#ignavus weaselslash

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch1 - Unrest

A raging storm is a balm in a drought, but one that rages continuously… that's when the destruction wrought is the worst.

Onset Census - Next Chapter

/ / / / /

“Puma and Weasel, cadets of Tayilivina - do you swear to protect this faction from all who would do it harm? To stick with us through surplus and famine? Through plague and wellness? To embody the powerful spirit of what makes a Storm, even should it one day cost your very lives?”

“I do,” they chorus strongly.

“Then step forward, each of you, and accept your true names.”

Puma puffed herself up even as she watched Weasel move forward first, not bothering to hide the way she was trembling with anticipation. She had worked so hard for this moment, putting every bit of herself into the time she spent training and practicing for this day. Milolazo tested her mettle from the moment she was born, putting her forth as the sole surviving member of her mother’s first litter. Even now, the nesthands fussed over her, reminiscing on how she’d caught a bad cold not long after her siblings were born and her mother - grieving and desperate - had Blackbirdleaves, the mender perform a renaming ceremony; granting her the name ‘Puma’ in the hopes of scaring off the evil spirit dragging her down.

And much to her faction’s delight, Puma had risen from the remnants of her sick-nest a happy and healthy cub.

Then, when she was just eight-moons old, she’d officially become an orphan. She was a fresh cadet then, just getting her paws beneath herself when Blackbirdleaves had called her away from the Old Basin to sit by her mother’s deathbed. Puma remembers vividly watching helplessly as her mother’s clawed and poultice covered flanks heaved in desperation, reaching up to lovingly lick her chin one last time. Puma remembered demanding Blackbirdleaves save her, to use as many herbs as he could, to no avail. The infected cuts scarring her hips had degraded so far, nothing short of a miracle, could save her and Nichazo had been determined to claim her mother’s powerful spirit for the legions of the sky. And all she could do was spend one final night with her mother, snuggled close to her chest as her breathing finally stopped.

From there, Puma threw herself into training.

Infected wounds and illnesses were monsters she could not face down - she hardly knew anything about healing, and she was no aashaya. She couldn’t read the guidance of the Aazoli through the earth or in rivers.

But enemy patrols trespassing on their territory? That she could fight. That she could unsheathe her claws for and find success. 

She takes a deep breath, listening as Weaselslash is finally granted his name. Were the Aazoli watching her right now? Satisfied with the way she faced down every trial they sent her way? 

She was drawn back into the moment by Weaselslash’s tail flicking her as he stepped back, allowing her to stride forward. She flashed him a smirk as their liege began to recite the words of her promotion. Weaselslash had been her best friend since she could see clearly - a singlet by nature, rather than a title acquired later from an unfortunate illness. She felt his pride for her like a roaring sun shining into her back as the Brastilian began talking.

“Puma, cadet of Slateflower our very own guard legate, you stand before your faction a molly of great loyalty and ferocity. And so, with the Aazoli themselves watching me; I grant you the true name of Pumastrike - may you honor your faction, your drillmaster and your kin as a full guard of Tayilivina.”

The molly quickly moved forward, stretching out to touch her nose to his shoulder to conclude her ceremony.  She shuddered a little as a shock touched her nose, running through her body. She took in a new breath, stepping back with new power flowing through her body, feeling as if she could race the very wind itself and come out triumphant.

“Now as full members of Tayilivina you stand before the Aazoli themselves,” their caesar rumbled, and Pumastrike had to extend her claws in the effort it took not to shuffle beneath the hidden gazes of the divine. “The Aazoli offer to you their guidance and though all will whisper to you until the day you leave us, they demand of you - towards whom will your ears turn when the world grows turbulent?”

Having received his name first, it was Weaselslash who took a deep breath, raising his head and his voice to be heard among the very stars.

“Oh Aazoli before me, I speak it now - though I swear to follow the trails left for me by the great ones above, it is the pawsteps of Kaŕozo that I shall turn my ears to.”

That makes sense, Pumastrike thinks to herself, seeing other approving nods as she herself stepped forward. Hunters often chose to follow Kaŕozo’s tail into the world in the hopes that she would refine their skill, making them as legendary as those from the old Empire.

“Oh Aazoli before me, I speak it now,” she voiced like Weaselslash before her. She had been certain of the soul she would be following for nearly two moons now. Now it was only a matter of making it official in the eyes of her faction. “Though I swear to follow the trails left for me by the great ones above, it is the pawsteps of Milazo that I shall turn my ears to.”

“Weaselslash and Pumastrike, turn and face your faction, no longer as cadets but now as full valorants of Tayilivina.”

With that cue, their faction promptly roared their approval as the two new valorants quickly accessed their changed umal. She remembered training with it, trying her very best to feel the faint rumble and pulse that accompanied the energy of Tayilivina. Now it was rushing straight to the front, pliable in her paws as she commanded it to be expelled outward through her quills. She saw the moment she succeeded, yellow flashes and sparks jumping through her quills in the bright light of day as she raised her head. 

She released a prideful caterwaul of her own, spurred on by the cheers of her faction washing over her.

I hope my ma is proud of me, Pumastrike thinks wistfully,

“Before we all return to our duties, may I please have your ears?”

