31

TWISTER

THE TORNADO SUCKED STAR OFF HIS WINGS AND knocked the breath out of him as it whipped him sideways. He curled into himself to protect his long neck and wing bones. Small trees and shrubs slapped his hide, leaving long trails of blood. Dust filled his throat and choked him. Roaring wind assaulted his ears, deafening him. The cone of air dragged him up through it, higher and higher, and ahead he saw Silverlake’s white tail.

Star sprang his shield and was immediately encased in peaceful silence. He rolled through the tornado in his orb, watching the chaos, but he could breathe and open his wings. He scanned the debris for Silverlake.

She was above him. Her eyes were closed, and she was curled tight like a newborn, her wings covering her head. He flew toward her, but she spiraled up and away. He flattened his neck and flapped harder, finally catching her. Her lips were moving, and Star guessed she was calling the Ancestors to help her. Star pushed his shield out, projecting it around them both.

The second his golden orb sealed around them, Silverlake crashed to the bottom of it, lying on her side with her chest heaving. The power of the twisting cloud multiplied as they rose, spinning them around and around. Star lost control of their direction. Silverlake opened her eyes wide. The world around them was a blur.

“Am I dead?” she whinnied, staring through him.

Star realized he was still invisible. He shed that power and reappeared. “If you’re dead then so am I,” he said.

“Oh, Star!” Silverlake tried to stand but couldn’t.

They stared at the funnel cloud, each of them pinned to Star’s spinning orb, their wings plastered against the side of it, their lips rippling. It was almost impossible for a pegasus to feel dizzy, but soon Star was light-headed, and his gut had lost its bearing on whether he was upside down or right-side up. The sphere whipped around faster and faster. A buffalo soared by, bellowing and kicking the sky.

“Did you see that?” Silverlake gasped.

Star also didn’t believe his eyes.

A large boulder slammed the orb, sending them spinning in the opposite direction. Star forced one wing off the wall, but gravity slammed it right back.

Then the twisting cloud spit them out, and they went blasting across the sky. Star couldn’t see, didn’t know what to do.

They dropped below the cloud layer. Now Star could see which way was up and which was down, but his gut was still drifting, his brain still spinning.

Wobbling a bit, he flapped his wings, and Silverlake helped him. They synchronized and settled into a fast glide, parallel to the land, slowing their descent. The sky was calmer here, the clouds whiter, and the rain softer. When they were traveling at a safe speed, Star retracted the shield. He and Silverlake coasted onto the grass and landed, exhausted.

Silverlake staggered to keep her balance, her eyes bulging. “We’re alive,” she said, like she didn’t believe it.

Star panted, trying to regain his breath. He saw lakes and a bog, and a beaver dam in a thin river. “Where are we?”

The storm had thrown them miles away.

Silverlake leaned into him and took a long breath, and Star’s fondness for her filled his heart. They hadn’t always agreed with each other in the past, but they had the same goal: to unite the pegasi of Anok. Silverlake glanced at the clouds, which were clearing. “We must get back,” she said.

Star agreed, and they oriented their path with the sun and then flew back toward the valley. It was raining, and the clouds were dark gray but not ominous. The tornado had passed over and moved on. The air warmed, and the bugs resumed their chatter. The worst of the spring storm was over.

Star drew up his camouflage and disappeared against the big sky before anyone could spot him flying back with Silverlake. Large sections of the Flatlands were ravaged where the tornado had touched down, but the rest looked the same. The dire wolves had returned, and Star saw them feasting on a dead buffalo. The Wind Herd steeds stood in the shallow valley basin, and the massive tribute stood tall, reaching toward the clouds. Frostfire’s input on how to build a strong base and to reinforce it with river clay had withstood an incredible test of strength.

“I am ten stones short of finishing the tribute,” Star said to Silverlake. “Ten stones, and then this is over.”

A black shadow flapped across the trampled ground. It was Nightwing returning to the valley.

“I have to get back,” he said.

“Star?” Silverlake turned her dark eyes to his, and Star melted into her warm gaze. “No matter what happens next, know that I’m proud of you.” Her voice echoed like a dream, and Star inhaled sharply, overcome by a sudden feeling of dread.

“What is it?” asked Silverlake, her voice rising.

“I don’t know. Something is wrong.” Star looked into her eyes, and suddenly he was sure with all his breath that he would never speak to her again. But why? His blood turned to ice as the dread washed over him again. He whipped his head toward the valley and the forest, toward his friends. The planet seemed to tilt, and he was certain of one thing: someone was in great danger.

“I have to go!” Star bolted forward, his words flying away with the wind.