Sure-footed on ice as only a cat can be, Faleen led Thonk and Strap between stalactites of chilled rime and angular sheets of razor-sharp mica whose broken edges could slice through even the thickest of hides. After clearing the twists and turns of the ice cave’s frozen labyrinth, she ushered them into the open alcove of an ancient icefall, its turquoise blue walls bathed in firelight. 

At its center, a sphere of fire crackled in midair. No fuel burned beneath the flame. There was no vent of gas, nor hearth. The ball of fire floated freely, suspended only by the faith of those surrounding it.

“High Flame,” Thonk whispered to Strap reverently. He recognized the sacred blaze the instant he saw it. It was the embodiment of the consciousness of the land, itself, its fiery spirit.

“I told you I’d find us some warmth,” Strap retorted with a proud toss of his tail.

Around the roaring fire sat the ShamanFire of the Whisper Fist, the wizened sages of the clans of the Ice. Comprised of representatives from the Long Coats; the Ice’s mammals, and its winged brethren, the White Flight, this council took up all but one of the eight stone seats ringing the fire. On each sat an anismin whose toka could survive the frozen realms of the Whisper Fist: a Musk Oxsmin, an Arctic Foxmin, a Polar Bearsmin, a Gyrfalconsmin, a Royal Penguinsmin, a Snow Petrelsmin, and a Timber Wolfsmin. Between the Gyrfalconsmin and the broad-shouldered Wolfsmin one stone remained empty. 

“Come,” said the half man, half canine, motioning toward the flame. “We were just talking.”

Thonk moved eagerly toward the heat, knocking over the empty stone in his haste.

“My apologies,” was all he could muster in his rush to get warm.

Every eye was on the Rhinosmin as he rubbed his hooves before the fire. Thonk could sense the fear and desperation behind their gazes. It was as if they weren’t seeing him at all; instead, their focus was on an unseen threat playing out in their minds. Neither his keen nose nor his acute ears were needed to recognize the true climate of these mountains—the rapid breathing, the perspiration despite the temperature.

Panic was in the air, and it was contagious.

“Faleen,” said the Wolfsmin. “Take the watch.”

“But—”

“The watch, Faleen.” It was no longer a request.

As she slid back into the shadows of the labyrinth, her emerald eyes lingered on the Wolfsmin, her stare full of anger. Thonk hadn’t realized how brilliant they were. Like his, her eyes reflected the color of the earth, a feature their tokas shared—probably the only one.

A charged silence fell upon the cave as Thonk and Strap warmed themselves before the fire. Finally the Wolfsmin cleared his throat.

“ReryMaba. I am Eiseneyes, the elder ShamanFire of the Sha ‘A Okonuu Kai, the Clan of the Long Coats.” His raspy voice was low and deep, a growl scratching against granite. “As joint council leader of this circle, I welcome you to our fire. Your presence here raises a certain curiosity. It’s not every day we see rhinos and zebras tiptoeing across the Ice.”

Unblinking, Strap looked directly at Eiseneyes. “If I may?”

First the Wolfsmin then Thonk nodded their approval. Strap made his way to the heart of the circle, bowing reverently to the wolfen. He then rotated his torso just enough so that everyone felt the sincerity of his gesture, yet no one saw his back. With due respect paid in full to their hosts, Strap began his introductions.

“BareMari. Allow me to introduce Prince Thonquovicious the Third, First Son of the Royal Crash of the Minotaur’s Veldt, son of King GhostReep IV. I am Strap, his majesty’s personal valet. We seek no assistance and apologize for any insult we may have caused. We were merely passing through—”

“Passing through?” chuckled Eiseneyes. “One does not ‘pass through’ the Whisper Fist unless there’s a death wish involved.”

“We discussed that option, but fortunately for us your emissary was flexible regarding its delivery.”

“Faleen does have a way, doesn’t she?”

“Rather pointedly, yes—”

Thonk could no longer contain himself. “Can we stop playing games? If you’ll kindly show us the nearest ShamanTrail, we’ll be on our way.”

The High Flame flared, filling the grotto with light.

“ShamanTrail?” growled the Wolfsmin over the council’s sudden din. The word slipped from the elder like a shadow cast by moonlight.

“We mean no threat nor disrespect,” Thonk said. “Our own ShamanFire shared their existence before we left the veldt. It was the only way we could get here in time.”

