"Her clothing?"
"Rags. The Orion scouts can't even tell what it's made of, let alone what village it's from."
"Will she be—"
"Could all those who aren't healers please leave!"
Brush herded the room clear. Creatures coagulated outside as he shut the door.
On the tree-cave's other side, Nova's head healer Lapwing was washing the Watermouse's wrists with a gentleness that belied her fierce reputation. The creature was leaned against a pillow, her eyes fixed on something past the opposite wall. She had said and done nothing since the incident in the forest.
Brush joined Lapwing by the bed. "Anything?"
"Not a twitch. There's severe trauma to her ankles and wrists, and evidence that she was subjected to a collar and chain in the past. Multiple whiplashes, and two kinds of bite scar... here. Tell me what you think."
Brush's delicate fingers parted the fur where Lapwing indicated. "Looks like Coppertail. Leslander? And I don't know the other one."
"Neither do I."
Brush flicked his tail at the Watermouse's broken ankles. Lapwing handed him the splints and moved aside.
Sethral put her head down. The healers had wanted her in the room to compare any new behaviours to those she had already seen, but both Brush and Lapwing had since confirmed the Watermouse's vegetative state.
Lapwing's assistant, Fern, jumped as someone tapped on the door. Talin stuck his head in when she opened it. He beckoned to Sethral, who joined him outside. He sighed when he saw her expression.
They found an isolated platform. Sethral sat down to keep herself from stamping like a child. "You've been hiding things. I found a collar scar on Ryatzi last night, and I think you know why he's been acting so nervous."
"A collar scar? I figured as much. And was he okay when you touched it?"
"He was fast asleep. Talin, is Radar in the Lowlands again?"
Talin put his face in his claws.
"I'm a freaking renegade," said Sethral. "I need to know these things."
"Sethral."
Sethral shut her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. She hated having an enemy she had never seen, and she hated even more having an enemy that made it dangerous for her to speak in her own home territory.
"We couldn't tell you until we were sure," said Talin. "You're the first creature besides the leaders and deputies to hear about it. How has Ryatzi been?"
"He's starting to not talk to me again when I ask him what's wrong."
"So getting worse?"
"Well, he was already uneasy when he got here. How long has Radar been back?"
"Orion's patrols got wind of the first disappearances shortly after Ryatzi arrived. If he was already on edge then, though, I imagine it's been longer."
"Who's been disappearing?"
Talin shook his head. "Rivrit and Watermice. Fit creatures. Strong ones. Skilled healers, craftscreatures, foragers..."
"So they're probably going to Winter."
The fact that nobody had seen Winter since she had been taken by a Draygon fifteen moons before hadn't convinced anyone in PAON that she was gone. Sethral was glad she had never had to fight her clan on that.
"What does Radar look like?" she asked. Arling had left on another research trip the day before, right before he was due to cover Vipra in class, and Bracken had only described.
Talin began to sketch on the bark with his claw. The figure started like a Coppertail, but its posture was cockier and Talin didn't add a tail. The face shattered the semblance. Coppertails didn't have slanted eyes, or fangs.
"Snake," said Sethral quietly.
"I think the healers need to talk to Ryatzi," said Talin, getting to his feet.
Ryatzi twitched at being shut into the healers' tree-cave. Lapwing's wings never quite closed as the Saberel let his nose drift over the Watermouse's yet-unbandaged wrists and neck.
"Can I see the bites?" he asked.
Brush showed him. Sethral watched Ryatzi's tail curl and uncurl from about his paws, then stray towards his neck before dropping again.
"That's a Vipra bite," he said. "The rest are Coppertail."
"Leslander?" said Lapwing.
"Maybe."
"And what about the other damage?"
"A collar for sure. Are the scars on her ankles smaller than the ones on her wrists?"
The healers looked at each other.
"They are," said Lapwing.
"Radar travels a lot," said Ryatzi. "He takes them off for walking unless a creature walks on four paws."
"How do you know this is Radar's doing?"
