Blossom Honeycomb's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Blossom knelt beside the fourth emptied nest just after dawn, counting the signs others had missed. The threat was moving faster than she'd predicted. She needed every creature gathered and safe before the pattern reached the heart of the Glen, where the oldest roots still held warmth. A rustle came from the undergrowth beyond the nest's edge. Blossom turned as a small form stumbled forward, dragging one hind leg. It was a field mouse, its fur matted with dirt and dried blood. The creature took three more steps before collapsing at her feet. Blossom moved without thinking, lifting the mouse gently in both hands. Something small and wooden pressed against her palm. The mouse's paw was clenched tight around a carved locket, holding a pressed rose petal behind a tiny glass face. Blossom recognized it immediately — this was no wild creature but one of the nestkeepers from the southern ring, the ones who carried tokens from the families they protected. The mouse's eyes fluttered open once, met hers with desperate clarity, then closed. Its chest still rose and fell. She had a survivor now, and survivors could tell her what the emptied nests could not. Blossom looked past the mouse to the ground where it had fallen. The earth was torn up in ragged strips, flower petals crushed into the dirt. Deep claw marks scored the soil in sets of four, dragged inward toward the nest. The marks were fresh, still damp at their edges. She traced one with her finger and felt the depth — whatever made these was twice the size she'd guessed. The nestkeeper had crawled through this to reach her. That meant the threat wasn't just emptying nests anymore. It was hunting anything that tried to escape. Blossom wrapped the mouse carefully in the edge of her sleeve and stood. The haven she'd planned to build at the outer rings wouldn't be far enough. She would have to bring every creature to the center now, surround them with watchers, and face the threat when it arrived. She pulled a golden rod from her pack and drove it into the soil beside the torn ground. The banner wrapped around it caught the morning light, bright enough to be seen from the next three clearings. Every creature in the Glen knew what the markers meant: danger beyond this point, turn back to the center. Blossom had placed two others overnight. Now she had eight more to set before the pattern closed in. She cradled the wounded nestkeeper against her chest and started walking. The gathering had begun.