Pumastrike startled, opening her eyes to glance towards Weaselslash as the source of the voice with surprise. He was standing closer to the edge of the caesar’s ledge, beckoning for her to follow him. She did, rising to her paws with curiosity prickling at her still charged pelt, feeling her tail flicking with open intrigue as to what he had planned. The brown tom ushered her to The Slab, shuffling, as nervous as a fresh-cadet caught wrestling near the Trail.

“I have a request to make before the eyes of our faction,” Weaselslash addressed the crowd, his tail swishing nervously. “Rest assured, I spoke to our liege in private before our ceremony and received his blessing to perform this rite beforepaw.”

Pumastrike felt her curiosity grow even further as he stepped down from The Slab and quickly wove through the moggi gathered around them, slipping through the throng and into the mender’s den. He emerged a moment later carrying a cardinal - bright red and distinctive - in his mouth, though what drew her eyes was the beautiful pink coneflower blossoms lodged within its beak. As he came closer, her nose twitched, catching the faint scent of juniper-berries beneath it; most likely crushed inside of the bird’s mouth if this was what she thinks it is.

“Weasel?” she breathed in awe.

Please be what I think this is.

“Pumastrike, you’ve been by my side since the first day we sent paw in the Old Basin. We’ve matched each other, step for step - where you excel in battle-training, I have matched you in hunting. I want to stay by your side as long as the Aazoli will allow - Pumastrike, will walk with me until the day that Nichazo guides us to the beyond? Bonded together by Aloŕazo’s binding?”

Pumastrike took in a ragged breath as her heart practically exploded from pure joy. She had Weaselslash had been dancing around long before this day - she’d felt interested in him since they were fresh cadets, still whining and groaning about sore muscles and early dawn patrols. They’d behaved a lot like a courting couple without ever putting a label on it - sharing their nest, twining tails, and she’d spent her first sweet-cycle with him. She’d thought about making it official, almost broached the topic quite a few times, but the moment never seemed right - her mother’s death, their caesar’s upping the ante of cadet training and the increased border-scuffles leading to more nights in the mender’s den than she’d liked.

She’d been hoping that this was coming, praying even that once they were valorants with more time to focus on each other than on training, they could move forward. She’d even had plans of her own to maybe broach the topic herself once they’d settled into their new positions. 

To think that all this time, in between moonlit training sessions, noon hunting parties and dawn patrols he was planning this? A proper bonding ceremony?

“Yes,” she told him, stepping forward to drag the cardinal closer to her.

“Really?!”

“Yes, by Aloŕazo’s will, yes Weasel!”

The tom exploded into a violent purring fit so loud she wouldn’t be surprised if Natisilapo stomped down to ask what all the noise was. His joy was compounded by the cries of congratulations from their factionmates as they were swarmed with well-wishes and praise. Pumastrike thought she could die the happiest she’d ever be in this very moment, being showered in licks and adoring nuzzles from her faction.

“Congratulations you two!”

Pumastrike turned immediately to face the voice, tail curling over her back in greeting at the familiar cat approaching her. She purred, stretching upward to touch noses with their lieutenant, Hawkfray as the large tom stretched down to return the action.

“This beetle brain’s been planning this for a moon now,” Hawkfray laughed, giving Weaselslash a friendly shove. Her mate staggered to the side, half because he was so dramatic and half from the muscular tom just not knowing his own strength. “I’m glad you know now - he’s been a complete disaster trying to plan it.”

“No I haven’t! Weaselslash protested. “I was figuring it out!”

“Oh? Then what about all of those welts still under your pelt?” the lieutenant teased, glancing towards Pumstrike and adding, “I’ve been worried that he’ll answer Nichazo’s beckons before he could even ask you to bond with him.”

“I’m telling you, that hive wasn't there the other day! I was framed, someone moved it there! Since when do bees build hives underground, anyway?”

“Sure Weasel,” smirked Hawkfray, earning a pout from the tom. Pumastrike just laughed and licked at his cheek until he rolled his eyes, turning to rub their cheeks together. They purred together, twining tails when Hawkfray batted at them lightly. “Alright, you two, there are little eyes in the barracks. Make yourselves scarce.”

“With pleasure,” Pumastrike purred, intentionally dropping her voice an octave that earned a chorus of giggles from the surrounding cats.

Weaselslash was quick to dart forward when she started walking, rubbing himself against her flank, twining and untwining their tails as they made an eager pace towards the gorse tunnel with the intent of escaping out into the wider forest. The two cats on guard - she recognized Nightsaber and Robinclaws - offered them a pair of winks, seeing the cardinal carried in Weaselslash’s mouth. 

As soon as they’re out of sight, they took off.

Training took on a new, more romantic meaning as she followed the routes she now knows by heart. They raced through the thick undergrowth and entangled trees, breaking apart and reuniting again, giggling like cadets. Occasionally, Pumastrike would be running on her own before Weaselslash would spring from the bushes and pounce on her, initiating a short wrestling match that ended when they broke apart. Sometimes she would follow him swiftly, pouncing on him herself with a triumphant cry of amusement. 

