“Stinger, no!” Thorn hadn’t meant to open his mouth, but this was too much. “Beetle’s old and frail. Please, Stinger, show mercy. He won’t survive on his own!”
Stinger swiveled his head to fix his amber stare on Thorn. It was chilling, and Thorn found his admiration for Beetle growing even stronger.
“That’s Beetle’s problem. He should have thought of that before he chose to be an enemy of the troop. If he wanted to be one of us, he should not have undermined his Crownleaf. Do I make myself clear?” Stinger’s gaze lingered for a long, unnerving moment on Thorn, then turned back to Beetle. “Go. Get out of my sight, old baboon.”
“I will.” Beetle did not lower his eyes. “I will go, knowing that my fate will one day be yours, when the troop discovers the truth about you.”
His heart clenching with dismay, Thorn watched the old baboon limp away with as much dignity as he could muster. His progress was slow, and the Strongbranches hooted and chattered in mockery, but Beetle didn’t flinch. He hobbled farther and farther into the dusk, until he was nothing but a shadow against the graying grassland; then he vanished altogether.
Thorn knew he would never see him again.
“Well, well.” Stinger dusted his paws. “Now that that unpleasantness is dealt with, we can rejoin the troop for the Moon Reading.”
Grass moved his stalk around his mouth with his tongue. “Where are we going to have it, Stinger? The clearing in Tall Trees was perfect. That patch of sky—the moon rose straight into it.”
“There’s nowhere like that here,” agreed Fly, picking his chipped teeth. “Can’t see the moon from a hyena den.”
“Does it matter?” said Stinger irritably. “It’s a load of monkey-brained claptrap, anyway. I’m only indulging Starleaf to keep the troop happy.”
“Oh.” Fly’s eyes widened in surprise.
Grass’s jaws went still on his chewed stalk. Then he nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right, Stinger. It’s nonsense.”
“Why are we doing it, then?” asked Fang.
“I told you.” Stinger glared at him. “Don’t you know that traditions keep the troop happy?”
“Yes! Yes, of course. You’re wise, Stinger.” Fang nodded too, so eagerly that it seemed like a competition between him and Grass.
“Besides,” said Stinger more smoothly, “occasions like these are handy for spotting troublemakers like old Beetle there. All of you, keep your eyes peeled and your ears sharp for gossip. Now that Frog’s gone we’ll all have to work harder, but I know I can count on you.”
Thorn stared from one to the other, shocked. The Moon Readings weren’t just some hoary old tradition; they were the heart of troop life. Starleaf had always used her skills to advise the Crownleaf, to warn of impending trouble. Did Stinger really not believe in them? Worst of all, his fellow Strongbranches were fully invested in mocking Starleaf’s work now, giggling and hooting with derision. He dreaded to think what Frog would have made of it.
He didn’t even like to think about Stinger’s other orders. Watch the troop for troublemakers?
What is Brightforest Troop becoming?
Stinger had decided that the shallow dip in the plain, where they’d sheltered on their trek, was an ideal spot for the Moon Reading. It was nothing like the Moon Clearing at Tall Trees, Thorn thought as he glanced around, but at least it was roughly circular. The moon would not rise majestically above the canopy into a clear ring of sky, but Starleaf was clever. She’d know when it reached its zenith. She had arranged her Moonstones in a semicircle in front of her and now waited in patient silence.
Mud nudged Thorn’s elbow as he walked past to take his place. “Thorn, I just want to keep you up to date,” he whispered. “Berry’s still sick. There’s been no improvement. The Goodleaves say the wound went bad.”
Thorn’s heart wrenched; it was what he’d feared. “But she’s no worse?”
“No worse, but—”
“Thanks for telling me,” Thorn said quickly, catching Worm’s eye. She was staring at him suspiciously and muttering something to Fang. “You’d better go to your place.”
Mud stared at him for a moment, shocked, but he shook his head and walked on. Thorn felt the familiar sting of guilt: I hope Mud doesn’t think I don’t care. They couldn’t stand there talking, even about something so important; the Strongbranches would report Mud to Stinger faster than a striking cobra. Regretfully, Thorn watched his friend settle into the circle. Mud was avoiding his eyes now.
