The Guardian Herd: Stormbound (18 page)

STAR GLIDED OFF THE HIGHEST PEAK OF THE HOOFBEAT
Mountains to a lower one that was more sheltered from the wind and rain. A half moon had passed since Morningleaf had left with Frostfire, and Star was sick with worry. Was Frostfire treating her well? Was she safe?

When Star wasn't fretting over Morningleaf, he was practicing with his starfire, burning trees and exploding boulders. Bumblewind tried to keep him company, but Star preferred the highest peaks of the Hoofbeat Mountains, and his friend couldn't breathe well there. So Star asked Bumblewind to watch over the Trap from the lower elevations while Star kept his eyes trained toward the west.

Spring had descended with a fury upon the north. Gnats and mosquitoes erupted with warmer weather, pestering the pegasi incessantly. Moose, elk, and caribou dropped their young and traveled in massive migrations, devouring the tundra as they passed through. The wolves howled each night after their successful hunts, and their pups suckled contentedly. Foxes and ground squirrels, birds and rabbits, bustled with an energy that was foreign to the same creatures living farther south. It was as though they knew spring would be short-lived and then summer, with its seeming unending daylight, would pass just as fast, and then the long winter would return and pursue them to the edge of their endurance.

Star fanned his wings to shelter himself from the rain that was falling, and he became captivated by a nest of baby birds on the downward slope of his peak. They were blind, with their mouths open, and they ate whatever their mother pushed into their throats. Later she would shove them out of the nest, one by one, and they would either fly or fall to their deaths. Star was daydreaming, remembering what it was like before he could fly, when Bumblewind whistled, alerting him that a herd was approaching.

Star leaped off his plateau, coasted through the pounding rain, and landed next to Bumblewind.

“It's Desert Herd,” his friend informed him. “Look, there's Sandwing.”

Star and Bumblewind trotted forward to greet the over-stallion of the soaking-wet and exhausted herd. Their climate was always hot, so their coats were thin, and so were they. Star was glad winter was over, for Desert Herd's sake. “Greetings,” Star said, shaking the water off his hide.

The handsome palomino over-stallion was wary of Star, approaching slowly, but the threat of the Destroyer created an uneasy truce between them. “Any sign of Nightwing?” Sandwing asked.

“He's close.” Star bristled at the thought of Nightwing. The heady force of the Destroyer curled around him like an invisible mist—cloying at his mind and tugging at him like a persistent foal. “Very close,” he added.

Sandwing swiveled his ears, tracking all sounds in the area. Star noticed the differences between them. Since Desert Herd steeds kept their lineage pure, they weren't mixed with the heavier steeds of northern Anok. Sandwing was tall, thin, and bound with tight, flat muscles. He had an extra-deep chest for breathing in high altitudes where Desert Herd steeds liked to fly, and his hooves were extra hard to deal with the extreme heat of the desert
floor. “A storm is coming,” said Sandwing.

Star nodded. “I know.”

“What does Nightwing want?” asked the over-stallion, clearly baffled by the threat he couldn't see.

Star tossed his sopping mane. “I don't know exactly, but I can feel him. His intentions aren't good.”

“And you think hiding in there is going to save us?” Sandwing nodded toward the Trap.

Star followed his eyes. “It might.”

Sandwing seemed to appreciate the harsh truth. “Not every steed from my herd came,” he said.

Star flicked his ears. “What do you mean?”

“Many stayed behind. They won't leave our homeland.”

Star dropped his head, sighing. “The same is true for Jungle Herd. They arrived yesterday, but not all of them, and not their over-stallion. He's hiding the rest deep in their territory, in the Cloud Forest. And Snow Herd has refused to hide altogether.”

“That's good, isn't it? They're sick with the plague.”

“We would have kept them quarantined,” said Star. He didn't think it was good that Snow Herd wasn't coming. If the plague didn't wipe them out, Nightwing might; but they didn't want to owe Star, or River Herd, for anything.

Sandwing shrugged. “I understand. I almost didn't come myself.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“The newborns,” said Sandwing, blinking raindrops out of his eyes. “They deserve a chance to grow up.”

Star nodded, thoughtful.

Sandwing faced his herd, which numbered in the thousands. “Into the Trap,” he ordered them. “Stay together and go in deep.” His mingling herd instantly divided themselves into groups and marched into the trees in perfect, straight lines. Morningleaf knew a lot about the other herds from legends, and she'd told Star that Desert Herd had a fierce system of discipline and the best-trained army in Anok.

“I'll show you to your camp,” offered Bumblewind. Silverlake had sectioned the Trap into five encampments, each complete with a water source, to help prevent the inevitable fighting that would break out in close quarters.

Sandwing trotted behind Bumblewind but said over his shoulder, “May the Ancestors be with you, Star.”

Star had been watching the colorful lights migrate across the sky almost every evening, swirling over his head, and he could feel the love of his Ancestors beaming down on him. “They are,” he said to the over-stallion.

Silverlake landed next to Star, startling him out of his thoughts. “You were right,” she said. “I can't see the pegasi once they enter the forest, and the ceiling of leaves and branches is blocking most of the rain. It's comfortable in there, a good place to hide.”

“Let's fly over it and see how it looks from above.”

Silverlake nodded, and they kicked off and glided over the trees, which were lightly flecked in fast-melting snow. They saw no sign of Desert Herd from the air. “This is good,” said Star.

