Snow fell like stars from the midnight sky. The wind swept it across the vast forests, circling pines and bare trees in kind, until it was choked by a sudden ravine. Snowfall poured into the opening, sinking deep into the earth's scar. Frozen mud and clustered roots hung daringly over the precipice, holding strong against the added white weight.
Trusting the brittle ground with their pawsteps, two insignificant figures stumbled through the snow. Tails raised high, the two navigated towards one another from across the gorge, cautiously approaching its edge, considering the risk of falling in, and the risk of being overheard.
The first cat to speak stood on the evergreen side of the gorge, his mottled brown pelt was sheltered from the snowfall up until he broke the treeline.
"Your summons are as bitter as ever, Torntree. My paws are going to need time to thaw after this trek."
The older cat looked unimpressed, his long black coat turned nearly white by the snow that had clustered it into thick patches.
"When you last called me for help, I didn't ask you to uphold my comfort." Torntree grumbled through half parted fangs, guarding his breath from the air.
"Fair enough, but I don't see why this couldn't wait until Newleaf. It's not like anyone would attack in Leafbare."
"That is not what I am concerned about." Torntree called out over the ravine, pausing to glance around. "You are a seasoned scribe Keenwhisker, I know you have read your book from end to the present. It has come time for the carved book to pay tribute."
Keenwhisker flattened his ears, but made no response. His eyes fell to the chasm below, fraught with confliction.
Torntree spoke again with an insistent hiss. "What have you seen?"
"A spoiled birdsnest. The wind brought it to my dens entrance." Keenwhisker admitted. "And you?"
"The very same, only twice now."
The two took deep breaths, finding solace in their shared worry. Keenwhisker turned to look over his shoulder at the evergreen treeline. "Of all the stories carved in our territory, I was hoping the tribute was more exaggeration than prophecy."
Torntree nodded, bowing in sympathy to the opposing scribe. "I will do what I can to make things easier, but this has to happen now."
"Absolutely not, It's far too dangerous. The unrelenting snow is one thing, but then there's… this." Keenwhisker gestured with his tail to the cavern below as he began to pace.
Torntree got to his paws and tried to focus Keenwhisker with an indignent shout, but his cry was overwhelmed by an intense gust of wind. Keenwhisker slid a few tail lengths to the side, bracing himself against the column of snow. The gust drew his attention to the sky, and it shook the oppressive clouds. There Keenwhisker gazed in awe, as through the clouds a few stars were revealed. To all except the two scribes, the stars would have been meaningless, but in this array, and in this moment, its message was clear.
"It must happen now…" Keenwhisker echoed, his meow filled with equal parts disbelief and fear.
Torntree padded forward, offering a semblance of companionship as he stood at the ravines edge. "On behalf of the book scrawled in blood, I thank you for your acceptance Keenwhisker. Know that whatever happens, your tribute will be followed by the guidance of our ancestors."
Torntree turned from the precipice, bounding back into his own territory, leaving Keenwhisker to stare upwards. His gaze was fixed on the book written in the stars.