Along with the other Strongbranches, Thorn had been detailed to stand at the edge of the troop, watching from just outside their circle. The others were moving into place, hunching at points around the hollow, their glittering eyes fixed not on Starleaf but on their fellow troop members. Looking for troublemakers. Thorn shivered.
To give Stinger his terrible due, it seemed to be working. Every baboon was on their best behavior; there was no talking, no gossip, no nudging and whispering. They all sat quite still, their eyes fixed obediently on Stinger; he stood next to Starleaf, ready to introduce the solemn proceedings. Only occasionally did a baboon glance nervously at the watching Strongbranches.
Starleaf stood with her Moonstones in the center of the shallow dip, glancing around. She scratched the white streak on her head. “Stinger,” she said softly, “we can’t start yet. Beetle hasn’t arrived.”
“Beetle will not be joining us,” said Stinger. “He has been exiled as a traitor.”
There were muffled gasps around the circle. Thorn watched his fellow troop members keenly, his heart thumping. Would they really stand for this? Beetle had sometimes been a figure of fun to the younger baboons, but deep down, they had all respected him. This might be the moment they began to question Stinger’s decisions.
His heart sank as he realized no one was going to speak up. The murmurs faded under the steady glare of the Strongbranches; a few baboons actually nodded in agreement.
“He was a bit of a loudmouth,” whispered a baboon near Thorn.
“You can’t blame Stinger,” replied her neighbor softly. “Brightforest Troop needs unity.”
“He knows what he’s doing.” The first baboon nodded and they fell silent again, watching Stinger and Starleaf.
They’re not just scared of the Strongbranches, realized Thorn with a stab of despair. They’re starting to justify their own cowardice.
Starleaf seemed dumbstruck for a moment at Beetle’s fate, but she shook herself, glanced at the dark sky, and inclined her head to Stinger. “The moon is about to reach its place, Crownleaf.”
Stinger took a seat on a boulder near the front, which Thorn and the Strongbranches had earlier rolled into place to act as a Crown Stone; they at once moved down through the crowd to squat around him. Fly shoved Notch Middleleaf aside so he could take her place; Notch opened her mouth to object, but closed it when she saw several Strongbranches watching her. She shifted a few tail-lengths away, her fur ruffled.
As Thorn padded across the circle, Mud at last met his eye, gesturing to the spot he’d saved beside him. Guilt tugged at Thorn—he and Mud always sat together, and even after Thorn’s brush-off, Mud was reminding him of that. But Thorn gave a quick shake of his head and walked past Mud to take his place at Stinger’s feet.
Mud turned away, his shoulders drooping.
Thorn glanced at Fang. The muscular baboon wasn’t even looking at Starleaf, but was scanning the other members of the troop, his brow aggressively furrowed and his large paws clenched. Who would dare question Stinger with that brute watching?
Starleaf’s face was tilted toward the sky, her gaze intense and unblinking. The moonlight made her eyes glitter. “It’s a Blood Moon tonight,” she said at last. “A time of turmoil and danger.”
Looking up, Thorn gasped with the others. The moon was indeed stained with dull red.
Starleaf picked up one of the Moonstones—a purple one, almost black in the moonlight—and held it to the sky, peering through the crystal. Slowly, she worked he
r way around the semicircle of Moonstones, changing their angles, moving them closer or farther from her eye. The troop sat in breathless, attentive silence.
Almost. Fang gave a muffled snort, and Thorn knew what was going through his head: Old fraud.
But that wasn’t true, Thorn was sure of it. Hadn’t Starleaf always guided the troop wisely? She’d told them where to gather the freshest fruit, what parts of the forest to avoid in the rainy season. Long ago, before Thorn was born, she’d guided them to Tall Trees. Thorn glanced at Stinger, whose face was perfectly still and unreadable. Starleaf’s Moon Readings always benefited the troop. Why would he want them to doubt her?
Starleaf placed the last Moonstone—a white crystal—back in the circle. Her face was drawn with fear, her lips trembling.
Stinger leaned forward with mild curiosity. “What’s wrong, Starleaf? What did you see in your . . . stones?”
Starleaf passed a paw over her face. “Death and despair.”
