The wet season was in full swing, and the aroma of flowering shrubs spun in the tossing wind. The two-year-old Rainfall stared into it, letting the breeze nip her eyelids and comb through her whiskers. It soothed the heat from her tawny fur and brindled brown stripes. After a few moments her eyes began to close and the soft, reassuring calls that’d been trickling from her muzzle ceased. Exhaustion swamped her.
A sharp snout nudged her shoulder. Rainfall’s eyes snapped open, and her neck twisted to the side, the movement so forceful that her whole body jerked. Her hindpaws scrabbled at the bark of the branch she was perched on and her long, heavy front claws wrapped over a thinner branch to keep her from falling. Another meerkat balanced in the shrub beside her, orange-yellow sand clotting around her black claws and nose. Wide green eyes circled in deep brown fur like Rainfall’s own peered at her.
“Sorry,” her older sister, Leaf, murmured. “I thought you might like a break. I can take over as sentry.”
Rainfall blinked and shook out her pelt, small round ears pricked. “Thanks.”
Leaf bobbed her head, snout already turning so that her sharp gaze could scan the surrounding desert. “I think Hyena’s looking for you.” When she met Rainfall’s flower-blue gaze again her expression was soft with sympathy. “He’s been keeping you busy, hasn’t he?”
The other meer squirmed, her paws slipping once more. “I suppose.”
“I can always help out if you need it, take him off your paws for a while.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rainfall bit the inside of her cheek as she ducked, removing her paws from their holds to slide to the ground. She cast a glance at her family, the Watchers gang of meerkats. They were ranged across a valley between two large dunes, most of them digging fervently. The holes weren’t deep, the wet season drew their prey to the top of the soil and within easier reach. Her understudy, the young four-moon-old that she was tasked with caring for, shouldn’t have run into any trouble unearthing an insect to fill his stomach while she was taking her turn as sentinel, watching for predators. Her gaze flitted to the spot at the base of a gnarled, dead tree where she’d scented the liar of a scorpion and left her younger brother to dig it out for himself.
The spot was deserted, though the soil was churned. She noticed a discarded black stinger as she trotted over, tail up, brown tip waving with her steps. “Hyena,” she sighed, scratching at the earth, “I asked you to wait here.”
After nosing about the area, she stood on her hindlegs, using her stiff tail to balance, and searched the family. She sniffed, nostrils flaring, but the Watchers were too spread out to pick out Hyena’s smaller form and scruffier fur among the other adults. Rainfall did hear her mother’s rhythmic lead calls though, sounding like a cross between a hoarse bark and a mew. The dominant female emitted them to make it easier for the family to follow her and not become separated if they lost sight of her. Louder than that was Leaf’s steady chorus of calm chuffs, carrying over the group to assure them that someone was on sentry duty.
Squinting under the sun’s stare, Rainfall rose and wound a path towards her mother, picking at the dust as she went. She’d enjoyed a millipede that morning and was still full but a meer couldn’t afford not to eat as much as possible while the foraging was good. In the desert fortunes could change swiftly.
So swiftly in fact that even a rational meer like Rainfall wasn’t ready for it.
She was so intent on finding her parents, thinking that Hyena might’ve latched onto the dominant male or female in her absense, that she failed to notice her littersister. An almost identical meer slammed into her shoulder, making Rainfall stumble. She swung to face the female with the lighter tawny fur only to find that it was Adder, who’d been skulking at the edge of the group with her head bowed.
“Why are you acting like a fringer?” Rainfall asked without thought, nose darting to sniff at her sister.
Adder cringed away her amber gaze flashing with fear and her pelt bristling. Rainfall’s jaws parted, expression morphing with concern when the scent hit her.
Her littersister was slathered in the rank odor of the Threads, an enemy family of meerkats. Rainfall couldn’t keep her own fur from fluffing and her tail arching over her back. “What have you done?”
Adder cringed even further, looking smaller than Rainfall had ever seen her. “Don’t tell!” she pleaded, eyes huge, tail quivering. “Please don’t tell!”
Pity swelled in Rainfall’s chest. She let her muscles relax. “Adder…”
“Rainfall, please. Nothing will come of it, I swear.”
“How do you know that?” Rainfall lowered her snout to Adder’s so that no one would overhear.
Her littersister cast an anxious look over her shoulder. “Just don’t say anything.”
