A fickle cook, the world she be.
Take heat and water, wind so free,
And whip it into towered form,
For nothing beats the dark of storm.
"Drakons they're fast. Was Taz sure they could actually keep up with those two?"
It was the first question of the cat's two-sun's-paw-length-and-counting ramble that Sethral actually felt obliged to answer. To be honest, she had not expected such a thing so soon. "Taz and Fletch are Rocklanders, Silver. World's fastest runners? Ring a bell? The moment those Mountain lumps hit unfamiliar territory, Taz'll be able to beat them to Greenfalls by a solid day."
"When can we eat?"
"Did you hear my answer?"
"You didn't answer me; I just asked about food!"
Sethral made an irritated noise. Silversand's brain went too many places too quickly for any sensible creature to keep up. "I'll let us down midday. Whatever you want for food, catch then."
Silversand moaned and leaned off her back as though keeling over from hunger.
"Do you want me to dump you off?"
The Royal corrected her position. She turned her eyes skyward and mimed Sethral behind her back. Sethral folded her wings. The mocking faces were wiped clean as the Royal seated herself dead center with a terrified squeak. Sethral leveled out and smirked at the now-familiar stream of language issuing forth from over her shoulder. In a huff, Silversand flopped down and sulked at the forest as though it had personally insulted her.
The Royal's sullen silence lasted exactly eighty-one heartbeats: a new record. Her one-sided chatter did not abate again until the two stopped to eat at sunhigh. Silversand caught food, then stood with head cocked until she could hear the Mountainairs in the distance. She and Sethral arrived at the latest meeting spot just after Taz and Fletch.
"They haven't changed tracks, Whip," said Silversand.
"Then they're still headed for the pass," said Fletch. Now only half a day ahead, the mountain pass to the South Flats was a target as worrisome as it was likely.
"They can't be expecting any Coppertails this early in the season," said Taz. "They only start taking that pass when the midsummer storms hit, and sometimes not even then. It's still Wing Moon."
"Maybe they're not waiting for the Coppertails," said Fletch.
Sethral nodded. "They could also be headed for Greenfalls. It's right there."
"Well they're not acting like it," said Taz.
"Sethral, head for the eastern meadow-river next," said Whipper. "We'll meet you there."
Evening fell. In the dark space between sundown and moonrise there was not enough light for travel, so the Mountainair pair called a halt and slept until moonrise. A whirr of wings indicated that the Drakons had switched shifts. Whipper perched in a tree and watched Autumn and Summer break camp.
The forest understory was eerie when the moon rose, somehow not quite dark but never lit either. The Mountainair duo tramped through the forest holding sticks in their mouths to probe for trees. By sunrise, the mountains reared close.
Taz and Fletch were dancing in circles taking swipes at each other when Whipper rejoined them. Fletch hopped like a frog when the Forester landed on his back. Taz took a speed turn through the trees before coming back to say hello. He was not as cheerful as usual. Both twins seemed distracted.
"We should meet up with Seth and Silver," said Whipper. Taz and Fletch took off without an answer. Fletch saw a bush coming and altered his course just to jump it. Taz ran ahead and stood stamping and waiting, until something stung him and he barely controlled a bolt to the south.
South?
The twins were hardwired to gravitate towards the Rock Flats and open spaces, all of which lay north or east of the forest. They never bolted south.
Whipper forced his fur to stay level as he lifted his nose. It was difficult to tell what with Fletch now zigzagging like a Drakon-shy rabbit, but the wind above the canopy seemed stiller than usual. Something stung Taz again—not a real sting, but he jumped the same—and he arrested another dash. It was like watching two spirits in a single body, Taz forcing his way back to his brother while Taz's paws attempted simultaneously to carry him in the opposite direction. Fletch fought to keep from drifting after them.
A bird cry made both jump, and their paws took control.
"Fletch!" cried Whipper. He sank his claws into the twin's back. Fletch yelped and steered in a curve as his fur was pulled hard to the left. When they were back on course, he dug his paws into the loam.
"What's gotten into you two?" said Whipper.
"I don't know. Call me crazy, but I only feel like this before a storm. And I can usually control it better than this."
Taz returned, though the effort it took him was tangible. He butted his head against his brother until Fletch bit his scruff and held it.
"A storm," said Whipper.
Taz nodded mutely.
Summer slowed to a trot, glancing nervously at the sky.
"What is it?" said Autumn.
