Recap: Oakpaw got stuck behind the slow-ass army and couldn't get past. Unfortunately he's terrible at sneaking and was found by Az (cue tears and waterworks. Az got a bit upset too). Now it doesn't look like Az is any good at sneaking either, because the whole army managed to discover them together.
There's hate in his eyes: hate for them, for the cause, and for her most of all. It's a bleak look on him, made all the more distraught by the scene he's caused: army cats swarm around him, relieved to once again find him their captive, and he is forced to simply stand there, undone by the surprise of their argument and the appearance of his enemies.
"The child has washed ashore," Ice says, his back to her. He has appeared like a wraith, a pale smudge against the dark grass. "All the damage he's caused has been undone."
No, thinks Azazel. That's not even a half-truth.
She should know. She's dealt with them for long enough.
Oakpaw spits at his feet. "You have no inkling of the damage I can cause."
But Az does. She's the only one with a grasp of it, the dark sum, the ruinous total. She looks deep into his eyes, but they're a blank mirror, and now she can only see herself, made small by reflection. Inside, he has collapsed, escaped down the last route possible. She sees herself torn by her choices, with a paw on each path. One road leads to the rebellion, and it's soaked in blood - it's the right choice, the one she was raised for - and Oakpaw lies down the other. This road is blocked. There's no way down it, and she knows it. Once, she thought she could walk both. Once, it seemed like Oakpaw might be coming around.
If he can fall in love, Miss told her, he'll see that he's wrong. They're all wrong. This is your duty. And, not that he'd known it, or ever realized, Oakpaw became the rebellion's pet experiment, and she was the leading expert. Now it seems the experiment has been flipped, and it's worked a little too well on her. Before, as they argued, Az told him she never lied, just hid the truth. And she's still doing it, in this very moment, because it's a tricky thing to stop.
As she marched, she wondered if he'd ever find out. But it seemed that he'd already run crying back to the Clan. The next time they'd see each other would be in battle, and they'd spill blood instead of secrets. But now he's back, and he might find out. And, though right now he looks so blank, empty as a void, she knows he'll be angry. It will be a glorious, murderous rage, and she imagines she won't live through it. Azazel knows by now that Oakpaw is a Clan beast through and through (even if she loves him for it). He's already broken their laws, and she shudders to think what he'll do to atone.
Ice regards Oakpaw with cool contempt, as soldiers jostle around them. Az is almost lost in the sea of them, a forgotten afterthought. Miss would, at the very least, congratulate her, but Ice prefers not to share glory.
"Take him to the other one," Ice says. "We'll see what Emory would like to do with him. Public execution would be a healthy morale boost for everyone involved."
As though picked up by an errant wave, Oakpaw is hustled up and over the hill, whisked away like a scrap of dust in the wind. The soldiers swarm with him - cats she knows and trusts, and even likes - and she begins to worry. Oakpaw is not safe here. He was stupid to come here, and she was stupid to approach him. She liked it better when she thought he'd gone home, somewhere he could be safe.
Ice turns sharply, and almost trips over her. He gives her a look that ought to be aimed at Oakpaw, or one of his PureClan enemies.
"What do you want, kit?" he snaps.
This is purely offensive. Az is small for her age, but she hardly looks like a kit anymore. Her dislike of Ice grows by inches.
"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" she asks. "Recapturing a prize asset? Seems like a big deal."
Ice looks up and away for a moment, as though searching the distant horizon for his long-absent patience. "Well done," he says. "Your service is commendable."
"So commend it," Az says, squaring her shoulders. "Inform Emory of my helpfulness in this situation."
Any clout she can swing within the army is helpful. Perhaps she can convince Emory it's best to keep Oakpaw alive. If she looks useful - competent, even - then she is worthy of a voice.
"I'll do my best," says Ice, with a flinty smile. It's gone before she can even be sure it was ever there. It's merely cursory, of course, just like all of his public persona. He wastes no effort when there is no cause.
"Thank you, sir," Az says. "It might be smart to treat the captive well, for now, in case we need to use him as hostage or mediator. Tell Emory that, too."
She walks away before she sees his expression, but she imagines, with no small amount of self-gratification, that his lip must be twitching with that angry little tic she's noticed he harbours.
"Quick, Beel, this way!"
She spots her brother and waves him over, urgently. Her brother has always been her confidant: she's told him everything, even what's transpired between Oak and her in the dark. Her twin is her only family, and the closest thing she has to a friend. He's so level-headed that he can put a rational spin on anything, though she's not sure how he'll tackle this.
Az keeps moving as she speaks, seeking out the perfect vantage point. She finds it and shoves some ragged tom out of the way (he hisses in protest, but leaves as she glares at him in an unsightly puff of bristling fur). Beelzebub joins her after a moment, his pale grey pelt shining in the weak sunlight. It seems to reflect the storm clouds moving across the sky, borne on an unfelt wind. She greets him with a quick, perfunctory head rub. He doesn't seem confused; he's long used to her erratic moods and careless whims, and knows her ways aren't changing anytime soon.
