Her eyes tracked back to the middle. That large piece of glassified earth on the far side. Big enough to land on.
“NO.”
The Elder’s voice was sharp.
“You’re not thinking. Follow the route I gave you. Around the edge. Less risk. You’ll make it.”
Solstice looked up at the Elder, one last time.
“Keep repeating the laws. Focus on your breathing and progression. Go. Now.”
Solstice looked for the first step.
“The strong feed.”
She found the darker chunk the Elder had pointed to.
Or—was that the right one? Dark. It looked dark. Close enough.
“The weak provide.”
She jumped.
Landed. Hot, but manageable. She kept moving.
“The strong feed.” She kept repeating the same law.
Next—the limbs wedged in the rocks. She jumped. The limbs bent under her weight, touching the hot ground below, and the stuck base of the branch popped itself free from the rocks just as she leaped away.
“The weak provide.”
The half-burned log. She landed on it. It spun slightly under her paws, rolling. She adjusted, and waited, and then jumped before it could shift out further from under her.
“The strong feed.”
Another piece of debris. Glass—it cracked beneath her. She pushed off hard as it shattered.
“The weak provide.”
The far edge was getting closer now. She could see displaced dirt beyond the glass rim—just a few more jumps.
“The strong feed.”
She pushed off.
“The weak provide.”
And before she landed, she’d forgotten the rest of the instructions.
Her paws hit glass. Smooth. Hot. She tried to grip, to climb up the edge from where she landed, but her claws found nothing—just more smooth surface.
Oh, wait, I made it! It’s so high. No way could I do this part backwards.
She jumped up again, scrabbling. Slid back down.
Tried again. Her burned pads couldn’t grip. The glass was too hot, too slick.
Then the chunk of the glass wall broke away beneath her weight. She fell with it, tumbling, landing hard on her side on a different, but much brighter stone.
Pain flared everywhere. Her tail touched something, and she smelled burning fur—her own—yanked it away as it caught fire—
I can’t get out. I can’t—
The panic took over completely. She looked back up at the edge—the displaced dirt where the glass had broken away and launched herself at it.
She hit the dirt wall. Claws dug in. Hanging. Her back legs were scrabbling for purchase, but finding nothing. Her tail was still burning behind her. She was just too exhausted and couldn’t pull herself up again. Couldn’t—
Something long and dark descended beside her. A branch. Thick. Covered in dead leaves and small twigs.
Solstice didn’t think. Just grabbed it. Found the energy to climb. Her tail batted against the leaves and finally—finally—the flame went out.
Stolen story; please report.
—Up—
—Keep going—
I’m not the weak.
The branch was getting hotter beneath her. The dry leaves caught fire—
She hauled herself over the edge just as the branch burst into flames behind her, and with little regard for herself, she allowed gravity to roll her down the dirt, down to the cooler ground.
—Safe—
The Elder released the branch from her mouth. It fell back into the trench, flaring bright as it burned.
Solstice lay there, panting. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything hurt.
Her paws were blistered and cut—blood and burned flesh on each. One pad was gone entirely—peeled away, left behind down in that trench. Multiple singed marks went deep in her flesh. Her side was charred where she’d landed, the fur blackened. Her tail—what she could see of where it had caught fire—was scorched bare at the tip, and peeking out was a nub of bone.
And now—now that she wasn’t moving, wasn’t running, wasn’t fighting to survive—all of it hit at once.
She started crying. Not quiet. Not dignified. Loud, gasping sobs that shook her whole body. It hurt. Everything hurt. Her paws, her side, her tail, everything was pain, and she couldn’t make it stop and—
“It hurts,” she gasped between sobs. “It hurts it hurts it hurts—”
She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe right. Just cried and shook and hurt.
Footsteps.
The Elder circled Solstice slowly. Assessing. Those yellow eyes taking in every injury.
Then she walked closer. Settled down behind Solstice, lying against her back like a mother cat would with a kitten.
The contact was… wrong. Not warm. Almost cold. And not quite solid, in a way that made Solstice’s skin crawl beneath her fur. But also—something else. A sensation that spread from where they touched. Heavy. Dizzy-making. Like the world was tilting slightly.
It felt… good, in a way that didn’t make sense. The wrongness should have made her want to pull away, but instead she leaned into it. Wanted more of that floating feeling.
