A canon-divergence fic that began when Heather awoke on her first night at Cloud Mountain to see a stranger roaming the halls. Updates each Wednesday.
It was morning. Heather could block out the light, but it was more difficult to ignore her brother’s voice.
“Heather? Heather, it’s time to get up!” He sounded thoroughly exasperated. Heather curled deeper into the blankets and replied with a sleepy, annoyed sound.
“It’s time to eat, sleepyhead! You don’t want to miss Gort’s breakfast!” It was a doe’s voice, vaguely familiar. Heather opened her eyes a fraction, then squinted against the light.
“Picket, is your sister always this way?”
“No, not usually.”
“Well, we’ve been waiting for a while, so she’d better get up soon.” Heather could hear the pointed emphasis in the doe’s words. She sighed, willing herself to sit up and open her eyes.
“I’m up,” Heather yawned, then continued to sit in bed, idly tracing the stitching on her quilt. She frowned. There’d been a quilt in her dream.
“Good morning, Heather!” The doe, who Heather recognized as Emma, smiled at her. “Now that you’re awake, Shuffler and I will leave you be to get dressed. There are clean clothes in the drawers—including drawers.” She winked. “We’ll be waiting outside the door, so do be quick please.” Emma led Picket, now on crutches, out and closed the door.
With an effort, Heather willed herself out of bed. She pulled on a blue dress and smoothed her ears, tying a ribbon around her head. The room was beautiful—lit by morning light and several candles, with gorgeous paintings hung on the walls. One, a bright painting of a hollow, looked familiar, like something Mother would have painted. She ran her fingers over her carnation bow, remembering the events of the past days. There was something else—something that was still missing.
Heather opened the door just as Picket was raising his crutch to give it a blow, narrowly missing her. She yelped, and Emma laughed. “To breakfast, you squabbling siblings!” They began walking toward the Savory Den, where the halls filled with morning light. Heather remembered walking the same corridor last night, when she’d gotten up for a drink and—chased a stranger into the darkness? What in the world?
She shook her head, trying to clear it as Emma reached the stone door, but the sight of the bright stairs down the other hall only made the déjà vu more acute. It must have been a dream. She’d had these experiences before—dreams that echoed real life—but they were usually more difficult to remember than this. It had been real, hadn’t it?
“Heather?”
Heather realized that she’d spaced out. She shook her head again. “It’s nothing, just a dream I had.”
Picket looked at her with concern, then tried to hide it, starting down the steps. She went after him, Emma closing the door behind them and following. Picket winced with every step, but he refused all offers of help. He was changing, and she didn’t know how to help him through it.
As the door to the Savory Den swung open, letting out a cloud of delicious smells and cheerful chatter, Heather wondered suddenly if the rabbit she’d followed last night was down here. She scanned the crowd of staring faces, realizing that the room had gone silent.
It was only a moment before conversation started up again. Picket, having made a limping beeline for the food, hadn’t seemed to notice, but Heather could see suspicion on many of the faces in the room. Strange—she and Picket were strangers, yes, but they were barely out of childhood, hardly a threat. Hopefully the rabbits of Cloud Mountain would accept them quickly.
Breakfast was plates of peaches in syrup, with bread for dipping. Emma led Picket and Heather to a table near the back where the buzz of conversation was muted. Emma smiled at Heather and Picket. “So,” she began. “What callings are the two of you interested in?”
Picket barely paused in his attack of the meal to offer, “Soldiering.”
Heather frowned. “Picket, that’s dangerous.”
He looked up, his eyes stormy. “I want to be stronger next time, okay Heather? I’m not a little kid anymore.”
She blinked, astonished, but Emma was nodding. “That’s a worthy calling. We may need more soldiers very soon.”
“Is Cloud Mountain going to be attacked?”
Emma sighed. “It may be. They say the wolf patrols are getting closer every day.”
“So we’re not safe here,” Picket said.
Emma shook her head. “I’m sorry. Our safety is so fragile, between the wolves and the infighting. On a lighter note—” she gestured at Heather. “What are you interested in?”
“I’m not sure. Are there storytellers here?”
“Yes, certainly!” Emma smiled. “I can take you to them later, if you want.”
Picket seconded the proposal. “Heather’s a great storyteller.”
“So, is it a plan? Heather?”
Heather blinked and smoothed her ears. She hadn’t expected the answer to be yes, and the thought of sharing her stories with strangers was both alarming and exhilarating. Her mind flashed to last night—a time that had felt right out of a story. She remembered the dark, the silver steps, the flare of candlelight—
"Heather? Are you sure you’re all right?”