“If Moon finds out…” Rainfall allowed the sentence to trail as her own pale blue gaze sought their mother. She was easy to pick out even at the head of the foraging party. By now both sisters were being left behind as the family continued to forage. Moon was the biggest female in the family, rivaling their father Screech in size. They held all breeding rights. If Rainfall or Adder wanted to mate, they’d need to leave the family. Adder’s transgression with an enemy male could lead to her eviction. Rainfall shivered at the thought, lone meer didn’t survive for long. She didn’t want that fate for her littersister, not if she could help it.
“I know.” Adder stared at the ground, turning over a stone with her claws.
“I won’t tell,” Rainfall sighed.
Adder lunged to rub her muzzle to Rainfall’s. “Thank you!”
The blue-eyed meer dodged with a frustrated huff. “Get that scent off you before you go touching me. The last thing I need is Moon thinking I’m cavorting with enemy meer.”
Her sister shook herself and nodded. Adder’s gaze bounced until she spotted their father and dominant male, Screech, scent marking a tuft of grass. As the large meer hurried to catch up with Moon at the front Adder slunk to the tufty grass. Shaking herself, she plunged into it and rolled so that Screech’s marks might cover that of the roving male she’d just met with. Rainfall watched, forehead creased with thought. What was so special about this Thread that her littersister would risk eviction to meet with him?
The clumsy sound of twigs rattling made her nose turn. Leaf’s guard calls had ceased and by the time Rainfall located her older sister Leaf was bounding past her. The two-year-old stiffened but Leaf didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Her green gaze was slitted against dust kicked up by the foraging party. “What are you two doing? Come, or we’ll be left behind!” The sentry surged after the family and Rainfall realized they had fallen behind, the tawny shapes of the Watchers were disappearing beyond the flank of a dune. Adder leapt to her paws and the littermates hurried after Leaf. Rainfall craned her neck to look at the sky. Marshall eagles wouldn’t hesitate to snatch an isolated meer. Neither would a goshawk or an eagle owl.
She was so consumed by the idea of areal threats that she bundled into Adder’s haunches, and they almost toppled into an elderly meer towards the back of the gang. He grumbled but kept foraging. Leaf scrambled onto a log and her guard calls resumed. Rainfall and Adder swapped glances, and Rainfall’s chest bubbled with relieved giggles. No one seemed to have noticed their absense. After a few heartbeats Adder blinked her gratitude and brushed her flank to Rainfall’s. The blue-eyed meer nuzzled her littersister’s cheek. Her sister padded to the center of the gang, sniffing the ground in search of burried insects. Everyone was too busy to notice any traces of the enemy smell remaining of her pelt. Rainfall took a deep breath. At least one crisis had been averted. As long as Moon didn’t learn of Adder’s meeting, she’d be fine.
Smoothing her fur, her fangs visible at either side of her mouth, Rainfall stood up on her back legs to search for Hyena. Her younger brother and four-moon-understudy was easier to spot this time. The swath of mane-like fur on the back of his neck was the giveaway that the pup was crowding Moon as she dug, obnoxious begging calls spilling from his muzzle. The dominant female appeared to be ignoring the pup, he really was too old to be crying for food as if he had no clue how to feed himself. Rainfall flicked her long, inflexible tail and trotted in their direction. She was only distracted by the rumble of her stomach. The scent of skink was close to the surface. The blue-eyed meer hadn’t eaten since early that morning. She figured it’d be best to take advantage of the plentiful prey. Helping to feed and train Hyena as his guardian meant that she didn’t get to keep as many of the insects she caught for herself and that she had less time to forage. The sun was high in the sky, creeping towards high sun which was when Moon usually called for a rest and break from the heat. If she wanted another meal before then she’d have to unearth the skink now. She’d be no use to Hyena on an empty, irate stomach.
Shoveling sand with her front paws and letting it spray out behind her, it wasn’t long before Rainfall possessed the skink. She bit into the long, bright pink worm, and, spine facing the rest of the family to deter any of her younger siblings from thieving, slurped it down whole. It was an odd sensation. The insect wriggled with strong pumps of its thick, vine like body. Rainfall was used to eating skinks, but she still grimaced as the last bit went down. At least her stomach had settled.
A flash of a brindled pelt caught her gaze. Rainfall froze where she was hunched on her haunches, forepaws curled to her stomach and spine curved. She smacked her lips, tail flat in the sand at her side. A meer was darting around a shrub, then dipping into a groove of earth and emerging to creep beneath a bush with green, bristling branches. It stared right at her, and she felt the heat of that gaze on her fur. Rainfall straightened and squinted, but she couldn't recognize the indivisual. They were too far to smell and form this distance Rainfall couldn’t distinguish any identifying pelt markings. All meer looked alike, only those she was close to could Rainfall recognize at a distance. She tipped her head. Did that mean that this meer wasn’t a Watcher?
