The Guardian Herd (14 page)

THE DAY PASSED SLOWLY AS STAR WORKED AT
building the tribute. Clouds covered the moon, darkening the riverbed, and Star could no longer distinguish one stone from another. He'd moved nineteen huge rocks to the monument today, his first day.
Nineteen of ten thousand
. Star felt defeated and silly for agreeing to build it. Frostfire kept him company, but the strong stallion wasn't allowed to help.

It was early evening now, and Frostfire glanced at the large stones Star had carried. “You should rest.”

Star wasn't tired, but his wing and back muscles throbbed. It was difficult to locate the flattest stones underwater and then to pull them out of the river. They
were often half buried under heavier rocks and mud, and the riverbank was slippery. He sometimes fell and then watched in frustration as his stone tumbled back into the water.

Once he was soundly on the shore, Star cradled the stones in his wings and carried them up the hill. It took time also to place the rocks correctly. Nightwing's tribute would topple if not well built, but Frostfire had buried enough warriors in stones to give Star tips on how to construct the base. It would have to be substantial to support the expected height of the monument. Frostfire advised using the red clay in the river to help stick the rocks together, and so Star slathered it between the stones with his wingtips. But this extra step, while important, also slowed him down.

Star followed Frostfire down the side of the hill, and they grazed on oat grass as the sun dropped in the west.

“Your feathers are frayed,” said the white stallion.

“I know.” Star folded his wings across his back. He'd noticed the damage, but he couldn't use his power to heal himself. If he tried, Nightwing would execute a walker.

Frostfire glanced at the sky, and Star followed his gaze. The Ice Warriors patrolled Wind Herd, flying in lazy circles. Star heard splashing and looked toward the pond.
“There are the weanlings,” he said. Nightwing, Petalcloud, and the young pegasus steeds swam in the pond nestled at the southern end of the valley, splashing each other and then floating like ducks.

The weanlings' mothers stood in the distance, guarded by Ice Warriors and forbidden to be with their foals. The mares twitched anxiously, molting feathers all over the trampled valley terrain. When one mother bleated to her youngster, an Ice Warrior kicked her hard in the flank. Petalcloud ignored the plight of the mares, but it was clear she adored the weanlings. “A good lead mare doesn't separate foals from their dams,” said Star.

Frostfire watched his mother play with the weanlings, his entire body tense. “I can't let that happen to Larksong. If Petalcloud takes away our foal, I'll kill her.”

Star jerked his head toward Frostfire, studying the white steed, whose mismatched eyes were rooted on his mother. The stallion's expression was twisted with confusion. Star knew the story; that Petalcloud had lied to Frostfire when he was a weanling and then sent him to live with her sire, Rockwing, trading him for her freedom. Rockwing had sired eighteen dead colts and two live fillies. He wanted a breathing colt so intensely that he was willing to take his daughter's. But when he got Frostfire,
he bullied him into the army, pushing and training him to the limits of his endurance. And now Frostfire faced the possibility that his mother might take his coming foal and keep the newborn for herself.

Petalcloud and Nightwing walked out of the pond, followed by the youngsters. They shook, tossing water droplets off their hides, and then lifted off on a short flight to dry their wings. The foals bleated happily, gliding across a pink sunset sky. Their mothers watched in helpless fear. When they'd all landed back on the grass, Petalcloud wrapped her wings around her belly and nuzzled Nightwing. Frostfire gasped and staggered into Star.

“What is it?” Star asked.

“Petalcloud is pregnant,” he said. “With Nightwing's foal, I think.”

Star's heart thudded at Frostfire's words, and he thought back, remembering how plump Petalcloud had appeared when he first saw her in the valley. Nightwing pranced next to Petalcloud, and the ancient stallion glowed with pride. Understanding clunked into place, quick and simple. “This is what he wants,” whispered Star. “What he's always wanted.”

“What?” asked Frostfire.

“A family.” Star turned away as sudden tears sprang
to his eyes. He blinked rapidly, controlling himself but feeling desolate.

“How do you know?”

