When the Dandelions Die

Mysterious Marks

Long before the dandelions grew golden like rich rivers along the downs and shires, the ground was a grey waste of sorrow. Vast crags of sharp rock jutted here and there, stones cut the paw, dust filled the lungs, and the earth swallowed up the body. The sky had not been painted yet; it waited in a harsh smog. The land appeared to be unfinished, as if the gods had cast the creatures down into a forgotten world. The only formidable mark that rose above and through the ever-present murk was a shadowy mountain called Vantoren.
Finally, one squirrel, a boar by the name of Redfell, climbed the tower of grey earth until he rose above the dust and peered into the blue that the gods basked in. Furious in his discovery, he rebuked his creators. He reveled in the cool, clear air they dozed in, and he let the deities know this full well.
The gods, suddenly aware of him, sent down Kreeran, the Devine designer. He asked what the fuss was about. Redfell roared like thunder, how the sharp stones scraped their paws, how the dust clung to their naked flanks in dry, cracked pelts, and how the tangled, barely edible weeds which grew few and far between tasted of dirt and hard flint in their soft mouths.
It was then that Kreeran realized his fault. He descended from Vantoren. The foul air bit his skin and the smog-filled his eyes with sadness. For the creatures that scurried on the ground, he grew grass. For the creatures that navigated the skies, he sprouted trees. For the creatures that patrolled the depths, he poured water. Finally, he spread an infinite carpet of golden dandelions as far as anyone could wish to see.
Kreeran looked upon the creatures of the ground. They were unsightly, warped shapes with naked pink skin and ugly rat-tails. He grew them and shrunk them and placed majestic ornaments on them; curling horns, colorful feathers, and fleet feet. Finally, there were only Redfell's followers left. Kreeran took the sharp stones, the pelting dust, and the hard food from the slopes of Vantoren. He blessed the creatures, saying,
"Redfell, the rocks which once tormented your paw will become your paw; I give you sharp claws so that you may master the tall trees. The dust which once settled over your skin will join your skin; I give you soft fur so that you may live both warm and cold. The hard pods with which you once tortured your soft mouth will merge with your mouth; I give you sharp teeth so that you may defend yourself if you have to."
And so the creatures grew nimble claws and magnificent tails and small buck teeth. But all of a sudden, the other gods descended. They took a look at what Kreeran had done and erupted.
"We shall teach you what happens to traitors who create without permission!"
They seized Redfell. "Your species shall have the most awful of curses, The Curse of the hunted!" They cast the creature down and brought Kreeran back up to Vantoren, sealing the clouds behind them. That was the last time anyone had heard from the gods.
For a time, the children of Redfell lived in peace. The yellow flowers and green grass fed them, as well as the plunder from the towering trees they now lived in. By then, there were red squirrels, brown squirrels, black squirrels, grey squirrels, and white squirrels. Many were adorned with patterns, like stripes and spots. Many started growing larger and more muscular. Less of them became food for dogs and small predators. The tribe grew bigger, and many groups spilt off to search for new lands. They started their own Dreys, and peace settled over the lands for a lifetime.

Wolfbane yawned. He was far too old for those kinds of stories. Most all of the other squirrels listening to the taleteller were much younger than him, staring up at the speaker with shining eyes.
"How much longer, Lovilswep?" He groaned as another story began.
The older squirrel glared at him, then resumed cheerfully.
A bored-looking juvenile in the corner banged his head against the side of the tree.
"You two stop disrupting storytime! The kits will get distracted!" Chittered an older brownish sow nervously. "Katpen, stop that banging, you'll break your skull."
Katpen rolled his eyes. "Good, if it'll get me out of here."
The sow tutted disapprovingly, before wandering further into the tree hollow.
"You juveniles have such fatalistic humor, I don't think I approve of it..." Her voice faded along with her bushy tail.
"...and that is how Fletrafah the fleet outsmarted the owl of darkflower."
Finally, Wolfbane sighed to himself as Lovilswep finished his story. The kits cheered and skittered around the taleteller. One of them seemed especially excited to talk to him.