Ryatzi cocked his head slightly. "This Watermouse was caught, and taught to behave with a Vipra bite to the back of the neck. She was collared and chained paw and hindpaw, with the hindpaw cuffs being removed during a moon or so of travel days. At some point, she was sold to a creature with a whip. That one kept the chains on full-time and made her work until the day she escaped. Her worst memories are of her time with the Vipra, though; that's probably what she screams about if she talks at all. Tell me if I guessed anything wrong."
Fern was shaking her head.
"That doesn't answer my question about Radar," said Lapwing.
"Does it sound like anyone else to you?"
"Radar and Sonar are the only Vipra we know who come this far north," said Talin.
"I know," said Lapwing. Her voice had quieted. "I always like to be certain, and I wanted to be certain about this. Ryatzi, you know a lot about Radar for a free creature with no scars on his paws."
The room suddenly felt airless. Lapwing was calm-faced, but she was now standing between Ryatzi and the Watermouse. Brush had taken a step away.
"I'm not in league with Radar," said Ryatzi, giving everyone the full benefit of their seventh senses.
The feeling let Sethral breathe again. She could not tear her eyes off Ryatzi's paws. He had said himself that four-pawed slaves walked with chains. None of this made sense.
Ryatzi's tail was around his paws again. Sethral glanced up to see him switch his pleading gaze from her to Talin.
"Can I excuse us?" said Talin.
Brush nodded and Lapwing gave a slow dip of her head. Ryatzi flinched as Talin's wing touched him. Sethral followed them back to her and Talin's quiet platform.
"Ratty," she said when they had landed.
Ryatzi huddled down on Talin's back. He was trembling.
"Ratty, you—"
Talin's wing stopped her. Sethral watched mutely as her mentor coaxed Ryatzi down and covered him.
'I'll handle him,' he flicked when the Saberel had settled. 'You have patrol this afternoon, correct?'
The subtext was obvious; she needed to take a break before she said something harmful. For once, Sethral didn't feel like fighting. She left.
Autumn hopped off Winter's dais and strolled to the group of Mountainairs and Leslanders talking amongst themselves at the edge of camp. They snapped to attention or nodded coolly as she joined them.
"It's been eleven moons, Autumn," said Garnet. "We're all ready. Have you made up your mind yet?"
Autumn angled her head and stared him down until he looked away with a scowl. She nodded to the rest of the group. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. We're leaving tomorrow."
"We?" Garnet took a step back. "You're in charge of camp!"
"Oh, I think top-rank Hawkfeather is more than capable of handling things here," said Autumn, but Sapphire caught sight of her tail. 'Not anymore,' it flicked.
Sapphire ducked his head to hide a smile.
"But—"
"Garnet," said Autumn. "Which of us did Milady place in charge?"
"Milady this, Milady that," growled Garnet. "Our leader's name is Winter, Autumn."
"If Winter chooses to go by Milady, I'm going to obey that."
The Leslanders were diligently pretending to be busy with other things.
"Pack your bags and contact the Drakon escort," said Autumn. "We'll stay for the new moon festival and leave at dawn."
Festival night in camp came once a moon, on the blackest night of the cycle. As evening fell, fires blazed, illuminating dirt-drawn games and contests of strength or skill. Food was available raw or cooked alongside piles of forest harvest and prey waste in case anyone wished to treat a pet Hyenar or a slave. Creatures roamed freely between the four satellite camps as Drakons patrolled on a hunt for civil discourse.
At the center of it all, a great bonfire was being prepared. Like they did every new moon, slaves piled brush and wood in a great ring around Winter's dais. Once lit, the fire would burn all night, keeping Whitewings at bay as festivities continued.
"They're going to light the moon-fire!"
The cry spread through the camps. Creatures flocked together, already passing around ropes and chains and locating hunting buddies. By the time half the army had arrived, the main camp was full. Creatures laughed and occupied the walls.
Leslanders scooched together as Autumn leaped onto the camp wall. The crowd fell silent.
"Welcome, all of you, to this seventh new moon festival and eighth new moon hunt," said the Mountainair. "To those who have joined us recently, welcome. To those who have been here longer, welcome back. Are our Highland outposters here?"
A small cluster cheered.
"Western Shield patrols?"
A lithe group smacked their tails against the wall.
