Rusty Chains and Irises

The brown tomcat sat alone on the wooded ridge, looking out over the forest. Lighting flared in the distance, illuminating the dark sky with blue light. Wolfsight bowed his head and closed his eyes tiredly. He had been waiting for his half-claw, Ivy, to return. She had left to fetch something nearly twenty minutes ago.

There was a crunch in the trees behind him, and he whirled, unsheathing his claws.

“It’s me!” The scrawny young cat squeaked fearfully, dropping what she had been dragging. It disappeared into the clover with a metallic clink. Curious, he sheathed his claws and padded closer. Ivy smiled sightlessly up at him, dipping her jaws into the green carpet. When she lifted her head, he saw a round, silver thing held carefully between her teeth. A thin chain hung from it, covered in rust.

“A… a locket?” he meowed wonderingly, pricking his ears.

“Is that what it is? I thought it was interesting,” the blind half-claw said, setting it down at his paws. Heart-shaped, it was covered in a rusty patina. Despite that, he could tell it was once beautiful. Smooth spots shone through - bright silver.

“It is,” he agreed. “My human had one when I was an unwild.”

“Before you joined the Great Settlement?”

“Yes. Before I joined.” His tone took on a bitter edge. If he hadn’t joined, he could have been spared from all this suffering.

“Do you wish you hadn’t?”

“Every day.”

“Do…do you still want it?”

His nostrils flared. Ivy did not deserve this life. He had to do all he could to keep her happy.

<>

“Cats of the Great Settlement,” the white tom yowled, “I have brought you all here for a Moon Council in celebration of our new wardens!” New wardens? Wolfsight narrowed his eyes suspiciously. There had been countless new wardens over the years, and no Moon Councils had ever marked their rising in rank.

“This month has been a good time for us,” the Keeper continued. “Prey is running well, our borders have been expanded."

Wolfsight snarled under his breath. That change had been made yesterday, and he knew why. Prey had not been running well for the past few months. The Keeper had been storing prey on top of what the Settlement was consuming daily, and the hunters were having a harder and harder time of finding anything in the oft-hunted territory.

“… and many litters have been born. On top of this, we have eight new wardens. The Great Settlement welcomes Needle, Piper, Tanya, Raptor, Joseph, Flycatcher, and Mask into their midst, promising to teach them our ways and accept them fully.”

The moonlit field was filled with murmurs and yowls of agreement. Wolfsight stiffened and dug his claws into the tree branch where he was perched on the edge of the huge clearing. He had chosen a beech nearby the huge boulder that Snowshadow spoke from, in order to better oversee the Keeper. Foxfur had prompted him to do so, and he, always unsure, had agreed. Now he shivered and peered closer. What was the white tom up to? Those were no common warden names.

His fears were proved correct as eight rogues filed out from behind the rock, their teeth flashing in wide grins of triumph. The field was silent. A light misty rain began to fall, and the assembled cats stared at the newcomers. Wolfsight could see many that he knew: Eagleroot, Foghunter, Leopardwing, Ivy, Bat, Tawny, Ember. Wardens and half-claws, kits and nest-mothers, elders and leafkeepers, all staring up at their leering tormentor, their destruction embodied in the white figure crouched upon the rock. They would be no better than slaves, chained and beaten.

Wolfsight crouched back into the leafy shadows, the locket around his neck swinging. Snowshadow looked down upon the assembled cats, his face wearing a benevolent smile. The warden hiding in the tree shrank back, trembling. The Keeper’s power was too great. All would die as the white cat closed his claws around their freedom, tying them with chains of thorns.

It began with the death of Wildcrow six years ago, the seventh Keeper of the Great Settlement. Snowshadow, High Warden, had immediately grasped authority of the settlement, and brought with him a group of wardens, all close companions, and the Time of Night began.

Snowshadow was cunning. The cats hardly noticed his grip growing stronger, and respectfully followed his every command. The wardens and half-claws hunted tirelessly to feed higher mouths than theirs, and the nest-mothers raised their kits to laud their leaders as noble, working for the good of the Great Settlement. Prey ran low, and only the higher ranking cats had enough. Kits starved, elders withered away, and still the wardens and half-claws bent their heads and obeyed without question.

