#ignvaus dancingpiper

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch3 - Unease

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

“Well done Petal, keep your eyes on your opponent!”

“Reach, try rolling with the blows instead of tanking them!”

Both cadets gave cries of affirmation circling each other for a moment before launching themselves towards each other once more.

Pumastrike had slowly fallen into a routine over the passing days, bringing Reach around the territory borders and introducing her to all of the most important landmarks before bringing her to the Old Basin for battle conditioning and spars. Sometimes she traded conditioning for basic hunting lessons, ensuring that she could at least catch a mouse or a squirrel to sharpen her cadet’s skills in stealth which Reach seemed to enjoy. The longer she spent training Reach, the more comfortable she became with having someone that looked up to her, that cared about her opinions and relied on her to teach them correctly. She understood the will of the aazoli decreeing that any caesar who wished to rule, should first have the experience of training a cadet now. It was a world altering sensation, realizing that you had someone so young and small who depended on you - whom would echo your ideals and act on what they assume to be your will.

It was the first time she’d ever truly considered what being a caesar must be like.

It must be so stressful, she remembers thinking at the end of her first day.

She watches Reach perform a few perfect dodges, her little cadet was shaping up to be a quick study in the ‘not getting hurt’ department though she was more surprised by Petal. Embarrassed as she was to admit, she’d made a few assumptions about the young molly given her shy and quiet demeanor - she’d thought that Hawkfray would likely be spending the first half of her training convincing her to throw her blows like she meant it.

Proving her completely wrong however, the young molly was the aggressor in the situation. It was like a flip had switched in her head, turning her from demure and soft into something that would probably scare off even a starved rat. 

The spar ended not long after this realization, with Petal taking a bold leap towards her sister who dodged and retaliated with a swipe. Rather than perform a dodge of her own, Petal lunged forward slipping just out of the way of the outstretched paw, launching her paw directly into the molly’s chest. Reach squealed as her paws left the ground, her sister lightly gripping her sides then slamming her directly into the ground. 

“Aurgh-” Reach gasped, trembling on the ground in pain.

“End! Petal wins!” Hawkfray called out immediately, getting to his paws to stop the spar physically if he needed to.

Immediately, the mental switch flipped again and Petal - panting hard, her paws spread a bit wide to support her new weight - flattened her ears and peered over her shoulder, offering a meek expression.

“Did I do alright?” she asked her instructor hopefully.

“Alright? Petal that was wonderful,” the tom laughed, ducking his head to nudge her proudly. 

“I feel like a tree slammed into me,” Reach groaned in agreement, slowly pushing herself to her paws. Once she stood, she gave a fierce shake, dislodging the soft sand trapped within her pelt from the impacts against the ground and offered her sister a friendly nudge. “What even was that move? Pumastrike didn’t teach me that!”

“That move is the difference between an ordinary guard and a lieutenant,” Pumastrike said, only half-joking as she moved forward to lick down the messy spines of her cadet. “I tried that move once when I was a cadet - sprained my paw and landed myself in Blackbirdleaves’ care for half a moon.”

“Woah,” said Reach, shocked.

“But I saw you use it in our last border scuffle with the Regency,” Hawkfray said, offering her a grin of his own. He glanced at the two cadets watching them and added, “Pumastrike is the fiercest valorant this faction has seen in a while - with Slateflower due to retire any day, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was selected as the next legate.”

“I’m just working hard like any proper valorant would,” she said, though she felt herself preen a little with pride. It was nice to find her time and effort put into bettering herself recognized by her faction’s own lieutenant. It said good things about her career that Hawkfray was essentially already claiming to look to her as legate. Still, she had to be careful not to let the praise go to her head - if she let her skills falter after this, she could find herself being overlooked by a younger moggi who worked even harder. It wasn’t uncommon after all for a lieutenant's cadet to succeed them and Petal was already proving herself to be a skillful fighter.

When the two cadets had dislodged enough sand to be feel comfortable again, the two valorants led the way from the Old Basin and back into their forest. The training grounds weren’t all that far from the barracks themselves, something to assist in allowing the cubs to watch the training sessions in preparation for their own training days. 

