Cursed Are the Meek

Curtains

"No."

That single syllable rang into existence with the finality of a shut door. Pipsqueak almost winced, shocked out of his fervor.

The Chieftain stepped closer to the young slugcat and rested a hand on his shoulder. She sighed deeply as she gazed in the distance beyond his head, thinking of what to say.

"Son," she began, "you are undoubtedly a generous and loyal soul. But I cannot endanger my people on your word alone. These... things. They're clever. They're powerful. And most dangerously of all, they are clearly desperate. I recoil to think of what they might be capable of."

His ears snapped against his skull.

"But Mother-"

Lone Star's long, wizened hand clasped his shoulder like a vise; the cold metal of her rings digging almost painfully into the soft meat. Her eyes bore into his as she calmly returned to her solemn posture, both hands resting on her staff.

"My word is final." 

Silence. Pipsqueak worried the tip of his tail and stared at the floor
Satisfied, if slightly displeased, the Chieftain turned and started walking to the doorway.
His voice, little more than a whisper, reached her ears as she reached for the heavy curtains.

"The others deserve to know."

Only the sway of the pearls betrayed the imperceptible shift of her head as she glanced back at the bedridden slugcat: his body was unnaturally still, tense, and his eyes stared her down with eerie intensity.

"They shall hear not a word."

The curtains lolled back against the doorway, and Lone Star was gone. Pipsqueak could only hear the weakening tap of her footsteps on the corridor's metal floor as she walked away.

There, in the newfound quiet of his room, the slugcat was left alone with his thoughts. 
He fashioned his blanket into a nest and rested his chin on his tail as he curled up on himself, grimly contemplating the future as he slipped into an uneasy rest.