~Answers~

Echo opened his eyes.

He was in a dim cavern, lit only by the blue light shining from his eyes from his night vision. He scanned his surroundings. Cracks and dents crossed along the walls. Two nests, one large and one small. The tiny sound of moving water dripping into a pool near the back wall. Is this some sort of flashback?

He dug deep into the back of his mind as a cerrien with light green eyes faced him from beside the entrance. Much taller, she towered over a tiny gray kitten like a hungry bird towering over an ant. If not for the kitten's eyes, horns, and spikes, the tiny scrap of fur would be entirely swallowed by her shadow.

Echo couldn’t feel the ground beneath him.

Not a flashback. Time-traveling.

“Why are there brambles in front of the den?” the gray kitten leaned to one side to glance at what was behind the tall cerrien: a collection of intricately placed brambles that only tiny slivers of sunlight passed through.

Echo drew his attention away from the scene before him to search his mind. Greeting him were flashes of mist and shadow, threatening to wrap around him and sweep him away. This was when I was a kitten, but…this doesn’t feel like my past. There was a glaring barrier, and not just the one separating past from present, not even the one with a thick cream and white pelt, piercing green eyes, and matching horns that poked out of her head like claws. That wasn’t his pelt, or his eyes, or his ears, or his paws—no matter how similar they looked. And that kitten spoke a voice that never belonged to him.

And it would be a few years before things truly fell in their rightful place. Had anything from back then ever belonged to him?

Echo closed his eyes. For once, the lack of ground beneath his paws offered a string of comfort that weaved through his pelt. This isn’t the present. Things are different now. Yet his chest still throbbed with pain, pain that seemed persistent to cling to his heart no matter how hard he tried to send it away. These things never let themselves go, do they?

“I don’t want you going outside.” The cerrien padded slowly towards the kitten, voice stern. “You can’t trust that any predators aren’t lurking around here, or any cerriens for that matter.” She whipped her head around to stare at the sturdy blockade behind her. “It’s too soon after your father and brother’s deaths. You don’t want what happened to them to happen to you, do you?”

The kitten’s eyes widened.

“Then you’re going to stay here.” Feather met the smaller cerrien’s frightened eyes. “Going off on silly adventures was the exact thing that got Bramble killed. No more running off again with that little friend of yours. Got that?”

She really did never care.

It’s all a lie. Echo wanted nothing more than to rush towards the tiny scrap of fur and warn of the anguish that was to come ahead. She’s not trying to protect you.

So why would she isolate her kitten?

“O—okay.” The kitten shuffled little cream-colored paws and mumbled so quietly that Echo had to prick his ears to hear the words. “It’s just lonely without another kitten here anymore.”

“No more talk about Bramble now.” She turned to the entrance of the den. “That’s in the past, which you better learn to stop thinking about. I’m going out for a bit, and if I come back and find you crying to me about something you saw while ‘time-traveling,’ you’ll have to stay here longer. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“Your time-traveling is a figment of your imagination.” Feather thrust her face a mouse-length away from the kitten’s tiny nose. “You’re just having vivid dreams. No cerrien can go back in time. It’s all a load of nonsense, and a strong cerrien must learn to accept that. Got it?”

The kitten’s gaze—both tiny as a shrew and as large as moons—remained fixed on Feather for just a few heartbeats. At last there came a nod in reply.

“Good.” Feather stared into the kitten’s blue eyes a heartbeat longer, as though assessing the thoughts spewing from the kitten’s fluffy gray head.

Echo leaned forward. Again that flash of desperation… Why is she so urgent?

“What about school?” The kitten blinked. “Aren’t I supposed to be going there?”

“You can’t trust anyone when we still don’t know what happened to them. Now just stay here. It’s for your own safety.” She moved skillfully and silently—under and around the brambles—before slipping out of the den.

Echo only watched as the kitten crouched in front of the entrance for a while, staring at the blue lit branches in front of the two of them. An ache steadily thumped in his chest. You don’t deserve this.

Quickly, the kitten hurried to the brambles. Twigs from a jutting section of the branch poked at the downy fur, but the discomfort was left ignored. The little gray cerrien pushed down on one bramble stem until it snapped. The bramble branches were broken apart with wary, shaking paws until the crack that made up the usual entrance was visible.

