The name settled warm in Solstice’s chest. Soft-paw. She paused to look down at the pink beans of her front paw. She reflected on what Malice had said: never touched pavement, never hunted outside.
I can’t believe she noticed and gave me the bestest name.
She looked back up, tail swishing with confidence. “Strike first, or don’t strike at all.”
“Good.” Malice didn’t slow her pace through the grey nothing. “And why?”
“Because…” Solstice tried to remember the exact words. “Because… hesitation gets you killed?”
“Close enough.” The older cat’s ears flicked. “Hesitation is death.” She stopped to look back. “The moment you see something that could hurt you, you hurt it first. Waiting to see if they’re friendly is how you get dead-dead.”
They’d been walking for—Solstice didn’t know how long. Hours? Days? Malice had been teaching her things. Testing her. Over and over until Solstice’s head hurt from trying to remember all the words in the right order.
The trees around them shifted. Not gradually—suddenly. Like crossing an invisible line. The sparse, twisted shapes behind them gave way to thick trunks with low-hanging branches. The colorless not-grass became rougher underfoot. Rocky. Uneven.
Solstice stumbled slightly on a root she hadn’t seen.
But Malice’s pace didn’t change. She moved almost silently through the rocky ground—choosing her steps carefully, avoiding loose stones, finding the quiet paths between roots.
“Mal—” Solstice caught herself. “I mean, Elder. What if… if you’re scared? Of something. Of someone else. Should you still strike first?”
The older cat glanced back. “Why? Are you scared, Soft-paw?”
“No! I just—I wondered. Because you said the first law is to strike first. But what if the thing is bigger than you? What if—”
“Fear is a tool.” Her voice cut through Solstice’s rambling. “The Twelfth Law. Your fear sharpens you. Makes you alert. Makes you fast. Their fear weakens them. Makes them stupid. Makes them your prey.”
“So you use your fear?”
“I use everything.” Malice’s tail swished. “Fear. Anger. Pain. Everything is a tool, Soft-paw. The moment you let your feelings control you, you’ve lost. But if you control them? If you use them?” Her yellow eyes glowed. “Then you’re dangerous.”
Solstice thought about this. About the big feelings she’d had when she was alive. The ones that made her lash out. The ones the fathers called her “pee tea ess dee.”
“The fathers said my feelings were—”
“Your fathers aren’t here.” Malice’s voice went hard. “Their rules don’t apply anymore. Out here, you use what you have. Or you’re meat.”
The words stung, but Solstice followed anyway. She focused on moving as silently as possible from now on—choosing her steps carefully.
Maybe that’s what the Elder had meant about soft paws. I can move quietly. That’s good for hunting, right?
The air changed. Warmer. Not the stale nothing-temperature of the Nowhere, but actual warmth.
Malice’s body went tense.
“Stay close.”
They crested a small rise and—
Heat. Immediate and wrong. Like standing too close to something dangerous.
Solstice stopped. The ground ahead was… different. Disturbed. She looked left, then right. A wide scar cutting through the landscape in both directions, curving out of sight. Dirt piled up at the edges. The center of the gouge was still glowing faintly. Heat shimmered in areas that made the air blur.
“What made this?”
“Something that could kill you.” Malice’s voice was tight. Controlled. “Twenty-Third Law, Soft-paw. Some things are above your weight class. Learn to recognize them. Learn to avoid them.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Once.” Malice moved along the edge, her tail lashing behind her. “That was enough.”
They walked parallel to the scar. The smoldering heat grew more intense. Solstice could feel it through her paws now—not painful yet, but present. Real—in a way most things in the Nowhere weren’t.
Near the scar, no trees stood. They’d been knocked down by whatever made this. Scorched grass. Broken trunks. Everything pushed away from the glowing trench.
They stopped at a tree far back from the edge. Tall. Old. Massive.
“We’re crossing here.”
“How?” Solstice looked at the wide expanse between them and the other side.
“Watch.”
Malice climbed. High. Higher than Solstice had ever seen anyone climb.
Solstice followed partway up the tree—not as high, but high enough that she got scared when looking down.