She stops at the edge of the dandelion grove, panting around the large, plump squirrel she hadn’t been able to pass up. Slipping into the little space between the trees, she purred a little, seeing Weaselslash approaching from the opposite side with a squirrel of his own dangling enticingly from his mouth. They moved close, touching noses together before sinking into the thick but soft grass, settling down beside each other. Though their catches were the same, they swapped prey, eating slowly as they regained their breath while Azaazo’s Eye crept slowly across the sky.

“...thanks for saying yes,” Weaselslash spoke up after a while of silence, drawing away from where he’d been grooming her muzzle. He licked away the remaining flecks of blood on her whiskers and cheeks before he continued, “It would’ve been really embarrassing if you’d said no in front of the whole faction.”

“Beetle-brain,” Pumastrike teased him immediately, giving him a light shove. “If you hadn’t asked, I would’ve sometimes this moon. I’m almost glad that palanarra patrol attacked us - I noticed you pulling away, but I couldn’t figure out why. I might’ve gone mad if I’d had to wait much longer.”

“I’m sorry Puma,” he apologized to her, a sheepish expression dawning on his face. “I was nervous that if I looked at you for too long, I’d spill. You’re so pretty in the moonlight… I just knew that if I didn’t stay away, I’d ask to bond with you in the middle of a dawn patrol.”

“That would’ve been fine.”

“But it wouldn’t’ve been what you deserved,” Weaselslash insisted. “You deserved a proper ceremony and a race through the woods and us giving the cardinal to another cat so we can spend the night under Nichazo’s gaze.”

Pumastrike purred, rubbing her cheek against his, “You’re such a romantic. Thank you, Weasel… this is such a wonderful distraction, I’ve been so worried about the eastern-stretch war.”

The two of them fell silent, shuffling a little closer to each other at the thought.

The battles against the Shining Sun had been ramping up in intensity recently - more and more, cats came back badly injured from these encounters. Sometimes Pumastrike wondered if they would have a permanent battle patrol stationed in the bushes, just waiting for cats of the regency to emerge to conduct another violent battle.

Pumastrike wasn’t one to shy away from violence, quite frankly of her cohort she reveled in it. She was powerful and skilled, rarely was anyone able to match her talents, let-alone outpace her. The molly felt most at home in the center of a whirling mass of valorants - with claws out or with claws in.

But it made her uncomfortable to see the wounds on the younger cadets, being exposed to battle first through the Regency of the Sun. Pumastrike remembered her first battle vividly - against a small party of Mimaŕanil poachers, facing off against a cadet not much older than she was - and she hadn’t even been injured too badly. But the fresh cadets like Apple were facing off against the same moggi whose claws did serious damage.

She shivers a little as Heavyscar came to mind - a molly who’d had the misfortune of getting into a particularly nasty scuffle with the Shining Sun. The result was her front left-foreleg being viciously clawed, a nasty burn scarred into her shoulder and down her leg. Pumastrike remembered laying in the cadet’s den, listening as the molly howled in pain anytime Blackbirdleaves so much as blew on the injury, remembering how towards the end of her first day of treatment she’d begun begging for him to just cut it off completely. Even now, the fur on the leg had yet to grow back, and their mender was unsure if it ever would. 

The molly had requested and received her name change, but although she had declined retirement, she had also never willfully joined another battle patrol against the Shining Sun.

It was a treasonous thought, but sometimes she wondered why their caesar was still having them fight. Heavyscar wasn’t the only one to suffer this war against their neighbors - Pumastrike’s own father had died not long before she was born from blood-loss during one of the scuffles and Redfray’s own daughter, Rowanshiver had teeth exposed on the side of her mouth from a brutal slash of the claw that has never healed.

It was one thing to fight a battle of survival, to defend themselves from a violent attack. It was something completely different to be the ones picking fights.

Especially when they were losing.

“... I was really worried that one of us would die before I could ask,” he whispered softly, as if he was afraid that his words would be carried back to the barracks. “And that last brawl… I almost asked you right in front of Blackbirdleaves.”

Pumastrike’s hindleg twitches at the memory, absently flexing her toes. She wants to claw the liar who spread the rumor that regency moggi had no claws and cast him into Ishosinaŕo with her own teeth. They really did have claws and they really, really hurt when they were used to drag you from a tree and rip the fur from your chest. 

“Blackbirdleaves didn’t even know if I would walk again,” Pumastrike murmured. She twisted to lick the phantom wound, remembering how awful she’d felt for moons after. “I don’t know what they’re feeding their cadets, but they cut deep.”

Weaselslash leaned over to sniff her leg with concern, “Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “Mostly when it’s raining or when it’s particularly cold.”

He released a noise of distress, leaning in to drag his tongue over the place where the wound once rested, before pulling back with a sigh.

“Hawkfray said he’d speak with his father,” the tom sighed, brushing his tail against hers. “With any luck, he’ll convince our liege that this fight is pointless.”

“Especially when we have to focus on Palanarra,” Pumastrike agreed, with a grimace. Now that the summer blooms were beginning to wither, and the evening breezes grew chillier, The Styrman, Shiftingfronds seemed to be launching one last desperate attempt to reclaim the Suncairn. Already the number of scents pushing their border had begun to increase as those finned bastards began testing them.

“Those lazy bastards always get a little fidgety when things start getting cold,” Weaselslash agreed with her, chuckling. He grinned mischievously, putting on a falsetto tone, “Aazoli forbid they’re mildly uncomfortable for longer than a day.”