"Lovilswep, I'm going to be like Fletrafah when I'm big, and I'll outsmart all the owls and foxes and—"
"No you won't, I will!" Another kit cut her off, simultaneously running into her. She rolled to the floor of the tree, squeaking pitifully. The brown sow came running.
"Are you alright, dear?" She turned to confront the kit who pushed her down. "Buckjig! What do you say?"
Buckjig compressed his small black body shyly. "But—"
"Apologize!"
"Sorry...," He mumbled, slinking to a darker corner.
They sure are hard on him, thought Wolfbane, shrugging. Katpen dragged his feet to the entrance and hopped out of the tree. Wolfbane was almost at his heels, when he stepped into the ray of sun shining through the hollow. He sighed contentedly. On autumn days like this, it was rare that the sun should cast such a becoming glow. A cool wind swept in, ending the sweet moment. The small squirrel ruffled his fur against the cold, then proceeded to the exit. He skittered down the tree, claws scrabbling wildly. Crunch.
The ground was wet with fresh rain, which had fallen just that afternoon. The birds chirped cheerfully, filling the grey sky with pleasant song. The chill of the coming winter framed the evening with a sharp edge that came in the form of frosted grass and chilly puddles. The wilted dandelions turned to mush beneath Wolfbane's paws as he padded behind Katpen. The other young boar looked over his shoulder. "You following me, weirdo?"
"I'd never think of it," Wolfbane called back, keeping his distance. They approached a crooked oak with several holes pocking the flanks. A large, dark opening gaped at the front. Better wait for him to get inside, Wolfbane thought sullenly. A few moments after Katpen's brush disappeared into the wood, he ducked inside the hole. He was met with the loud chattering of other juveniles within the tree. Wolfbane nestled himself into a mossy corner. He was only allowed in this tree and the Taleteller's tree while the Vraedi were out collecting food. He shuffled his paws restlessly, longing to hop through the wild oaks and weave through the bristling bramble thickets beyond Doldrum Drey. He snapped out of his daydream when a voice called to him. He squinted past the layers of other squirrels. A sleek, light red female with slightly lighter speckles was making her way towards him.
"Wolf, what are you doing over here all alone? Come on and join us!" Her smile made Wolfbane feel warm claws up his spine, and his tail bristled slightly.
"Er, yeah, thanks," he choked out, feeling his feet follow her. The group she belonged to were all recovering from a good laugh.
"Velindew, where did—" began a boar, before noticing Wolfbane. "Oh,"
An uncomfortable silence fell across the small group as the squirrels around them continued conversing.
"Wolfbane, right?" Questioned one of the smaller boars.
"Yeah, that's me," Wolfbane said, trying to appear collected
"I'm Rembrel. It's nice to meet you." Rembrel received a few glares from his peers. He was about to say something else, when a single screech sounded from outside, followed by many chirps and chitters. The occupants of the tree collectively froze and glanced around wildly.
No. Not another attack, please. Wolfbane's fur rose as terrified tingles creeped through him. The others sat, muscles tensed. The only sounds that came from outside was the rustling of squirrels running on leaves, some low groaning, and the birds chirping. No one moved a muscle. Wolfbane could smell the rank fear crushing the atmosphere.
"We need some help out here!" Yelled a voice suddenly. At that, squirrels rushed out every opening in the tree. Wolfbane pricked his ears and bolted towards a hole. He bounced onto the branch outside it. Below him, at least twenty red, brown, and black squirrels poured into the clearing. The chilly wind blew the slight tang of blood his way as he spotted a few Vraedi limping.
"Some of them are wounded," whispered hushed voices in the tree. A large, dark boar with old scars crisscrossing his nose rushed into the main room of the hollow.
"You lot, get out here and tend to the wounded!" He roared, nudging a few squirrels outside. The rest hopped out the holes they were already peeking through. Wolfbane leaped and soared to the ground. He hit the ground rather harshly and collapsed slightly. He straightened up as if nothing had happened, and glared at a concerned-looking sow.
I'll never be a Vraedi if I can't jump a simple five squirrel-lengths, he thought sullenly as not one of the juveniles even flinched while touching the ground. He caught a glance of smooth fur and a soft light red tail racing towards him. Wolfbane fell into line with Velindew. She turned her head slightly.
