A Healer for Kasate: Silver Foxes, #15

By M.R. Anglin

Nothing pleases Skitter more than sitting in his Macaya tree, talking to Kadaiel, and spending time with his little brother, Yori . . . except maybe receiving a letter from his best friend, Kathra, the girl he secretly wishes was more than a friend. But when Yori falls ill and needs surgery which cannot be performed on Kasate, Skitter must take his beloved brother across the ocean to find the Healer Kadaiel has chosen to save him. Can Skitter find her in time? Or will he lose his little brother forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.R. Anglin
• Release date: Apr 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224903535

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

IT WAS A WARM DAY ON Kasate. A gentle, ocean-scented breeze fluttered the curtains of the High Priest’s office and tussled Skitter’s brown hair and fur. Like all the buildings and homes on Kasate, the office had been built on a wooden platform perched among the boughs of the trees growing all over the island. It had been constructed with thick, wooden walls, but open windows let in the breeze and light. When the wind blew, a constant, soothing roar rustled through the trees. The sound remained a common fixture all over the island, whether one lived amongst the trees or below amidst the twisted roots. The High Priest’s office was no exception, and often Skitter found himself closing his eyes to listen to the sounds of his beloved island.

He resisted the urge to do just that and instead ran his hand over his hair, flicked his fluffy, squirrel tail, and tapped his pencil on the anatomy book laying open on the desk in front of him. He had been staring at a diagram of the muscular structure of a mole for several minutes now—the latest in a string of figures he had been trying to memorize. As the High Priest of the Dulcolain Archipelago, Skitter should have also assumed the role of Chief Healer. As such, he had been studying medicine since he was 13 years old. Six years later, he was still studying, still trying to grasp the underlying concepts of being a Healer, and still struggling to understand any of it. But it was alright. It took a lot of information to be a Healer, after all. If he kept at it, all this gobblety-gook would make sense eventually—at least that’s what he told himself.

With a sigh, he lifted his eyes to the window. From his vantage point at the top of one of the tallest trees on the island, Kasate stretched out beneath him. He spied treehouses hidden in the leaves, wooden walkways woven in and out of the branches, squirrels and other flyers gliding between the trees, and ground-type animals walking along the beach below. Looking out further, he spotted the ocean stretching into the distance, the sun sparkling off the waves.

Skitter rose out of his chair, making it scrape against the wooden floor, and crossed the room to get a better look at the horizon. On normal occasions, he would have launched himself out of the window and taken a glide across the island, watching his fellow Kasatians enjoy the day. As a flying squirrel, and one who had been taught far-flight from a young age, he could spend hours in the air, circling the island and keeping a loving eye on his people. They had no idea how many times he had taken to the air to bless each and every one of them while speaking to Kadaiel. 

But today was different. Instead of watching his island and its people, his gaze wandered to the vast ocean and to the horizon. Something about the sea had captured his attention lately—awoken a strange longing in him he didn’t understand. He loved his island and never wanted to leave, but a growing desire to cross the waters and travel to the lands beyond struck him. He wanted to see other people and other places—like Drymairad, the Isle de Losierres, or Expermia—especially Expermia. For within the borders of that country lived his very best friend, Kathra.

He flicked his tail even as he thought of her, and a smile came unbidden to his face. He hadn’t seen her for several years, but they wrote to each other often. At first, he had been embarrassed by the size of his letters. They had been dozens of pages long while hers barely topped one. After he had written his first letter, he had tried to edit them down to what Mahli called a manageable read, but soon he stopped bothering about it. He just had too much to say to her. Soon after, her letters became longer and longer until they were about the length of his. They wrote to each other about everything—he told her things he could never bear to let anyone else know. She never chastised him or made him feel weird. In fact, she often helped him sort out what he was thinking and feeling—sometimes even pointing out areas where Skitter didn’t realize he had fallen short. What he wouldn’t give to talk to her face to face or to glide with her across the island.

I should finish my letter. Skitter turned to the desk where a half-finished message lay in his drawer awaiting completion. He worked on it between his duties—which didn’t leave him as much time to write as he wanted. He took a step toward his desk and halted. I shouldn’t. If I start now, I won’t stop. I can’t get distracted. I have to study. His eyes flicked to his books, and he turned up his nose. Writing to Kathra seemed much more appealing to him than studying—to be fair, writing to her was much more appealing than anything else he had to do, barring talking to Kadaiel.

What do you think she’s doing now, Kadaiel? Skitter whispered, knowing quite well Kadaiel knew exactly what she was doing. I hope she’s okay. Protect her please. Save her from her enemies. Keep her diligent in her studies—like I should be. He sighed. The thought of Kathra working hard lit a fire underneath him. He’d get back to studying—be as diligent as she was, but in a bit.