"Mountain scouts?"
"Here!"
"Trackers?"
"All but Anarak," said a Leslander. Several others laughed nervously.
"I imagine we will hear from her soon," said Autumn. "No mission can take forever. But to those who could make it tonight, thank you! As you all know, last moon's new moon hunt set a high bar. Rickfang?"
A big male bounded onto the wall across camp.
"Rickfang, can you provide these creatures the news from our last moon's winner?"
Rickfang's chest swelled proudly. "My team last moon won the hunt... we found an Aria eggsac, and Milady suggested that we train the hatchlings to guard our trickier borders. The first cluster was posted in the forest yesterday."
There was a scattered cheer.
"Going to catch a renegade?" someone called.
"That's always the hope, isn't it?" said Rickfang with a grin.
"Thank you, Rickfang," said Autumn. "And yes. Milady's dream has always been to create a territory that could shelter any loyal creature. With Rickfang and his team's catch last moon, that dream has come one step closer to reality. I encourage you all to top it! Find and capture anything you can. You may keep your catches if you wish, but the most valuable one surrendered to the army will earn its captors a personal bed and food in main camp until next moon's hunt. The only rule is that you may not injure your fellow armymates. This is not a chance to follow up on pent-up grudges. Where is my rule-guard?"
A hole formed in the crowd as a creature stood. Radar stood as high as most Leslanders' shoulder blades, but his smile made the frozen ground look cozy. "At your service," he said with a slight bow.
"Radar will be patrolling the forest to watch for violations," said Autumn. "And now, enough with the introductions. Bring the fire-light!"
A path cleared through the throng. A Rivrit slave carried a torch down the aisle and knelt beside the unlit moon-fire, touching the flame to the tinder.
Nothing happened.
Someone snatched the torch and thrust it at the twigs. They smoked. A mutter like a breeze sprang up.
Unseen by the crowd, the smouldering crept around the ring like a snake on the prowl. Autumn smirked. Above the camp, unnoticed, a single Whitewing drifted down.
The moon-ring exploded. Brilliant white flames shot skywards, rearing one, two, three copper-lengths in the air. Creatures screamed and reared backwards. Then, as quickly as they had erupted, the white flames fell back into the oranges and yellows of the now-burning moon ring.
Someone was standing on Winter's dais. Twigs rose in flame; logs caught fire. Firelight rose and brightened, chasing off shadows until they were throwing dancing patterns on one thick, snow-white pelt.
The creature looked around. "I apologize for the rather startling arrival," she purred. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
A stunned heartbeat shattered into one massive, paw-stamping cheer. "Win-ter! Win-ter! Win-ter!"
Louder and louder it rose, and Winter appeared to revel in the sound. At last she lifted her tail. In the deafening calm that followed, her words rang out. "Let the new moon hunt begin!"
Creatures flooded out of the camp; out the gateway and over the walls. In thirty heartbeats the space was clear.
Winter stepped down from her dais. She cleared the moon-fire at a bound and paused to shake out a small pouch into the flames. White fire leaped and died. Winter tossed the pouch into the burning logs and turned to where her pack stood waiting. Autumn stepped forwards. As her leader stopped, she dropped both forepaws and bowed to the ground.
A frown shadowed Winter's muzzle. "Autumn, since when do you bow to anyone? Stand up."
"Mi—Milady?"
A tail curled under Autumn's chin and pulled her to her feet. Winter looked her up and down. "We're packmates, Autumn; don't treat me like a Drakon lord. How have you been?"
"G—Good, Milady."
"My name isn't 'Milady'. And I see you've kept this place thriving in my absence. Thank you." Winter looked up at the rest of her pack. "I am sorry for making you all wait so long. I had other business to attend to, unfortunately."
"Milady, you needn't apologize—"
"Autumn."
"But Mi—yes, Winter." Autumn threw a helpless look at Summer, who could only shrug.
"It's good to be home," murmured Winter, gazing around.
Was this Winter like Winter used to be, back before the travels, or the war? After a lengthy debate, Autumn crept up and touched her head to Winter's shoulder. She got a pat on the back and closed her eyes happily. Old Winter. Her sister was back.