From here, she could see the whole shape of it. A trench carved through the landscape, slithering like something massive had dragged itself through. Not straight—it curved and twisted. Wider in some places. Narrower in others. The edges were shiny, like glass, where the heat had melted them. Wide. Very wide. And deep in the middle.
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Malice climbed higher still. So high up Solstice had to crane her neck to see her.
She padded out onto the longest high branch. Tested it. It creaked a little and bent under her weight, but it held.
She crouched at the end. Her haunches coiled.
The distance was impossible. The trench gaped far below, broad, deep, and glowing. It was so far apart. Way too far
But she jumped anyway. And soared through the air—over the edge, over the heat, over the whole burning scar—and landed in a tree on the far side.
Solstice’s breath caught.
—No other cat could jump that far—
But the Elder did—my Elder did it.
“Your turn, Soft-paw.”
Solstice was in awe as she stared at the gap. At the heat shimmer. At the impossible distance.
“Elder, I can’t jump that far.”
“Then find another way across.” The Elder’s voice was matter-of-fact. She climbed down to a low branch. Settled there. Perched. Hidden among the leaves but watching. Those burning yellow eyes fixed on Solstice.
Solstice climbed down and approached the edge carefully, looking down into it.
From here, she could see more. The trench curved away in both directions. Deep. The sides were glass-smooth where the heat had melted them. At the bottom, debris had collected—fallen logs burning to coals, chunks of glassified earth, exposed rocks jutting up.
She could see a path across. Maybe. There—an orange chunk of something solid-looking. And there—a section of log that was large enough. Then another piece of debris. More rocks beyond that, leading toward the far side.
This would work. I can do this.
Solstice stared at the path she’d chosen.
It looks… fine?
“Will it hurt?”
“What’s the second law, Soft-paw?” The Elder called down.
Solstice’s tail twitched. “Pain is the only teacher that doesn’t lie.”
“Then you’re about to learn something.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Go ahead, jump.”
Solstice gathered herself and jumped to the first piece—a chunk of glassified earth about as big as her whole body.
The feeling hit immediately. Wrong. Bad. Like—she didn’t have words for it. Her pads screamed at her in a way they never had before.
She jumped straight up, all four paws leaving the surface. Landed. Jumped again. Trying to lift all her paws at once. Trying to find relief that wasn’t there.
“Khiiisss! Fuck!”
She looked around frantically.
What’s next? That log—there—
She jumped.
Landed on what she thought was cooler wood. It wasn’t. The surface was char, barely covering the red-hot interior. The massive ember broke under her weight.
“FFAAWWKK.”
Another jump—to a rock this time. Bright orange at the edges. Her paw touched it and she yelped, leaping away before she’d even fully landed.
She was going sideways now. Not forward. Just trying to find somewhere that hurt less.
There—a darker something. Darker meant cooler, right?
She jumped.
The surface looked solid. Felt solid for half a heartbeat. Then cracked beneath her weight. Glass. Natural glass from melted earth. It shattered, and she felt the edges slice into her pads as she scrambled away.
“Hot. Damn—it.”
She was barely thinking now. Just jumping. Sideways. Backwards. Anywhere but here. The pain was everywhere. Her pads were burning and cut and she could smell singed fur and—
Then she found herself back at the edge. Back where she started.
Collapsed onto the cooler dirt atop the ridge of the trench. Panting. Her paws screamed. Blood mixed with burns.
The Elder said nothing. Just watched from her perch.
Solstice looked at the trench again. At the path she’d tried to take. She’d gotten maybe a third of the way across before panic had taken over.
I can’t do this. I just can’t.
Something fell. Heavy. Multiple cracks echoed through the air from the other side.
A massive branch—no, a log—tumbled down into the trench. Dead wood, thick as her whole body. It hit the bottom with a hollow thud, rolled slightly, and settled among other falling debris not too far in from her side.
Solstice looked up. The Elder was up higher in the tree, watching.
Had she…?
“The second law, Soft-paw.” The words cut through the pain. “Say it again.”
