It's not supposed to snow in the South Forest, but the weather in the second-emptiest corner of Shelha is not the only thing behaving strangely. When an ex-tyrant started acting up again, Sethral had hoped it meant the end of lazy days and monotonou...
Hold your head high, show your voice and your might,
And don't be afraid to chase down and to bite.
Circle your borders, don't let a one slide;
Keep all your enemies on the outside,
And do not get cocky. To save your own skin,
Know the worst of your rivals may come from within.
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Many Years Ago
Elm stood glaring as Kastar towed Ice from the grass into the packed-dirt clearing. The blue-spotted kit was flinging herself against the restraint on her scruff.
"Let me go!" she spat. "Mangy Drakon-bellied cowards, they deserve a thrashing if they think they can prance around all high-and-mighty and beat up kits!"
Echo was tangling herself in Elm's paws. Kastar dumped Ice in the clearing and promptly grabbed her again as she made a break back the way they had come. He wrestled her down and sat on her. In another two years their sizes would equalize, but for now his two-season advantage made him larger than she. Ice bit his paw. He moved it.
Tripping on Echo, Elm extricated herself. She cuffed Ice over the ears.
"Hey!" squeaked the younger kit. "That hurts!"
"Less than that herd could have hurt us if you had gone and attacked them. You can chase Drakons and get yourself eaten if you need to blow up at something, but you can't endanger the rest of us with your fight-picking. You're not a Highlander, so stop acting like one!"
"Kastar's part Highlander," scowled Ice.
"Kastar manages whatever aggressive side he has just fine."
"Stop it," said Kastar. "You know it's not even a quarter. There's nothing for me to manage."
Echo yelped and scuttled under Elm again as an insect leaped in front of her nose.