The two leafkeepers, the healers of the settlement, were kept confined to their dens; and two other cats who had a small amount of herbal knowledge were recruited to join them. Rebels were confined to a leafkeeper’s den for a few days without food as punishment. The rough handling usually necessitated the presence of the leafkeeper, but their goings to and fro were closely monitored to prevent any prey being brought inside.

The spark inside him flared and sputtered in the cold claws of despair that gripped his heart. Quickly he scrambled down and bounded away into the woods, his breath coming short and terrified. He paused at the edge of a deep gorge, panting.

Why did he think he could do anything? Why did he come here in the first place? What urged him to join a rotting settlement? Raindrops quivered on his whiskers and ran through his fur.

He clawed at the locket, ducking his head so the chain slipped off. It fell in the wet leaves, and he pawed it over the edge. It clinked down into the darkness, and he drew in a shuddering breath.

It was over. He couldn’t run away, not with the borders being kept as vigilantly as they were. As he sat there, ten cats patrolled back and forth, and even if he could slip through, they would track him down and kill him. He had no doubt of it.

He turned around, his paw lost its purchase on the broad green leaves of a wet plantain, and he tumbled down the slope.

<>

Wolfsight stood up dizzily and felt a constricting pain in his paw. Ignoring it, he looked around into the darkness of the dried riverbed. Rain pattered around him, and he felt his spirits sink even further. He would have to travel far down it to reach a place where he could climb out. He took a halting step and felt the pain again. He glanced down and saw what had caused it. His paw was caught fast in the thin, rusty chain of Ivy’s locket. He lifted it, trying to pull away, and the locket clicked against the pebbles.

Had it been in a thicket, and his claws caught it as he tumbled down? The slender metal thread dug into the warden’s paw, and he hissed in annoyance, trying to shake it off. How could it have gotten so tangled? It ran between his claws, the rough surface grating against his pads. He scraped his paw against the ground, trying to catch it on something. It loosened slightly, but still it remained, glittering tauntingly.

A rush of emotions choked up his throat: anger, irritation, and the feeling of hopelessness that he knew so well. He gritted his teeth, trying to shake it away. It was only a silly little chain; he could get it off.

But each link bit into his skin like a hundred needle-sharp teeth. With a furious snarl, he bit at it, trying to pry a loop off with his teeth. The acrid tang of the rust seeped into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose, tugging at the chain. His fangs dug into his paw, and he tasted blood. It was only the chain of a human’s locket, but to him it seemed to be more, a symbol of the twisted, cruel laws of Snowshadow, broken and jagged. He closed his eyes and ground down, letting his unrestrained fear and hatred fuel him. The spark in his soul flickered brighter.

A tiny link snapped and he renewed his attack, grinding it in his jaws. It crunched unpleasantly between his teeth and he gagged, wanting nothing more than to spit it out. But the rust-eaten chain was weak, and he knew that it could not hold up much longer. The tip of a carnassial tooth caught in a loop, and the chain was finally broken. It fell loose, and he hastily clawed it off, a feverish revulsion gripping him.

As it slithered to the ground, a sense of triumph overwhelmed Wolfsight and he grinned, lashing his tail.

Gone was his fear and submission. The spark inside was flaring, and he clawed at the locket, snapping it open. When the two halves split apart with a clink, he stood frozen in the rain, his face fixed on its contents as something else, something more powerful than hatred, seeped into his soul.

The small flame became a blaze as he was filled with hope. Ivy’s gift was a sign, an omen from Starhaven. He felt their presence near him for the first time, whispering words of encouragement. He stood straighter, strength imbuing his very bones.

He could do it.

There were several wardens on his side, and they could persuade the others to join them in revolt. Even the most obedient of followers had been shaken by the appearance of the new arrivals. They could be won over easily, before the rogues settled in and became part of their daily lives. The shock was still fresh. They might be scrawny, they might be weak, but there were many, and they had the power of Starhaven on their side.

Stars flickered above him as he yowled his defiance to the sky, uncaring of who heard him. He could break the chains of oppression, overthrow the evil, and beat back the lies of the Cold Abyss. He would fight for the truth, for freedom, for the life Ivy deserved.

Wolfsight padded away, determined and sure, his eyes burning with courage and purpose. Behind him, the moonlight glinted dully on the scratched surface of the heart-shaped locket, dappled with raindrops. The cool wind whispered through the riverbed, brushing the tarnished metal of the open case.

Inside, crumpled and browning, sat a single, small iris blossom.

Hope.