Pumastrike laughed, “However will they fare without a constantly full belly and a place to stretch out away from their barracks? They’re living in such squalor.”

The two of them snickered away with each other, whiskers twitching at the idea of Palanarra spending any amount of time without their every need catered to them.

“I wonder what it’s like to have so little to worry about, no matter the season. Must be nice.”

Pumastrike flicked her ear, stretching forward and flexing her claws with a light yawn, “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Palanarrans are so prissy they hardly count as valorants - I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they’re more out-kin than empire-kin.”

Weaselslash chuckles at her remark, leaning in to nip lightly at the scruff of her neck. Pumastrike shuddered, flashing him a half-amused, half-annoyed expression that he merely returned with a sly smirk on his muzzle.

“Sorry, we’ve been talking about the softpaws and the toad-gullets for so long,” her mate drawled, rubbing his face into her neck once more. “Our free time will only last until sunpeak tomorrow… if we want to also have time to nap, I think we should make use of it.”

Pumastrike returned the sly expression, lunging towards him, making Weaselslash yelp in surprise. It didn’t take much effort for her to pin him beneath her, drawing her tongue teasingly up his spine and between his ears. She felt him shiver in her grasp, wiggling a little in an attempt to loosen her grip.

“What made you think you’d be in charge?” she purred in his ear.

“My mistake,” Weaselslash said, snickering a little as they touched noses again. “Lead the way, general.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re using that title with respect.”

She silenced his resulting laughter quickly, allowing them to enjoy the moonlight while it lasted.

/ / / / /

Weta Translations

Aazoli - gods (sing. Aazo)

Aashaya - fae-speaker, one who speaks to ghosts or spirits

Umal - the inner energy accessed by living beings used for various purposes; mana

/ / / / /

Onset Census - Next Chapter

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch2 - Dishonesty

A raging storm is a balm in a drought, but one that rages continuously… that's when the destruction wrought is the worst.

Onset Census - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

/ / / / /

Pumastrike sank her teeth into the mouse she’d been stalking, grunting as her belly smacked the ground in a distinctly painful way. She straightened up, quickly sitting back on her haunches to pat it worriedly. She had been getting bigger and bigger for about a moon now, it seemed her belly was finally at the size where it would be a major problem for her to continue her duties.

It had taken a couple of tries - and a few nights volunteering for the moonpeak patrol - but Blackbirdleaves had finally confirmed her new status as a pregnant molly. Pumastrike had been glowing for all of two seconds before the nesthands had pounced, constructing a new nest in the back of the nursery away from the usual paw-traffic faster than she’d thought possible and they’d hounded her for days over her preferred nest softeners. Blackbirdleaves had been giving her milksap every day since her cubs were confirmed, and then she’d watched with trepidation and interest as the fur on her belly began to thin out, exposing the steadily swelling nipples.

When she finally told Weaselslash, he’d immediately taken to harassing their caesar for more inner-territory duties, begging out of any patrols that could have even the slightest hint of scuffle.

She could see that her leader was getting more and more impatient with Weaselslash, but honestly, Pumastrike was privately relieved. Tansyswirl - a new mother herself - had only recently lost her own mate, Torntalons to another violent scuffle over the neutral stretch, leaving her a widow with their two young cubs, Bullsnake and Garter. The molly had been despondent for days, blankly taking whatever herbs Blackbirdleaves offered to her without speaking.

Weaselslash had taken to purring gently against her belly, whispering how he would always be there for his cubs, while he eyed the empty space the brown molly continued leaving for her mate.

It comforted her to see how dedicated he was to their cubs, determined not to leave them alone. Pregnancy had always made Pumastrike feel a bit uneasy - it always seemed painful, smelled horrible, sounded worse and left even the most powerful and skilled moggi out-of-commission for days. Sometimes even moons.

The russet and cream molly was confident it would be worth it - she was already in love with their cubs - but the idea of facing all of this alone? That there was the potential that mere moments after bringing her little stars to earth that she would just… die…. 

The idea terrified her.

A bit of nausea rolled through her stomach, earning a grimace as she reflexively gagged in the cooling air, collecting her mouse to begin making her way back to the cool and cozy nursery. Technically, she was supposed to be safely back in the barracks, having long since passed the point where hunting alone was dangerous for her. But she’d been so stir-crazy, pacing and rolling in her nest, that Morningdaisy had unceremoniously kicked her out.

“If you wake up Bat and Lily again when I’ve just gotten them to sleep, I’ll claw your ears and feed them to you,” the molly had threatened.

So she took the opportunity to sneak out into the wider woods, taking a deep breath in from the crisp and clean air. She hadn’t caught as much as she liked, the unwanted changes her body was growing through dredging all of the fears she’d tried to bury in love for her prospective cubs. She was heavier now and the sway of her belly was affecting her balance, forcing her to adapt to her new center of gravity. She felt nauseous most mornings - sometimes in the beginning, or simply out of the blue from moving a bit too fast.

Her stamina had been eaten away as well, she noted sourly. This single, scrawny mouse seemed to have drained her more than the sprints she’d been sent on as a cadet. She dreaded the idea of getting back into shape when her cubs were weaned - it would be difficult, maybe even harder than when she’d first trained as a cadet, but it would be necessary in the turbulent climate her faction was in.