In a bit.

So this is what you do when you’re supposed to be studying.

Skitter winced. He turned from the window to see his teacher, Dabae, standing at the door with his arms crossed. A gray, flying squirrel with a prodigious gut, he nevertheless stood with an authority Skitter hoped to emulate one day. He kept the fur on either side of his mouth long, and used to thread beads on the ends of them, but had abandoned the practice a little after Skitter had taken the oath to become the High Priest.

These beads are a symbol of honor, he had said when he removed them for the last time, an honor I squandered. For he had been the High Priest before Skitter but had allowed himself to forsake Kadaiel’s commands. He had since repented and didn’t object when Kadaiel named Skitter the new High Priest.

But Skitter still considered Dabae his teacher.

I was studying, Dabaelo, Skitter said, running his hand over his hair. He added the –lo suffix his tribe attributed to males older than oneself. If Dabae had been female, he would have used –li. I just took a little break.

I would believe you if I didn’t catch you staring off into space at every given moment. Dabae strode into the office.

I’m not . . . Skitter averted his eyes. Not every moment.

It’s been six years, Skitter, Dabae said, holding his hands behind his back as he did every time he lectured Skitter. Six years since you became this tribe’s official High Priest and now Turan’s as well. You must take your tasks seriously.

I am! Skitter smacked the anatomy book on his desk. I’ve memorized this book cover to cover.

Say it all you like, but unless I see progress—

Deltoid, trapezius, bicep, triceps— Skitter rattled off all the names of the muscle groups in the diagram he had been studying. When he finished, he flipped the page to a diagram of a squirrel and did the same. Then to a diagram of a chipmunk. I’ve been studying non-stop, Dabaelo, he said when he had finished. I’m not just daydreaming.

I stand corrected. Dabae smiled, a rare thing for Skitter to see directed at him. Perhaps you are taking your studies seriously. So let me ask you this: a 25 year old, female flying squirrel comes to you saying she has a pain in her arm. After an examination, you find no broken bones or sprains. She is otherwise healthy. What is your next step in diagnosing her, and what is your treatment plan?

Um . . . uhm . . . Skitter hissed in a breath. Ask Kadaiel what’s wrong with her and what I should do to heal her?

Dabae’s frown returned. Skitter . . .

I’m trying, Dabaelo. Skitter plopped back into his chair. I can memorize all these books, but when it comes to practical use, I can’t put it together. My mind doesn’t work that way.

This is literally what a Healer does, Skitter.

Why do I have to know this stuff, anyway? Kadaiel tells me what to do, and sometimes he heals the patient himself. If he’s going to tell me, why do I have to study so hard?

That’s not how it works.

But why not? Skitter looked at his teacher. It’s been working fine this way for six years.

That is not the order Kadaiel has established for this tribe.

Skitter shut his mouth. Any other protests would be useless given this information. Still the question remained buzzing in his mind.

The High Priest is the Chief Healer, Dabae went on. "That is the order Kadaiel has established."

I know. Skitter let his ears fall.

Dabae raised his chin. Therefore, you must know how to practice medicine effectively.

I know; I know . . .

Or . . .

Skitter looked up at Dabae. Was there another option? Or?

Marry someone who does.

Skitter rolled his eyes. Dabaelo . . .

I’m serious, Skitter. You are of the age for marriage, and there are several, talented young ladies on the island who have just or will soon graduate as Healers. Properly trained, they will make for wonderful Chiefs. Dabae straightened his collar as a smirk crossed his lips. I trained some of them myself.

No one on this island is going to want to marry me. Skitter crossed over to the window again. Instead of looking out at the ocean, he let his eyes settle in amongst the trees where he spotted two squirrel girls—Healers by the look of their outer cloaks. They glanced at his window and snickered together. When he waved to show he saw them, they swung around and scurried off, whispering to each other. Everyone, especially the girls, only see me as the weird, orphan kit who came out of nowhere, sees creepy visions, causes trouble, and talks to Kadaiel way too much.

Dabae opened his mouth to counter but then shut it. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. If that’s the case, you need to apply yourself. This island cannot be without a Chief Healer for much longer.

I can be a Chief Healer without hurting my brain. Kadaiel tells me what to do. He always has. Isn’t that the same thing?

Skitter . . .

Isn’t it, though?

Dabae rolled his eyes. Have you spoken to Kadaiel about your view of what a Chief Healer should be?

Skitter started. Yeah . . . sort of . . . He scratched the back of his head.

And?

Skitter sank into his chair. "He said, ‘I have established a certain order,