Heather snapped back to reality, seeing Emma’s concerned face. “Yes.” She smiled to convince herself. “I was just remembering a dream.”
“Was it a nightmare?” Picket asked.
“No—just strange.” Heather hesitated. “I dreamed that I was here, in the tunnels, and I saw someone holding a light. Then I chased him until I didn’t know how to get back.” She shivered.
“That sounds like a nightmare.” Picket said.
“No, the light came back, so I didn’t stay lost.”
“It’s a good thing you’ve got me to guide you today.” Emma remarked. She smiled “I promise, the place we’re going first will make you feel the opposite of lost."
Heather followed Emma and a limping Picket down the hall toward the stairs. Why hadn’t she told Emma the truth, that she really had followed a stranger and gotten lost? Maybe it was a fear that she’d be seen as suspicious, a potential traitor sneaking around in the dark. Many of the rabbits here might feel that way, but Emma had been nothing but kind to her and Picket.
She brushed a hand along the wall, looking into a dark hall as she passed. “Emma,” she asked, “How did they make this place, with all the passages?
“I don’t know how it was made, but it was here when we discovered this place."
“How far does it go?”
Emma shrugged. “No one really knows. We mostly stick to the larger rooms above, since most of our Menders live and grow their food on the green at the top of the mountain.
“It’s like Seven Mounds,” Picket remarked.
“Hm?”
“A place near our home. It had tunnels like this—” Picket stopped, looking doubtfully up the stairs.
In the daylight, the stone hall and its passages were more mundane, but the stairway was still equally impressive. If it had seemed to lead to the moon last night, today it was as bright as if the sun was sitting on the top step.
Emma helped instruct a still doubtful Picket on hopping up the stairs using the rail, then took Heather’s hand and tugged her up the stairwell. Heather laughed breathlessly as they bounded up the steps, marveling at the brightness cascading down the stone.
The steps were smooth gray stone, but the light that splashed over them was gold and blue and red, coloring the world in wonder. There was a net of chains on the ceiling, catching glints of light, and as Emma kept climbing the light flashing over her red-and-white fur seemed to form shifting images.
As they finally crested the steps, Heather gasped in wonder. It was a beautiful garden, lit from above. The walls were still stone, but they were washed in glorious light. Ahead was the most amazing part: a wood-framed room, octagonal, with huge panels of stained glass that formed scenes she couldn’t quite make out.
Heather stood, utterly in awe. Tears pricked at her eyes; after the trials of the past few days, the beauty and serenity of this place was overwhelming. Picket caught up, standing beside her with wide eyes. Emma gave them a minute of silence, then spoke. “This is Lighthall.”
Emma turned to look at the beauty again, and Heather could see the proud joy in her eyes. “Does it fulfill my promise?” Heather nodded, unable to speak. “Come, follow me.” They walked silently behind her, past the octagonal structure and into a larger garden space. Emma gestured to the statues in the room. “We call this part King’s Garden.”
Heather recognized Whitson Mariner, posed in bronze with his cape fluttering, and the others around him were familiar too, all from Father’s stories. She smiled, noting Seddle, her personal favorite, weaponless but brave. Emma was heading for a door guarded by a buck in green, but Heather walked slowly, savoring her time in this magical place.
Picket was lagging behind. She turned to see him gazing up at the statue of Blackstar. He saw her gaze and limped to catch up, brushing at his eyes.
“They’re just like I imagined them,” he told Heather.
She nodded. “It feels like magic, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Seeing them makes me—I don’t know, I feel like maybe I could be a hero too.”
“I wish we lived in the stories, where it’s all possible.”
Picket nodded, limping ahead and brushing again at his eyes. Heather lingered, gazing back toward Lighthall. “Maybe we do,” she whispered. She could hope.
A/N: This may seem like a lot of stuff right out of the book, but it's going to diverge from canon very quickly. Next week: a conversation with Kyle, the Helmer tree incident, stuff really gets going!
This.... This is just amazing. I love the details, the descriptions, the emotions, it's so real! I love it! Incredible writing!
Thanks!
You’d better post screenshots when you’re done, because that sounds awesome :)
Wow... THIS WAS AMAZING!!! I really felt like I was with them at Light hall!
good job your really good at writing stories! Cant wait for the next chapter!!
Nice! Can't wait for the next chapter!
Also, I'm rebuilding Cloud Mountain in minecraft and have been trying to figure out the other statues in the garden for a while, so I'm going to go make Seddle now.