~Feather~

Dismay crashed onto Echo like a tumbling wave when he spotted Feather sitting at the entrance of his den. Even through the rain, he could still see her fur bristling and her mane fluffed up. Her light green eyes, like the sun illuminating green leaves on the forest floor, were glistening with fury.

“I can’t believe you let this happen!” Feather bared her teeth in a snarl.

“It wasn’t his fault!” Inferno hissed. “Thistle knew there was a storm out, and Echo told him not to go, but Thistle didn’t listen—”

“Shut up!” Feather snarled. “Thistle, you’re grounded to the den for two full moons! And Echo, you’re grounded to my den for a moon!” Her eyes narrowed. “If you end up lying about that stupid time-travel thing again, or even talking about it, your time increases.”

You’re grounding me to your den?

“He’s over three years old!” Inferno burst out, his eyes burning. For all his outrage, he looked even smaller next to Feather’s massive figure. “He’s an adult! You can’t ground him in your den like he’s still a kitten! It was Thistle’s fault, anyway! Echo’s the one who went out in the pouring rain to search for him! And he usually can’t control when he uses his power. It just sort of happens when he’s sitting still for long enough. It causes him so much pain, but I bet you wouldn’t know, since you hardly pay attention to his feelings at all! Why can’t you see how cruel you’re being and learn to love him?”

“I said for you to shut up!” Feather snarled. She turned to Echo. “Come on, let’s go!”

“No!” Echo’s protest was delivered as a pitiful squeak.

Feather took an ominous pace towards him. “I’m the one given responsibility over you, so that means I can do whatever I want with you.”

“That’s not how that works!” Inferno lashed his tail.

Feather’s own tail was twitching. “Your real parents weren’t from Moorest, were they? If it wasn’t for me taking you in, you might not even live here! You have me to thank for every good thing you have! I gave you everything!”

“Because of you?” Inferno scoffed in disbelief. “Maybe—if you actually bothered to raise him! Why do you hate Echo so much? What did he ever do to you!”

Feather’s response was ominously soft. “I have a reason, but you clearly wouldn’t understand. You both are so young—you’d come up with excuse after excuse as to why I’m wrong. But you must trust me. My words, my actions…” Was that grief in her voice? Echo searched her gaze, but she went on before he was sure. “They are not unjustified.” She hardened her gaze. “Cerriens like him will only cause problems for this tribe.”

“Cerriens like him?” Inferno spat. “That did what? Exist? You’re his mother. Is it really such a challenge to learn to love your own son?”

“Trust me,” Feather’s gaze raked the cerriens and finally rested on Thorn and Thistle. “I’m doing this for the greater good of Fintaria.”

“Yeah! Because hating your own son is definitely going to help all of Fintaria!”

“Inferno, stop!” Echo snapped, wincing at his own voice’s high pitch. “Arguing with her is pointless.”

“Yes, Inferno. Stop!” Feather sneered. “This is honestly amusing. You think I’m scared of a cerrien that’s the size of a mouse?”

“You’re not taking him to your den,” Inferno muttered.

“And who’s going to stop me? You?”

Inferno swished his tail. ”Sure, why not. I’ll go to the Leaders right now.”

Feather snorted. “Like that’ll do anything!”

Echo shuffled his paws. I hate to admit it, but she’s right. If he can even make it past Feather!

“Well?” Feather’s eyes stabbed Echo fur. “It’s time to go.”

Echo took a few places back. Running inside the den would trap me. He glanced to the side. The trees might give me shelter.

In heartbeats he had turned and was bolting for the undergrowth, diving underneath.

“Coward!” Feather yowled after him.

He heard Inferno call his name, but he didn’t slow his pace. He skirted roots and wet leaves, but it was only then he realized he wasn’t sure where he’d stop. Feather’s lived here longer than me. She definitely knows the territory better, too.

At last he dove into a hole, half-hidden by a wall of ferns. He half fell, half-stumbled into its depths in a flurry of legs, fur, and tail. His head spun as he righted himself.

No signs this is a den. Perhaps no one would find him here. The rain will wash away my scent trail.

He curled into a ball into the back, shut off the glow on his horns and spikes, and closed his eyes.

“Ech?”

Orange light peeked into Echo’s slitted eyes. “I’m here.”

“Feather’s gone.” Inferno slunk into the little burrow, lighting up the whole space with his ear-tufts, tail, and eyes. “Thistle and Thorn are still at your den with Spire. Are you okay?”

What reason was there to keep Inferno worrying further? Echo uncurled himself and stood, shaking dirt from his pelt. “Yes.”

“It’s so unfair, the way she treats you.” Inferno sat down, ears drooping.

“What made her leave?”

His tail-tip flicked. “She tried searching for you, but I suppose she got tired of the rain and went to get dry.” He tilted his head upward. “Why can’t she be willing to change? She could live a happier life knowing she learned to love you like a mother. She won’t even tell us exactly why she hates you.”

Echo didn’t answer. He stared out into the storm beyond the ferns. Sorrow pierced his heart.

“I will never be good enough for her,” he muttered to himself. “Never.”

“Ech?” Inferno prodded him with one paw.

“She hates me! She hates me now and always will.”

“But—”

“No. Trust me, Inferno. She despises me, and that will never change.”