But Silverlake had stopped listening. She narrowed her eyes. “Look there.” Her gaze turned south. “Something is wrong.”

Dewberry, who Silverlake had appointed to watch for predators and incoming herds, was flying fast over the Trap, her ears pinned and her neck flat. She looked alarmed. Star and Silverlake flew toward her, and they met over the trees, hovering in place.

“What is it?” Silverlake asked her.

“A lone stallion is coming this way. He's injured.”

“A Desert Herd steed?” asked Silverlake.

“I don't think so, but I didn't stick around to find out,” said Dewberry, breathing hard. “He needs help. Now.”

“Show us where,” whinnied Star.

Dewberry led Star and Silverlake away from the Trap. Thundersky galloped into the clouds to join them. “What's happening?” he asked. “Is it Nightwing?”

Silverlake answered. “No. It's an injured stallion, alone. He's coming this way.”

Star followed them all to the flat, treeless tundra. Thick clouds blocked out the sun, so the intruding stallion was hard to see at first. Pale-blue feathers littered the trail behind him, and the stallion was dark silver. Star's heart sank. “It looks like Iceriver.”

Silverlake gasped. “Oh no—he's supposed to be with Morningleaf!” She angled her wings and jetted forward. The rest followed.

Star's chest tightened as he flew closer. It
was
Iceriver. They landed, surrounding him. Iceriver's wings were missing all their flight feathers, and dried blood crusted the top of his head. His tongue hung from his mouth, devoid of color.

“What happened?” cried Silverlake.

Iceriver had aged many seasons in the short time he'd been gone. His muscles sagged, and his back had hollowed. The rain splattered his body, and he ignored it. His eyes looked dead already. “Frostfire,” he said, wheezing. “He . . . took Morningleaf.”

Star sucked in his breath, and his gut lightened like a leaf caught in the wind.

“Your own colt did this to you?” gasped Silverlake.

Iceriver nodded, groaning with pain.

“Where did he take her?” asked Thundersky, pawing the moss, his eyes murderous.

Iceriver shook his head. “They knocked me out. When I woke, my team was dead, and my flight feathers were gone. They flew away, leaving no hoofprints to tell me which way they went.” He gagged on his dry tongue.

Star surged forward, his heart racing. “I'm going to heal you.”

Iceriver shook his head. “No. I delivered my message. I'm done.” His legs buckled and he fell.

“Get up,” Thundersky ordered.

Iceriver grunted, and Star saw the clouds reflected in the stallion's eyes, drifting across them like misty spirits. “Please let me help you.” Star's throat seized as he forced out the words. He felt sick. Iceriver was dying.

Iceriver took several deep breaths before he exhaled slowly and his body relaxed. “I see Lightfeather,” he said, “and all my foals.” He sank into the tundra moss with a peaceful expression on his face, and his vacant eyes remained open. Iceriver was gone.

Silverlake burst into tears.

Star stared at Iceriver, stunned at his final words. He was with Lightfeather, Star's mother, and he was happy to see her. Star had never bonded with Iceriver, who was his grandsire, maybe because Iceriver had let his mate Petalcloud chase Lightfeather out of Snow Herd, but now Star had lost his chance to know his grandsire better.

Star exhaled and let go of his feelings. It was too late, and Morningleaf was in danger.

Thundersky spoke softly. “Fly straight and find your rest, Iceriver, born of Snow Herd, council member of River Herd, and sire of Lightfeather.”

After a long moment of silence, with only the sound of the rain between them, Dewberry spoke quietly but firmly. “We have to sink his body in Pebble Lake,” she said, referring to the large pond they'd named after Shadepebble, who'd almost drowned in it.

Star and the others stared at her as though she'd gone mad.

She explained. “We can't make a grave—Nightwing will see it and know that pegasi live near. If we're hiding the living, shouldn't we also hide the dead?”

“Dewberry makes sense,” said Thundersky.

“We drink that water,” said Silverlake, always the practical one.

“There's another over there.” Dewberry pointed east.

“All right,” said Thundersky, his voice ragged with grief for Iceriver. “Please gather some stallions, Dewberry, and take care of Iceriver. There's no time for a ceremony; we have a greater concern to attend to: Morningleaf is Frostfire's captive.”

“Right away,” said Dewberry, and she left to get help.

Silverlake paced, trampling the muddy soil. “Why would Frostfire kill Morningleaf's protectors and take her like that? We saved Shadepebble.”

“He lied to us, and he broke his promise,” said Thundersky, shaking his head as though he should have known.

“But why?” Silverlake repeated.

“Maybe Rockwing is behind this. He used Morningleaf once before,” Thundersky reminded her, “to trade her for Star.”

“Of course,” said Silverlake. “But what does he want this time?” The cold afternoon breeze blew her soaking wet forelock into her eyes. She tossed the hair out of her way. “It must have been his plot all along. Frostfire wasn't looking for Shadepebble; he was looking for Morningleaf.”

“Or he was looking for both,” said Star. “And we
delivered them to him,” Bitterness squeezed his throat.

Silverlake interrupted. “It's done. Let's just find her.”

“We chose Frostfire so that I
wouldn't
be able to find her,” said Star in agony. “Where do we start?”

Suddenly, orange feathers tumbled from the sky. Star looked up to see a lone figure. It landed in front of them just as lightning rattled the darkening sky. It was Brackentail! Star tensed, his gut clenching. Had the Betrayer betrayed them again?