You all are lucky that I already love you so much, Pumastrike thought to the cubs her in belly, affection flowing through every part of her.

She offered a nod to the current tunnel guard as she slipped through the brush covering the entrance, grunting a little as the thorned branches grabbed at her like she was an outsider. She made a bee-line for the nursery, claiming the hard-earned mouse for herself while studiously avoiding the caesar’s ledge. She didn’t want to meet Redfray’s eyes even by mistake - with Palanarra firmly in possession of the Suncairn and unlikely to release their hold before the end of the snow-season, his already aggressive campaign against the Shining Sun had increased in intensity. 

“Warina believes that obtaining exclusive use of the Neutral Stretch is the only way we’ll survive the coming snow-season,” Hawkfray had admitted on patrol. “Though we’ve yet to come to an agreement on whether it’s truly worth the resources we spend on it.”

While the rest of their border patrol had begun speaking up, Pumastrike had remained silent. Admittedly, she agreed with Hawkfray - the Neutral Stretch could be a massive boon during the snow-season given there was always at least a few birds or squirrels bounding through the territory, seeking out the plants that Regencies cultivated. But maybe her pregnancy had turned off the aggression and pride that typically filled a proper valorant because she felt her stomach roll with discomfort at the idea of constant battle patrols.

Her cubs were due soon and all she could imagine was the mender's den, with all the nests filled with wounded valorants before outsiders would storm in, fangs bared. What if Palanarra with their prey-rich river and snow-strong bodies took advantage of their focus on the Regency? Or what if the Skua, Heatdawn wanted one last major victory as the Mimaŕanil caesar and raided their barracks? Who would defend the nursery if all of their valorants were beaten and battered, constantly left at only half-strength on any given day?

Worse, what if one of the many hungering beasts from the Vastweald crossed into their territory and everyone was too bloodied to fend it off? A creature with no capacity for reasoning or mercy… they would be doomed. 

He should’ve backed off, she fretted to herself, her tail swishing nervously. At least until the snow-season ended. 

Then at least they could’ve been warm-season strong instead of fresh from the harrows of Kaŕazo’s most ferocious test while facing down an enemy with more soldiers on paw than there were leaves in on the ground during the harvest. 

Pumastrike shook her head, slipping into the nursery as quietly as she could, taking care not to wake any of the young cubs snuggled safely into parent’s bellies. It was quiet in the nursery for once, a rarity she’d discovered with all of the rowdy cubs alternating between when they wanted to be bounding about and when they were willing to take their naps. It probably had to do with Nettle and Grass being deemed old enough to begin training, removing two of the older cubs often corralling their den-mates into silly games. 

She offered a nod to Batpelt who was only a couple nests away from her. 

The brown molly just offered her a tired blink, her recently born son kneading fiercely at her belly while Pumastrike slowly lowered herself into her nest. She couldn’t believe that one day, in only a moon or so, she would be like that - exhausted and a bit irritated but ridiculously happy. Albeit, she’d be less suspicious than Batpelt.

She tried not to judge too much about the molly’s decision to keep her son’s father to herself, when little Elk’s pelt was clearly marked with the swirls and twists of a moggi not usually from Tayilivina. It wasn’t like it was her business and besides, Elk was young - only a few sunrises old. He hadn’t even started growing his milk-teeth yet, and maybe his ears would stay folded like his mother’s instead of standing up like whomever his father was. 

She allowed a quiet sigh of relief to escape her the moment she was off her paws, shifting a little to get comfortable. She dragged her prized mouse close to herself and started crunching away as subtly as she could - a few of the cubs were in their weaning stage and Pumastrike might have to smack the next cub who bounded up to her, determined to ‘try a bit’ of her prey.

“Pumastrike!”

Mayaazo, your worship, what have I done to displease you?

The molly twisted around to look at the approaching whisper-shouting cub. 

“Did you catch that mouse all by yourself?” Reach asked, practically trembling with excitement. 

“I did,” the guard agreed. “It never saw me coming.”

“That’s so cool!”

The cub was harshly shushed immediately as a few of the younger cubs began fussing at the sudden uptick in noise. The nesthands quickly sprung into action, soothing the various cubs before they could fully awaken their parents, sending scolding looks towards the now sheepish looking Reach standing before Pumastrike.

“That’s so cool,” Reach repeated, keeping her voice much lower, though she was still trembling with excitement.

Unbidden, Pumastrike felt a little purr break from her chest. With Redfray practically having declared war on the Sun Regency, cubs were being made into cadets the moment the charter deemed it acceptable. Reach at only four moons old would be ready to begin training by the time Pumastrike had exited the nursery and had been all but promised to her - something the cub seemed thoroughly delighted by.

Pumastrike for her part was a little torn - on one paw, she wanted to stay in the nursery with her cubs for as long as possible. She'd always envisioned herself as one of the mollies who would remain off-duty, raising her cubs until they were of age to start training themselves. She hadn't considered that she would become a mother in such a turbulent time, when their enemies of all sides were reacting with intense violence.

