Dusk Fall

A Nestful of Eggs

Frost felt so hollow. Broodie Pollen couldn’t really be dead—Could she? The idea that he wouldn’t ever get to hear another one of her adventures, the thought that he’d never get to playfight with her again, it tore into his heart with frozen claws. Though he bore no physical wound, every part of him ached. Broodie Pollen was the only thing left to remind him of his mother.

He was far too restless to sleep. He just lay against Broodie Ivy, desperately missing Broodie Pollen—And his sister. She took it even harder than he did! But she wouldn’t let him near. There was nothing Frost could do to help her fight this battle. She would have to fight it alone.

He didn’t even have anywing to confide in now and his future seemed so frightening! The Flight Leads were going to come to speak directly to them! And they were only whelplings! Would they be cast out because of Broodie Pollen’s death?

Was it really all their fault?

He heard a disturbance at the Hollow Ledge and the rumbling voice of Broodie Ivy in response. She lifted her wing letting Frost crawl out. He pulled himself to the edge of the nest and sat. Whisper dragged her tail in the straw, following beside him. She half threw herself back down—Or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to be gentle to her body anymore?

“Well, well, well.” A deep voice richly laced with amusement called to them. Frost flinched. Master Night! The mate of Iris, and the alpha male over all of Dusk Flight. “I’m glad to see our youngest adventurers have returned safely home.”

Whisper mumbled something under her breath but didn’t respond otherwise, her whiskers lay flat in the nestbed. Frost thought privately he’d never seen a sadder creature.

“Sorry, Master Night.” He hung his head and did his very best to look properly ashamed.

“Would you little wings do me the honor of telling me where you went off too? I heard a couple of honorable dogs from Dire Flight brought you safely back to us. But, to be so young, and get so far! It must have been quite a tale. I must ask you to repeat it once more to me.” Despite the trouble Frost was sure they were in, Night’s deep voice soothed him. It was strong and wise; how he imagined a tree’s voice might sound if it spoke.

He seemed so much larger than the other flight members. His pelt as black as night, and his skull a polished white. His eyes were pale yellow like bright moon shine. Frost thought maybe one day he would like to be Flight Lead just like him.

Whisper said nothing.

Frost felt a genuine pang of heartache for her. She wasn’t even interested in telling the story of their adventure!

“Well?” He prompted gently, looking between the pair of litterkin.

“I’ll tell you.” Frost spoke up, his mewl cracking nervously. And so, he did. Frost told Night everything. From his desperate attempts to bring her home, to the long walk they took through the canopy. He told Night of their bid to find the fox, and how Whisper went in for a closer look. With the new word to describe the ferocious predator, Frost told him of the wolf’s vicious attack, and their harrowing escape. He hung his head, trying not to seem too proud of himself when he revealed his plan to distract the wolf, and hide Whisper so they could escape. He went on, explaining how they’d found an old abandoned hollow, and stayed the night—Frost conveniently forgot to tell him about the bird’s eggs—And finally, described Whisper’s perfect catch of the fortunate mouse they chanced upon. He explained how they started their journey home, only to be found by the members of Dire Flight, who brought them home.

Night stayed silent for a long time. His eyes passed back and forth between the now quiet pair. Frost glanced at his sister, who, far from looking excited and adventurous, seemed. . . Mutinous. Like she was mad at Frost for retelling the story.

“You two are quite the impressive pair. I’ll tell you; it isn’t every day we have whelplings like you two. You’re going to go far, so long as you can stay put for now. We will have to punish you. We can’t have every little whelpling thinking they can go galivanting off to win glory for their Flight—But I’m proud to call you members of mine. You will stay an extra seven moonrises in the Whelpling Nursery Hollow. After that, we’ll see about getting you two in training.” He dipped his skull in turn to each of them, before he hopped on his hind legs to the Hollow Ledge. He jumped into the open air unfurling his wings. With a soft snap, he caught an updraft, and floated lazily away.

“Whisper, did you hear that? Isn’t it great—Only an extra seven moonrises in the nursery! And I’ll bet he was real impressed too. He’s gonna make you a scavenger, I just know it!”

But Whisper didn’t respond. She’d already curled back up in her corner, the nest wall developing an indent where she lay on it.