“Alright,” Hawkfray voiced as they slipped into the main clearing, flicking his tail towards the den on the corner. “If you think you need to, head over to Blackbirdleaves to receive muscle salves but otherwise, head straight over to the veteran’s clearing so you can begin your history lessons.”

“Yes Hawkfray,” the two cadets chirped, and Pumastrike was proud to watch them both bravely bypass the mender’s den to go to the rocky cavern of the veteran’s den.

“I think I’ll get a nap,” Hawkfray said, his jaw parting in a wide yawn. “I agreed to replace Heavyscar on tonight’s moonpeak patrol along Palanarra.”

“Do you think they’ll make a move?” Pumastrike asked with concern.

“While they already have the Suncairn?” Hawkfray shook his head in the negative, arching his back a little bit to loosen his muscles. “No, The Styrman isn’t a fool - he’ll hoard those stones all snow-season. But Mousetongue says they’ve been dealing with a small party of bandits that were recently chased out.”

“On the Western side?” Pumastrike inquired, a little baffled. It wasn’t impossible for bandits to come from that direction but still, it hadn’t happened before in her lifetime. 

Hawkfray chuckled at her expression, “Pirates. As the snow sets in, they’re starting to target more snow-season rations. It probably isn’t something we’ll have to worry about but it’s always good to keep a careful eye on things.”

Pumastrike nodded slowly, processing the information - it was a little embarrassing to have allowed their other neighbors to slip her mind in the wake of this war against the Regency.

“Well I’m going to see my cubs,” Pumastrike asserted after a moment of consideration. She still had quite a bit of energy thrumming through her, a desire to head back into the wider forest that she quickly deferred for the moment. “Then I’ll head out for a hunt I think.”

“Isn’t that what Weaselslash is for?” 

“Yes but I never pass up a chance to beat him in his own trade,” she winked, earning a laugh from her lieutenant as he padded off to join the rest of the valorants in their den.

The molly chuckled to herself, trotting toward the nursery with slightly hurried steps from her eagerness. She had gotten better and more confident about leaving her cubs to train and perform her duties as a valorant, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully relax until they’d been assigned their own instructors and were capable of defending themselves against their enemies. Especially given Hawkfray’s attempts at dissuading his father from this war with the Sun Regency being so slow-going.

She gave a gentle meow of greeting as she slipped in, whiskers twitching with pleasure as her cubs squealed with delight and charged toward her.

Her only son - Hawk - was the first to reach her, medium furred with hs father’s brown coat as he skittered to a halt in front of her with his tail standing straight up with joy. A moment later, he rammed his face into her legs and rubbed his cheeks against her legs. He only took a step back as his sisters Honeyfruit (a medium furred, cream and gray molly that resembled Pumastrike) and Spiceberry (a little chocolate furred molly that the older moggies say looks like her father) caught up them.

“Ma!” he squealed happily.

“You back!” Honeyfruit cheered. 

“I’m back,” Pumastrike agreed, ducking her head to touch noses with her cubs. “For a little bit - I’m going to go hunting and I wanted to see what you wanted.”

Her cubs all exchanged disgruntled expressions and she suppressed the laughter that wanted to bubble out of her muzzle. Her attempts at weaning her cubs had been semi-successful, in that they were willing to take a few half-hearted bites from the fleshy meals that she retrieved for them. But just because they ate it didn’t mean they liked it, all three of them screwing up their faces dramatically with every little bite they tried to take. She’d asked the nesthands about it but she’d been reassured that it was a normal reaction, that cubs tend to be a bit disdainful of the big change from milk to solid prey but as they got older they’d be more receptive. 

And privately she couldn’t wait - their teeth were getting bigger and sharper and she she was tired of being accidentally nipped.

“I wanna mouse,” Hawk decided after a moment, a sentiment echoed by Honeyfruit.

“I want a sparrow,” declared Spiceberry.

“To eat or to play with the feathers?” Pumastrike asked, amused.

“...I’ll eat it,” the cub said reluctantly. She offered her a hopeful expression, “Can I still have milk too?”

“Of course,” Pumastrike purred. Beebright said that attempting to force cubs to only eat prey would only turn them away and that she suspected her three little comets were a lot closer to being fully on solids than they appear. If she just kept giving them the option of ‘both’ eventually, they’d find milk gross - especially when it started upsetting their bellies. She looked at her last daughter encouragingly, “What about you?”