ShamanTrails were known only to the ShamanFire, the ancient brotherhood to which these anismin belonged. In the inner realm they were its healers, teachers, and guardians of the Ticking: their charge, to maintain the clanly ways and tribal fires of Earth’s soul for time eternal. To go about their business and quietly navigate the landscape, the brotherhood used ShamanTrails instead of roads: impossible-to-find pathways where the land literally reformed itself to allow passage. Mountains cleaved, rivers receded, and ice and snow grew into bridges when summoned. What normally took weeks to traverse took but hours to travel with the help of a ShamanTrail.

“There was no other way,” Thonk added with quiet force.

Silently, he thanked his lucky pulsar that their own shaman had the foresight to share their secret. Still, disclosing their knowledge had been a gamble; they’d been clearly warned they could be cut down for even uttering the word.

“No doubt you’ve spied the evil that hunts Seneca’s ward,” continued Strap, not allowing the moment to fester. “She runs and she hides yet the Skaarsgard pursues her without mercy. It has abilities we do not, but we must find her, hence our urgency.”

“Yes, we’ve seen the Skaarsgard. And its prey,” said Eiseneyes. “Seneca sent his agents to intercept her. They found her nearly frozen and brought her to us. When the Change Master regained her strength, we showed her our trails through the mountains. She eluded her hunter for a while, but when the hoar-fire resumed in the valleys below we feared the Skaarsgard had rediscovered her trail. She’s headed for the Alsgren, the Doorway of the Setting Sun, the Western Door. She must reach the Emerald Guard before the new dawn rises or—”

“Then it is true,” interrupted Thonk.

Time froze as reality began to thaw.

It took a moment, but the Wolfsmin finally turned to Thonk, the intensity in his eyes renewed. “It would seem so.”

Thonk swallowed hard before clearing his throat. This finally gave voice to the question that’d been plaguing him. Hoping for a different answer, he peered into the Wolfsmin’s piercing grey eyes.

“Is EonThera really on the verge?”

Eiseneyes’s clan symbols, a series of tendrils and circles tattooing his cheek, trembled. Even the High Flame dimmed. Finally, the clan leader spoke.

“If your question is whether or not EonThera is falling, I’m afraid the answer is yes. From most of our lands you cannot see it, but something is consuming our world. We’ve confirmed reports of erratic weather patterns spreading across the inner realm. Where calm skies once ruled, hurricane winds now ravage the Killvane Steppes.”

“Tsunamis and tidal bores have been ripping apart the Crystal Coasts,” added the tiny Penguinsmin. “They’re consuming entire rookeries, every day. Several of the Oceanic clans now face total annihilation.”

“Even here on the Fist, we’ve felt the change,” said the gruff Oxsmin. “Believe it or not, it’s getting warmer.”

“The balance has been compromised,” Eiseneyes concluded. “The Ticking is failing, and everyone—at least everyone here—feels it.”

“A burning sky,” whispered Thonk. The words seared his throat.

“And what of Earth?” asked Strap in a choked voice. “What will happen to it if we fall?”

“We all know the connection,” Eiseneyes replied. “EonThera is to Earth as the soul is to the body. If EonThera dies, so too does its twin.”

A pall descended over the blue ice of the grotto. At its center, the High Flame cast long, still shadows onto the frozen walls. The circle remained subdued, each sitting with the weight of this realization, each pondering their definition of catastrophe. In Thonk’s case, he hoped he’d awaken upon some grassy savannah, with a tickbird delightfully cleaning his ear, only to discover that it was all just a dream, just a bad dream.

Strap broke the silence.

“Why aren’t the TerraTo’Kai doing something about this? It’s their charge. Aren’t they the ones responsible for maintaining the Ticking?” The desperation in his voice echoed throughout the cavern.

“Yes, but only from Earth’s direction,” clarified the Wolfsmin. “They train here under Seneca and the Emerald Guard but return to their world to do what we ShamanFire do here: preserve the balance. What’s troubling is the problem doesn’t seem to stem from EonThera. Every ShamanFire we’ve communicated with contends they’ve been watching over the Ticking as they always have.”

“Yet still we fall,” observed the Oxsmin.

Eiseneyes shifted his gaze from the Zebrasmin to Thonk. “Our dear Lor Vecca claims the Emerald Guard are the ones responsible. The good king suggests that as gatekeepers between Earth and EonThera, the guard have allowed infection from Earth to pass into our world through its very own recruits. He demands their TerraTo’Kai be rounded up like animals carrying a disease. But to cement his control, to solidify his place as ‘the wise arbiter and humble servant of the common good’, he also demands they be ‘humanely’ tested. Not sure what that even means. Beyond that . . .”