An icy shudder worked its way up her spine. What if this was the Thread rover still trailing their family? She twisted to find that she was again foraging on the edges of the group. No one was paying her any mind. Root, her older brother, had taken Leaf’s place on the log and was producing soft guard calls. His snout was angled to the sky. He hadn’t spotted the stranger yet. Should Rainfall raise the alarm? Screech would be livid to think that a roving male dare venture so close to his family.
Rainfall faced the intruder once more. The rover was low, belly brushing the ground as he streaked closer. He only had eyes for Rainfall and his silver gaze was breathtaking. They glowed like stars. The alarm bark died in her throat before it could manifest. For several heartbeats she could only stare, pinned by his passionate gaze. Had he not been satisfied by Adder and was seeking another mate?
The blue-eyed meer tried to shake herself out of it. She tore her gaze from the ever-encroaching rover’s and nibbled at her chest fur to bide time. Why wasn’t she alerting the family? He could be the beginning of a full-scale invasion by the Threads. Heat collected on her skin, beading like water. He was still watching her with those mysterious, handsome eyes. Curiosity bloomed like a flower in her mind as much as she pushed it away, she’d already acquired a taste for it. She wanted to know what was so great about this rover that Adder would risk her position among the Watchers. Rainfall just wanted to talk. Maybe she could even gleam some valuable information about the Threads that would please her parents before chasing the audacious male off.
Glancing this way and that, checking to make sure that none of her groupmates saw her, Rainfall made a dash for the rover.
He hesitated under the bush, branches trailing over his spine and shadows crisscrossing his stripes. His gaze glittered, darting this way and that, watching her back. Rainfall reached the bush and ducked beneath raking branches. He blinked at her and flipped around. Togther, they slunk from the bush and made their way to a nearby bolthole, out of sight of her family.
The reek of the Threads wafted from his pelt as the male sat at the lip of the tunnel, forepaws resting on his belly. The bolthole was sheltered by a few shrubs and the crest of the dune. They were safe from predators and the Watchers for the moment. The security of the underground only a scurry away. The rover’s scent had permeated the ground here and Adder’s was there as well, lingering from her visit earlier. It seemed that the Thread had been squatting on their range for at least a few days, probably shadowing the group. Had any other females fallen victum to his charm? If so, Rainfall hadn’t noticed and neither had her mother. He must be very adept at his sneaking if Screech hadn’t realized this Thread was on Watchers’ ground. The blue-eyed meer shifted, eyes flickering once more over the single cloud hovering in the sky. It was fluffy and white and innocent, like a chick’s down.
The rover wasted no time, crawling over to her and snuffling her shoulder fur. He ran his teeth through her pelt, nibbling and combing out pesky fleas. Rainfall stiffened but didn’t move. His heady fragrance overwelmed her senses.
“I don’t even know your name,” Rainfall murmured.
“Chance,” he purred, silver gaze sparkling. “I’m called Chance.”
“Rainfall.”
The rover sniffed, “I don’t smell rain.”
“No, that’s my name.” The Watcher twisted her neck to face him.
He rested a warm, gentle paw on her shoulder and flashed his teeth. “I know.”
A laugh rose inside her without permission. She chuckled huskily, trying to cut it off. This is dangerous, a voice inside her head warned. “You’re a Thread.”
He tipped his head. “Does that really matter?”
Rainfall gazed deep into his eyes. Maybe it doesn’t…
Chance continued to groom her with sure, smooth strokes. His side was pressed to hers. She lifted her chin so that he could reach her neck. A sigh of longing sang in her sluggish blood. You’re supposed to be getting information, that nagging voice reminded.
She struggled to pull herself from her daze. “Where is the rest of your family?”
“On our ground, of course.” His words were muffled by her fur. They vibrated against her skin. “It’s just me.” He flitted around her to groom the side of her neck and shoulder. She ran her teeth lazily through the fur of his back. He chittered his appriciation and her daze deepened. This was nice. Chance obviously didn’t mean her family any harm. What was wrong with this? How would this hurt anyone?
Why should Moon be the only female allowed to bear pups? I would be a good mother. Rainfall gulped and tried to thrust away the traitorous thought. But she couldn’t deny that her yearning mounted as Chance’s tail wrapped over her forepaws. Now he was grooming her back with meticulous strokes.
“You want to ask me something else,” the rover observed.
Rainfall surprised herself with the next question that dropped from her lips, “Why Adder?”
Chance lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “Because I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Me?” Rainfall’s tail quivered.