Honeyfruit looked between her siblings, her tiny ears flattening as she thought extra-hard about what she wanted.

“Mouse too,” she decided.

“Of course sweetness - I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You’re leaving?” said Spiceberry devastated, looking up with big sad eyes.

“I have to get your food.”

“No! I’ll drink milk instead!”

“Spice…”

“No!”

A pelt brushed gently against hers and Pumastrike was relieved to see Beebright, evidently woken from her nap by the pitiful cries of her cub. It didn’t change the fact that she felt like the worst mother in the entire world as she backed out of the nursery. She knew she was wearing her feelings on her pelt when she stepped outside and Whitejay paused, listening to the insistent wailing of her daughter.

“My Sycamore was the same way,” she said sympathetically. “She’ll get better about it.”

“I feel terrible,” Pumastrike admitted heavily. “Mayaazo must think I’m horrible.”

“Or that you’ve been a very present mother,” Whitejay corrected. “Something hard to do when you already have a cadet. Spiceberry will calm down when she realizes you will always come back for her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sycamore couldn’t wait to sleep in the cadet’s barracks once she was five moons old,” the older molly confided. “This is your first litter, it’s normal for you to feel so attached - but as long as you come back for them, Mayaazo will know your love for them is true.”

The russet and cream furred molly took a deep breath, steadying herself with the reassurance of the nesthand. It was nice to have someone older confirm that Spiceberry wouldn’t grow to resent her when she was trying so hard to be a present mother.

“...I’ll go hunting now,” she decided, straightening up a little. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back.”

Whitejay offered a pleased expression and with a light nod of acknowledgement, ducked into the nursery.

Pumastrike moved at a brisk pace towards the garrison’s entrance, slipping into the wider forest. She wasn’t hunter by any stretch of the imagination (she preferred fierce, loud attacks under the eyes of Azaazo to prove her ferocity) but any moggi could catch a mouse. Admittedly the sparrow would be a bit harder but mostly because the steadily setting cold made birds less and less commonly seen. 

She opened her mouth, taking in a small breath of air, allowing the scents of the forest to brush against the roof of her mouth. It took her a couple tries to remind herself not to filter out the extraneous scents of prey like she normally does, the wind funneling the smells of the various targets directly into her mouth.

Finally one of the scents felt closer than the others and she set off, clambering down the ridge.

She kept her steps light and careful, orange eyes carefully scouring the undergrowth for any sign of even the faintest movement in the leaf litter. Just because the wind was blowing towards her, didn’t mean she had all of the advantage - mice were skittish creatures, and another predator could easily send her quarry diving for cover.

She picked her way towards the Suncairn - if there was prey anywhere, it would be near the large stones providing hidey holes for them. 

She launched herself forward when she heard the skittering of tiny paws, landing firmly atop a startled mouse before it could retreat to the brush.

Got you! She thought victoriously. Although, now she wondered what had scared-

Her ears twitched as the scent of Palanarra abruptly strengthened in the air, her eyes drawing up to the sight of a creamy ginger molly wandering along the bank of the river. She dropped her mouse, hissing angrily which drew the now spooked looking molly’s attnetion.

“What are you doing so close to the border?” Pumastrike growled.

“We have possession of the Suncairn this snow-season so I could ask you the same,” the molly snarked, her own fur bristling for a brief moment. Her pretty blue eyes narrowed at the mouse resting between Pumastrike’s paws, pointing accusingly. “You’re poaching.”

“You don’t even eat mice,” Pumastrike scoffed.

“True,” said the palanarra molly flippantly. She lowered her head, seemingly uncaring of aggressive guard only a few stones across from her. Sure, Pumastrike would have to scale the towering stones and cautiously edge her way across the rapids but she could do it if she wanted! She could be a serious threat! “It doesn’t matter much to me. I’m full and well-fed so my cubs will be fine.”

“Cubs?” Pumastrike echoed, feeling a bit guilty for the way she lost so much of her hostility but surely Milolazo would understand? She was a new mother herself, with three precious cubs waiting for her back home. Now that she was looking, she could see the gentle curve of the molly’s belly, protruding out like her own had only a few moons ago - she couldn’t imagine getting into a claws-out fight, risking the lives of the little ones in her swaying belly.

