Erica Moonwhisper's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Erica Moonwhisper had agreed to marry a man she had never seen. The tiger prince ruled the kingdom that burned her forest's eastern groves. Her council swore the marriage would end the war. But she could not marry a stranger, and she could not meet him without her own generals calling her weak. She stood in the castle courtyard, under the cherry tree that bloomed at its heart. Pink petals drifted onto the war maps her council had spread across a stone table. Six generals watched her. The eldest tapped the eastern border, where the fires still glowed at night. "Send an envoy," he said. "A princess does not chase a beast to his den. If you go to him, our soldiers will think you are begging." Erica knew he was right. If she asked for a meeting, she looked afraid. If she waited, the war ate another season of her people. Both paths cost her. She needed a third one. A small chittering sound broke the silence. A red panda climbed down the cherry tree's trunk. It had a bright white heart marked in its fur and a pink nose. The council fell quiet, staring at the little creature. It padded across the maps and sat on the eastern border, right over the burning groves. Erica picked it up. A ribbon circled its neck, and a folded note hung from the ribbon. Her hands went cold. This animal had come from beyond her borders. Someone had sent it through her walls. She opened the note. The handwriting was loose and careless, almost lazy. "I raised her from a kit. She likes cherry blossoms. So do I. I would rather meet a bride than fight a princess. Send her back with your answer." It was signed with a single clawed pawprint. Her eldest general leaned in. "A trick. He tests you." "No," Erica said. "He made the first move. He asked. That means the weakness is his, not mine." She understood it now. If she sent the panda back, she answered a gift, not a summons. No one could call her a beggar. The prince had handed her the third path himself. Erica stroked the animal's fur and thought. The note did not sound like a warlord. It sounded gentle. Almost soft. That worried her more than any threat. She had prepared herself to tame a savage tiger for her forest. She had not prepared for one who raised pets and loved flowers. She called for ink. On the back of his note she wrote one line. "Come to the cherry tree. Come without soldiers." She tied it to the ribbon and set the panda down. The little creature climbed the trunk and vanished into the pink branches. Her generals stared at her, silent. "I did not ask him," Erica said. "I invited him. He will come here, to my ground." Now she only had to survive meeting the man she had promised to wed.