“Of course, you,” Chance chortled as if her doubt was amusing. “I’ve seen how dedicated you are, Rainfall. Your understudy is a lucky pup.”
“Hyena.” Rainfall fluffed her fur as she remembered that she was supposed to be catching up and checking in on her younger brother right now. Moon would grow tired of her youngest pup’s harassment and notice that she was gone. Rainfall had made a vow to protect Hyena when he chose her as his guardian. It wasn’t fair for her to shirk her duties like this. Hadn’t she been critical of Adder when she returned earlier clutched in Thread scent? Rainfall shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong. If anyone found out it would disrupt the family’s unity and a meer could only survive as long as her family did. “I should go,” she said, sounding more alert than she felt.
Chance withdrew to a respectful distance, his gaze shimmering with dissapointment. “I understand, your family needs you.” He looked at his paws, black claws clenching the soil. “I was just hoping for some company. It hard, being out here alone…”
Rainfall’s expression softened. “You’re such a great meer, I was hoping to get to know you,” he let his sentence trail.
She swallowed. She’d never met an unrelated meer willing to pay her so much attention, who wanted to know her. “Well,” the Watcher said as she shifted on her hindpaws, “I guess Hyena will be alright for a little while on his own…”
“Really?” He peeked up at her, muzzle parted with hope. He looked so handsome and earnest as the sun lit his brown brindled stripes. Rainfall found herself nodding. The rover stood and shook out his fur. He jerked his nose at the dark bolthole entrance. “Let’s talk more inside. It’ll be cooler there, and safer.” Her gaze was fixed on him as he descended into the darkness.
Rainfall took one last scan of their surroundings, her pelt prickling at the emptiness of being separated from her family. Chance was waiting for her though. Shoving her doubts aside she followed him underground.
Later on, when she woke from her nap, Rainfall lifted her head to cuddle into Chance’s warmth only to find his spot empty. She scrambled up and cast about the chamber, sniffing. The air was still and stale. The rover was gone.
*****
The sun had ducked beneath a swelling bank of gray clouds on the horizon. It was dusk and the wind had faltered, giving the air a welcome stagnancy. Rainfall’s pelt kept bristling. She was crouched behind a camel thorn tree, her whiskers twitching. The Watchers were huddled together, bunched about the heartmound, the main burrow entrance. She spotted Hyena seated on the edge, his chin dipping to rest on his chest every few moments as his eyes fluttered closed only to snap up a heartbeat later, his brown eyes flickering and alert. Screech and Moon, the dominant male and female, were at the center grooming each other. Though Screech’s watchful gaze continued to study the area at intervals. Stem, Leaf’s littersister, was scratching the lose sand from a hole with Root’s assistance. Meanwhile Leaf’s teeth nibbled at Adder’s shoulder fur.
Adder’s amber gaze was round with worry as she stared out into the distance. She sat on her haunches with her forepaws pressed to her chest, posture stiff. Rainfall’s throat closed. Her littersister had noticed her absense and was watching for her return. Indeed, where some of the family would’ve trickled below ground by now everyone was still awake. Their routine was broken. Did they realize where she’d been?
Shame burned her pelt and she shifted on her paws as if the cool sand was hot to the touch. She stood but didn’t move. Sweat built on her paw pads. Would it be better if she didn’t return, saved herself a nasty beating and public eviction?
She shook her head. It wasn’t logical to think she’d survive on her own. Rejoining the Watchers was her best chance. Meer lived by three simple truths: night is death, the desert is life, and most importantly, family is survival. If she didn’t return tonight, she’d be risking her luck on the hope that the first and third truths were void. She wasn’t delusional enough to believe such universal truths didn’t apply to her.
The longer she hesitated the harder it would be for the Watchers to accept her back. She peeked at her mother once more. The matriarch was grooming her stomach, paying no attention to anything else. Her movements were relaxed. Maybe she won’t even care. There’s no reason for her to evict me if I’m not pregnant.
The thought froze her in her tracks. Her eyes flashed to the sky as the first star appeared in the navy dusk. Please, dear Before Us, don’t let me be with pups after one encounter! It was only a silly mistake! The sky was silent and the clouds building on the horizon. The spirits of her ancestors, The Before Us, didn’t answer. Rainfall gulped.
An elderly meer stood up and slithered underground for the night. Rainfall shook out her pelt. If she wanted a warm place to sleep tonight, she had to approach now. Mustering all her courage and burying her anxieties, the blue-eyed meer slipped from her cover and padded forward. Her head was slightly ducked as if she was still searching for prey. The gazes of the Watchers switched to her fur. She risked peeking up. No one sounded the alarm, though Root yipped a call to let everyone know she was there. As Moon’s darker blue eyes panned up to meet her gaze Rainfall quailed.
