Flame

Chapter Sixteen

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning, Dove?”

“I know what you are trying to do, its not working. Flame, eat the herbs.”

“Do I have to? They look kind of, er, nasty.”

“They’re not that bad. I’ve eaten mine, Flame, open up!”

“My answer is simple. No!”

A sly smile creped onto Dove’s face. “Flame, if you don’t eat the traveling herbs we will not leave.”

Sighing, Flame grimaced. “Fine,” He swallowed nervously, and began to chew. Making faces like a prune, he finally swallowed.

“There,” he gagged, “There, I ate your poison. Happy?”

Dove smiled. “Very. Come on then, lets get a move on.” She began to walk steadily up the slope, slipping at times, but overall, making great progress. Flame bounded after her, obviously recovered from his interaction with the so called, ‘poison’. Leafbare had cooled the forest, but it totally made waste of the mountains. Strong, cold winds forced their trek to slow, and random rocks and valleys, caused them to twist and turn until their sense of direction was thoroughly lost. It was hard for Flame, but Dove was finding it particularly difficult. With her swollen belly dragging the snow and the wind buffeting her face, she could hardly keep her mind out of despair. She pushed her frozen fur into Flame’s to try to keep the kits warmer. That is what worried her the most. What if her kits were slowly dying inside her? Flame attempted to find her something to eat, but the Mountains were unforgiving and cruel. The day was spent in agonizingly slow progress, until it came to an end with a sudden sunset, making it colder and darker than before. 

“We need to find shelter!” Flame meowed hoarsely. Dove nodded, to numb to answer.

“There!” he shouted. He steered her towards an alcove in the stone cliff. It was spacious enough for both to fit comfortably, but there were no dents for sleeping in or moss for cushioning; just as barren as the rest of the Mountains. The only thing good about the little alcove was that it sheltered them from the freezing wind and snow. They slept there, curled together for warmth. 

They got up sore and hungry. Flame nosed Dove awake and they continued their trek across the barren waste. They continued for days in fashion. Their ribs showed, their whiskers frozen and noses running. Flame had a thinner coat and was often colder than Dove. Dove was always tired and hungry. She often feared that if she and the kits survived, she wouldn’t be able to produce any milk. They both viewed their lives as repetitive and cold. Every day the same, every day cold. So much cold. They could think of nothing else. Always cold. Always hungry. They forced themselves the eat snow to keep hydrated. Plodding on, they felt their feet were nothing but unbending, iron pillars. Their noses naught but ice chips. Soon they all but forgot why they were there in the first place. Weeks turned into months, and the snow still fell as steadily as ever, seeming never to stop. The only prey they could catch would be a dead mouse or frozen shrew. Still, it kept them alive. Then two moons and a day after, they saw a beam of light. 

“It must be over!” Flame exclaimed. Dove followed impetuously, all her senses alert. All at once a warm breeze drifted over them, expelling all fear and doubt. Their frozen hearts and memories came alive, bursting forth with gladness. The lush forest they saw was filled with color and grandeur, overflowing with prey. Dove simply lay down in a patch of sunlight, soaking it all in. Flame bounded off into the green wood, looking for all the world for prey. Dove lay on her side, the sunlight seeping into her soaked fur. ‘I wonder if the kits are still alive?’ she thought. “Oomph,” she felt tiny kicks. “Yep, they are!” She began to think about their names. It would have to be something to do with the past.. But what? Her mind dwelt on one clear fact. The were past the Mountains.