“I just do,” said Star. But he was certain, because he recognized Nightwing's need in himself. Star wanted it too: a family of his own. He'd lost everything when his mother died. And now he was immortal, different from everyone else, but he just wanted to be a regular pegasus stallion. Maybe so did Nightwing.

The difference between them was that Nightwing wanted it badly enough to kill for it, while Star—he'd accepted his fate. Still, he thought he understood now what was happening. Nightwing was stealing foals to create a new herd, one that respected him. Star peered at the pregnant Wind Herd mares, which included Frostfire's mate, Larksong. Once Nightwing had enough steeds to start a new life, what would he do with the adults? Star shivered. All of Wind Herd was in great danger, more than they knew.

“Morningleaf must dig that tunnel quickly,” Star said, his panic rising. Just then a small pebble bounced off Star's forehead. He looked up, but the darkening sky was empty. The patrol had moved on. Another pebble stung his neck. He turned in a slow circle. Frostfire became alert,
noticing Star's flexed muscles.

“Someone's trying to get our attention,” Star whispered. He lowered his neck and crept toward the direction of the flying rocks, with Frostfire following him. He crested the hill and walked down the back side, which was hidden from the valley. Two pegasi stood in the shadow of a small cottonwood tree. Star recognized Hazelwind's wide blaze. Brackentail stood beside him. Star signaled to Frostfire to remain silent. “What are you two doing here?” Star whispered.

Hazelwind glanced down at a steed lying at his hooves.

Star followed his gaze and recognized Bumblewind stretched on the grass, but something wasn't right. Star dropped his nose toward his friend and touched his shoulder, which was as cold as snow. Sadness drove him to his knees. “It can't be.”

“I'm sorry,” said Hazelwind, and his grief emanated from him in waves, like summer heat.

Star's soul groaned, and his throat closed. “He—he's been gone too long. I can't save him.”

“We're not here for that,” said Hazelwind, touching Star's shoulder.

Star looked up at Hazelwind. “Then why have you come?”

“To bury him,” said Hazelwind, and he explained their idea of hiding Bumblewind in the tribute.

At first Star balked. The idea seemed backward and wrong, but as the thought sank deeper into his brain, he understood the gesture. He would be building the monument for Bumblewind, not for Nightwing. And this knowledge would give Star the strength he needed to finish it. Each and every stone would mark his love for his friend. “Leave him with me,” said Star, agreeing. “As the tribute rises, it will stand for Bumblewind, and our freedom. Our future freedom.”

Hazelwind and Brackentail nodded, looking relieved.

Star drew closer to Hazelwind. “Petalcloud is with foal.”

Hazelwind pinned his ears. “I wondered. I saw signs . . . ,” he said, trailing off.

Star continued. “Nightwing is creating a new herd out of the stolen weanlings, and I think he'll take the coming foals too. He's just using the Wind Herd steeds, but eventually he won't need them anymore. Do you understand? You must work faster.”

Hazelwind arched his neck. “I understand. We'll increase our shifts.” He and Brackentail retreated, skirting the back side of the hill, remaining low and hidden
from the valley as they returned to the den.

Star and Frostfire stared at each other, thinking.

“I want Larksong and our colt to be the first ones out of that valley when the tunnel is finished,” said Frostfire.

“That's a long ways off,” said Star, distracted. “Look, we need to bury Bumblewind by morning. You might have to help me.”

Frostfire nudged Star hard with his chest. “Not until I know you've heard me. I helped you find your friends because I need your help rescuing Larksong. Don't forget what you promised me, Star. She gets out first.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Star. “I'll save your mare.”

“And my colt.”

“And your colt.” Star sighed. He could promise Frostfire the moon too, but right now he didn't know how he was going to rescue anybody.

The two stallions waited until the final glow of evening had faded and it was true night. Then Star turned to Frostfire. “Help me lift Bumblewind.”

They carried the pinto's cold body up the hill. Star broke apart the stones he'd spent all day placing and mudding together, and then he dug a shallow grave.

When it was ready, the two stallions stood over the body, and Star spoke. “Bumblewind, colt of Stormfire and
Crystalfeather, lover of milk and friend of all friends, you will be missed. You may have died in a den of wolves, but you have risen to the golden meadow, where you will always be free.” Star took a ragged breath. “Fly straight and find your rest.”