“Rainfall!” Adder barked and hurried to her paws, scampering to her side. Rainfall shrank away from her snuffling nose. The rest of the Watchers milled about, watching as a few more subordinates streamed towards her. Rainfall eyed the nearest entrance to the sprawling underground network of tunnels. Was there time to reach it or would running make her look guilty?
Her littersister’s eyes were round as she poked Rainfall with her snout. “You were…?” She saw disbelief war with hurt in her sister’s gaze. Rainfall looked at her paws. Had Chance given both sisters the same speech? Anger seethed beneath her fur but now was not the time to show it. Both of them had been fooled. She didn’t need to answer Adder’s question, the truth clung to her pelt. She’d tried to wipe the scent off, cover it up, hide it, but there was no escaping what she’d done. If she tried hard enough, she’d probably be able to unearth Thread scent on Adder too but it’d been over half a day since Adder’s meeting with him. Rainfall doubted her littersister had been dumb enough to sit at the bolthole wreathed in his scent for spells waiting for the rover to return.
Not like she had.
Adder backed away from her, fur on end. Rainfall still couldn’t meet her gaze. Stem was the next to reach her. Her older sister’s pelt bushed and little, agitated chittering noises flew from her muzzle. Stem began to rub her cheek and slide against Rainfall without speaking, instinctually trying to rid her of the flagrant enemy scent. Rainfall stood still and allowed it. It wasn’t a hostile gesture but one of reassurance. If Stem was reaffirming her family aroma that must be a good sign, a sign that she still had a family. Root followed, the adult male meer even more irate at the reek on her fur. Rainfall picked at the ground and lowered her head as he rubbed his own cheek to her flanks and shoulders, his strong, healthy muscles rippling beneath his coat.
Leaf came next, concern sparking in the depths of her green gaze. Like the others there was no need for her to speak, everyone by now had realized what Rainfall had done. She sniffed at her younger sister’s cheek and neck and then withdrew to weave comfortingly around Adder. Leaf had never been one of the largest or most assertive females in the group even though she was one of the oldest daughters of the dominant female. She didn’t seem to feel any urgency in marking her. Rainfall was grateful. For a moment she could breathe.
Then a small shadow approached. He was about a third her size with scruffy fur and blazing brown eyes. Hyena took one whiff of her and bared his teeth, his spine arching and tail shooting straight up in the air. “That’s where you were!” he hissed, claws raking the soil. There was a little, fleshy, red welt under one of his eyes. It was the painful sting of the scorpion she’d left him to dig up and dispatch by himself. Meer were immune to the venomous insect’s sting, but the bard could still leave a nasty wound.
Rainfall’s face crumpled and she reached out to her youngest brother. “Hyena, I-”
“Don’t,” her understudy snarled with a viciousness she didn’t think the pup yet possessed, “you stink of Threads.”
Too late she remembered that almost two moons ago Hyena’s littersister, Spore, had died amongst the confusion of a battle over territory with the Threads. She blinked wetly and opened her paw to him again, wanting nothing more than to pull him close and say I’m sorry. Hyena flinched from her touch.
Then the crowd parted, and Moon thrust her way through. She didn’t speak, just glowered down at her shorter daughter. The sides of her flanks held a slight bulge. She was in her first moon of pregnancy. Rainfall shrank and scrabbled at the sand, her fur ablaze. Fear churned in her gut. She squeezed her eyes shut.
But her mother only scent marked her as the others had, by rubbing her cheeks and sides to Rainfall’s pelt. The dominant female was rougher, her flank pressed to Rainfall’s so hard that the subordinate flopped to her side, curling up and mewling in deference. Moon was making it apparent that she was still the one in charge around here. Rainfall had no intention of fighting it. As Moon turned to go relief pulsed through her. At least she hadn’t been evicted for her mistake.
The rest of the family had their turn ridding her of enemy scent, Screech taking the longest to reaffirm her scent though much more gently than Moon. Her father offered no words of comfort, just flicked his tail as he darted after Moon and disappeared into the heartpassage. Soon it was only Rainfall and her littersister left in the last slivers of daylight.
Adder was the first to head below without another glance her sister’s way. Rainfall was the last to join her family in the main sleeping chamber of the burrow, the heartchamber, and even cuddling with Root she still felt cold.