Echo swallowed. No! What if you’re caught?

The little cerrien purred a sigh of relief. Echo followed silently out, able to pad right through the cave wall. The sunlight stung both cerriens’ eyes upon emerging so that they had to squint. The brambles were now scattered on the ground around them.

“Is this really a good idea?” Echo flinched as the kitten mumbled the words with a voice that wasn’t his. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t think I can be a strong cerrien today.”

Echo suppressed a small whimper as the small kitten, broken in defeat, began to back away, collecting the bramble stems together and shoveling them towards the cave opening.

“I think I know the answer,” the kitten muttered, staring blankly at the patches of sunlight streaming into the cave. “She hates me so much because I’m not a strong cerrien like Dad was.”

A strong cerrien like Dad was.

“Bramble always said he was the most fearless and smartest cerrien in Fintaria. I’m sorry…I can’t be like him…I can’t make me or you happy.”

Echo sighed. I never will.

Suddenly, a flash of black caught Echo’s eye. He turned and jumped back when he saw a terrifyingly familiar figure: a pitch black shadowy cerrien with piercing white eyes.

“You again?” Echo glared at the figure. “Why do you keep following me?”

A paw prodded his side.

“Echo, wake up!” Inferno nudged him forcefully. “There’s a meeting!”

“Assembly!” A voice boomed from outside, joined by the calling howl of gathering cerriens. “At this time, all cerriens available are to gather at the Meeting Clearing momentarily for an assembly!”

“Were you time-traveling?” Inferno’s gaze was wide with horror.

“Yeah—but I’m okay.” Echo scrambled to his paws, waving Inferno away with his tail.

I don’t remember that. He reached back once more into the precipice of his mind, finding only a thick layer of fog that spoke no words to him. I guess I never really tried thinking back to those times before. I must’ve blocked them out somehow.

Shaking his head in utter bewilderment, he looked outside. The rain had eased, leaving droplets of water dripping from the leaves of trees and puddles scattering the ground. The sky was now a few shades darker. It must be evening now.

“Are you sure?” Inferno tilted his head to one side.

“I’m fine.” Echo brushed his friend’s back with his tail. There’s too much to explain.

“Yay! An assembly!” Thistle bounced on his paws.

Echo sighed. The kittens shouldn’t be going to this meeting, but something tells me none of us will be willing to stay behind with them.

“Perhaps the Medics found out more about what happened with Tumbleweed.” Inferno's tail wagged with anticipation. “Maybe she really did kill Coal!”

“Maybe…things can go back to normal now,” Spire suggested.

“Three murders and a crazy cerrien that’s been attacking others with no logical reason?” Echo cocked his head to one side. “I think it’ll take more than two days for things to truly go back to normal.” He dragged Thistle, who was desperately trying to scamper out of the den, back by the tail with one paw. “Remember what I said earlier about running off?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Thistle mumbled, lowering his head to the ground.

“And when we go to the meeting, you are going to behave yourself, or I will have to give you a punishment. Understand?”

Thistle nodded.

“Good, and...after this Feather will probably want to take you home.”

The kitten grumbled under his breath.

I’m sorry.

Thorn’s downy fur brushed Echo’s. “What’s going to happen?” he whispered.

“We don’t know.” Echo ran his tail-tip down Thorn’s spotted, dark brown back. “But stay close to me, okay?”

Thorn nodded, a serious look tinting his eyes. “Okay.”

The howls climbed in volume as the five cerriens neared the Meeting Clearing. Echo imagined sitting in the middle of the tense, jumpy crowd, with bristling pelts and yowls of fear pressing against him at all sides, and shuddered.

“Mind if we sit on the edge of the clearing?” Echo asked Inferno and Spire. “At—the end of the meeting, it would be easier to leave without as many cerriens to get past.”

Inferno shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

The cerriens found an empty space under a tree, towards the edge of the flat expanse of ground, but close enough to be able to hear what the Leaders had to say. To Echo’s relief, the yowls had started to die down as the clearing filled with pelts. He perched himself on the gnarled root of the tree. The shade would hide him if he had to cover his ears.

“Cerriens of Moorest!” Gray called out, signaling for the assembly to begin. “There’s good news and bad news!”

Well, this sure sounds promising.