Inferno pressed himself against him. “It’s okay, Ech. We can do something! We can show her just how much harm she’s causing, and maybe then—”

Echo pulled away in disgust. “I don’t want your sympathy,” he snapped. “Stop trying to get my hopes up. Stop lying. Feather doesn’t want me. She never wanted me, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ve always been an annoying extra for her that she never asked for.” I wish I could believe you. Shame washed Echo’s pelt. I won’t ever be able to convince her. She thinks I’m weak…and I am. I just let Inferno do all the talking for me while I run off and cower like a kitten that needs to be protected!

Echo brushed past Inferno and stomped up the tunnel back outside.

“Ech, you can’t just walk away from this.” Inferno scampered to catch up. “We have to do something!”

“Talking to her won’t help.”

“We’ll report her again! Surely if she’s been reported enough times she’ll be taken seriously!”

“That still might not work.”

“But we don’t know that!”

Echo’s tail drooped with exhaustion. “I’m still just some random cerrien.”

“No one’s just some random cerrien! You’re not just some random cerrien to me!”

Echo sighed. Some emotion flickered in his chest, light and warm and almost infuriatingly so. As much of an annoying furball you can be sometimes, at least you’re confident when I’m not. “But some cerriens are taken more seriously than others. That’s the way things are. If I’m being honest, I don’t think any cerrien should be taken more seriously than another just because they have some sort of higher status that makes them important.”

“I guess it really isn’t fair. Feather shouldn’t get protection from reports for being a former Advisor. She’s doesn’t even have a true job anymore! Her job is being cruel to her son for no reason!”

But it isn’t just that. Who cares if a cerrien is an Advisor or Leader or not? It’s not like those things completely change who a cerrien is!

“I still think reporting her is a good idea,” Inferno said. “It still plants her in the Lawkeepers’ minds. I also think we should confront her ourselves.”

“I thought you would’ve learned from just a bit ago how fruitless that is.”

“If we confront her over and over, eventually she’ll back down, right?”

“She hasn’t backed down in the three years I’ve been alive.”

“You’re so pessimistic!” Inferno’s warm tail-tip flicked Echo’s ear. “You always think of the worst possible outcomes!”

“Someone has to.” Fintaria knows you aren’t doing it.

Spire had settled themselves at the back of the thicket den, watching as Thistle batted at a loose twig. Thorn was crouched at Spire’s side, staring at Echo and Inferno upon their return with wide eyes.

“What happened out there?” Spire demanded. “I didn’t even notice Feather was out there, and then I heard arguing and—”

“Sometimes I think he’s just impossible to get through with.” Inferno plodded into the den with his gaze low.

Echo didn’t hear the rest of his friend’s words before he flopped into his nest and closed his eyes.

“You know, I’m trying to think of when I saw that cerrien, Tumbleweed.” Inferno’s mew snatched Echo from a dreamless doze. “I knew I’ve seen her before, I even knew her name, but I can’t think of where.”

Echo raised his head from his nest.

“Maybe your parents knew her when you were a kitten and you just forgot,” Spire suggested.

“But you’d think I’d have some sort of specific memory attached to her.” Inferno shook his head in confusion. “She definitely looked familiar.”

“Wherever she came from,” Spire meowed, “I hope that the Medics figure out what’s wrong with her. She might kill even more of us! What if she gets cerriens to side with her?”

Echo sighed. “I don’t think any cerrien would side with someone that only growls and snarls.”

Inferno let out a snort. “What about Feather?”

“They’re two very different kinds of bad.” Echo sat up. “The cerrien would probably just attack her.”

“If that cerrien took care of Feather, it would save us from having to deal with her,” Inferno added darkly.

“What?” Thistle sat up straight.

“Our mother?” Thorn whipped his head around to stare at Echo in horror. “What is he talking about?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t actually mean that,” Echo reassured them hastily. He searched his friend’s gaze. “Right, Inferno?”

Inferno blinked. “Look, it was just a joke—”

“What’s wrong with you?” Thistle marched up to Inferno and glared up at him.

“I didn’t actually mean it. I was just joking!”

“And I thought jokes were supposed to be funny!” Thistle muttered.

“Sorry.” Inferno stared at the ground quietly when he saw Echo’s icy-blue glare.

“Never say that again,” Echo snapped. “Great Fintaria, Inferno! What is wrong with you? Even if it were just a joke, it’s cruel to wish death on anyone, especially at a time like this.”

“I’m really sorry,” Inferno murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right. There shouldn’t be any more death. There won’t be any more death. That cerrien that attacked us might be the murderer, and now she’s under supervision.” He shivered, uttering under his breath. “Unless…”

Enough of this! “I’m going back to sleep.” He yawned and curled back into his nest.

“Have a good nap, then.” Inferno meowed.

Echo closed his eyes. At least now the murders might be taken care of. I don’t care what Inferno says. Feather has nothing to do with Tumbleweed or Coal or anything about the murders!

“I just wish we had a Spirit-Watcher!” Inferno fretted. “Then this wouldn’t have to be so complicated.”

And wishing for that is almost just as pointless as wishing Feather would come around to liking me! Oh well. Whatever happened with Tumbleweed—I’m glad it’s over.