*****
As the rainy season waxed on Moon’s flanks swelled even more, until the dominant female walked with a waddle. Rainfall’s and Adder’s scent slowly began to change to match hers and their flanks showed slight bulges as well. Both of the sisters and the dominant female were seething with hormones. Though for Rainfall the change was gradual.
She had less patience for training Hyena and he for her moods. One day as she unearthed a large, fat grub he swooped in to snatch it in his teeth before she could. Her understudy munched and swallowed, then hissed upon seeing her raised fur and arched tail, “It’s not my fault you met with that roving male.” Rainfall bared her teeth and tensed her muscles so that she didn’t bite her youngest brother. Hyena trotted away with his tail high.
The next day Rainfall sent Hyena to forage or steal off someone else and was up to her shoulders in her own hole. She’d just opened the lair of a centipede and licked her lips, only to cough as dry sand grains stuck to her tongue. Her lips peeled back, and she lunged to dispatch the insect-
Only for Adder to slam her hips into Rainfall’s. The blue-eyed meer stumbled to the side, sand cascading into the hole. “What are you doing?”
Adder was pressed to her side, forepaws framing the wriggling insect. Rainfall tried to dart in and grab it, but a viscous growl rumbled from her littersister’s throat. Adder’s amber gaze was hard with aggression, her expression cold. No other thoughts but those concerning her unborn pups crowded her head, at least not that Rainfall could tell. Ducking her head in submission but grumbling under her breath, the pregnant meer conceded the catch.
A few days after that Rainfall repaid Adder by jumping in to snatch her dead scorpion. She hip-slammed her littersister and snarled until Adder backed away. When she saw her mother looking and caught Moon’s gaze she held it, lifting her chin. For the first time in her life, it was Moon who broke the stare. Things seemed to be looking up. Sure, Hyena was still angry with her and took directions as abysmally as ever, but she was asserting her dominance. She rose in the ranks, even putting her older sisters Stem and Leaf in their places by frequent hip-slams, food-stealing, and scent marking. They didn’t offer any resistance, though a permanent scowl was etched into Stem’s snout, and she didn’t groom Rainfall or Adder at night but stuck close to Moon.
“She’s just jealous that she can’t have pups,” Adder whispered to her one evening as they groomed each other, bonding despite the natural ferocity that pregnancy in meer brought on.
Rainfall laughed so hard that she couldn’t breathe, she almost rolled right into a tunnel.
Adder and Rainfall both gained weight and their pregnancies became more noticeable. Some of the males shifted eyes glittering with unease every time one of the sisters raised their voices. A few of the younger meer in the family even seemed confused. They would peer between Adder, Rainfall, and Moon as if wondering who to follow. For a few turns it felt good. Joy washed Rainfall’s pelt each time she felt her growing pups move. But just as the rains stop and the watering holes dry the unbalance could not last.
It was not just Adder and Rainfall affected by their pregnancies. Their mother’s aggression and suspicion spiked as well.
At one point Rainfall was following the musty, rot-like scent of a burrowing millipede. She picked over the ground and scratched here and there, head down and focused. Stem was on sentry duty and emanating a guards’ assuring calls. Hyena trailed behind her, eyes glazed with boredom. The blue-eyed meer paid him no mind, the hunger in her belly was enough to distract her from all else. It was early morning and the small mammal had eaten nothing since the evening before. The sun blared down on her.
There was no warning except for perhaps the tensing of other group members and the faltering of Stem’s calls. Rainfall was nearly a moon into her three-moon pregnancy and sniffed excitedly as the scent pooled. The wriggling, thousand-legged insect would be under this patch of sand. Using long, blunt, thick claws the blue-eyed meer began to dig. Out of her periphery she noticed Hyena duck to avoid being sprayed by sand.
Then a weight heavier than Adder collided with her side. Rainfall flopped over, winded and gasping. Moon stood over her, belly bulging and lips pulled back from her single-fanged maw. Her cobalt blue gaze blazed with anger and her fur bristled. “There are only three truths and you’ve managed to break the most important of them all.”
Rainfall’s mouth went dry, and her tongue swished over her teeth. Her pulse pounded with the speed of a cheetah’s thrumming paws. “Moon, I…” Shame and guilt roiled in her stomach. Her appetite vanished. Family is survival. Her mother was right, Rainfall was a Truthbreaker. How could the Watchers survive if the family wasn’t united? Everyone was confused and uneasy due to Rainfall’s increased aggression and her understudy wasn’t even being trained with the attention he deserved. Rainfall’s disobedience and dalliances with enemy meer had put the whole family at risk. She shivered. “Mother-”
Moon was on her in a moment, growls so loud that Rainfall could hear nothing else. They crashed in her ears like thunder. Small, pathetic warbles spewed from her throat. She tried to placate her mother as the heavier meer pinned her, pressing her daughter to the sand. Rainfall scrabbled at the soil and tried to reach up and groom Moon’s chest. At the feel of her teeth teasing apart her fur Moon snarled and whipped about. For a heartbeat Rainfall thought the attack was over. She’d been put in her place. The eyes of the family singed her pelt, yet none of them made a move towards her. Wasn’t the humiliation enough of a punishment?
