The first snow of the year came down in heavy snow flakes that rapidly built up into piles that covered the trees and mounded alongside the houses that gathered along the trunks. The night was a hushed evening with only the soft sound of the snow as it whispered through the branches and the wind disturbing those that ghosted over the branches on light paws. The flash of their tails or eyes were barely glimpsed before they moved along again like a well oiled machine. Each one in the line knew where the other was and when they would cross paths as they wove their way ever higher on their watches. The warriors wouldn’t forsake their duty, not when Chane himself had roused from his warm fireside to oversee them and keep them on watch. The Friran would try to attack eventually before the winter drove them into slumber and they would be waiting.

Calina dropped down from her branch and alighted soundlessly on the ground and stopped a hiss from escaping her as the snow nearly wrapped around her waist before she wriggled free of her. Her nose was cold, her ears chilled, and snow had coated her thickly from her run on the upper levels with a few of the veterans. She was barely able to stop herself from shivering as she watched the Chane move his way slowly down the tree trunk with more noise then she had made. His aching joints weren’t making the cold winter any better and by rights he should have been beside a fire easing them instead of on alert with the rest of the baraen. She twitched her tail a little bit and held herself in check despite the ingrained urge to help him.

“All is quiet.” Chane panted and shook himself so some snow fell from his trimmed tail. “It will remain so, I believe. The snow is slowly stopping and I doubt that they’ll risk coming in where we can see them from far away and prepare. If it grew worse I would be concerned.”

“I hope so.” Calina blinked a few snowflakes from her eyes. And glanced up towards the towering trees that spread out above them. “I don’t want to be unprepared.”

Chane snorted and stretched with a wince as one of his joints audibly popped. “I’ve trained you for several seasons, you are ready.”

“Then why are you out here with me?” She answered back swiftly and gave into the urge to shiver so that some of the snow fell from her back.

“Because I am old and I am used to behaving as I always have. When I am dead I will stop keeping my paw in things.” The elder squirrel flashed his buck teeth in a grin. “Go, warm yourself and I will do the same. We will watch again tomorrow. I’ll pass the word to relieve half of the baraen above us so that they don’t freeze. The youngsters will stay alert enough that the veterans and enjoy some peace.”

Calina snorted her amusement and bobbed her head in easy agreement. She had chosen the latest batch of warriors into the baraen. They were a mixed group, and the first that had included females in with the males. She had her eye on several of the bolder females and had high hopes for them. They were already proving a steadying influence on the younger and bolder males, though Chane had made several bitter comments about the fact there would be fights when they were old enough to choose mates. She would handle that when it came, she was already working with Hatcha and Kitch to rework the rules within the baraen to include females. Right now they faced males that protested and pushed them back to argue each point, but slowly things would change.

With a final farewell to Chane she gave herself a shake and turned her head towards the community hut that she knew Kitch would be at for his work. She warmed at the thought of him and flicked her tail before bolting towards the inviting glow of the windows that cast the fire glow over the snow. It would feel so good to be warm again, and even better to be beside her mate while he told stories and amused those who couldn’t work outside or the little ones that couldn’t play in the dark and snow.

She pushed the door open and felt grateful for the lack of wind as she had to hold it open to wiggle past a few squirrels who were getting ready to slip out. She flashed them a smile and nod as she moved through the small crowd of craft workers standing by the fire and bobbed her head at those that she knew and some that she barely recognized. A few people tensed at her appearance, but when she didn’t cry the alarm they went back to relaxing, but she paid little mind to them. Her attention was on the red male who crouched next to a fire and the soft murmur of his voice as he wove a story to those who surrounded him and the wide eyed youngsters. His hands were spread as he used them to mimic snapping jaws.

“…. The snarled and snapped angrily at Rinka as she huddled deep within the cave and tried to keep away from their fearsome jaws. For she knew that she could not run, for her people would starve if she did not bring back food. She could not abandon her kits when they would die in the cold snows of winter and she could not sentence others to a similar fate for her folly. She held those thoughts close and believed that she would atone for her sins of the harvest even if she had to give her life. The great bears roared and their claws pried at the stones that she had wedged her body into, she could feel their hot foul breath hitting against her as she tried to push even further back.” Kitch paused as one of the kits huddled against a young female and his eyes were spread wide. “Ahh but Rinka was no fool, you see. It was fear she felt, but also cunning for she knew that the bears were great hoarders of sweet thick honey and berries. So she set her claws to the wall and began to scratch and dig as the bears roared their curses…”

Calina paused outside of the circle as Kitch continued to tell the story she had already heard. The story of the squirrel who had left the winters food unprotected from the elements and so lost it and doomed her village. Instead of letting them die she had braved the bears themselves to steal what they had worked so hard to store away for themselves at great risk to herself. It was the story of why the Friran harried them every winter as they had never forgotten what they had lost when Rinka had come among them, or at least that’s what the legend told of. She wondered if there was ever such a squirrel as Rinka who had dared so much in the face of starvation, or if it was only a way to explain the raids that had become a part of their lives here. Many stories that she’d heard had been more legend then anything she could believe, but she still enjoyed listening to them.

Kitch had begun to tell her stories in the evenings when they were lying awake together and she was mulling over the worries of the day. He had started them by telling her that she should know their culture and heritage, but it hadn’t taken her long to figure out the truth. That he did so because he knew that her own strain of learning to lead the baraen was telling on her and it was hard for her fall asleep at night. The soothing sound of his deep voice and the stories lulled her into comfort and security as he would tell them as long as she remained awake. She had even begun to return the favor and told him fairy tales from her own world. They seemed strange now, but he enjoyed them and was like a child with a sweet whenever he heard a new one. She loved seeing the excitement on his face.

Calina leaned against the wall as she watched him sooth away the frightened youngsters as he told of how Rinka had dug and kicked and fought her way into a small tunnel no bigger than a mouse hole to get to the food. How clever she was and how fast she had been to escape through the tunnel to snag what she could for her village. It wasn’t the sort of story she could ever imagine telling children from her world, for he described the danger quite vividly, but the children of her world would never face what these youngsters face. Their world was full of danger and uncertainty. They would learn and see it first hand as they grew up, for sorrow and fear went hand in hand with joy and laughter. Perhaps that was why they were so open about both.

Her eyes drifted to Kitch’s animated face as he made a show of snarling like the bears had as Rinka escaped. His handsome features seemed even redder in the firelight as he moved and changed the tone of his voice. This world would ever be uncertain and their lives only as long as their luck and cunning held out. She drank in the sight of him and shifted back into the shadows so she could enjoy him in his element. No, the world wasn’t certain, but she could be. Her eyes drifted towards the snow that fluttered past the window. Winter. A time when many would be turning their thoughts to kits for the warmer months. And for the first time since she’d been here, her mind shifted to the warm months as well. A kit of her own, of their own, a part of them that would continue on. A piece of them both. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as she heard Kitch start up with the next story.

“Now, let me tell you of the Little Red Squirrel and the Big Bad Lupar..”


Artwork by the amazingly talented http://www.furaffinity.net/user/vallhund/ This is a little addition to the Thrown Back series which was awesome to write and decided this picture needed a snippet. Next up we'll see Calina. ;)