Each step sent little sparks of pain through the new pink flesh. Not the screaming agony from before—just a constant ache.
She didn’t complain. Wouldn’t complain.
Instead, she focused on keeping up. On not falling behind. On proving she wasn’t a burden.
The Elder moved through the nowhere like water. Smooth. Silent. Never stumbling on the hollow ground.
Solstice tried to copy her. Tried to place her paws as carefully. As quietly.
But every few steps, a small sound escaped. A tiny pad-fall on harder patches. A brush of her tail against grass-shapes.
The Elder never commented. Just kept walking.
That somehow felt worse than being scolded.
They walked for—Solstice didn’t know how long. Time felt wrong in the nowhere. Stretched. Distorted.
But eventually, the ground changed.
Real. Solid. Textured.
She looked down. Actual earth. With tiny pebbles and substance that responded to her weight.
And grass.
REAL grass.
She lowered her nose to it without thinking. Breathed deep.
Yes. Yes that’s—
She bit off a blade. The taste exploded in her mouth.
Fresh. Slightly sweet. With the perfect crunch.
Oh… this is so good.
She took another bite. Then another. Working her way forward, following the scent.
“You can graze like prey later.”
The Elder’s voice cut through her enthusiasm.
“Come. Watch. Now.”
Three commands. Sharp. Final.
Solstice swallowed the grass in her mouth. Ears flattening slightly.
Right. Not here to eat. Here to learn.
She followed the Elder up a gentle slope. The hill rose gradually, grass giving way to rockier ground near the top.
The sky pressed down above them. Overcast. Heavy clouds blocking any stars or moon. Just darkness—thick and complete. It could have been the Nowhere’s oppressive nothing, but something about it felt different. Alive. Waiting.
At the crest, the Elder settled into a loaf position.
Solstice sat beside her. Close enough to feel present, far enough to not be presumptuous.
And to her delight, she found a low-growing plant that clung to the rocks—small leaves, tough stems. Different from grass but still green. Still plant.
She snuck a few bites while the Elder surveyed what lay ahead. Bitter. Chewy. Not as good as grass, but her mouth wanted to chew something. Her movements were small. Quiet. Hoping not to be noticed.
The Elder’s ear flicked but she said nothing.
Below them, tiny glowing points. Spread across the darkness in organized patterns. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the land dipped—a valley? With the lights clustered at the bottom.
Solstice stopped mid-chew, stem hanging from her mouth.
“What are those?” she whispered.
The Elder didn’t answer immediately. Just watched the lights move.
One floated along, illuminating what might be a wall. Jerked to a stop. Continued. Jerked again.
Another drifted along a different path. Then two more crossed where the first had been, but never at the same time.
Solstice stared at them long. Her gaze went unfocused. Those little floating lights that moved. The bearded father had a word for it.
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Whims?
No.
Whips?
Maybe…
Little floating whips.
No, that wasn’t…
“Wisps,” Solstice announced, the word coming from nowhere. “Like… play-lights.”
“Torches, Soft-paw.” The Elder’s correction was flat. “Fire on sticks. Revolutionary concept. Carried by guards to see in the dark.”
“Oh.” Solstice watched them move. “That’s smart! Now I can see them in the dark too.” Solstice’s tail swished. “They’re all lit up.”
A sound escaped the Elder. Not quite a laugh. Close. “Exactly.”
Torches. Not wisps.
Solstice watched more carefully. Now she could see small shapes beneath the lights. Barely visible, but there. Holding them. Moving with purpose.
Long things on their heads. Two of them. Standing tall… OH. Oh, like Sunshine. I know what these are.
“Booplesnoots,” she breathed. “With floppity loppities.”
The Elder’s ear flicked. “A what?”
“They’re Thumper Jumpers.” Solstice’s tail swished.
“Thump—” Her head tilted slightly. “Soft-paw. The word is rabbit. You do know this, yes?”
“Oh.” Solstice paused. “Maybe?”
“Yes.” The Elder’s eyes tracked the patterns below. “Those are rabbits down there. With walls. Rabbits with steel. Rabbits that breed fast and train young.” She tilted her head slightly. “Does not change what they are, though.” Her tail twitched. “Prey that learned to hold sharp sticks.”
More lights clustered near darker shapes that resolved into buildings as her eyes adjusted. Wooden structures with peaked roofs. Stone walls.
The village sat in the valley’s center. Open ground all around it. Between the lights, in the spaces they illuminated, more rabbits moved. Moving between buildings. Carrying things. Talking in pairs. Unaware that two cats were watching from above.
The buildings pulled at something in Solstice’s chest.
Like the house. The old house, before the move. She’d had a whole window there. A big one that let in so much sun. Father cooking nearby, the sounds and smells of home fluttering back from her memories.
Her throat tightened. A small sound escaped—half-sob, quickly swallowed.
The Elder’s ear flicked toward her but said nothing.