“Whisper. . .?” Frost c****d his head, tail drooping, whiskers wilting. “Did you hear me—?”

“Yes, yes, I heard you, alright?” She snapped. “Just leave me alone!”

Frost took a startled step backwards, her sharp response tearing a bigger hole in his already wounded heart.. “But, Whisper. . .” He whined softly. She merely turned her head away from him and hid her ears beneath her snatcher. “Yeah, okay. . . I’ll let you rest. Sorry, Whisper.”

Whisper only snorted in response.

His enthusiasm melted away like icicles beneath a glaring sun. What did it matter they weren’t in big trouble, when it meant he lost his sister? Frost never knew life to be so lonely before. Broodie Ivy already settled back into sleep, and Whisper wanted nothing to do with anywing.

That small ache of longing yawned in his heart. Frost wished he could talk to Broodie Pollen. She would know how to help.

Whisper hardly spoke a word and barely ate. It seemed all she wanted to do now was sleep. Even when Frost tried to tease her into wrestling with him, she would only respond with the kind of retort that made his heart heavy. They could get through anything, if they did it together. . .But now they weren’t doing anything together. How could he get through on his own?

The moon rose three times since they’d returned from their adventure. Only once since they would’ve moved on to the Whelp Hollow. Nothing much changed since then. The Broodie’s still took shifts, sitting on Broodie Pollen’s own eggs since her spirit could do nothing to warm them. Frost often found himself at the edge of her nest looking in with muted delight at the four small speckled eggs.

“Hello again Frost.” Came the amused voice of Broodie Poppy. “Come to check on your kin again?”

“Sorry Broodie Poppy. I just can’t stop thinking about them. What are they going to be like? Do you think they’ll know me?”

“Only the Great Spirit knows, precious little wing. They won’t know you until you introduce yourself. They don’t even know their own mother until—” But her blue eyes clouded with pain, and she broke off. “Say,” She said in a cracking voice. “How would you like to do old Broodie Poppy a favor?”

Frost perked up excitedly. “I would love to do your favor! Tell me what to do!” A mission! He thought excitedly. Finally, something to do!

“I just want a chance to stretch my wings. Do you think you could use that big boy pelt of yours to keep these little eggs warm while I take a quick flight? I’ll be back before you know it. I just get so restless, cooped up in here all day.”

“Yes! Yes! I can do that for you, Broodie Poppy!” Frost puffed out his chest, delighted to be chosen for such a delicate task. Not to mention, he would get to talk to his kin! Even if they couldn’t respond, it would be nice to have somewing to talk to.

Poppy stepped out of the nest and invited Frost to take her place. “Just spread your wings out over them, little wing. If anything happens, call, and Broodie Ivy will be right in. She’s watching over the Whelps right now.” And without another word she leaped clear over the hollow in one fluid display and landed perfectly on the ledge. She let herself drop out of sight just as Frost was figuring out how to make himself comfortable.

The eggs were so warm against his belly. He felt strong. Capable. He was there to protect those eggs and nothing would stop him! He lifted his head just enough to peer sadly at Whisper—She’d barely twitched a whisker since the last time he checked. Her pelt grew matted from lack of care.

“Hey, Whisper?”

Her ear flicked, but she didn’t respond.

“Hey Whisper, Broodie Poppy let me sit on Broodie Pollen’s eggs! Wanna come see?” Silence greeted his friendly question.

“Whisper—?"

“I heard you the first time. I’m too tired. Just let me sleep.”

Frost hung his head. Before their adventure, No broodie could stop Whisper from sticking her snout into every clutch at least three times a day. But now, she just lay there. Too sad to eat, groom herself, even play with her own litterkin. He didn’t only lose Broodie Pollen. He lost his sister, too. It cracked his heart wide open with a loud rap.

Frost’s eyes widened. No—

That wasn’t his heart. . . It was the eggs! The eggs were hatching! Frost scrambled to his claws; eyes wide. He scrambled madly for the Hollow Ledge, calling out; “Broodie Ivy! BROODIE IVY! BROODY POPPY!” But no matter how loud he squealed, no fluffy of wingbeats came to greet him.

Another soft crunching noise sounded from the corner.