“Fly straight and find your rest,” repeated Frostfire.

Star placed Bumblewind in the depression on the hill. His stiff body had already softened into death, and Star was able to shape him as though he were sleeping, curling his head toward his hooves and wrapping his black tail toward his nose. Star scrubbed away the loose dirt that marred Bumblewind's white-splotched hide. He tucked errant feathers into place and then dropped his muzzle to Bumblewind's one last time, as though they were exchanging breath. His tears dripped, and white flowers grew between his friend's hooves. “Good-bye,” he whispered.

Star spent the rest of the evening in toiled frenzy, diving into the river and feeling for appropriate rocks, trotting them up the hill, and slathering them in clay. Bumblewind's body had to be completely hidden before sunrise.

Since it was dark, Frostfire helped Star. If they were caught, a walker would be killed, but Star needed assistance. His heart pounded throughout the night, and he
shed black feathers all over the hillside.

When the first sunrays broke the horizon, Star sat on his haunches. His wings slung to his sides and his hide was white with froth, but he'd done it. Bumblewind was buried.

“I saved this,” said Frostfire. He held up a long, brown-tipped golden flight feather.

Star took the feather, holding it gently in his wing. He stared at it and then at the secret grave. Building the tribute for Bumblewind was a small victory, but it was
their
small victory. Star climbed out of his mad tangle of anger and hurt, and lifted the feather over his head, letting his heart lift with it. “For Bumblewind,” he said.

“For Bumblewind,” Frostfire repeated.

AFTER BUMBLEWIND'S BURIAL, THE DAYS
marched past, each the same as the last. Star settled into a pattern of moving stones from the river to the monument while his friends in the forest dug the tunnel.

Summer brought warm rains and belly-high grass. Star toiled in the middle of the day because the burning sun best illuminated the underwater stones. Next came autumn, which was hotter but drier. The tree leaves exploded with color and then drifted off the branches like molting feathers. Star's hooves wore down the fading grass, creating many paths from the river to the hill. Frostfire stayed close to him, but the two spoke little. The magnitude of Star's task became more obvious each day.
After three full cycles of the moon, he was still constructing the base of the tribute.

Winter began with a gentle snowfall that floated from the clouds in fat, soft flakes and flecked the trees. But this mild beginning was a trick, because the wispy snow did not stop falling, nor did it melt. The gray clouds that rolled in had come to stay, and they blocked out the sun. Soon the delicious grasses were covered in deep snow, a vague memory. Buffalo, land horses, moose, and other antlered creatures pressed closer, digging at the buried foliage with their hooves, their hunger consuming their shyness. And the dire wolves grew bolder.

Star and Frostfire spent the cold nights curled in their separate snow shelters, but Frostfire often inched closer, attracted to the heat that radiated off Star's hide. Often, by morning, he was snoring in Star's ear. Star rarely slept, watching instead for predators.

This particular winter morning, Star yawned as the rising sun turned the sky from soft black to pale orange. It had snowed again, and the fresh white crystals padded the world, making it feel smaller and quieter. Overnight, the clouds had drifted apart, allowing a rare glimpse of sunshine. Star and Frostfire slept on the eastern side of the swells, out of sight of Wind Herd, but if Star listened
carefully, he could hear the soft snorts and muffled hoofbeats of the pegasi in the valley.

The herd had also settled into a familiar pattern. They marched onto the Flatlands each morning and returned to the valley each night. Black pillars of smoke rose each time a steed disobeyed, but those pillars were becoming fewer, especially since the last escape attempt. A group of young stallions and mares, all from Desert Herd, had flown off and raced for the jet streams, hoping to blast away before Nightwing could stop them.

Star shook his head, hating the memory of what had happened next—the silver fire, the rain of ashes, the screams. They had been free, but only for a moment, and now they were just . . . gone.

