Sixteen Moons | Shelha Series 3 | ✔

Dispersing

Whipper curled between Jay's wings as chill winds threatened to steal him off the Raindai's back. The sky was an icy grey. The South may be hot for the season, but out here on the north of the Rock flats, the creeping winter was making itself known.

Not that either of them really minded. It was nice not to be hot for a change.

It took a day and a half to reach the Grass flatlands. Whipper found it strange to see the ground flying by so quickly. For years he had been barred from the north by the Rock flats, an expansive death trap he could not cross on his own. It was so different on a Coppertail.

Snowflakes were drifting down as Jay landed at the edge of the grasses. They were dead for the season, but stiff and upright. They stretched well over Jay's head. Whipper added knowing a northern Coppertail to the list of things he was thankful for as the Raindai's instinct found them food in roots and seed heads. Jay knew how to make a nest in the grasses too. When the long stems had been trampled and tucked into a cozy circle, Whipper hopped in and shuffled to the side. Jay put one paw in and withdrew it. He began to pace around the nest.

Whipper sat up. "Jay?"

Jay put his paw in again and yanked it back like something had burned him. He shook his head and curled up among untrampled stems.

"Jay, what's wrong?"

The Raindai put his head under his wing and didn't answer.

The next morning, they set out on foot. The grass eventually grew lower, then started to roll over low rises. At last it too gave way. Nightstar's herd had taken Whipper to the Plains once. Seeing it again sent harsh pangs through his chest, and he found himself looking around again and again for Coppertails as they set out at a travelling run. He thought he spotted one once, but Jay changed course immediately when he saw it.

The Plains went on forever. Snow settled into a fluffy blanket on the ground, changing constantly as the wind blew it where it pleased. Whipper dug a snow cave the first time Jay left in order to find food. The Raindai returned with a small pile of roots and set them down in front of the cave. He curled up nearby.

"Jay, you have to eat too." Whipper pushed part of the pile towards the Raindai.

Jay put his head under his wing. When Whipper dumped several tubers in front of him, he ignored them. He went to sleep without eating.

Half a moon later, a shadow appeared on the northern horizon. Whipper wanted to disappear between Jay's wings. He was not sure if he was ready to see what was left of the North forest, even after six years. Deciding he did not want to look until he was closer, he curled up and forced himself back to sleep.

It still took two days to reach the forest. Distances were deceptive on the northern flatlands.

What they reached was a sight defying words. Great blackened trunks stood or leaned, scarred and missing their smaller branches. Snow on the forest floor could not quite cover the black beneath it, or the branches that had piled like snowdrifts after the ground had been burned bare. But there was more than just charcoal-darkened dirt on the forest floor. In the two tail-lengths above it stood a fuzz of green.

"Saplings," breathed Whipper. He hopped off Jay's back and crept forwards. Released from their cones by the heat of the fire, a flood of young trees carpeted the forest. Whipper ran up one. From here, the understory became a sea of green broken only by the brooding flanks of treetrunks burned through at the roots. Those almost hurt to look at, but they too were greening with moss.

Cloud garden plants were growing down here now, where light and moisture mimicked their former homes. Above the saplings was a dead zone. Here the standing trees had been stripped to the wood, but topping their black columns was another layer of green. High enough to escape the flames, the tops of the adult trees' canopies were nearly intact.