On the other paw, their liege Redfray was a lot more serious and harsh than caesars previous. This offer to train a cadet might be the one and only time she would get this opportunity. If she turned it down, her caesar may think she doesn't have their faction's best interests at heart and look to other moggi for this chance even after her cubs had become cadets.

At least their eyes will be open by then, she reassured herself. She was about ready to burst any day now according to Blackbirdleaves and in two moons, her cubs will have been weaned enough for her to return to her duties. She couldn't imagine having to leave the barracks even before her precious little stars had begun to open her eyes.

"Aazoli!" she cursed abruptly, feeling a sharp pang in her belly as the skin protruded out in the shape of a tiny limb. She groaned, catching the sympathetic looks from the other nesters as she glared at the wiggling shape. "Thimali, it's like they're playing moss ball in there."

"Are those your cubs?" Reach whispered with awe.

"Yes," Pumastrike said with pride. "Do you want to feel them?"

The cub looked up with delight and nodded. Pumastrike obligingly rolled over a little, to better expose her belly allowing the cub to gently press her nose against the warm skin. Reach jumped a little, squealing at the cub's movement against her nose.

The valorant chuckled, shuffling over to make space for the cub to clamber in alongside her.

She lowered her head and listened to the cub ramble all about her day and the adventures she had with her sister, Petal. She'd had a full day of stalking grasshoppers through the clearing, watching Bear and Apple practice their moves in the Basin and trying their hardest to replicate the moves only to be sent away for a nap when they clawed poor Beebright's tail in their tussle.

"Are you gonna teach me those moves?" Reach demanded, staring up at her.

"I'll teach you even cooler ones," Pumastrike promised, listening to her release another quiet squeal and closed her eyes as her future cadet began to ramble.

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Pumastrike shuffled a little bit, trying to ensure that she looked as happy as possible while Redfray recited the words that would declare his son Hawkfray as the instructor of the last new cadet, Petal. Anxiety rolled through her stomach though she tried to push it down - it hardly felt like any time at all had passed between her having her cubs and standing before her faction as a new instructor. They were all three moons old of course, fully weaned and capable of digesting small prey but she hadn’t been away from this like this since they’d been born.

She peered through the crowd, looking at three precious cubs all huddled together by the entrance of the nursery. One of the nesthands - Whitejay she thinks from the expanse of white visible to her - was sitting by them, occasionally tugging them back into place when they tried to wander off.

A tail brushes her tail and she turns her gaze to the yellow eyes of her mate, watching her with sympathy,

His own cadet, Sycamore was sitting beside him, much stiller and more proper than the excitedly dancing paws of Pumastrike’s own cadet. She could see the similar nervous energy in his body - he wasn’t so sure about leaving their cubs alone anymore than she was. Even worse (or better depending on who you asked), his cadet was already someone of a prestigious lineage - that kind of additional pressure on a brand-new instructor felt almost cruel.

She brushed her tail against his in mutual assurance as the ceremony finally crawled to a close, the cheering of their faction-members steadily quieting down.

“Split up,” Redfray’s voice commanded and Pumastrike immediately snapped to attention. Her caesar was an intimidating tom, covered in scars and half-healed wounds. While she didn’t approve of continuing their losing battle against the Shining Sun, she couldn’t say that her caesar was all command and no claws. He led practically every other battle patrol against them - in fact, after this ceremony he would probably be off to yet another battle. “I don’t want all of the new cadets on one border. We need to minimize any potential displays of weakness.”

“Of course my liege,” Singingrobins said, glancing towards her fellow instructors. “I’ll take the Mimaranil border with Bear.”

“I’ll join you,” her sister, Sunlightshiver said quickly. “Bear hasn’t been on that border in a while.”

“I’ll take Petal along the Palanarra border then,” Hawkfray stated.

“Then Reach and I can cover the Vastweald,” Pumastrike offered. It was rapidly approaching the snow-season so hopefully, the worst of the dangers had already begun their hibernation or migrated. It was a longshot but it was all she had. 

There’s a poignant silence for a moment as one border remained unclaimed. They avoided meeting each other’s gazes, not wanting the question to be asked.

“Well?” Redfray snapped impatiently. “That leaves Weaselslash to take the Regency border.”

“Forgive me my liege but I don’t think that’s a good idea with a fresh cadet,” Weaselslash said quickly, shrinking back at the sharp glare he was given.

“A valorant isn’t afraid of a little bloodshed,” Redfray growled.

“She doesn’t know any official battle-moves,” Weaselslash said weakly.

“Warina,” Hawkfray stepped in quickly, when the caesar unsheathed his claws in open frustration. He stepped between the new instructor and his father placatingly, “It wouldn’t look good for us to send an untrained cadet to battle. They might attempt a counter assault if we wend them someone so easily defeated.”

Redfray paused, his tail lashing slowly with narrowed eyes. Finally he sighed and straighted up, nodding in acceptance.

“Right…” he grumbled. “I’ll lead an official patrol then - can’t let those softpaws get too comfortable. Send your brother to me if you see him, I want him and Smallspeckle to meet me on the border.”

The imposing tom didn’t wait for a reply, aware that Hawkfray do as told and stalked away.

Singingrobins released a quiet sigh of relief when he was out of earshot. It seemed like she wanted to say something to them but with their cadets, young and impressionable standing at their paws, looking up to them she remained silent. 