The good news is that we now have a possible motive for the three murders. That bad news…is that a couple of cerriens has picked up a contagious disease—one that causes the infected to become savage.”

There’s more of them? Horror chilled Echo’s spine.

Yowls of terror and gasps of shock burst out immediately.

“We’ll all get infected!”

“What if the murderer is still out there?”

“We’re all going to die!”

“Everyone calm down!” Holly ordered silence, glaring at Gray. “The sick cerriens are taken care of, and there’s only two of them. While this is certainly an unusual illness, one that no Medic here has ever come across, that doesn’t mean it isn’t something that can’t be handled. The infected are locked away and guarded by Moorest’s best sentries. The illness doesn’t spread through the air, either—as no cerrien in close contact with the infected have gotten sick yet. As long as both them and the territory are monitored very closely, everything should be fine.”

Gray opened his mouth to speak again, but Albino slapped his tail on the younger Leader’s back.

Albino cleared his throat. “The authorities will be conducting further investigations on the two infected cerriens. It is very possible one or both of them killed Coal, Auburn, and Velvet. We will not let this case grow dust, please be assured. We don’t think this should spread any farther, but this infection is most quickly identifiable by a cloudy bottom eye darkened as though lifeless. We think the victim of the illness loses sight in that eye.” Gazes only grew more horrified as he continued. “The Medics say it might stem from an eye infection, but we aren’t sure. If you have any further questions, feel free to ask the Leaders or Advisors.”

“Is there a known cure for this infection?” Spire called out, their voice quivering. The question rippled among the crowd.

“There is currently no cure,” Holly said, “and we have yet to find out where the illness even came from or how it is spread. However, it is not something to panic about. The infection hasn’t spread very far. Everything will carry on as normal, so just stay calm and don’t panic.”

“That is all we have to say on the matter at present.” Albino signaled with a nod for the crowd to disperse.

As cerriens filed out of the Meeting Clearing, Echo spotted Feather hurrying towards him and the kittens. He forced his fur flat.

“Kittens, come here.” Feather beckoned Thorn and Thistle towards her with a sweep of her tail.

Before Echo could stop him, Inferno hurried to intercept her.

“I want to talk to you,” he said. “I want to settle this once and for all. Why can’t you learn to love Echo? He’s supposed to be your son, for Fintaria’s sake!”

“Really?” Feather snorted. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Inferno, what are you doing—?” Echo sprang off his spot on the tree root and darted for them.

Inferno brushed him off and went on. “You could try to start over. You could make a happy life for both of you, yet you choose to hate instead. And out of what? Something Echo can’t control? His powers are real, and he has nothing to gain by lying to you. There’s no need to hate him. If you two just settled your differences, you could live in peace.”

Echo winced. He’s going too far! His friend might as well be a squeaking ball of fluff in front of a dragon.

“You, Feather, could stop wasting your life throwing your son in the dirt for no reason,” Inferno scolded. “You don’t have to live like this, you know.”

Feather just sniffed disapprovingly. “I don’t care. Your petty attempt to change my mind isn’t going to work. Your little stunt is pathetic, pipsqueak.”

Inferno’s hackles lifted.

Stop! She’s just trying to provoke you!

“Stay out of it—will you?” Feather continued. “You’re not a part of this.”

“So you’re really content wasting the rest of your life hating your own son.” Inferno fixed an unwavering gaze on her.

There’s nothing that will convince her! Echo stared at him desperately. You’re wasting your time, Inferno!

“Trust me, I wish there was the opportunity for things to be different.” Her gaze raked Echo’s pelt, spearing a hole in whatever sliver of courage Echo had brought with him. “But it’s just far too risky.”

Without a warning, she bounded away.

Thorn gave Echo one last look through frightened eyes before scurrying after her with Thistle.

“Echo, if we can’t change Feather’s mind, we really have to do something about her,” Inferno said on the walk back to Echo’s den. “You need to confront her. Try to convince her that you’re telling the truth about your power, and make her realize how much she’s wronged you.”

“For the last time, there’s no point. Feather will never listen to me!” Echo sighed. “Your latest interaction with her proved that.”

“I think I agree with Echo,” Spire murmured. “She’s dangerous, and clearly not fazed by confrontation.”

“My parents reported her to the Lawkeepers for her behavior before,” Inferno mewed. “We could do the same again.”