The shallow dip rang with gasps and frightened exclamations. Females clutched their babies tighter. Mud was staring at his mother, wide-eyed.
“Death and despair?” Bug Middleleaf shrieked. “What’s going to happen?”
“Should we leave? What should we do?” hooted Lizard Deeproot.
Stinger Crownleaf remained perfectly composed. Lazily, he lowered himself from his boulder and made his way to the center of the circle.
Sitting down, he raised a paw. “Let’s not panic,” he said. “After all, the signs are unclear. Look—the moon is turning white again.”
“I don’t think you should interrupt Mother,” Mud called out bravely, making Thorn wince with apprehension. “We need to hear what she has to tell us.”
The Strongbranches gave Mud lethal glares, but Stinger nodded good-naturedly. “Of course,” he said. “I want to hear what Starleaf has to say, too. But if she’s not completely sure, she should look for other signs.”
“I am sure,” Starleaf said, softly but clearly. “The moon turned bloody tonight, and even now ragged clouds obscure it, blown first one way, then another. For days, it stormed and lashed with rain; now do you feel this unbearable heat? Drinking water vanishes; even the trees are dying. Bravelands was battered by high winds, but even those were not constant; they veered from south to north, and all points between. And this morning, I found rotting moss upon the trees. The signs are clear: Brightforest Troop has lost its way. And there will be much trouble before we regain the right path.”
Thorn turned to Stinger. It’s true, every word, he thought darkly. And all because of you.
For a fleeting instant, Stinger’s muzzle twisted with irritation, before he donned a bland look of concern. It was enough. Thorn knew, with a sickening certainty, that Starleaf’s Moon Reading had bitten him to the bone.
The baboons were growing increasingly distressed, and even the threatening stares of the Strongbranches could not stop the whispers and stifled cries of anxiety.
“What does it mean?” Lily Middleleaf clutched her baby and held little Snail close. “Are our young ones safe?”
“It’s Stronghide,” said Twig, his paws clenched. “The Great Spirit is punishing us for accepting him.”
Several of the baboons shouted their agreement, but Jackfruit Lowleaf pounded the ground with his fist, baring his fangs at Stinger. “The troop’s gone wrong since you drove my son away!”
Thorn had almost forgotten that Nut was Jackfruit’s son—after all, Nut had always done his best to distance himself from his Lowleaf parents.
“Your wretched Nut murdered Grub Crownleaf,” growled Fang with menace. “We should have executed him. Maybe that’s where the troop went wrong.”
Jackfruit howled with anger, and his mate, Pod Lowleaf, took a bounding pace forward. “There’s no proof!” she snarled. “So our son handed Grub his dinner. So what? Anyone could have poisoned it!”
Stinger himself paced forward, then rose up onto his hind paws to tower over Jackfruit and Pod. His voice was a penetrating growl. “How . . . dare . . . you.”
The two Lowleaves seemed to know at once that they’d gone too far. Exchanging a frightened glance, they crouched, hunching their shoulders submissively. An ominous silence fell.
“I cared for Nut like he was my own son,” Stinger hissed, “just as I care for all our young. Am I not father to every youngster here? Perhaps a better one than some of the baboons who birthed them?”
Jackfruit and Pod gave frightened nods. Thorn couldn’t bear to imagine what it cost them.
“I tried to guide Nut as he became a Highleaf,” Stinger went on, turning his face nobly toward the sky, “but his ambition became too much.” He leaned once more toward Jackfruit and Pod. “If a fruit is rotten, is it the fault of the baboon who finds it? Or the tree from which it grew?”
Jackfruit sucked his teeth, his eyes darting from side to side. Pod simply stared at the ground.
Stinger spun contemptuously away from them. “Starleaf, have you anything more to tell us?”
“I’ve told you what I’ve seen.” Starleaf gave him a beseeching gaze. “We must try to save ourselves.”
“We all appreciate Starleaf’s wisdom,” he told the troop smoothly. “And she’s right. We were in danger of losing our way, after Bark and Grub were killed. That’s the bloodstained chaos she saw in the moon. But now? Now we’re back on the right path, and I, Stinger, guide our steps.”
Most of the troop relaxed at this, though there were a few remaining murmurs of alarm. Starleaf and Mud looked rigid with shock.