“The Nineteenth Law, Soft-paw.” The Elder’s voice stayed quiet. Measured. Eyes never leaving the valley below. “Never cross an open space without watching it first.”
Solstice looked at the Elder’s profile. Really looked. The way her ribs showed through her fur. How thin she was beneath the black and gold.
She took another unpleasant bite and chewed.
She survived. She’s still here.
This is what strong cats do.
That bite pulled a snarl of roots. The Elder was teaching her. She would learn to be useful and waste nothing.
Even if things taste icky.
“Why?” the Elder kept watching.
Solstice chewed determinedly, pushing through the bad taste. “I know it’s bitter, but I’ve got to get strong. Like you.”
The Elder’s head snapped toward her. Stared at Solstice with the plant roots hanging from her mouth.
Her head shook slightly—confused, incredulous.
“No, Soft-paw.” Her face showed disgust. “Why should you never cross an open space without watching it first?”
“Oh.”
Right. The Law.
Solstice looked back down at the valley. At all that open ground between their hill and the village.
Her tail twitched as she thought.
—Exposed. Visible. Nowhere to vanish—
“Because… something could be waiting? In the open?”
“What kind of something?”
—Movement in shadows. Eyes watching. Waiting to strike—
“Predators?” She watched the torch-carrying rabbits continue their patrol. “Things that hunt?”
“Close.” The Elder’s eyes tracked multiple patterns below. “But think deeper. What makes open space dangerous?”
Solstice looked at the valley again. Trying to see what the Elder saw.
—Exposed. Trapped. No up—
“There’s nowhere to hide,” she said slowly. “If something sees you, you can’t… you can’t disappear. Can’t get away.”
“Better. And?”
And?
She watched a rabbit cross between two buildings. It moved quickly. Purposefully. From cover to cover.
—Can’t smell beyond. Can’t see what crouches—
“You can’t see what’s at the other side,” Solstice said. “If you just run across, you don’t know what’s waiting until you get there.”
“Good.” The Elder’s tail swished once—a sign of approval. “Open space is a killing ground for prey and predator alike. You watch first because timing matters. Because what you can not see CAN kill you. Because the moment you step into the open, you have to assume everything has seen YOU.”
Solstice absorbed this. Tried to hold onto it.
“The rabbits know this too,” the Elder continued. “That is why they have torches. Why they patrol in patterns. They are watching the open spaces. Making sure nothing crosses unseen.”
Solstice continued to watch the patterns with her. Tried to memorize them. The Elder was teaching her to be sneaky. To move without being seen. Like proper cats.
“But we are going to cross anyway, right?”
“Naturally.” The Elder’s eyes gleamed. “After we learn their patterns. After we find where they do not want us to look.”
She stood and stretched.
“The Twenty-Sixth Law, Soft-paw: Watch for the signs. Everything means something.”
Solstice looked at the Elder.
“Broken branches show where something passed. Disturbed dirt shows where something dug. Objects out of place…” Her gaze tracked across the valley. “Every sign tells a story. You just have to learn to read it.”
“Now, tell me what signs you see.”
Solstice squinted down at the village. At the walls. At the patterns. Back to the walls.
“What do carts next to a broken wall mean?”
The Elder went very still.
“Wait.” Her head turned sharply. “Where?”
Solstice lifted a paw, pointing with one claw extended toward the eastern side. “There.”
The Elder’s eyes tracked to where Solstice indicated. She padded forward, studying it.
“That is a very good sign, Soft-paw.” Her voice held something warm. Approval. “Very good indeed.”
Her tail reached out. The tip caressed the back of Solstice’s head - slow, deliberate - while the Elder’s eyes stayed fixed on the wall, already planning.
Solstice’s whole body went still.
I did good.
There was a faint glow where the tail touched her, and that dizzying sensation spread from the contact. Solstice felt the warmth trickle down her body, along her spine, and pool in her legs.
Her paws glowed for a moment before fading.
The ache disappeared. The constant sparks of pain through the new pink flesh - gone. Just like that.
She wanted to press her head harder into that touch. Wanted to make it last. Wanted—
The tail withdrew. The floating feeling cut off.
The Elder’s gaze swept from the wall to the village as a whole. The rabbits moving below. The torches.
“And what do you suppose those walls were meant to protect?”
Solstice swallowed the last piece of that bitter plant root and looked down at the village.
Ears pricking forward.
—Prey—
With fire on sticks. Sharp sticks.
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- After the intensity of Chapter 9, did this quieter chapter (watching the village, learning the laws) feel like a needed rest—or did you start skimming to get back to action?
- When Solstice spotted the broken wall and carts—the sign Malice missed—did that moment feel earned (her observation skills paying off) or did it feel like she got "lucky"?
- During the quiet moments on the hilltop (chewing bitter plants, watching torches)—did you feel the tension building toward something ahead, or did the pacing start to drag?