The War for Eventyr

20 | The Right Thing

Colborn shook his head as the two started down the mountain. She'd asked him again if he understood, but what was there to understand? That some tale of fantasy was supposed to seal his fate?

"Don't you see?" She stopped in her tracks, using her nose to gesture toward the horizon. Now, dawn peeked over the sea, casting a golden shadow onto the rippling waves––ones that stretched over most of the Rogue Territory. "We will die if this war carries on. There's nowhere else for us to go."

He growled. "Not my problem." It wasn't that he didn't care about her. It shattered his heart to know that even more innocents would be killed because of what he couldn't do.

"You have to go back," she said firmly. "My mate died before he could right his wrong, and I won't let you make the same mistake."

Colborn bared his teeth. In the daylight, here on a mountaintop, he was sure he could take the weak and tired vixen. His ribs ached less. He'd have no issue tossing her over the edge. "I'd like to see you make me do anything. I will not go back, at least not to do what my father asks."

Runa sighed, letting her muzzle fall in defeat. "You're right," she muttered. "And I would never ask you to hurt your brother. You'll need his help to stop this war, because you are the fox who's meant to do this, Colborn, the one in the legend. I always thought it was my mate, and I lost all hope on the day that he passed. But then I found you. You will inspire change––"

"No!" he shouted. "My father is an unreasonable fool. He will never change, and neither will the skulk. They respect nothing but strength and bloodshed."

She didn't flinch at his outburst, standing up tall to Colborn as he looked down on her like the petty vixens of his skulk. Staring into her eyes, he saw a strength that no male had ever harnessed. One of a mother.

"There's always another way. And maybe it's telling the truth."

–❈–

"I heard the news. How is she?" Trygve asked, standing in one of the dens where the elders stayed for the time of Gathering.

It wasn't pleasant waking up to a messenger fox at his home, telling him he needed to get there as fast as he could. At first, he was worried it had something to do with the attack that Skadi was helping them defend from. It had taken place just the night before, on the border between the Shadow and Leaf skulks. But the words that brought tears to his eyes had nothing to do with the outcome, only that Beste was sick.

His grandmother was dying.

Thridi slowly lifted his muzzle in the dim light. It held a faint frown. "She isn't doing well."

He shook his muzzle. It was all so sudden. Only a couple sunsets ago, he noticed that she had a little cough. Now, she was lying in her place of rest, waiting to succumb to the sleep of death. It was her last Gathering. The last season she was ever supposed to worry, before a life of rest and ease could begin. She would never get to live it.

"I need to see her," he said firmly. He pointed his nose toward the back of the den where a tunnel was dug into the wall. Trygve stepped forward, only to have the elders block his path.

Jafenhar shook his head. "In a minute, Tree, there's something else we have to discuss." The elder's gaze shifted to Skadi, who stood silently behind Trygve. Now, his heart really raced.

He held his breath inadvertently, waiting for the words to come out. The Shadowborn had beaten them, just like he feared. Skadi truly had set them up, and now they'd both be killed––

"With our recent victory at the border," he said calmly, "we've made the decision to proceed with the war before the Shadow Skulk can retaliate. We're going to need your help." His eyes drifted between them. "Both of you."