“There is no beyond that,” snorted the Oxsmin. “It’s simply a ploy to eliminate any opposition without raising questions.”

“Opposition from Earth, apparently,” Thonk stated.  

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but any anismin seen aiding Seneca and his kind will be branded as traitors as well,” Eiseneyes added, goading the Rhinosmin. “And summarily rounded up and executed, too. In case you were . . . wondering.”

“Most of this is tongue wagging at best.” The Gyrfalconsmin leaned into the conversation, her black eyes set against snow-white feathers, her fixed stare aimed ominously at the firelight. “What we do know is those of Seneca’s To’Kai who have been captured are imprisoned beneath Congress Canyon at Armor Riff. Most likely they’re dead. All of them, every ally we know of that’s been apprehended—except the one they haven’t caught, of course.”

“The one that both worlds need,” Strap stated flatly. “The Nether Child.”

Thonk’s brow furrowed at the thoughts stinging his mind. His eyes darted to Eiseneyes. “And you believe all this? That the TerraTo’Kai are carriers of the Falling?”

“No,” snapped the Wolfsmin. “I do not. But many do. Remember, Seneca has been opening the portal between Earth and EonThera since the dawn of time. What if his human apprentices were carriers of a disease, intentional or not? Think about it. It’s not impossible they contracted something in their world and spread it here.”

Strap pawed the ground. “But that’s ridiculous. Worse, it’s heresy.”

Thonk felt his anger rising as well. He planted his thick feet in the snow, placed his weight on his war clubs, and rose before the fire.

“The Emerald Guard aren’t the reckless ones here, and you know it,” he rumbled to the circle. “I can’t speak for everyone, but we the dedicated of the BloodGrass owe the Emerald Guard and their apprentices our lives. If not for them—”

Without warning, Eiseneyes leapt for the Rhinosmin. His bared fangs stopped inches from Thonk’s throat. Snarling, the Wolfsmin’s glare narrowed. “Stop right there,” he growled. “It is we, not you, who have risked everything to aid Seneca and his precious guard. Our necks are the ones exposed to the wind, not yours. If those of the BloodGrass are so damned concerned with a few schoolmarms, why aren’t more of you here? Where are your supposed ‘dedicated,’ my prince, or couldn’t they be bothered?”

The ShamanFire shifted uncomfortably in the face of Eiseneyes’s rage, but the flame at their center glowed in agreement.

“Show us a few more who know how to face this storm as we have and then, and only then, will I allow you to question this circle. Until you are willing to sacrifice every member of your clan, your family, every hair on your hide, I suggest you either stop lecturing those who are already doing exactly that, and will pay for their sins in blood, or stop breathing. I don’t care which but choose. Now.”  

It took a moment before Thonk could see any color other than red. Rarely had anyone spoken to him like that and lived. And yet Eiseneyes’s anger was justified.

As the inner realm’s ruling king—its Lor Vecca—StormWing had every right to wipe out such treason—every man, woman, and child, including their shadows—if his armies could weather his foe’s domain. For the moment, the Sha ‘A Okonuu Kai were safe in their ice-borne kingdom, but they wouldn’t last long if StormWing focused his rage. After all, the ice was melting.

The wind howled through the angry crags around them.

“The Lor Vecca’s power grows by the hour.” Eiseneyes had calmed slightly, but his rage was still evident in his words. “Fear is as easy to spread as it is to acquire, and it seems our dear king specializes in its use. Through it, he divides friends and joins enemies. Even among us there is dissension.” He turned to the capsized empty stone.

“Some agree with the Lor Vecca that the only way we can save the inner realm is to close its doors forever. Given their ignorance, that population and its voice will grow until it can’t be squelched. But that’s another problem for another day. In the meantime, StormWing and his growing armies will try and crush any resistance. The good news is, for the moment our opportunity remains. We must find out who, or what, is responsible for the Falling while we can still make a case. If not, if we allow the door between our worlds to be closed for good, we sentence the Earth and probably ourselves to die.”

“There is one other thing we should consider,” Strap interjected.

“What?” asked Thonk and Eiseneyes in unison.

“What if there are no more TerraTo’Kai on Earth? What if there’s no one to care for the Ticking from its direction? What if the Earth has provided us with this death sentence by not doing its part?”

“Then we have a different war altogether,” warned the wolf.