"The air feels funny."
Whipper watched Autumn ready to roll her eyes, but she stopped halfway. The wind was a flurry and hush in the thickly leaved trees. The air did feel weird now: heavy, with an energy that made his fur prickle.
Summer had developed a twitch in her haunch and was walking low as though cowering. Just after sunhigh, she came to a complete halt. "Please, Autumn, can we just set them here?"
"Fine," said Autumn. "It's close enough. I'm sure Winter would understand"
Summer let her shoulder bags slide to the ground. Autumn slung off her own pack and pulled out a chain. The ground shivered with distant thunder, and the air went sharp, all colours and smells accentuated like daggers. Whipper backed out of earshot and checked for Drakons. The only sound was the breathless puff of the wind. He spun around and ran.
Silversand screamed as the canopy above her and Sethral exploded. Whipper somersaulted over their heads and skidded to a halt two tail-lengths ahead.
"Whipper!"
He ran to them, though his paws must have been burning. He was almost in tears. "Guys, we have to hurry! There's a storm—"
"We can tell there's a storm, Whipper; we were just on our way to fi—"
"Silver! Listen to me! The storm's not going to hit us! Something's wrong with the Riverwind; it's skipping the south forest and heading straight for the flats!"
Sethral gasped. "The Coppertails."
"If they're close, they'll come straight to the forest. They always do in big storms."
"What's wrong with that?" said Silversand.
"The forest, Silver. Winter's filled it with traps!"
Sethral grabbed him as the wail of Hyenars split the silence. Silversand was gone in a heartbeat.
"Meet at Greenfalls!" shouted Sethral. Whipper clung to her back as she retraced his steps at flight speed. Up the mountain were the Coppertails, suddenly running as Drakons poured from rocks and trees. When they reached the mountains' base, Sethral flung Whipper into the canopy. They flew in opposite directions.
Whipper took the loudest direction, pausing only to destroy a trap twinkling between two trees. Ahead, a bright yellow female struggled in a net strung off the ground. Whipper attacked its critical rope, and the creature screeched as she was dumped to the ground. She shook off the net and bolted. A chorus of wails erupted from up ahead; a pack had smelled blood. Whipper made for the sound.
Another caught: a male thrashed in a snare line while hooks drew red tracks through his fur. A second tried to free him while a third screeched and spat at the Hyenars circling like Drakons.
Over and over the pattern repeated. Whipper could hardly breathe by the time he had diverted or freed his fifth Coppertail. He dropped to a suspiciously churned-up path and sniffed the ground. Silversand had put her Westwind Crag practice to use and diverted half the Hyenars, but this trail smelled like Highlander. A dead Hyenar lay beside it. The sky was darkening. The mountains would not escape the storm's fringe, and rain would wipe out trails.
The site of an ambush: two creatures fallen to a great number of Hyenars. One had been trapped. The space was empty, and the trap was gone.
A mauled trap and a trace of green fur: Sethral had beaten the Drakons to this one. That meant at least eight had escaped, and Coppertails' seventh sense was finding each other. The rest would follow the escapees.
Whipper was still counting when a Coppertail's yowl echoed off the base of Greenfalls. He skidded onto the scene at the same time as Silversand, and a moment too late. Two Drakons rose with a Coppertail in their claws. The renegades dove for cover as a flight arrived to clean up the trap.
Silversand scrambled through the canopy to find Whipper on a branch with a calculating look she recognized immediately. The flash of a mirror shard up Greenfalls proved he'd been talking to Sethral. Long-distance tail-talk was all flashes. Silversand caught the end of Sethral's answer.
'Probably not, but chances are you'd catch up and at least see where the last one went.'
'Tell the twins, okay?' answered Whipper with a stolen trap piece. 'Wish me luck!' He crouched to jump.
"Whipper, don't you dare—"
Whipper waved to her cheerily and bounced onto the back of a Drakon. It screeched and shot skywards, only to crash back down in the Forester's winglock. Its fellows dove to help. Before she could think twice, Silversand copied Whipper's attack. Both were captured in heartbeats.
Silversand stuck out her tongue as Whipper threw her an exasperated look. 'You left me out of the Hyenar fun for half a day," she flicked. "This time I get to join!'
The Drakons streaked for the high winds, gusts from the approaching storm rattling their wings. Silversand could see the speck that was the last Coppertail and her captors. She hoped they were following it.