Heyy! Here’s chapter four…will it answer your questions or just add more?? Oooh the suspense!!! I know it’s already killing my grandad waiting for the next chapter to be posted! 😀 I’m very excited for how this story is developing!

Four

Resting under the shadows of the enormous and imposing Kauri conifer, sat a large brown Weta. It had a plump dark brown body, and many long thin legs, Starwatcher observed from her smooth grey rock. How it could leap and scurry so quickly with such skinny legs was a mystery to her. 

She had a lot of mysteries, none of which seemed to be in a particular hurry to reveal themselves. Usually, unravelling those mysteries was the first thing she’d leap to, but she had a problem, this time, not a mystery. This problem concerned her entire tribe of Kiwis.

Queen Moonstone was dead. There was no heir. The Kiwis were attacking each other left and right, pointing feathers as to who killed their queen. Their self-consumed fighting had flattened their home; all that was left of Root Circuit were broken burrows and crumbled tunnels. Those were the facts. And Starwatcher had to survive amidst the fog of it all. 

The howl of a Small-Mouths’ housepet yanked her back to reality. The Weta had vanished from the hollow of damp plants. Starwatcher gazed up through the canopy, where moonlight spiralled through the leaves and cast the humid understory in odd beams. She had to figure out how to fix her tribe.

Starting with discovering the queen’s assassin.

The tunnels were silent. Not a worm stirred. Star felt the soft crumbly soil and soggy leaves under her obsidian claws as she navigated the unstable tunnels of what was once the Root Circuit. Surely the queen’s assassin would have left just a clawprint of evidence in the room where the murder was committed?

“Oh noooo…” she whispered, rounding the tight corner to the greeting room.

The Antechamber was blocked by a heap of soil that had caved in from the ceiling, exposing the tunnel below. 

Starwatcher began scrabbling at the dirt with her scaly claws, stuffing her head in for leverage. The hill seemed to be as wide as a lake, but eventually a black claw poked through the other side. Then another. And finally, Star’s fuzzy brown head popped through, followed by her body.

The Antechamber was ruined. It resembled nothing of the glorious hole where royal guests waited for the queen’s appearance; the Rimu arches on either side of the hole for entry were snapped and slowly rotting, overgrown with fungi and decaying brown moss. 

It hurt Star to imagine her tribe – the Kiwis – had turned it into worm-dung. 

Queen Moonstone’s body was gone. There were a few feathers, a necklace, a stone and various dead plants and twigs scattered across the floor, which now better resembled a miniature mountain range from the piles of dirt.

Starwatcher hung her head miserably. She wasn’t going to figure out who killed her queen. She was a chick. Small and insignificant. A bigger Kiwi – like Barbie – could solve the mystery instead.

As she headed for the hole in the wall where she’d popped through, a thought occurred to her.

What if Barbie killed her? 

The haggard grouchy Kiwi had always shown a bitter resentment to anyone and everyone – even the queen, despite their similarities in crankiness. She remembered the sour expression Barbie had expressed when saluting the queen. Was his disdain towards the queen enough to get him to make such a terrible move? 

There was one problem with that hypothesis, Star realised. The native bird tribes only had queens, and she flinched to imagine the livid gazes of the other queens when Barbie turned up with his bright pink glasses and royal attitude. He’d be harassed off the face of Aotearoa. But the Kiwi did have a daughter. Starwatcher had only passed her in the halls, and she’d never tried to get to know her, A because she was locked up in the Throne Hole most of the time, and B because, frankly, the little bird seemed like a sour sort. 

“I wonder if Barbie killed the queen, and wants his daughter to become the next ruler?” Starwatcher wondered aloud, quietly wriggling through the hole and popping out on the other side.

It certainly seemed possible. But probable? She didn’t know just yet.

After three Kiwis had gone missing when Root Circuit crumbled to dust, the rest of the flightless birds had gone waddling back into the bush, angry and frightened. The problem with not having Root Circuit, was, Star realised, the tribe was vulnerable to malevolent orange-teethed marsupials like possums. 

Luckily, though it was quite obvious, it wasn’t difficult to find Barbie. A blind sheep could see his fluro pink glasses kilometers away. 

The grizzled old Kiwi didn’t look pleased to see her. He seemed to be in the middle of digging a hole.

“Pah. You.” His icy acknowledgement wasn’t unusual. 

“Kia ora,” Star smiled, blinking brightly at him. “What are you doing?”

“Digging a hole.”

“Interesting, interesting.”

“Very.”

“Sad business, about the queen, isn’t it?” Star sighed mopily, flopping a little over-dramatically on the leafy carpet.

Barbie looked as gruff as ever. “I’d call it terrible, little bird,” he grouched, continuing to rake at the ground with his enormous claws. “But honestly, she was a foul old avocado. Probably halfway to decaying anyway. Always growling at her generals, barking orders at the chefs whenever they muddled up the hatchery meals…” He tutted. “Ah well. She’s dead, and we’ve got no queen.” 