“... I guess she should get going,” Pumastrike said eventually, earning murmurs of agreement. They slowly descended from the Caesar’s Ledge and back to the ground, walking directly to the entrance of their home with swift steps.

Sunlightshiver broke off immediately, her own cadet falling into step behind her as she lead the way for Singingrobins and Ermine without another word. Pumastrike started going in the opposite direction, ready to head around the backside of the barracks to the eastern-most border that brushed against the Vastweald. She purred a little, raising her tail in welcome affection when Weaselslash darted after her, brushing lightly against her flank and starting to fall into step alongside her.

“Hey hey,” said Hawkfray, gently stepping between the two of them with an amused look. He levied Weaselslash with a stern expression, “I know better than to send you two on patrol together.”

“That was one time,” Weaselslash said sheepishly, but he gave her one last affectionate lick then slunk towards Mazzardwhisker with his cadet trailing behind him. 

Pumastrike shook her pelt out, embarrassment flowing off of her at the memory of that patrol - she’d told him they should’ve waited until it was over. With a slightly flustered cough, she signaled for Reach to fall into step beside her and made a brisk escape from the situation. Thankfully, Reach didn’t ask any questions despite the curious looks the cadet kept shooting her. She would’ve preferred to have taken a larger party with her - at least one other moggi - but their lieutenant was right. She was so easily distracted by Weaselslash - his eyes, his scent, his voice - they would probably end up flirting and teasing rather than properly instructing their cadets.

In the name of a good impression, it’s for the best that we stay apart, she admitted to herself. 

There was a crunch of bracken on the ground, leaves kicking up Reach bounded forward with her tail held high.

“Wait for me!” she called out, simultaneously pleased and impressed when the cadet skidded to a halt only a tail-length away despite the obvious excitement in her paws. “Good job, thank you for listening. I know you’re excited but this is a dangerous border.”

She tried to do the same sandwich of praise and warning that Slateflower had done when Pumastrike had been a cadet, giving a stern warning without dampening Reach’s enthusiasm. It seemed she’d managed to strike the balance perfectly, watching the way Reach straightened up pridefully at the praise she’d been offered and strutted alongside her. 

Pumastrike decided she’d lead her among one of the major routes through their territory - one of the obvious ones used by Tayilivina moggi and trespassers alike. She watched from the corner of her eye as Reach’s head swiveled like it was only holding on by a thread, the cadet attempting to catch a glimpse of everything all at once. Pumastrike let the forest do the talking, saying nothing as the brambles and brushes began to grow thicker and more denes, with moss coating more and more trees in thick blankets. Ivy created a cushion on the earth, bursts of orange and red in the form of falling leaves and shed bark waving in the cooler wind.

Reach let out a squeal as she stumbled over one of the many large roots of the area, crashing into the ground.

“Ouch!” she complained, getting back to her paws while Pumastrike sniffed her with concern. “That root is huge.”

“It is,” Pumastrike agreed, relieved that she wasn’t hurt. “My old instructor said that the Vastweald has some of the oldest trees in the world - so tall that if you climbed to the top, you can brush the bottom of the Eternal Falls.”

“Woah…” Reach breathed, slowing her paw-steps as she tilted her head back. Pumastrike followed her gaze to one of the towering giants, her own tail flicking a bit nervously as the peaks of a couple trees seemed to disappear into the sky. “Has anyone ever tried?”

“No one has ever made it to the top,” Pumastrike said quickly. “Though they say the first emperor tried once.”

“The Banished One?” Reach gasped. “What happened?”

“Azaazo saw what he intended to do and called down a bolt of lightning to strike him and the tree,” Pumastrike recited, motioning to the tall form of a permanently charred tree that she’d carefully led them towards. It was barren with no leaves and only a few branches left, yet it seemed to grow and live on regardless. “He fell from the top as she tore one of his lives from his body. But when our own founder climbed up and was struck, he was gifted with umal. That’s why that tree is called Judgement - only those who are willing to look the aazoli in the eye should be willing to climb up there.”

She tried to tell it with the same amount of mystery and awe that Slateflower had told it to her. She’d occasionally felt the desire to visit the tree, maybe clamber up a few branches and ask what she’d done in a previous life to deserve both her mother and father’s deaths but had never had the courage to truly cross the border.

To cross the border would be to enter the realm of the godless, those who were under much harsher scrutiny from the Aazoli than those who were born of their blessed ones. She didn’t want to risk the climb, turning an eye to Azaazo herself and being found unworthy of answers.

Pumastrike tasted the air a few times while she let the story sink in, following the faint sound of steadily flowing water to guide her.

“We’ve reached a crossing point,” she announced, stepping out from the tree-line where a large, murky river with lazy waves slid back them. Not far from there was a pair of large logs that had been felled across it, not blocking the river but forming a bridge. The branches and roots had been cleared enough to allow a moggy to clamber aboard and the sleek, barkless top-side had been heavily scored.

She opened her mouth in preparation to repeat the same grand speech Slateflower had given her one, only to drop and lunge forward. She grasped Reach by the scruff when the cadet tried to dart towards the bridge, quickly depositing her back at her side.

“Didn’t I say be careful?” she snapped, her tail bristled with alarm. “Kin of the Strangler live in those waters - if you’re not careful, you’ll be swallowed alive.”