The Elder began to groom her. Long, rough strokes of her tongue across Solstice’s head. Her ears. The back of her neck.
Not licking the wounds. Just grooming. The way cats did.
“Fourteenth Law, Soft-paw,” the Elder said quietly between strokes. “The exit is more important than the entrance.”
Solstice hiccuped through her sobs.
“Your first route may have worked, with more conviction. But you didn’t plan for the pain. Only the path.”
Another long stroke across her head.
“The Second Law—Pain is the only teacher that doesn’t lie. You’ll remember this now.”
Something else began happening.
Solstice felt a gentle euphoria, a tingling that went deeper than her fur, spreading from the Elder. She could see a faint, barely visible glow flowing from the Elder into her own body.
The sensation spread from every place the Elder’s tongue touched—that tingling warmth growing stronger with each stroke.
The pain in her pads began to shift. Not ease, but change.
Flesh started regrowing. The missing pad—she could feel it crawling over the raw tissue out of nowhere, like fungus out on a parade.
Then something else.
Something worse.
Sensation came back all at once. Full signal. Every nerve ending was firing at maximum intensity.
Solstice shrieked. Her whole body convulsed, twisting, trying to get away from the pain that was coming from her rear paw. She couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t—
Teeth closed on the scruff of her neck.
The Elder lifted her. Held her suspended like a kitten while Solstice’s body spasmed. Her legs kicked uselessly at the air. The pain was everywhere now—paws, side, tail—all of it regenerating at once, all the nerves screaming back to life.
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. There was only agony.
Then—slowly—the signal began to normalize. The screaming intensity faded to sharp pain. Then to aching. Then, the itching as new skin covered the raw places. The pad filled in. Complete again.
Her side stopped spiking for her attention. The burned patches sealed over. Pink flesh, but whole.
Her ribs—the one that had been clicking since the chase—shifted, settled, went silent. Her sprained front leg—the ache she’d been ignoring for miles—also eased.
Her tail. The scorched section closed. No more exposed bone.
The glow faded. The Elder lowered her back down gently. Released the scruff and settled beside her again.
Solstice lay there, shaking. Exhausted beyond exhaustion. But the pain was… manageable now.
She looked at her paws. Still pink where the worst burns had been. Her side was patchy—the fur hadn’t grown back.
But she wasn’t bleeding anymore. Wasn’t burned down to the bone.
The Elder continued to groom her methodically. Thoroughly. Taking her time.
Solstice wanted to stay like this. Press into her. Wanted—
The Elder stopped. Stood up. Stepped away.
The sensation cut off immediately.
The world snapped back into sharp focus. Too sharp. Everything was too bright, too loud, too real. The ground felt too solid beneath her. Her body felt too heavy.
She wanted it back. Whatever that had been. That floating wrongness that had felt so good.
Solstice rolled over, looking up at the Elder.
Something huge and warm and overwhelming filled her chest. She didn’t know how to say what she felt. The Elder had helped her. Had saved her. Had made the pain stop. Had—
The Elder was already walking away. “Come. We still have a ways to go before we reach the Vivid.”
Solstice pushed herself to standing. Her paws were still sensitive, but they worked, so she could, in fact, follow.
The Elder had been right. About the pain. About the laws. About everything.
If Solstice had been smarter, she wouldn’t have panicked. If she’d been stronger, she wouldn’t have needed saving. If she’d remembered the Elder’s laws—
The pain in her pads with each step would remind her. The itching in her side would remind her. The tender, bald spot on the tip of her tail would remind her.
The Elder’s voice drifted back. “Remember my laws of survival, Soft-paw. Today taught you what my words couldn’t.”
Solstice wouldn’t forget. She desperately didn’t want to disappoint the Elder again.
The Elder’s tail swished once, visible ahead through the dim light.
Solstice continued to limp after her, and with each step, something inside her shifted. Settled into place. She’d learn the words for this feeling eventually. But she couldn’t fully understand what was happening, not yet.
She knew one thing to be true.
She needed the Elder and would do anything to keep from being left behind.
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- When Malice began grooming Solstice after the trench—did that moment feel like comfort, something unsettling, or both at once?
- As Solstice limped after Malice at the end—did you feel she was growing stronger through this trial, or becoming dangerously dependent on her?
- After finishing this chapter, what's the one thing you're carrying into Chapter 10?