Rainfall should’ve known better. She should never had given in to Chance’s advances and she had yet to pay the full price of it. She saw the barest of flashes in Moon’s dark gaze before her mother’s tail lashed her muzzle with the swiftness of her turn and knew. Talons strong a bateleur eagle’s grip squeezed her heart. Moon would see that she felt the pain of her mistakes even if her daughter was swelling with her grandpups.
It was all about the family’s survival, Moon’s family’s survival, and sacrifices would be made. Now that Rainfall was soon to bare her own litter, she understood that drive to protect ones pups, even those unborn, at all costs. As a mother she knew the same fire seared in her own heart, arcing into the depths of her very being. Maybe that was where the struggle to rise hailed from as she thrust her paws against Moon, trying to push her off.
But as Moon’s daughter her thoughts were a turmoil of disbelief and shock that any of this was happening. It couldn’t be happening, not to Rainfall. Rainfall was a dutiful meer, a loyal Watcher, a dedicated helper with every litter Moon bore since she was six moons old. Rainfall had an understudy and she served as a sentry. She’d even lactated for Hyena and Spore when they were too young to eat prey. Rainfall wasn’t a Truthbreaker, she’d never consort with a rover and never a Thread at that.
And yet…
Moon’s single fang flared a heartbeat before it was burried in the flesh at the base of her tail. Panic and pain thrummed through Rainfall, yanking her from the tumult of her mind. Rainfall thrashed, curling into a ball, and lashing out with her forepaws. Her claws slipped right off Moon’s coat. The dominant female held on and shook her head. Rainfall cried out, screaming, and thrust her paws into the sand. Dust swirled around her. A few of her family members chattered and clicked but none intervened. Blood splashed Rainfall’s fur.
“Moon,” Hyena whimpered. It was the barest sound, but it hung in the air crisp as a vine.
The dominant female loosened her grip enough for Rainfall to shrink to the side, panting. Blood from the wound at the base of her tail was warm tricking down her haunch. She gulped, she didn’t want to look at it. She could only imagine how much worse it would’ve been if her mother hadn’t lost her second canine tooth a year ago in a tangle with the Threads. A shudder twisted through her limbs.
Hyena was watching them with glistening eyes and bristling fur. A lump formed in Rainfall’s throat. This is all my fault. I am a Truthbreaker, and I’ve let my family down.
Moon’s muzzle curled and she swung to face her cowering daughter again. Rainfall tensed. “Get out.”
A new fear cold as fresh rain trickled through her fur and saturated her pelt. It dripped from her fur like her own blood. No! “W-What? M-Moon I, I promise this won’t happen again.”
Her mother’s eyes were flinty. “You’re right, it will never happen again. Now, get out of Watcher territory.” She took one step forward, snarl on her lips. “There’s no room in this family for Truthbreakers.”
Rainfall flinched. When Moon took another pace, rage morphing her expression, she turned tail and ran. Moon and a few other females gave chase but broke off after only a few strides. The blue-eyed meer ran with her heart in her throat until she came to an unused Watchers sleeping burrow. There she sat on her haunches, catching her breath, hiccupping sobs making the task of recovering for her sprint difficult. She wasn’t even a fringer, denoted to survival on the outside of the family but still part of the family. Eviction. The word made her bones hollow with dread. Rainfall had been evicted from the Watchers and who knew if she’d ever be allowed to return. She’d been so hard on Adder for her transgressions, so judgmental, not understanding how her littersister could risk losing everything she loved.
Now she’d gone and done it herself.
She sat alone on the heartmound and watched as the sky dimmed. Gray clouds rolled in lazy fumbles on the horizon, grumbling closer. Dull shadows enjoyed their final stretches in the fading light. Her head swiveled as she studied the fallen branches of a tree toppled in the last storm, a shriveled shrub dead due to the roots broken by a burrowing aardvark, and sprouts of daisies puffing up here and there. Their cheerful yellow petals made Rainfall want to retch. Still, she scanned until she could hardly see even shapes right in front of her muzzle. The humidity spiked and the temperature dropped. A damp chill permeated the air and made her shiver. Gradually, the small kernel of hope as she gazed in the direction she’d left the family winked out along with the evening sun. No one was coming to join her. She’d be spending her first night alone.