"Look over there," Az demands, gesturing with her tail. "Tell me what you see."
Beel squints over the sea of cats. "That's the prisoner quarter, I think - the one for Peppermask and his guards - but there's someone else there now? And a whole bunch of guards. Az, who is it?"
"Look at my face and guess," Az replies, droll. "One free guess. It's not too hard."
His head swivels to contemplate her, and the state she must be in. Understanding dawns in his eyes, and then he begins to look sympathetic. Ugh. Abort mission.
"No…" He sounds comically shocked, as if for dramatic effect. Unfortunately, Az knows, this is just how her brother is. "That's Oakpaw? Are you trying to say he's not in PureClan right now, fortifying their defences and digging trenches for the war?"
"No shit," Az snaps, unable to stop the nervous twitching of her tail. "Beel, Ice wants to execute him in front of everyone. He might do it today. It's kind of my fault they even caught him again - I was the only one to see him when he reappeared, and if I hadn't followed him… Beel, he's going to die, and it will be my fault!"
"And… it would be okay if he died and it wasn't your fault?"
"No!" she cries. "This is just worse!"
"Whatever Ice wants to do, he has to run it past Emory first," he assures her. "And he's a reasonable guy."
She gives her brother a look. Whatever Emory's been of late, it hasn't been reasonable.
"I've tried to plant a seed in Ice's mind," she continues. "As long as he knows Oakpaw can be useful - he's a complete ass, but he's pragmatic - he might refrain from killing him. And if he tells this to Emory, they can decide to use him as a hostage or negotiator. They'll do what it takes, won't they? For the cause?"
"If you can count on anything, it's that," Beel replies. "Besides, if they haven't done anything with Peppermask yet, it's unlikely they'll do anything to Oakpaw."
"Fair point," Az concedes. She feels relieved, if by the barest of degrees. The immediacy of the danger has passed - to her, at least. She can sense nothing in the air, feel no spark against her skin. The clouds building overhead barely warrant her attention. She's always thought of bigger things, and today, the clouds seem infinitesimal.
"He's already escaped from the warehouse," Beel points out. "Maybe he'll find a way out of this, too."
"Let's not ask for miracles, brother," Az says, as the first drop of rain kisses her nose. She glances up, already fluffing up her fur, and notices the septic tint staining the clouds, the dark and poisonous swell of them. She begins to feel uneasy.
There's no shelter for miles around. They will have to ride the rain out, though the prospect seems grim, and she's nowhere near as waterproof as she'd like to be. She looks towards Oakpaw and his ring of self-appointed guards, but he's slumped on the ground, and his eyes seem closed. He doesn't seem to care, or even notice, as the downpour begins. The drops are fat and heavy at first, chilled with the first touch of winter. They fall on an unsuspecting crowd, but within moments, the roar of the downpour drowns out the unhappy cries of the soldiers.
Overhead, the sky groans and shrieks and flashes - this seems like the end of the world. This is a nightmare. No one has trained for this.
The rain becomes a deluge in the space between moments. When she blinks and opens her eyes, she can only see mere feet in front of her; water splashes hard onto the ground and rebounds into her face. Az feels assaulted from all angles, and she's soaked to the skin within seconds. She presses against her brother, though he's a mild kind of shelter at best, and rain runs from his back to hers.
"The hell is this?" she yells, though she can barely hear her own voice. The vibrations of the words passing through her throat seem to be the only indication she's spoken at all - just as well, then, that she doesn't expect an answer.
She can no longer see Oakpaw, but she imagines he's lifted his head, caught on, began to panic. She wonders what that looks like on him.
"Come on!" Beel shouts, pressing his nose into her ear. "We have to get to high ground!"
He's right: the water has begun to soak into ground, but it's an ill reception. It bubbles around their paws, and, for lack of anywhere else to go, begins to rise. It's a flood, and the army has nowhere to go. Panic is thick in the air around them, even as the rain cuts through, drop by voracious drop. They will all drown, and their cause will sink down into the mud as they go.
Az and her brother blindly make their way uphill, caught in a throng of cats. Lightning blooms bright above them, throwing a certain stark cast to the scene, like a spotlight. The cataclysm is illuminated in sparse second-long flashes. Seeing the disaster a moment at a time is all Az can bear. Here, the fear of one soldier sears her eyes, as the sky burns. When the darkness falls and lifts again, they're gone, though the fear all around her is the same. Behind them, someone shrieks as they fall, trampled by a hundred careless feet. This is not fight they expected.
As they flee, the rain falls ever downward. Perhaps this is all it takes to break a revolution: a little rain, a touch of thunder. The blueprints of war are not waterproof. The soldiers retreat with nowhere to go, forsaken, and the flood rises triumphant. It's the only victor for miles around.
smh they didn't check the weather forecast before they left home, did they?
i hope y'all like rain because it's sticking around for a while
ALSO omg Bright i was so happy to see your review, i was worried you'd dropped off the face of the world or something. i think i actually gasped.
