lifting stones, carrying them up the hill, placing them, and then setting the rocks with clay. He could move about forty stones a day now, but he had to travel farther downriver each time. The river ice and the deep snow also slowed him.
Nightwing and Petalcloud soared overhead while he worked. The ancient black stallion liked showing Petalcloud his monument and taking her into the storms when they came, especially the lightning storms. Nightwing encircled Petalcloud in his shield, keeping her safe from the electric power of the sky. He flew her through blizzards too, shining his starfire ahead of them—and her happy whinnies reverberated through the sky, a sharp contrast to Wind Herd’s utter lack of joy on the ground.
When night came, Star was anxious again to leave, this time to visit the Wind Herd steeds. The dark clouds had returned, threatening more snow. He drew his power, vanished, and flew toward Wind Herd. Soon he crested the eastern swells and dropped into the shallow valley. It stretched for miles in each direction but was still inadequate for twelve thousand pegasi.
Nightwing and Petalcloud slept at the western edge of the valley, under a large sycamore tree. Petalcloud’s guards patrolled each grouping of pegasi, but they’d relaxed since the early days. Each Wind Herd steed had learned that disobedience led to immediate execution, and disobedience had all but disappeared.
Star landed near the elder mares and lurched across the pitted soil and crushed, dirty snow. A few eyes peered his way, attracted by the soft noises he made, but since he was invisible, the concerned mares went back to dozing. Silverlake and Sweetroot stood huddled together with their heads low and their eyes closed. He lowered his muzzle to Silverlake’s ears and whispered, “Wake up.”
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes opened. She yawned and nudged Sweetroot. “I dreamed that Star was here.”
Star greeted Sweetroot, and she gasped. “He is here.”
“Shh,” said Star. “Follow me.”
Sweetroot and Silverlake gaped at each other. “How come we can’t see you?” asked Silverlake.
Star didn’t want to talk with them near other mares. “Let’s go to the pond,” he whispered. “No one is there right now.”
Silverlake trotted to the lead Ice Warrior guarding her group and requested permission to drink, then returned. “Okay, let’s go,” she said.
Star followed the mares to the pond, and they did their best to look bored and depressed, but Star noticed their excited panting breaths.
When they reached the pond, they halted. Sweetroot and Silverlake stood on each side of him and lowered their heads to drink. Star nuzzled Silverlake, inhaling her familiar scent. She was Dawn Meadow to him, the place where he’d been born. She was sweet milk, lazy days, and cool nights under the blinking stars. But when he opened his eyes, he saw that she was bone thin and weak of muscle, and her once thumping heartbeat now limped in her chest. Star held back his tears, grateful to have good news for her. “Morningleaf and Hazelwind are alive.”
Silverlake’s head flew skyward.
Across the snow, only a mile away, Petalcloud craned her neck and stared at them, attracted by the sudden movement.
“Don’t react to anything Star says,” whispered Sweetroot.
Star held his breath as Petalcloud squinted at them, but then she resumed her preening of Nightwing’s feathers.
“I’m sorry,” said Silverlake. She dunked her nose in the pond again, then lifted it, letting the water stream off her muzzle. “Where are they?” she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
“They’re hiding in the southern woodlands with Brackentail and Dewberry. They wanted to tell you, but your sadness helped convince Nightwing that Morningleaf was truly gone, and that has helped keep her safe. You must continue to act sad.”
“I will.”
Star watched the mares make a show of drinking the water. They had little time and he had lots to say. “Morningleaf and the others are digging an underground tunnel from the forest to the valley. They’re going to smuggle out a group of pegasi to cross the Dark Water and start a new herd on a new continent.”
“How many?” asked Sweetroot.
“I don’t know yet, but it has to be a number that Nightwing won’t notice. We need to spread our kind out of Anok . . . in case I fail.”
Silverlake ruffled her plumage, looking concerned.
Star continued. “The tunnel will reach this pond soon, by late spring before the coming newborns are weaned. Be ready. Morningleaf will need help choosing the steeds who go.”
“Does Frostfire know about this plan?” asked Silverlake. “I don’t trust him.”
“Yes, he knows the plan.”
“He lied to us once before,” Silverlake reminded Star.
“I can’t explain now, but I’ve grown to trust him, and I think he’s starting to trust me.” Star glanced at Nightwing and Petalcloud. The gray mare was looking their way again. His voice quickened. “Listen closely—I need Wind Herd to know that I’m not building that tribute for Nightwing.”
Silverlake turned her eyes to the hills where Star had constructed the base. “For who then?” she asked.
Star tensed as Petalcloud stood and stretched, scanning the valley for anything amiss, then her black eyes settled again on the two mares.
“Start walking back,” Star urged.
They turned and he followed them, continuing in a low whisper. “The tribute is for Bumblewind.”
Silverlake spread her wings to balance herself as she wobbled across the bumpy terrain. “For Bumblewind? Why? What happened to him?”
“He made it to the interior, but then he lost a fight with wolves. He’s in the golden meadow now,” said Star, his breath hitching.
