Worry chased me through marshes, through my forest and over River’s frozen banks. My unhealed wounds continued to bother me, one of the cuts opening again as I leapt, but the pain was an unimportant distraction at the back of my mind.

  As I arrived within sight of my cottage and its puffing crooked chimney, it started snowing once more.

  I sprinted up the garden path, passing the snow covered lumps of flower beds, and comfortably buried murder man, the quiet hives, and the little lean-to barn. My heart ached. I did not want to leave my cottage. My garden. My forest. It was mine. MINE! And yet… I remembered the crushing strength of the demonic rats and I was afraid. Brosnod was not even the rat king. He was just a lackey.

  The house was shuttered up tightly against the cold so I yowled on the doorstep till Maud let me in. Once she had properly welcomed me I sat and watched her as she worked over a steaming cauldron. She was doing witchy things again. I quite liked it when she did witchy things, it made the cottage smell interesting, like puffs of spring and autumn even though it was snowing outside.

  Today she was making interesting coloured smoke and the occasional popping bang. Okay, I did not like the popping bangs that much but it was all still part and parcel of my life with my Maud. My Maud. Mine. My Maud.

  I ran over to her, latched my teeth into her skirt and gave it an insistent tug.

  “Jenkins what are you doing?”

  “We need to leave,” I said. “There’s horrible rats, and a mad god, and my teacher says if we don’t leave we are all going to die.”

  She patted my head, and tickled me behind one ear.

  “What’s got you all riled up, my love?”

  “The rats,” I said. “Montadie says she has a new place. Pack your things. Make sure you take the wool basket.”

  “Now, now, is your paw sore? Or do you have a sore tummy? Have you been fighting again?”

  She pulled me onto her lap, plopped me upside down and started inspecting my stomach. I bit her hand to make her stop. “Don’t you understand? Aren’t you listening?”

  She wasn’t listening. Or she wasn’t capable of understanding.

  I had never known frustration like it before.

  Always before I had been able to communicate my needs. I jumped off her lap and led her over to the wool basket. “Get your things,” I said again, as loudly as I could. “Pick it up and follow me. Bring the Very Nice Wool that I like to sleep with as well.”

  “Do you want to play?” she said, picking up a skein of wool. “Is that what you want? I’ll play with you after supper Jenkins.”

  My heart broke.

  My Maud would not be leaving; she did not understand me. How could I communicate the danger? If I led her to the rats nest she might die. She had already seen their corpses and thought nothing of it. Perhaps the two-legged warriors would come? What if they didn’t listen to Montadie?

  I cried then, yowling into the rafters as I cursed the stupidity of humans.

  “Jenkins! My love, are you ill? What’s wrong?”

  She scooped me up into her arms and comforted me and I cried into her hair, digging my claws into her shoulders. She smelled like home. How could I leave my Maud? She would not survive without me, she couldn’t even catch her own mice! If I left her I might as well be killing her myself. She would not manage. She would not be happy. How could she possibly be happy apart from me?

  I cried and cried, and Maud held me, stroking my head and muttering loving things at me. Each one was a knife blade twisting into my heart. It ached and broke and ached some more and eventually I fell asleep, exhausted and unhappy in her arms.

  Worried thoughts and demonic rats chased themselves round and round my head.

  When I woke I knew what I had to do.

  I was not leaving. I would not leave my home or my Maud. It was my home, and my Maud, and I would defend what I held dear from anyone who had the gall to try and hurt them. Just like I had killed the murder man I would kill every single rat that crossed my threshold. And anyone else.

  Montadie said they might not come straight away, so I had time to grow stronger. And if not, then I had at least four lives left to live and I would make good use of them. Brosnod would get more than a face full of flames next time our paths crossed. Maud could probably use her frying pan on some of them as well. And those humans…surely they would defend their own home?

  I head-butted my sleepy, oblivious human a fond goodbye and then left through the pre-dawn gloaming, trotting through the snow with my tail held high. The day was bright and crisp. The rest could flee if they wanted but I would not be afraid!

  As I walked my sadness fell away and righteousness settled in my chest. This felt right. This was right. Whatever happened, this was my destiny.

  As I walked I cultivated the morning light. I could feel my baby core as I moved. Now that I had discovered it, it felt like my dantian was the centre of my universe and that I, and everything else shifted around it. When I moved, or meditated, or dreamed, I flowed around it like liquid. It seemed incredible that I had only recently discovered it but now I could not imagine myself without.

  My brain was too crowded for me to risk pouring qi into it right now, but there would be time for that later.

  Montadie’s clearing was bustling when I arrived. Actually bustling was an understatement. It seemed the majority of my fellow students had been successful in convincing their nearest and dearest to uproot, and the space was positively bursting with creatures. The space was so full there were more creatures than glade.

  Owls lined the branches. A menacing wolf pack sat with an anxious looking Skol in the middle, all of them bristling and growling whenever anyone else got too close. Besides his relatives his youth was even more evident. They were tall. They were muscular. Some of those wolves had seen many lean winters, their fur and muzzles tipped with frost. I did not like the way they looked at me but it seemed Montadie had everything under control. At least - there were no obvious fights breaking out.

  To my relief Montadie was back in her normal, enormous toady form.

  “What happened?” I shouted to her.

  She shrugged.

  “I told them,” she said. “I warned them. I gave gold to encourage them. I spoke to one called the councillor who had authority. Now their destiny is in their own hands. But do not put your faith in the destiny of others, young Jenkins. The two-leggers are fickle and strange. Protect yourself and do what you can.”

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  “I will,” I said, resolutely and turned back to the glade to watch.

  The clearing was not just crowded with animals, but with fae-folk as well. Assembled on the edges, and lurking in the shadows, more peeked out from the shade of the forest trees, their tiny footsteps criss-crossing the snow. They were all small, ranging in size from tiny to about hedgehog sized. A few were very thin and relatively tall. Many of the Small Folk had small patchwork sacks flung over spindly shoulders, while others clutched tiny furniture or teeny-tiny baby pixies no bigger than acorns.

  They had to take care not to be trampled by the creatures who could not see them.

  As I moved around I saw scores of toads hopping and gulping in a warty, moist green pile. A dozen snakes slithered around the base of an old oak with Nadders coiled anxiously in the centre. Now I noticed ten or so water voles taking refuge on Montadie’s back, while Lavellan glared about, looking as if she was about to start throwing qi infused punches. Of my fellow classmates only Moeee was alone.

  The glittering moth flew over and settled near me.

  “No luck?” I called.

  “My kind live short but brilliant lives,” the moth said. “Unless we Awaken, and quickly, our time in the sun is over before the seasons change. I have no one to ask.”

  Hush, Thimble and Wuot arrived together, in a rush of flustered feathers and fur. I was expecting more …geese in their wake, since I knew Wuot was proud of her flock, but they were alone.

  “My people won’t come,” said Thimble, without greeting.

  “Your bakers?”

  He nodded. My brother’s chunky tabby tail seemed to have a life of its own as it lashed from side to side. I had never seen my normally placid sibling so agitated. He also looked like he had neglected his grooming, so I washed his neck for him.

  “I can’t make them leave.”

  “Same,” I said, between licks. “Maud didn’t understand me.”

  “I don’t have any family,” said Hush. My little sister looked scared, her tail puffed up, and she was twitching at every move the wolves made. We all glared at them together, drawing strength from each other's presence, then returned to our conversation.

  “What are we then?” said Thimble, “Chopped liver?”

  “No, no,” my little sister was flustered. “I mean besides you-”

  “Good,” I said, “that makes it easy for you. You can leave and be safe.”

  “Half of my family is unawoken,” said Wuot, her long neck swaying from side to side in agitation. “All of them, Awoken and dull, refused to leave. The chickens wouldn’t even listen to me! The ducks just laughed.” The goose’s voice broke. “I can’t leave them all to be slaughtered.”

  “So stay,” I said. “I’m not leaving, I already decided last night.”

  “But if we stay, we will die,” Hush said, her eyes wide. “You heard Montadie.”

  “I am not afraid of death,” I said. And I found that I really meant it. The night had been long and filled with thoughts and I had explored all my possible futures, including the one where the unthinkable happened and I was defeated by demonic rats. If that was what came to pass, well then, so be it. I would go down knowing I had done my best. But I also knew, deep in my heart, that I was meant for greater things. It would be difficult, it would be painful but ultimately, I would be victorious.

  “I am not afraid,” I repeated. Then I amended: “But I will do everything I can to avoid dying.”

  “I will stay also,” said Thimble. “I will not leave my family.”

  “And I,” said Wuot. “This is our place.”

  The four of us looked at each other, united in our resolution.

  “I-” Hush started.

  “Go with the rest,” I said. “And we will visit. Perhaps we will come later. We love you.”

  “Be safe, little sister,” said Thimble. “Go where it is safe.”

  “Grow big and strong, cultivate, and come to our aid if you can,” I said. “Watch over the others.”

  “No,” Hush said, after a long pause. “You will not leave them, I will not leave you. It is settled.”

  We accepted her words with a nod, while Wuot tried to tuck her under her big feathery body as if she was a gosling.

  It was soon time for the great migration.

  Montadie came to speak with us, and our parting was sorrowful. She heard the four of us out with disappointment, but in the end she saw we were firm in our convictions.

  “You too, Moeee?”

  The glittering moth nodded. “I was born in these woods and I will die in them,” he said. “I will not be chased from my home.”

  Montadie sighed. Her enormous bulbous eyes roamed over us with regret.

  “The new sect home will be too far for lessons,” she said at last. “Unless you travel for several days each month to get there. Of course you are welcome to do this. I encourage you to do this although I suspect you won’t.” She sighed again, then seemed to gather herself in, looking at each of us in turn. “My darlings, my students, my loves. Wuot, keep up your cultivation as best you can. Listen to Moeee. Up until today I would have said he was wise and canny.” She nodded at Hush, Thimble and me. “You three are already dream walkers. A useful skill, indeed. You can visit me in your dreams and I will still be able to teach you. With limitations of course, it is not as good as being physically present.”

  “We can only see Mama in our dreams,” said Thimble. “And each other.”

  “Then you must learn to travel further, if you are to have any hope of surviving this. Dream walking is a powerful skill. I will teach you and you will pass the lessons to Wuot, if she does not change her mind.”

  “So you think there is a chance?” said Wuot, leaping onto the words.

  “I do not,” said Montadie. She blew air out of her nostrils and shifted her limbs and the forest floor rumbled a little. All the visitors squealed and hooted, and howled. The small folk clung to each other, waving their bundles.

  “I think you are deluded fools. But it is not for me to choose another’s path through life. You have chosen. I respect that. Having said - I hope you change your minds. There is still time. There will always be time until the moment that it is too late. Remember that. The line of no return is not here. Do not let pride be your downfall. And my new glade is open to you, always. If I can help in any way I will.”

  We made our solemn goodbyes, and little by little the glade emptied.

  To my surprise Rotfoot hopped across the glade, landing in front of me. I stiffened up, expecting meanness, but instead she embraced me with moist green arms, her bad foot dangling uselessly.

  “I don’t like you,” she sniffed. “And I think you are stupid. But I'll miss you if you die.”

  “So don’t,” sniffed Moonsap, who landed next to her.

  “Hmmph,” said Hangbelly.

  All three hopped away, their snouts in the air and were soon lost in the crowds of travelling creatures.

  Then we were alone, and the forest seemed weirdly quiet.

  Snow started to fall again in gentle drifts, little flakes floating down to cover the mess , covering the muddy patches and the broken mushroom circle. The five of us that remained, three cats, one goose, one moth, sat there for a while wondering at how fast our lives had changed.

  “We will keep watch,” said Wuot, uncertainly. “For the rats. For the necromancer.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “We can enlist the Small Folk that remain,” said Moeee. “They would make excellent spies, if we can convince them to aid us.”

  “Did they not all leave?” asked Wuot, who of course could not see them.

  “No,” said Moeee, “there are many, many Small Folk in these woods and many who would rather take their chances than leave, just like us. Some are territorial. And many are too feral to heed Montadie.”

  We all stood there for a few more long moments, the snow falling around us, and then we too, a little lost, said our goodbyes.

  I walked back through the wonderful white wonderland of the snowy woods and thought to myself how strange it all was. Montadie leaving had left a hollow in my stomach. I had loved my lessons in the glade, and had assumed they would continue forever. Now it was just a forest clearing with a slightly unusual amount of ambient qi. Perhaps that too would disappear now.

  I should have appreciated everything more. I should have cherished the time, somehow, knowing it was finite. It was summer all over again. I vowed to appreciate everything, all the time, from now on. But perhaps everything was finite, and Montadie was right? I was just a fool not to know it? I breathed in deeply, appreciating the cold winter air entering my body. It was crisp and delicious. I think a few wisps of snow qi might have gone with it, although I wasn’t sure.

  This was, indeed, a walk of revelations.

  As I wandered through the snowy Montadie-free forest, the trees had the gall to look exactly the same as they always had. How could they? It felt like a huge betrayal. How could everything be so very much the same, and so very different, all at once? I decided I did not like goodbyes. And yet there was no path to be taken where goodbyes would not be said. There were only choices to be made.

  I spent the evening on Maud’s lap in front of the fire warming my toes, enjoying the moment, and pondering how not to die.

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