Storm Season | Shelha Series 2 | ✔

The Fisher

Whipper whirled in panic as Hyenars appeared behind him on the beach. The blood trail he had followed had must not have been the only one laid. A slender treetrunk was caught on the bank in front of him, spanning the water to the only island on the South river's length. Whipper sprinted across it, hearing it dislodge with a thump the moment he touched land. There were only shrubs on the island, a tail-length and a half tall at best. He ran up the closest one.

Please let this be a dream.

He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth in the top branches, hearing the swish of water on the shore. He knew that sound. He had watched Fishers before. He had seen one emerge from a stream to talk to Winter before the North forest had burned.

"I want to talk to you," said the Fisher.

It's a dream. It will all be over soon. Silversand will wake me up, or Sethral, or Wing.

"Hey, fuzz," said the Fisher.

He didn't sound as aggressive as he could have been. The trunk Whipper was clinging to shuddered as the Fisher kicked it. Trees shuddered when they were breaking. When they were falling. Whipper wrapped his tail around the branches and rested his head against the bark. He was shaking so hard he could barely hold on. The quiet river was too loud to think over.

The Fisher walked back to the bank, his pawsteps squelching on the sodden ground. Now he was a tail-length away from the bush. The bush was still shuddering. The river was still in half-flood, making the ground tremble. Where was Silversand?

"Listen, your cat friend's fine." The Fisher sat down. "I'm supposed to be killing you right now, but I wanted to talk first. You're the last Forester, aren't you? What are you doing in the south? Whose side are you on?"

"My friends' side," whispered Whipper. He knew the Fisher couldn't hear.

The footsteps came closer. Whipper sank his claws into the bark, but they shook loose again.

"I saw your mouth move."

"My friends'. The Coppertails'."

"Which Coppertails? The Leslanders?"

Wing was a mutt. But... no. "Not Leslanders."

"What's Winter doing here?"

Chasing Jay. Catching and beating up Wing. Trapping Ryatzi. Trying to dam the Blue river and starve the Lowlands. "Hurting creatures."

"She's not hurting all the creatures."

"Hurting my friends."

For the first time, Whipper opened his eyes. Head still resting against the bush, he gazed through curls of bark at the Fisher below.

The Fisher was looking back at him. "Why did your clan keep the Leasorrels?" he said. There was hurt in his voice. Whipper closed his eyes again.

I tried to stop them.

They told me they didn't have them.

They chased me away.

"I don't know," he whispered. This time the Fisher read his lips.

"How did you get away?"

I was awake in the day to escape my clan. I was waiting for the Coppertails. They never came.

"They didn't want me."

"Who... Winter's creatures?"

"The Foresters." The Coppertails.