There was only Rainfall.
*****
The pregnant meer slept in fits and starts. It was not the storm punishing the desert above keeping her from finding rest but the coolness of the sand and the strangeness of not having another warm body curled against her. Sometimes on chilly dry season nights the Watchers would flop over each other in a heap and sleep tucked up and content like that. She supposed she’d never expieirence such companionship again. The realization made her heart ache anew. The next day as dawn dried the desert and the clouds dispersed the blue-eyed meer still didn’t move from the big empty heartchamber. Ignoring her rumbling stomach, Rainfall huddled in the darkness with her snout under her paw.
It was unlikely that her unborn pups would survive now. The stress of living alone could cause her to lose them early, Rainfall thought. But if she wasn’t pregnant anymore maybe Moon would allow her back into the family? She’d only been full of aggression because of her pregnancy, after all. Grief clenched her chest, muscles tight. She didn’t want to lose her first litter and if Moon didn’t allow her to rejoin the Watchers she’d have to raise them alone. None of them were likely to survive. Rainfall would have no one to keep watch while foraging, no one to help her rear her offspring.
She was starting to understand why eviction was the worst fear for a meer. Rainfall nestled her nose deeper into her own pelt and tried to sleep.
The next morning her stomach would not allow her to relax any longer. Hunger gnawed painfully, hooking into her like claws. Shaking herself, the now slimmer meer emerged from the heartpassage and stood on her hindlegs facing the sun. The light warmed her darker-skinned belly and her eyes drifted. Why should she bother acting as sentry for only herself? It probably would’ve been a mercy if a predator snagged her and ended this ordeal quickly.
A heavy dew clad the daisies with moisture and smothered their scent. Everything smelled wet. There was water on the wind. It would rain again later, and Rainfall would need to forage before then if her unborn pups were to survive. Sighing, Rainfall dropped to all fours and stepped off the heartmound with slow, trepid movements. The base of her tail ached but the wound had closed. It wasn’t deep but it would scar, forever marking her as a Truthbreaker.
There was a flash of tawny behind a fallen branch. Rainfall went rigid, bobbing her head to glimpse the creature once more. Too small to be a big predator. Was it a yellow mongoose or a pale ground squirrel? Or something much more dangerous, like a wild cat? She’d seen a clawbeast snatch a meer before and the outcome wasn’t pretty. Rainfall backed away, edging towards the heartmound and main burrow entrance. Her hindpaw slipped into a hole and she stumbled.
When she looked up after righting herself, fur on end, another meer was hunched at the edge of the burrow area, framed by flowers. She sniffed but everything was too damp to smell who the indivisual was. Then Rainfall’s breath caught.
It was a female nearly the spitting image of Rainfall with swelling flanks and gleaming amber eyes. She cocked her head and let her jaws part as if to say, “Well, don’t you know me?”
“Adder!” Rainfall gasped and galloped to her littersister. Adder caught her in an embrace with her forepaws and the sisters rubbed against each other, nuzzling and radiating chattering purrs. They circled each other, their fur brushing and Rainfall felt like she could breathe again for the first time since Moon had evicted her as Adder’s confident scent wreathed around her. “What are you doing here?” she gasped, pulling away.
Adder shook her head, then chuckled and nibbled her shoulder. “I decided to leave before Moon could evict me. With the looks I was getting I knew I was next. Figured we’d have better odds if we teamed up.”
Rainfall sat up straighter, her eyes widening. “You mean…”
“You’re not alone anymore, Rainfall!” Adder jumped to her paws, tail up. “Let’s start our own family together. It’s not as if we can raise our pups alone.”
Start our own family. Hope rekindled in her chest and sparked in her gaze. Her odds were better now that Adder was here and if they could round up a few other meer and have their pups with some helpers there was no reason they couldn’t establish their own family.
And without Moon, Rainfall herself would have a chance to become the dominant female, who held breeding rights. She’d never have to worry about being evicted again or about the survival of her young. It would be tough surviving with such low numbers, but all families had to start somewhere, didn’t they? Rainfall wouldn’t fail this new family. She’d never break the Truths again.
Adder paced off, tail still high. When Rainfall didn’t move, she barked over her shoulder, “What are you waiting for? We have to forage. Can’t start a family if we starve to death.”
Churring with more delight than Rainfall ever thought she’d feel again, the blue-eyed meer followed her sister.