Starwatcher raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of her.” She paused to fiddle with her wings, who had little Koru fern leaves ruffled through them. 

“I don’t need to have a high opinion of her,” was the cold response. “She’s dead.”

“True.”

She thought hard, trying to figure out a way to pry more information out of the grumpy bird. She’d had lots of practice on Queen Moonstone.

“OH, it was so terrible!” Star gasped, falling on the leafy ground again, plastering a woeful expression on her face. She waved her wings. “I remember the halls going silent, and then the terrible scene in the Antechamber!” She quivered with fake sobs.

Barbie didn’t look the least bit impressed. “Yes. Very sad.”

“I don’t remember seeing you there,” Star sighed dramatically, clapping a little wing as far as it could go to her chest.

“I was there,” Barbie responded gruffly. “I heard the squeal of a chicken.”

“You heard her get murdered?” 

Starwatcher’s curiosity was electrocuted again, and she shot upright, staring boggle-eyed at Barbie. “Oh that is so terribly sad!!” 

“Indeed, indeed,” the Kiwi grumbled, sticking his head into his half-dug hole. “Queen Moonstone was right. You are the most infuriating chick. If you want to save your head, I’d highly suggest leaving before I do something very bad.” 

He glared at her with a prickly stare.

Starwatcher bobbed her head brightly, beamed, and waddled back into the undergrowth. 

“Luckily my acting hasn’t left me,” she chuckled merrily to herself. She might not’ve got any big clues, but it was quite obvious Barbie had an enmity towards the queen. 

Through the trees, dawn was settling over the transcendent mountain, Karioi. Starwatcher looked up through the canopy and saw the morning sunlight seep through the leaves. Being nocturnal, it was time for sleep. So she squirmed her way into a hollow log cushioned by fungi and moss, and curled up for a nap.

Starwatcher dreamed of her mother – what Dreamcatcher might’ve looked like, and imagined herself fighting possums beside her. As her mother thrust spears at the attackers and lashed out with her huge claws, she looked every bit ethereal, her feathers flying, beak rising, and necklace bobbing softly on her chest.

By the time she woke up again, the sunlight was gone, and the forest was dark. The sky was adorned in little pearl-white dots, and the half-moon blazed up in the inky-black space.

As Starwatcher searched for grubs, she had a chilling recollection of the Antechamber. She whirled around, ready to sprint for the Root Circuit, when her worst enemy sprung into the leaves, grinning like a green-eyed cat. 

The small, wrinkled stoat coiled itself up like a deformed spring, cackling and wheezing. “Starwatcher,” the stoat purred maliciously, “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Star sunk her claws into the soft leafy carpet, glaring angrily at the hairy rodent. “I don’t know you,” she snarled, trying to hide the quivers of terror vibrating through her feathers. “How do you know my name?”

“How do I know your name?” the stoat spat furiously, whiskers twitching. “Duh. It’s obvious you’re the daughter of Dreamcatcher. My mother’s murderer.”

“It’s obvious?” the little Kiwi echoed. “Wait – your mothers’ murderer? Dreamcatcher killed your mother?”

The stoat was a jug of boiling water. “That’s what I said!” it shrieked, lunging at her.

Star darted to the side, and the stoat flew into a heap of native prickly manuka.

“Silvertail was my mother, and your conceited parent killed her with that long ugly beak!” 

“Why?” Star asked, shaking her head from confusion.

“I don’t know!” the stoat growled, “But Silvertail is dead. She’s forgotten. EVERYBODY remembers your glorious mother, but mine is a dirt sandwich!”

“I’m sorry,” Starwatcher felt a stab of guilt and sympathy. 

“Don’t be sorry,” the stoat snarled. “As soon as I kill you, I’ll forget all about my revenge.”

“What?” the Kiwi squeaked in terror. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Your mother murdered my mother. Everything will be even once I murder you.”

The stoat leapt at her again, claws and teeth bared, whiskers crooked and coiled. 

“Stop!” Star cried, swatting the stoat out of the air with a mighty smack of her foot. “Dreamcatcher is gone too. Vanished or dead – I don’t know. But I think she’s gone into hiding. She might be living on the outskirts of the mountain, surviving on blowflies. But birds talk about her like she’s still here.” Star was quivering violently now.

“Karma,” the stoat muttered darkly, glaring viciously at the furry Kiwi. She rubbed her head with a paw. 

The brown Kiwi plucked a worm from the soil, dark thoughts spiralling in her head.

“How are you getting on without your mummy to protect you?” the stoat jeered, orange eyes slitted. “Moonstone’s dead too, isn’t she?”

Starwatcher had never felt so angry. “I can protect myself!” she huffed. “Dreamcatcher left me. Moonstone despised me! I’ve practically been living alone since I hatched!” She raised an eyebrow cautiously. 

“How do you know about Queen Moonstone?”