Solstice stared at the log. At the temporary safety it offered.
“Pain is the only teacher that doesn’t lie.”
“Good. Now get across this time.”
Solstice’s body didn’t want to move. But the Elder was waiting. Watching. She’d dropped that log. She’d given Solstice a chance.
Solstice jumped to the log.
The relief was immediate. Cool wood. Well—not cool. But not burning. Not yet. She could stand here. Could breathe. Could think.
She shifted her weight.
The log rolled beneath her.
Round. Moving. Not—
She scrambled, claws digging in, trying to stay on top. Her back paw slipped off the edge, touched the angry orange ground beside the log—hot, so hot—
She yanked it back up.
Something felt wrong.
She craned her neck as she looked down at her paw.
The outer pad—the whole thing—was just… gone. Peeled away. Left behind on the trench floor.
Raw pink flesh underneath. Bleeding. She could see white tissue deeper in. The meat of her paw was exposed.
The pain hit a second later. Different from burning. Sharper. Deeper. Wrong.
She stared at it. At the blood. At the—at the…
Her breathing went fast. Too fast. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t—
“Soft-paw.”
The Elder’s voice. Distant. Muffled. Like it was coming from underwater.
Solstice didn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears. Just stared at her paw. At her blood. At her meat.
“Look at me.”
The words cut through. Sharper. Commanding.
Solstice’s body wanted to obey. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. The raw flesh was—
“Third Law. Say it. NOW.”
The command cracked like a whip. Her head snapped up without her meaning it to. Away from her paw. To the Elder’s yellow eyes watching from the far tree.
“What is it?” The Elder’s voice was steady. Demanding.
Solstice’s mouth moved. Her brain struggled to find words. Any words. “The strong… feed… the weak?”
“Wrong.” Patient. Not angry. “But you’re listening. That’s good. The strong feed. The weak provide. Say it.”
“The strong feed.” Her voice shook. “The weak provide.”
“Again.”
“The strong feed. The weak provide.”
“Good.” The Elder’s tail pointed. “Now listen. That log is going to catch fire soon. Smoke is already rising. You need to move.”
Solstice could feel it. The heat building beneath her.
“See that darker stone to your left? The one that leads around the edge instead of straight across?”
Solstice looked out to the middle instead. There—on the other side. A large stone. Solid-looking. If she just took a running leap from this log, got enough speed, maybe she could—
“Stop.”
Solstice’s gaze snapped back to the Elder.
“I can see you thinking about it.” The Elder’s voice had an edge now. Not angry. Something else. “You won’t make it. The middle is much wider, and that stone is farther than it looks. You’ll fall in, and you won’t get out.” The Elder’s tail lashed once.
“Listen carefully. See that chunk of glassified earth? The dark one near where you came in—to your left, lower, lower. Yes, jump there first. Then you use those branch limbs wedged in the rocks—they’re unstable, so don’t pause. Follow the curve of the trench away from me, not toward me. There’s a half-burned log section about three jumps along the curve—you’ll know it because it’s still smoking. From there, more debris scattered toward the far edge, but you need to angle back toward my side, not keep curving away. The exit point is behind where you are now; you will have to double back.”
Solstice looked where the Elder described.
Okay, left and lower. Ummm. Ah, there—a darker chunk of something. And then over to there is the—that must be the limbs. So I won’t pause there, then… Uhh, and then follow the curve away, but then angle back. Make three jumps to the smoking thing? Or three jumps after?
Oww, this hurts. On to more debris toward—wait, which side? My side?
And then… and what? Will I have to go backwards to get out?
That’s… So many jumps. It’s… ummm. It’s just too far.
I just… I don’t… I…
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- During the trench crossing—did you feel Solstice's panic with her, or did the pain descriptions start to feel repetitive or overwhelming?
- When Malice dropped the log into the trench—did that moment feel like tough love (she's testing but won't let Solstice die) or genuine cruelty (she's enjoying the suffering)?
- As the chapter ended with Solstice frozen and overwhelmed—did you immediately want to read Chapter 9 to see if she makes it across, or did you need to step away from the intensity?