Frost raced back to the eggs. One of them developed a deep c***k, running along the shell. It wobbled gently back and forth. His heart raced. What could he do?! He’d never helped an egg hatch before! With a wild cry of fear, he called out; “Whisper!”

She didn’t answer.

“Whisper! Seriously! Stop moping like a moonsick broodie for two seconds—And come here!”

“I told you to leave me alone, Frost, why won’t you—”

“THE EGGS ARE HATCHING!” He roared, cutting across her. This was no time for her to mope; they had an emergency on their claws!

Whisper glanced up, eyes startled. “Wait, did you just say the eggs are—?”

“Hatching, yes, now come on! I could really use some help here!” Frost impatiently worked his claws against the ground, staring helplessly into the nest. The spirits always cursed him with the rottenest luck—And the most unlucky family members! Those little birdbrains would choose now of all time to make their grand entrance into the world.

Whisper stood at Frost’s shoulder. “Have you seen the tooth yet?” She asked in a hushed croak. Her voice cracked from lack of use.

“The tooth?” Frost’s head spun. Why would a tooth help anything? Where would they even find a tooth? His blank look must’ve been enough for Whisper, because she shook her head and rolled her eyes like he’d asked her why the sky was blue.

“Drakes.” She muttered under her breath. “The egg tooth, birdbrain! Don’t you remember that little horn you used to have on the end of your muzzle? If you see that, then you know the whelplings inside are in full hatch.”

Frost peered into the nest, leaning his muzzle as close to the most active egg as he could without touching it. The c***k widened in the wingbeats he’d been gone. The egg still rocked. “Should we help them?”

“Do you want to hurt them before they’ve even been hatched? No, it’s best to let the broodies do that. Maybe we should turn that one over.” She ghosted one of her whiskers over the shell of the egg she indicated.

“Do you think that would help?”

“Frost!”

“Why don’t you do it, if you’re so smart?!” He hissed through his teeth, foreclaw nervously tearing at the nest wall.

“Fine.” She huffed, stomping past him. She leaned one of her wings over the nest wall, and used a foreclaw to gingerly turn the egg right-side up.

“Whisper—Look!” Frost breathed in disbelief. He could see a tiny horn poking through the shell, slowly widening it. Her bristling, bad temper took a pause as she stared down at the little egg in absolute wonder. The others in the clutch were starting to shake.

“That’s the egg tooth!” Whisper snapped back, though most of the edge melted from her voice, replaced instead by wonder. “Look how small it is! It’s hard to believe we ever fit in such a tiny shell, huh, Frost?”

Frost couldn’t help but croon his agreement. It was the most she’d spoken to him in three moonrises! He felt warmth flooding his chest and leaned in to nose one of the other eggs over. He could see the tiny egg tooth poking valiantly against the shell.

“Do you think they’ll look like Broodie Pollen?” Her squeak was so soft, Frost wasn’t even sure he heard it at first. He stiffened, glancing down at his litterkin, worried one wrong word might send her away again. He didn’t know if he could bear it.

“I bet they will. I bet they’ll act like her too. Little bossy birdbrains.”

Whisper couldn’t help but let out a chitter of laughter. “I’d bet all the moths in the night that you’re right. Do you think they’ll like me. . .?” She asked, softer still.

Frost opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden flurry of activity over the Hollow ledge drew his gaze. He saw Broodie Poppy climbing hurriedly through the opening and into the Nursery Hollow.

“Good Spirits! Are the eggs hatching? Why didn’t you call me!?” She cried shrilly, shouldering the pair of whelplings out of the way. “Out of the way, out of the way, I don’t want you two confusing the eggs!”

Frost’s whiskers lashed with indignation. He had called for her! She didn’t answer! Puffing up, getting ready to defend himself, a movement caught his eye, and he felt his anger ebb away, cold nothingness taking up its place.

Whisper’s tail dragged on the ground behind her as she crawled her way back to their nest. His heart sank. She’d already slunk back into her dark place. Leaving Broodie Poppy to tend the hatchlings, he poked his head over the edge of the nest, staring down at the frail body of his litterkin. "Thanks for–"

"Yeah." She cut across him, silencing Frost with a single word. His ears collapsed against his back.

Would he ever get along with his sister again?