“Our Speaker says I’ll be in due in a moon or so,” the palanarra molly said, seeming just as eager to boast about her cubs. Her paws kneaded the ground anxiously, “I can’t wait to finally see them - and for them to stop kicking me.”

“Like they’re fighting a whole battle in there,” Pumastrike joked.

“You have cubs too?” the molly inquired.

“Two mollies and a tom,” the guard said proudly.

“Congratulations,” said the ginger molly, sincerity threaded through her tone. “Rival factions or not, I hope all three of them grow up to be valorants to be sung about.”

“Thank you,” Pumastrike said, a bit touched. “I hope your cubs are all born safe and healthy.”

The molly gave her chest an anxious lick, “Me too. One of the other queens… her cubs were all born still.”

Pumastrike winced, she had been terrified when little Hawk hadn’t been breathing when he;d first been born and had feared the worst. Luckily, Blackbirdleaves confirmed that he’d just had a bit of birthing fluids caught in his little nose and throat - when it was cleared out, he’d squealed so loudly he woke up his siblings once more. But some poor molly hadn’t received that breath of relief.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said honestly. “I’m sure Mayaazo kept them comfortable as they rose.”

“I feel terrible for hoping I don’t turn out like that.”

“It’s normal to hope your cubs are born healthy,” Pumastrike pointed out lightly, electing to change the topic. “How’d you convince your faction to let you leave the nursery by the way? When I was a moon from cubbing, my mate practically shed himself bald every time he caught me in the forest.”

“I snuck out,” the other molly admitted bashfully, scuffing her paws through the gravel. She hesitated seeming to debate with herself for a moment before admitting softly, “...my cubs’ father is one of your own.”

Pumastrike paused a bit surprised. She hadn’t noticed any tom lingering on the border or even around the Suncairn for the warm-season - maybe it had been a sweet-season fling? Though Pumastrike was loyal and committed to her mate, she could admit that Palanarra moggi could be really handsome. Even the molly in front of her likely would’ve made her stop in her tracks and do something stupid as a young cadet - a single sweet-season fling wouldn’t be the craziest thing she’d ever heard of. 

“...just keep it away from our storm for a while,” Pumastrike cautioned her. 

“You won’t tell?” the molly asked, relieved.

“It’s not like you’re breaking any of the charters,” the muscular guard said, offering a shrug. That was what mattered really - so long as no charters were being broken between the two of them, there was no point in informing her storm while he was still so hostile to everyone. Of course she did make a mental note to inform Hawkfray - this molly was probably the Palanarra scent he’d been worried about brushing the borders. “Why not meet at the Kirkyard?”

The molly slumped a little bit, “...we used to, but lately he says he’s been busy. I haven’t even gotten to tell him I’m pregnant yet.”

“He’s probably on a lot of patrols,” Pumastrike was quick to reassure, pushing down the brief flash of indignation that temporarily took flame within her. Her faction was already struggling to keep up with the demands of their caesar, and one of her faction mates was neglecting his mate? Everyone knew that Mayaazo took the responsibilities of a parent very seriously and if their faction ended up cursed because of some lame tom, she’d have something to say about it. “There’s a KIrkyard Meeting in a few days, maybe you can convince your caesar to let you attend and you’ll see him then.”

The molly gave a little laugh, the tenseness in her shoulders unwinding for a moment, “I can try but it’s like you said - I’m practically being held hostage by my faction.”

She straightened up, “I should be heading back to camp now, before they send a search party.”

“Thanks for the talk, I feel a bit better now - may Mayaazo watch over your cubs and Milolazo guide you towards glory!” The pretty ginger called, giving her long, tapered tail a friendly wave towards her and turned to venture deeper into her faction’s borders. 

“And may Mayaazo guard you verily against Tayaŕuthima’s many agents and allies,” Pumastrike replied, turning to make her own way back into the forest. 

She still had one more mouse and a sparrow to find.

/ / / /

Weta Translations

Aazoli - gods (god-PL)

Empire Culture

Ateŕitho - The Messenger Wind, minor god of the wind, merchants, freedom, communication, recreation and of course, messages. As one of the most relaxed of the Greenwood Thimali, he’s said to send messages on the wind for mortals to hear.

/ / / /

Onset Census - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter