Wingbeats

The mountains had a way of swallowing sound. Even now, with nearly the entire tribe packed into the central cave - fur brushing fur - a heavy silence hung over us. It filled the air with a thick tension, making it hard to breathe. The weight of moons of hunger and loss pressed on all of us, and eager ears waited for the Stoneteller’s words.
This moment had been building for moons. Ever since our Stoneteller stepped down, her body weakened by the sickness that eventually claimed her, the tribe had been restless. Prey was scarce, and the winds whispered of harder moons to come. The new Stoneteller, young and unsure, had been left to shoulder the burden. I pitied her. I really did. But pity wasn’t enough to fill our bellies.
The frustrated voices of our elders carried easily over the murmurs. They’d been this way for moons, bickering while the prey grew scarcer and the winds colder. I huddled closer to the stone wall, wishing I could melt into it. This was no place for me, a hunter barely past my first season.

“We’ve tried everything!” growled Shattered Brook, one of the oldest hunters. Her brown fur was ruffled, barely hiding her ribs, and her raspy voice carried the edge of raw desperation. “Every path. Every hollow! The mountains cannot sustain us anymore.”
“That’s not true!” countered Roaring Tide, a gray senior cave-guard, his broad shoulders tense. “We’ve faced shortages and survived. Running isn’t the answer - it’s a death trap. We’ve tried.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Death trap. The words hung in the air, and many elders flinched. They had stayed behind, watching our kin disappear over the horizon, chasing some prophecy of warmth and plenty. And now? They were gone, leaving us to wonder if they’d actually found paradise.

I was barely old enough to remember the stories of the Sun Trail, and certainly not important enough to speak about it. I shuffled uncomfortably.

“Enough!” The Stoneteller’s voice snapped, silencing them instantly. She rose from her perch, standing tall even though her youth was obvious. She hadn’t been Stoneteller for long, and it showed in the tension in her shoulders and the fear that lingered in her eyes. “The ancestors didn’t bring us to the mountains to starve. Half Moon did what she thought was right - but if the Sun Trail failed, it’s my duty to find another way.”

The words settled uneasily over the crowd. No one dared argue, but I could see it in their faces - the doubt, the fear. They didn’t trust her, not completely. How could they? She was younger than some of the cats in this room, barely older than I was.
“Another way?” Prowling Fox, a brown tabby hunter, finally asked - his deep voice low and skeptical. “Which way is that, Stoneteller?”
She hesitated, her tail flicking, and she took a deep breath. I noticed it - the hesitation, the uncertainty behind her sharp tone.
“We’ll follow the Twilight Trail,” she stated, her voice steady. “We’ll go where the sun is swallowed. If the rising sun didn’t save us, then perhaps the setting one will - after all, it is surrounded by Silverpelt.”

The murmurs that followed were mixed: some hopeful, others wary.

Whispering Wing’s soft voice rose from the crowd, filled with quiet hope. “I believe in Stoneteller.” She stepped forward hesitantly, her milky eyes sweeping the crowd as if she could sense their unease. Her voice wavered, but there was a steadiness beneath it. “The Twilight Trail could be our chance. We have to try.”

Her words rippled through the group like a breath of fresh air. A few of the younger cats straightened their backs, encouraged. But others, like Roaring Tide, remained skeptical.

“What proof do you have that it’ll lead to anything better than here? Than the Sun Trail?” challenged Roaring Tide. There was a lingering sadness in his eyes. He had lost a sister to the Sun Trail, and the weight of that loss seemed to press down on him even now.

“I don’t need proof,” Stoneteller snapped, her voice rising. “I need action. Would you rather we sit here and starve?”

The silence that followed her words was colder than the wind outside. I felt the hairs on my spine prickle. Stoneteller wasn’t asking for our trust - she was demanding it. But I didn’t think she had convinced everyone, well besides Whispering Wing.

We cast a vote that night. When the votes leaned to follow the Twilight Trail, I hadn’t expected much. In fact, I had voted to leave. I thought it would be the older, stronger members of our tribe that would walk the trail. They had seen the worst of the mountain and survived.

Instead, they chose us - the young, inexperienced cats who had no idea what to expect. Cats like me. When challenged, she explained that inexperienced cats were capable of adapting, unlike those bound to the past. We could grow wherever we were planted.

The names were called one by one, and my empty stomach twisted as I heard mine. Eagle’s Sight. My paws felt numb as I stood and padded forward, joining the others that had been chosen. Roaring Tide was one of the few senior tribe members who volunteered to come, stating that some cat had to teach us despite his misgivings. Whispering Wing was among us, her milky white eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. She looked calm, even hopeful. I wished I could feel that way. I looked longingly at my sibling, who sat in the clearing, unchosen. Would this be the last time I see her?

Leading us was Soaring Hawk, one of the tribe’s most seasoned hunters. His sharp gaze flicked over us as if he was assessing us. “This is it?” he asked Stoneteller bluntly, making it clear what he thought of her choices.

“They’ll do,” she said simply, dismissing his concerns yet her tail flicked nervously. “They have to.”

As our group gathered near the entrance the next morning, the elders weren’t done protesting the decision, having voted against it. “This is madness!” Hollow Fang spat, her voice hoarse enough to echo down into the valleys. “Sending our kits and broken cats to chase an idea of salvation! If you want to waste lives, why wouldn’t you start with yours?”

“Hollow Fang,” Stoneteller said, her voice icy and sharp. It cut through the murmurs of our elders like claws. She had grown frustrated with the protest. “You call this madness - but where was your wisdom when prey grew scarce? When we buried our kin? You cling to the past as if it will feed us. If you think you can do better, then tell me now.”

The old she-cat snorted, but I saw her flinch slightly. Her ears flicked back, and for a moment, it looked as though she might speak. But she didn’t.

“You leave at sunset.” Stoneteller finished coldly, directed at Soaring Hawk - who nodded.

It wasn’t long until the sun was setting, its golden light stretching over the mountains. I glanced back only once, at the caves that had been my home my entire life. They seemed small now, swallowed by the shadows of the peaks.

Soaring Hawk led the way, his steps sure and determined - Prowling Fox at his flank. Whispering Wing walked near me, her head tilted slightly as if she was listening for something I couldn’t hear.

I didn’t know where we were going or what lay ahead. None of us did. But the Twilight Trail was ours to walk, and we couldn’t turn back.