That stopped the cadet in her tracks, the little gray molly turning wide, horrified eyes on her. 

“Swallowed alive?” Reach echoed in horror.

“Nightsaber swears on her quills that she once saw a strangler so big it could’ve swallowed a grown bear in that river,” Pumastrike revealed with a shiver. 

The cadet took a wordless step back.

Good, Pumastrike thought to herself with satisfaction. She led them among the bank, careful to stay closer to the tree-line than the shores, keeping their paws dry and out of sight of any potential stranglers lying in wait.

“Technically our territory ends on the river shore but when you perform a territory-patrol, you’ll only mark near the edge of the bushes,” Pumastrike explained to her now carefully listening cadet.

“Because it’s too dangerous to be near the water?” Reach predicted.

“Exactly,” Pumastrike agreed. “In the rain-season, when prey animals are coming together with mates and having younglings, the river can trap you between a strangler and an enraged stag. It’s only really safe in the hot-season, when the river has shrunk too much for large stranglers to hide.”

“But ma said that’s when all monsters and beasts come back to our territory!” Reach gasped.

“As a valorant of Tayilivina, you’ll learn how to defeat any monster and take down any beast that crosses your path,” Pumastrike tells her. “We are the storm that guards the Empire from that which lurks in the shadows. Say it to yourself.”

“We are the storm that guards the Empire from that which lurks in the shadows?” 

“One day when you earn your name, you’ll say it with confidence to the aazoli watching you,” Pumastrike promised. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

Pumastrike continued to lead them along what remained of the border - there weren’t many marks or prominent landmarks so close to the River of Serpents. Large predators and even larger, easily bothered prey animals tended to lurk along the shoreline, watching for anyone foolish enough to be out in the open. There were a few fleeting markings on the far-side of the borders she could point to - directional claw marks on smaller trees, brightly colored threads tied upon the branches of the brush and faded or smeared berry paints conveying warnings - but otherwise they moved smoothly with little to notice.

Reach was a good cadet. 

When she wasn’t darting ahead to explore, she asked good questions and seemed to be committing everything they saw to memory. She pointed out the sounds of creatures in the undergrowth without prompting and was able to identify most of the scents that touched her tongue.

I think I have the best cadet of them all, Pumastrike thought to herself smugly. It was going to be easy to shape Reach into the greatest valorant that had ever touched paw in this forest.

Eventually, the River of Serpents seemed to split into two, divided by a massive rock that the river flowed around. The much wider stream continued to meander onwards, its lazy bends disappearing into the distance. The branching river on the other paw was mostly straight, cutting through the land sharp determination as it forced the earth out of the way.

It didn’t take long after they began following the water for it to begin to widen, merging with the other, much clearer watered river with faster, harsher rapids. 

“Welcome to the southernmost part of the Empire - the border between Palanarra and Tayilivina,” Pumastrike announced. “The further we go inland, the wider this river will get and-”

She cut herself off, her ears pricking at the distinct sound of pawsteps scrambling up the pebble laden shore. The molly arched her back, immediately pushing her cadet behind her and released a threatening growl. 

“Show yourself!” Pumastrike bellowed, feeling the sparks of her umal beginning to jump between her quills in a threatening display. “If you don’t, I’ll be forced to assume you’re an enemy and you won’t like what happens to enemies.”

The forest was still for a moment, only the bubbling river and the hushed rustling of leaves in the cool air in her ears. She flexed her claws and opened her mouth to call another warning only for a familiar form to step into view.

“Weaselslash,” she sighed in relief, allowing her fur to smoothen out with relief. “It’s just you. Why are you wet?”

And indeed, the tom was beyond wet. He was drenched. Water drizzled from his thick, short pelt and puddled on the ground beneath his paws and dripped from her whiskers. He seemed like his limbs weighed several additional pounds from the stiff way he stumbled towards her.

“I was trying to show Sycamore how to catch a squirrel,” he said, dropping his head in a sheepish manner. “I wasn’t paying attention and when the squirrel lept onto a tiny bit of bark and bounced across…”

“You dove right in?” Pumastrike laughed, shaking her head. That sounded just like him, leaping before he looked where he was going. 

“I didn’t even get the squirrel,” he said with a defeated sigh. 

“Of course you didn’t beetle-brain,” she teased and turned her attention to her now visibly amused cadet who was kindly holding in her own laughter. “I think we’ll cut this patrol short - get this idiot of mine back to the barracks to dry off.”

“Okay,” Reach giggled. “Will we go back out to find Sycamore?”

“Hawkfray was still with us,” Weaselslash said quickly, giving a little shake. They both quickly backed up to minimize the amount of water being flung at them. “He can bring her back.”

“Alright,” Pumastrike chuckled. “Let’s get you back to Blackbirdleaves before you catch a cold.”

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Weta Translations

Warrina - father (lit. dad-AUGUM.)

Aazoli - gods

Thimali - spirits

Umal - mana, magic

Empire Culture Notes

The Strangler - title referring to the mother of all constricting snakes, the powerful fairy who granted a shed skin to Mimaranil founder Fenn to aid in her escape of the tyramt emperor. ‘Stranglers’ in general refer to constricting snakes

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