Star thought often of Morningleaf. He hadn't seen her since summer, and he missed her and Brackentail and Hazelwind. He missed Bumblewind too. Frostfire had saved the pinto's long flight feather. They kept it tucked in the tribute, out of sight, but Star often pulled it out at night and sniffed it, remembering his friend. Bumblewind had always treated Star like a regular pegasus, but he'd also accepted that Star wasn't a regular pegasus. The rest of his friends, even Morningleaf, focused too much on his black hide and his golden starfire. But beneath it all, Star
was just like Bumblewind: a young stallion who wanted to play, learn to fight, and sleep at night without regrets. But those days were over, and not just for Bumblewind. Today was Star's birthday. He was two years old, an adult stallion.

It was Morningleaf's birthday too. They'd been born on the same night, a full moon earlier than the rest of the Sun Herd foals. Star wanted to visit her, but Petalcloud's Ice Warriors, led by the big gray named Stormtail, flew the sky day and night, watching for deserters and troublemakers. Star's black coat contrasted with the snow and the gray sky, making him stand out wherever he went. He dared not use his starfire to turn invisible, but his thoughts traveled to the den each night, just before sleep.

Star shook off his gloom and stood, rousing Frostfire. The stallion stretched and peered at the sky. “Today is the shortest day of winter,” Frostfire said.

“I know. It's my birthday.”

“You're a yearling no longer!” whinnied Frostfire.

Star couldn't believe twelve moons had passed since he'd received his starfire, and twenty-four moons had passed since he was born. “I'm an adult.”

Frostfire snorted. “Every two-year-old thinks that. Talk to me about being an adult when you're ten.”

Star nickered. “I would be finishing flight school right now.”

“Yes. And then training for the army.”

Star swung his thick forelock out of his eyes. “I don't think I would have chosen the army. Maybe I'd be a scout.”

Frostfire played along with Star's imaginings, but they both knew that this idea of a normal life was impossible for the black foal of Anok. “You're too large to be a scout,” said Frostfire, looking him up and down.

Star nickered. “But I can disappear.” Just saying the word caused Star to blink out and turn invisible, startling Frostfire.

“Come back,” the stallion warned.

Star hadn't meant to do it, but in a streak of rebellion, he took advantage of it. He scooped a hunk of snow and lobbed it at Frostfire, hitting him on the rump.

Frostfire whirled. “Not fair, Star.”

The sun rose higher, casting shadows. Frostfire flicked the snow off his rear with his tail, scooped up a wingful of snow, and tossed it where he'd last seen Star. He missed.

Suddenly, Star heard wingbeats behind him and turned, his heart racing at unexpected company. Nightwing soared over the tribute and landed next to Frostfire.
No
, he thought.
Nightwing must have felt me use my power.
Star cringed but remained invisible, dreading what was coming next.

“Where's Star?” Nightwing asked.

Star froze, holding his breath. He was standing just a winglength away from Nightwing. How did the Destroyer not feel him or sense him? Star waited and watched.

Frostfire knew how close Star was, and his pulse throbbed in his neck, but he smoothed his expression and lied. “Star is at the river.”

Nightwing nodded, looking right past Star. Was Nightwing pretending to be unaware of him, or could he really not sense him? Star still wasn't sure, and he dared not move.

Nightwing turned and flew up the hill to inspect the tribute. “When will the base be finished?” he asked.

Frostfire leaped at the chance to distract Nightwing. He flew to the black stallion and toured him around the massive stone base, which so far consisted of more than four thousand river rocks. “By spring the base will be finished,” said Frostfire, “and then the tower will rise much faster.” He led Nightwing to the other side of the tribute, gesturing with his wings and explaining the construction.

When they were out of sight, Star lifted off and flew quickly to the river. He landed on the shore and then
reappeared, listening intently and ignoring his surrounding.

He heard Nightwing's voice. “Take me to Star.”

Star relaxed. Nightwing had not been pretending. He really hadn't sensed Star, and now Star was at the river where he was supposed to be, so Nightwing couldn't get angry and kill a walker. As Star contemplated this, he became aware of heavy breathing behind him and then a quick, sharp growl.