"Hey Wolf, I thought I'd missed you," she panted. Wolfbane grew slightly warmer in spite of the cold air buffeting his pelt as they dashed forward. He only realized he had forgotten to answer when she changed the subject.
"I hope the Vraedi are fine. I wonder what they met out there?"
Wolfbane was determined not to be awkward. "Yeah, I wonder what kind of animal could have given that gash to Quailing," he replied, noting the blood leaking from a muscular brown boar. The two, along with many others, reached the border of Doldrum Drey. It was a shady blackberry thicket where the wounded Vraedi lay, healers already tending to them. Many of the bleeding squirrels were convulsing, eyes black and bulging, jaws unhinged and foaming. A long-bodied speckled sow bounded past Wolf and Velindew.
"You two, run behind the blackberry barrier and see if you can fetch some pyrola sprouts!"
The two juveniles exchanged startled glances.
"But that's-"
"Yes, it's outside the Drey, there's no time to lose." The sow waited expectantly as Wolf hesitated. "Hurry! The lives of the Vraedi are at stake!"
Velindew scurried ahead into the thicket, a crimson flash. Wolfbane followed nervously. He peeked inside the tunnel of dark thorns which was strangely much colder than the weather outside of it. He set an apprehensive paw on the cold, moist ground. It felt safe enough, and hearing a pained scream from a wounded squirrel spurred him on. He followed Velindew's tail through the shady thorns, which occasionally grabbed at his fur and a few times tripped him and cut his paws.
After many minutes of navigating the dark, cold thicket, the light grew brighter, and two emerged back into daylight. Wolfbane backed away. It's... it's so much bigger out here. The trees opened into an expansive meadow dotted with small shrubs and tree stumps. It was carpeted with Kreeran's tall, golden dandelions that supposedly covered the entire world. Wolfbane took a disbelieving breath as he noticed a faint line in the distance.
"Velin... look."
Velindew turned and followed his gaze.
"Those are mountains, aren't they Wolf?" She whispered after a while. The line curved higher in one place than the others.
"Do you think that's Vantoren?" He squeaked, not caring that he sounded like a kit. Neither of them answered each other's queries, but stood in awed silence for a while. A far voice snapped them back.
"Has anyone brought back pyrola yet?"
The two exchanged nervous glances and skittered around. Wolfbane struggled to remember basic remedies that all kits were taught.
"Pyrola... thin stem... light flowers..." he sniffed around the forest floor. "Smells of... wild lily... and..." Wolfbane trailed off as a strange, sharp smell stabbed his senses. It was so strong it stung his eyes. He sat down and pawed his face, his vision starting to blur. Shaking his head, he stood up again and approached the foot of one of the huge border trees that seemed to be riddled with the overpowering odor. Through the stinging, Wolfbane looked up. A large orifice of thick, oozing black stuff bubbled slowly out of a hollow in the tree. It dripped down the bark almost like sap, but was as dark as a moonless night. He took a sniff and recoiled. Oh, what is that stench? He thought, backing away.
Maybe I should tell someone about—
His thought was cut short as he tripped backward. He fell flat on his back with a sickening thump. Wolfbane curled his lip sourly as he looked for what had done the deed, but his anger departed as he stared at a thin, leaf-wreathed stalk of pale flowers.
"Pyrola!" He yelled triumphantly. Velindew came running from the other direction.
"Right, let's get this back into the Drey." She skittered back into the mouth of the blackberry tunnel. Wolfbane was about to follow her but turned back to the glorious vista. The wind shook the trees in the distance, then traveled to the Drey. Expecting a warm gust to ruffle his fur, a chilly blast nearly buffeted him to the ground, leaving him feeling... hollow. The wind roared onward to the oaks behind him, shaking them like reeds. Huh. Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the world. As he was retreating to the deep, cool entanglements of dark blackberry brambles, the sharp smell caught him once more. The ebony slash dripping down the bark of the massive border tree caught the sun and glinted at him forebodingly. As Wolfbane ducked into the blue shade, the wind rose once more, and the trees rattled like bones above him. The squirrel felt uneasy and chilled to the bone, almost as if he was being watched. He fell back into the familiar scent of creaking oaks and dusty bushes and returned through the hole between the two worlds.