Silverlake faltered, almost falling over, and Star saw her eyes brim with tears.
“I’m sorry to tell you that,” Star said. “We buried him beneath the base. But with each stone, know that I honor Bumblewind, not Nightwing. Spread the word. The tribute belongs to us.”
Sweetroot’s chest swelled, and her eyes watered as she gazed at the four thousand stones he’d already moved. “Thank you, Star. Wind Herd needs this, something of our own. Nightwing’s taken . . . everything else from us.”
“For Bumblewind,” whispered Silverlake, also gazing at the tribute.
The beating of wings interrupted them, and Petalcloud landed in front of the mares. Silverlake and Sweetroot halted and dropped their heads. Star froze, holding his breath. “What are you two talking about?” she asked.
“The coming foals,” Sweetroot answered quickly.
Three of Petalcloud’s Ice Warriors glided toward her and landed next to Petalcloud. They were hairy and muscle-bound and fat with grass. Next to them, Petalcloud sparkled like a beautiful crystal, exquisite to look at, but also hard and cold. They stood out in the herd of pegasi who were dull coated and thin. Petalcloud peered at the old pinto medicine mare. “What about the coming foals?”
Sweetroot glanced at Nightwing, who watched them from a distance. “Is he going to take them too?”
Petalcloud snorted. “It’s not your concern. You’re both too old for newborns.”
Silverlake set her jaw and lifted her chin, looking exactly like her filly, Morningleaf, and Star’s heart ached for them being split apart. “I was once lead mare of Sun Herd,” Silverlake said. “What you’re doing is wrong.”
Star, who was still invisible, tensed. Don’t press her too hard, he thought, staring at his adoptive mother.
Petalcloud huffed. “Is it wrong to save them?” She lashed her shining tail, and her swollen belly glowed in the moonlight. “Because that’s what I’m doing. Come next winter, you’ll all be dead. But the foals, and me, we’ll live on, because we know how to cooperate. If you had any sense, Silverlake, you’d have executed Star yourself when he was born. He woke the Destroyer. He brought destruction to Anok. Don’t blame me for making the best of it.” Petalcloud turned to her warriors. “Let’s go!” She lifted off and soared over their heads, kicking snow off her hooves that fell on Silverlake’s ears.
Star saw the fury in Silverlake’s eyes, but she flung off the snow and folded her silver wings across her back, walking with her neck held high.
“Stay calm,” Star warned her.
“She’ll be fine,” said Sweetroot. “You’ve given her hope, and her family is alive. We’ll endure what we must as long as you and Morningleaf and Hazelwind stay committed. Build that tribute for us, Star, and I’ll make sure every steed knows that it’s for Bumblewind. When you finish, it will mark the end of the reign of Nightwing. Forever.”
Star huffed. “I didn’t promise that.”
“No, you didn’t. I did.”
“But how can you?”
Sweetroot’s eyes filled with tears. “Because we have a plan of our own.”
Star’s blood chilled at her words. “What plan?”
“Remember when your friends ate the death berries in the Trap?”
Star nodded. How could he forget? The toxic berries had poisoned them instantly. They’d be dead if Star hadn’t healed them.
Sweetroot nodded toward the flat grassland. “I found a grove of them. Enough for all of us.”
Star reeled. “No, please, you can’t do that.”
She stared toward his voice and through his invisible body, spreading her wings. “You heard Petalcloud. Once the next batch of foals is born and weaned, he’s going to get rid of the adults. This isn’t living, Star. This is waiting to die, but it will be on our terms, not his.”
Star turned in a circle, taking in the herd of twelve thousand pegasi who stood under the drifting evening clouds. They weren’t allowed to fly, their families were ripped apart, and they were guarded night and day. They had no future, no hope except for him . . . and the death berries. “I understand,” he said. “But please don’t eat the berries. Wait until the tunnel is finished, and wait for me. Let me try to defeat Nightwing.”
They reached the group of elder mares. “We’ll wait for you, Star, but if you fail—we’ll eat the berries. One way or another, we’ll be free. Now go,” said Sweetroot.
Star rose into the sky and flew back to Frostfire with renewed energy and determination. He would not let his cousin Starfrost be stolen by Nightwing, and he would not let Sweetroot feed Wind Herd the death berries.
He soared over the tribute and landed next to it. When it was finished, the tunnel would also be finished. Hazelwind and Echofrost would free enough pegasi to cross the Dark Water and establish a new herd on another continent, in case Star failed. And on that day he would stand on top of the tribute, raise Bumblewind’s feather into the sky, and trumpet an over-stallion’s challenge to Nightwing. It was Star’s right to request a battle to the death. It was how leadership changed hands in every herd except Desert Herd, where leadership was inherited. Nightwing would be forced to attack Star with all his strength, and then Star would learn if Frostfire was correct, if Star’s defensive powers would react with greater strength. If Star failed, the Wind Herd steeds would consume the poison berries. One way or another, it would be the last day of his friends’ captivity in the valley.