He sprang into the sky just as sharp claws raked down his flank and became entangled in his tail, yanking Star down onto the icy mud. He smelled wolf, and then one landed on his head. The long claws cut his flesh, and sharp fangs pierced his neck. Two more wolves ripped at his wings, and one pounced on his flank, latching his jaws into the meat of his leg. Star kicked wildly, his vision blurred.

They dragged him through the snow.

Star bit into a wolf's paw. The wolf snarled and snapped at him, biting his muzzle. Star squealed, the pain as hot as blood, but the wolf let go.

The others pulled harder, sliding him down the muddy shore and into the river. Star's blood streamed, mixing with the water.

A black wolf clamped his jaws on Star's neck and shook him hard, shoving his head under the water. Star's jaw smacked against the rocks at the river bottom. He twisted as another wolf bit into his neck and yet another snatched his tail and yanked on it.

Star dug his hooves into the mud and pushed himself up, flinging the wolf off his neck. It splashed into the water. Star spun in a circle. He was surrounded.

Then a giant white she-wolf, the one whose attack had killed Bumblewind, launched out of the water and onto Star's back. Her claws dug into him; her snarls filled his ears. She crawled up his neck, her jaws snapping.

He bucked and spread his wings, but her pack mates snatched his feathers and held him down. Star blinked and saw the she-wolf's huge white fangs driving toward his throat—a killing bite.

Star clenched his muscles and let his starfire explode. But instead of fire, out came noise—a loud, blaring alarm that rose from his throat—and bright flashes of gold light sprang from his eyes and hooves.

The wolves whined and blinked rapidly, letting go of him. The alarm pulsed in a steady rhythm, and the pack shrank farther away from him, their tails tucked between their legs.

Star faced them, bleeding in a dark gush. The wolves licked their muzzles and paced, wanting more of him. He heard the whoosh of wings and turned to see who was coming. The wolves leaped at him again. Star ejected more golden light and loud noise, a supernatural scream of alarm, and the wolves backed off, whimpering in frustration. Nightwing and Frostfire crested the hill, and the wolves saw them and then galloped away.

Star crawled to shore and flopped on its slick bank, gasping for air. Far away in the valley, he heard the concerned whinnies of the Wind Herd pegasi, who must have heard the awful alarm.

Nightwing and Frostfire glided to Star's side and landed. Frostfire saw the bites. “Dire wolves?” he asked, his eyes scanning the woods.

Star nodded, his sides heaving.

Nightwing's nostrils widened, drinking in the scent of Star's blood. He pranced with excitement, and his hooves turned silver. Star lurched upright and leaned into Frostfire, ready to protect them both if Nightwing attacked.

“You used your power,” said the ancient black stallion.

Star froze, wondering if he was referring to the invisibility or to the noise.

“You look surprised,” continued Nightwing. “You didn't
know you had an alarm, did you?”

“I didn't,” admitted Star. “It just came out of me.”

Nightwing huffed. “Your golden starfire is weak, Star. It's for healing—it's not for killing, yet you continue to rely on it. Why scare the wolves off with an alarm when you could have killed them?”

Star met the Destroyer's gaze. What answer could he give that Nightwing would understand? None.

Nightwing snorted at him and lifted off the shore. “I want my tribute finished. Heal your wounds and get back to work.” He hovered a moment, shaking his head in disgust. “And the next time you're attacked by wolves, don't let them get away. They stalk my foals, you know. You couldn't protect a herd if you had one, Star. You can barely protect yourself.” Nightwing took off and flew back to the valley.

Star dragged himself out of the water and collapsed with a groan, his red blood vibrant against the white snow. “Hurry,” Frostfire urged him. “Or you might bleed out.”

Star closed his eyes and sent his golden healing fire through his injured body. He was out of practice, but he knew to heal his worst wounds first, then the bruises and the scrapes from the claws. When he was finished, he stood.

Frostfire whistled. “That's amazing.”

Star stood with his wings dragging and his head low. “Yeah, but he's right. An over-stallion, or
any
stallion, would have killed the wolves so they wouldn't turn and hunt the herd. I only protected myself, and not very well.”

Frostfire pinned his ears. “So what? They weren't threatening anyone else. I'm not wrong about you, Star, and that wolf attack brought out a new power.”