Valley of Weeds

Chapter Eighteen [Edited]

Chapter Eighteen

"Flower?"

Flower turned her head to look at Lysla.

"What happened to your mother?" the latter asked.

The older cub shifted around uncomfortably. "I, um, I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Why not?" Lysla pressed, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't want to."

"I dare you to tell us!" she grinned defiantly.

Nahoko flattened his ears. "She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to."

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"You're not in charge!"

"But Flower is because she's oldest," Nahoko pointed out matter-of-factly.

Lysla narrowed her eyes. "She's also a chicken 'cause she doesn't wanna talk about it!"

"I'm not a chicken!" Flower protested.

"Prove it!" Lysla dared. "Talk about what happened!"

Flower's face darkened, and she looked down at her paws. "I... I can't," she shut her eyes. Images of her mother and the male clouded her mind, accompanied by her mother's terrified screaming for her to run.

'Flower! Run!'

A scream. Keep running. She told you to run. Keep going. Go until you can't anymore. Mud. Rain. It's in her eyes. She's slipping. She falls. She's crying. Tears are warmer than rain. She's lifted. Warmth. Tongue. Fur. Open your eyes. Amur. Ghost stories. Eating cubs.

"See? I told you she was a chicken!" Lysla laughed as Flower opened her eyes. "She can't even talk about her mother, she's such a chicken!"

Her laugh reminded Flower of a squealing litter of piglets. The image of Lysla's head on a wriggling hog's body softened the pain in her chest, but not by much. She dared to glance up, and she was met by the younger cub's wicked grin, so tight and narrow it made her look like a rat. Lysla the Rat-Pig. She steals from the rich and rolls around in it until she wants more.

Flower turned and walked out the den. She didn't even want to be there anymore. Not just the den, but the entire Temple. It was cold, dark, and lonely. Amur's cave was dark too, but a different dark. The warm, comforting dark that made you forget your troubles and envelope you in a deep slumber. The Temple's kind of dark was hollow, like the skeleton of a bird. The crumbling stone walls were the bones, and the laughter of others - once sounding so sweet and joyus, now empty - was the buzzing that wasn't even there anymore.

She curled up by one of the stone pillars and looked around. The ceiling was high, but not whole. Like a patchworked quilt, peices of the night sky were peeking out from the holes in the distant roof. If her mother was there, she would have pointed it out to her, and they would talk about stars. Flower would ask what each of them were, and her mother would answer. Maybe her favorite, Lepus the Hare, was out. She tilted her head.

Mommy, why is the hare up there where the hunter can get him?

Because some meany put him up there and said that's all he's good for.

But he's more than prey!

I know that, and you know that, but he doesn't know that.

That's really sad, Mommy!

I know it is, but he's trying to prove himself and become the moon once this moon's time is out.