Echo blinked. “We can’t exactly show proof for some of the worst stuff she did three years ago.” Even if I could properly remember it.

Inferno let out a low growl, stopping to lash his tail and rake his claws into the sandy earth of the path. “We have to do something! We need to take a stand and show Feather that she can’t push you around anymore! Even given the chance to improve, she refuses. I don’t think I can ever forgive what damage she’s caused. She has no idea what she’s missing out on, refusing to be a mother to the best cerrien I’ve ever met! I mean, who does she think you are?”

Inferno’s eyes were glowing like fire, mingled hatred and frustrated battling one another in their depths. Heat warmed Echo’s pelt. “Uh, hey, the speech is a bit unnecessary—“

“It’s not unnecessary, Echo,” Inferno hissed. “Feather is a worthless piece of burning, stinking rat droppings! She’s the worst cerrien I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But that could all change if she just tried. But she doesn’t. And she won’t. I gave her the opportunity and she turned it down. Next time I see her, I want to shred her into a million Fintaria-cursed pieces!”

Echo found himself backing away a step, the fur lifting along his spine. But in spite of his uneasiness, he found himself envying him. He may be reckless, but at least he’s actually bold. He could probably confront a whole patrol of enemy cerriens and not be scared! And it’s all for me, too.

Spire curled their own tail between their hind legs.

“She must think it’s fun to be cruel to innocent cerriens!” Inferno lashed his tail. After a few moments, he froze, as though an enemy had been creeping up on him and he just heard its approach.

“Inferno—?” I want Feather out of my life too, but Inferno is acting like he’s the one who dealt with the neglect all his life!

“Wait a moment…” Inferno gasped. “Here we are, in a tribe that has recently been the victims of murder, talking about Feather, the most heartless cerrien we know!”

Echo inhaled one single, sharp breath. “Are you saying you think it was Feather who could have been behind those murders?” He stared at his friend in utter shock. That’s insane—even for him!

“I mean, it’s not such a far-out guess when we really think about it.” Inferno’s gaze flashed.

“Inferno, Feather is a terrible cerrien. I know that, but you think she’d deliberately sink her claws into another cerrien’s pelt? This is serious, Inferno! You think she’s capable of murder?”

Spire shrank back into their own pelt. “I know she’s been acting suspicious and all, but that’s a pretty damning accusation…”

Inferno lashed his tail furiously, as if he couldn’t take standing idly by with his theory anymore—no matter how far-out it seemed. “I’ve had enough of this! I’m going to Feather myself right now to give her a piece of my mind!” He broke into a run, dashing away from the others at full speed.

“Inferno, wait!” Echo chased after him, leaping and pinning him to the ground before he was further than a few trees ahead.

“Let me go!” Inferno thrashed furiously from under Echo’s grip. “We finally know who the murderer is!”

“No, we don’t!” Echo snapped. “Think for a moment! We have nothing! No clues, no motive, nothing! Feather’s antagonistic behavior comes from her words, not her claws. Why in Fintaria’s name would she want to kill three random cerriens?”

Inferno didn’t reply at first.

Echo sighed. “If you saw a small animal with wings flying above you, but you couldn’t see what it was, you’d assume it was a bird before a dragon, would you? Even if you wanted it to be a dragon, because you love dragons so much, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s probably a bird, right?”

“What do birds and dragons have to do with this?”

Echo rolled his eyes. “You need concrete evidence, Infer—never mind.” He released his grip on Inferno’s pelt and hopped off to allow him to get up.

Spire was crouched a fur cerrien-lengths away, looking about ready to bolt away in terror like a frightened rabbit.

“Sorry, Ech.” Inferno shook his pelt. “I just can’t stand knowing a loved one is dead, when we don’t have any closure. Sure, there are cerriens with that illness, and it’s a fair assumption to make, but we don’t know for sure. I can’t stand seeing you being constantly looked down upon by Feather for no good reason.”

“I understand.” Echo curled his tail over his friend’s back. “When someone dies, you wish you could do whatever it takes to avenge them. You’d probably be willing to blame anyone and anything. But I need you to understand: just because we hate Feather doesn’t mean she’s the cause of every problem in Moorest.”

Inferno nodded absently. Echo’s neck fur prickled when he saw there were still hints of deep distrust smoldering in his friend’s eyes.