“But we must fear for the rest of Bravelands,” Stinger went on. “There is a blight of cruel leaders: Spite Cleanfur, for instance, and the brute Titan. I fear that Starleaf is right, and there will be much unrest before Bravelands is secure and peaceful once more. We must be vigilant. We must be united. We must watch at every moment for danger, both within and without.”
“But Crownleaf,” Starleaf protested, “the moon itself has spoken—”
“The moon has passed its peak now,” said Stinger. He gestured toward the night sky; the moon had indeed edged away from its zenith. “We thank you for your guidance, Starleaf. At the next full moon, we will seek it again.”
One by one, small groups of baboons left the hollow. No more mutters rose, and no questions were yelped; their fear had vanished like a puddle dried up by the sun. Only Starleaf and Mud, gathering up the Moonstones, still looked anxious and subdued. Mud glanced at Thorn and opened his jaws as if to speak, but a single glance at the Strongbranches silenced him.
I believed your mother, Mud, thought Thorn. I wish I could tell you that.
In a matter of moments, only the Strongbranches were left in the shallow dip on the plain. Stinger rubbed his scar. “So,” he said, “what did you make of that?”
“Monkey-brained claptrap,” sniggered Fly.
Grass shoved him. “Jackfruit and Pod are the troublemakers.” He grinned, as if he’d cracked a difficult nut.
Stinger waved a paw. “Jackfruit and Pod? They’re sour because their precious son’s a killer. No one takes them seriously. No, we saw a much bigger troublemaker tonight than those two.”
Thorn stiffened. No, he thought. No, no, no!
“Who?” asked Worm.
Stinger’s lips twisted into a smile. “Clever Thorn knows who I’m talking about. Don’t you?”
Thorn grew hot under his pelt. He shook his head.
“He’s being modest,” crooned Stinger. “It’s Starleaf, of course.” His expression darkened, and his fur bristled. “I won’t have her telling them such rubbish, tradition or not. She’s frightening the troop, causing dangerous alarm.”
Fly slapped the ground. “Should we deal with her now? A few scratches will shut her up.”
“No,” said Thorn quickly. He felt sick at the thought. “We can’t do that.”
Stinger picked at his lip thoughtfully. “Thorn’s right,” he said. “It’ll take more than that to handle such a turbulent baboon w
ho endangers our peace and unity.”
“Perhaps,” ventured Grass uncertainly, his eyes creased as he focused on his leader, “she should be gone altogether?”
Stinger gave a long, sad sigh. “I think, I fear . . . yes. Yes, Grass. That would be best for the troop.”
Thorn felt as if a stone had struck his chest. He turned in agitation to his fellow Strongbranches. Surely even they wouldn’t stand for this?
But Grass looked as if he’d been handed a prize mango; he was grinning from ear to ear. The other Strongbranches nodded vigorously, clearly eager to make up for their slow thought processes.
“I agree.” Fang thumped his chest.
“Nothing better for Brightforest Troop,” hooted Worm. “We all want what’s best!”
“Better for Brightforest?” Thorn exploded. “You can’t mean that. Grass, Fang! You know what Starleaf’s done for us over the years. For every baboon in the troop!”
Stinger showed no sign of losing his temper; thoughtfully he stroked the scar on his snout. “Ah, Thorn,” he murmured. “How true that is. And we have been taught since we were young to accept the word of the Starleaf, because every Starleaf is special, and wise. But this one . . .” His voice lowered almost to a breath. “Is she? Is she really?”
Fly got in the first reply. “No! No, she isn’t!”
“No!” chorused the others.
“Starleaf has tricked you into thinking her fantasies are the true path,” Stinger said sadly. “And now she is leading Brightforest Troop into danger. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want anything but peace in Tall Trees. But which is better—for one baboon to suffer? Or the whole troop to be destroyed?”
“You can’t do this!” The panicked words burst out of Thorn. He turned on the Strongbranches. “You know this is wrong!”
“Surely you’re not siding with an enemy of the troop, Thorn.” Stinger looked hurt.
The other Strongbranches glowered. Thorn knew that with one word from Stinger, they’d turn on him too. They’d rip him to hyena-food, right here and now. And then who would be left to save the troop?