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    June Leir


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    "Wake up! Wake up!"


    I shot upright, my heart pounding in my chest. My head collided with something hard— thunk— and I yelped in pain, blinking away the fog of sleep. My eyes focused, and I saw Anna sprawled on the ground beside my bed, rubbing her forehead with a grimace.


    "Are you okay?" I asked, already scrambling to my feet.


    Anna didn’t answer right away. She just shot me a glare that could’ve melted steel. Then, without another word, she grabbed my backpack from the desk and started tossing things in without a second thought. "We’re leaving. Now."


    "Wait, what? Where’s Mom and Dad? Who was that guy? What’s going on?" I blurted out, throwing questions at her faster than I could think.


    Anna paused for a brief moment, exhaling through her nose like she was trying to calm herself. "I don’t have time to explain everything, June. If I answer one by one, you’ll have ten more. Mom and Dad are evacuating the town. They want me to get you to Uncle’s cabin. A monarch is hunting Dad... and it''s found us."


    The air in my lungs froze. I stared at her, processing the words, but nothing came out. I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. "Oh," I whispered, my stomach sinking.


    Anna continued packing, her hands moving fast and sharp. She shoved the last few things into my bag and tossed it to me with a practiced motion. "You’ve got three minutes to get dressed and grab anything you absolutely need. Don’t make me drag you out of here."


    I blinked a few times, still processing, but I nodded. "Okay, okay."


    I quickly grabbed the stuffed fox Mom made for me—my comfort—then slipped my boots on.


    Less than two minutes later, I burst into the kitchen, already dressed, my jacket on, and my bag slung over my shoulder. "Ready!" I declared, clutching the fox tightly.


    Anna barely looked up, just tossing the last of the canned food into a large bag–probably dads, muttering under her breath. "Good. Grab the camping gear and the canteens from the closet. We’re almost done."


    I raced to the closet, grabbed everything she asked for, and rushed back to her. She shoved the camping kit and canteens into the bag and cinched the straps tightly.


    "June, look at me," she said suddenly, her voice serious, her gaze locking onto mine. I stopped, everything else fading away in the intensity of her stare. "Promise me. If we run into any beasts on the way, you stay hidden. You stay out of sight while I deal with them. This is going to be dangerous—more dangerous than anything you’ve ever faced. And I promised Mom and Dad I’d keep you safe until they can get to us."


    I swallowed, her words sinking into me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. But then, my voice was steady—"I promise. I’ll listen to you. I’ll stay out of the way."


    Anna held my gaze for a long, tense moment, making sure I meant it. Finally, her expression softened, just a little. "I’ll believe you, little sister." She gave me a quick, reassuring smile. "Now, let’s go. We need to be out of here before things get worse."


    She turned and moved toward the door, but then froze. Her hand shot up, finger pressed to her lips, signaling for me to be quiet.


    I stood still, confused, until I heard it too—a faint, eerie sound drifting on the wind. Music.


    "Is that…?" I began, but Anna cut me off, her eyes wide with alarm.


    "They’re early," she hissed under her breath, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the door. "Why are they early?"


    I didn’t need to ask what she meant. Dad had told us stories—about how the monarchs always gave a warning before they came, how the music meant a calamity was about to descend.


    I felt my pulse quicken. The monarch was coming. And we weren’t ready.


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    Annabelle Leir


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    June tugged back slightly as my words sank in, her mind catching up to the urgency. "Wake up, June! We''re running, not thinking!" I shouted, dragging her behind me as we moved swiftly around the back of the house.


    Uncle’s cabin lay in the mountains to the south, not far from where we were. Normally, Dad would never allow us to go alone, especially with the beasts being worse at night. But tonight, we had no choice.


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    As we slipped into a small clearing, the dark around us felt familiar to me, but it made me realize something—others, like June, couldn’t see in the dark as I could. She stumbled over a rock that I had easily avoided.


    "Ahh!" June yelped as she crashed into the snow. "Why is snow so fluffy but so painful?" she groaned, a wince contorting her face as she lay on the cold ground.


    I spun around, dropping to my knees beside her. We hadn’t even gone a few hundred yards into the woods, and already, I was reminded of how unprepared I was. I had overlooked something so simple.


    "Come on, June, get up. We need to go."


    She reached for my hand, trying again to stand, but her knees buckled, and she collapsed. Her face went pale, and her voice trembled, “It hurts to stand.”


    I gritted my teeth, fighting the rising frustration. "Push through the pain, June!"


    With a determined tug, I pulled her up, forcing her to stand.


    "Ahh!" Her cry was louder this time, sharp and desperate, as she collapsed again. “I can’t, Anna, my ankle! It hurts too much!”


    Reluctantly, I formed my hands into the bird call I had practiced, the one that meant Mom needed to drop everything and come to us when things went wrong. Five sharp notes echoed through the night air, and as I began rummaging through my bag, I spoke calmly, though my heart raced. "Take your boot off; I’m going to bind it so we can keep going."


    To my surprise, when I turned back, June’s boot was already off, and she was waiting patiently. I couldn’t help but smile, her willingness to follow without complaint surprising me again.


    Just as I finished wrapping her foot, a rustling from nearby shot my instincts into overdrive. My voice dropped to a whisper. "Mom?"


    Silence.


    I slid the knife from my boot and handed it to June before drawing Dad’s woodcutting axe from my bag. We sat, tense, scanning the small clearing in silence, holding our breath. Without warning, a massive, four-legged creature leapt from the bushes directly in front of us and sprinted toward us from a mere dozen feet away.


    Reacting as quickly as a cat, I loosened my body just like Dad had taught me and bolted toward the beast, keeping a safe distance between it and June. The creature—a gargantuan snow leopard—closed the gap swiftly. At the last moment, it slashed at me with its claws. Surprising it, I twisted my axe sideways, using the flat side to block the strike. The sound of the metal ringing against its claws disoriented it for a split second, giving me the chance to step in close and land a shallow cut to its throat.


    I leaped back just in time to avoid its retaliatory swipe—a strike that would have knocked me out of the fight had it landed. We stared each other down, the leopard’s gaze sharp, as if it could sense my own instincts. It hissed at me, issuing a challenge.


    Fury bubbled up inside me. “Of course, you turned this into a pissing contest, you stupid feline. We don’t have time for this!” I hissed back.


    The beast lunged, mimicking its initial attack. I grinned predatorily. It was underestimating me. As it closed in, I darted to the right, and, as planned, it pursued. Once it was right on my heels, I pivoted, swiping my axe vertically. The leopard pulled back to avoid the strike—just as I’d expected. I rolled left, narrowly evading its next swipe, and scooped up a handful of snowy dirt.


    I took off again, hoping it would chase me, but this time, it didn’t follow. A strange sound rang out from behind me, like the leopard was calling for something—or someone.


    I froze, my stomach sinking. "I really hope this prick doesn’t have a pack," I muttered, before turning to sprint toward it, desperate to silence its call.


    Before the leopard could finish its screech, I was already on top of it, swinging my axe in a sharp diagonal arc toward its head. It reacted quicker than I expected, ducking and twisting to avoid the blow, then slashing at me with terrifying speed. Frustratingly, I couldn’t dodge it in time. But I used every ounce of my agility to twist my body, rolling with the strike to lessen the blow. In the same fluid motion, I hurled the handful of dirt straight into its face, hoping to blind it long enough for me to regain control.


    The dirt distracted it long enough for me to land below it, and as it attempted to strike, it slashed at nothing but air. I grimaced as pain flared in my left arm, but I forced myself to keep moving, rolling away from the beast’s reach. It tried pouncing again, blind and frustrated, but after a few more failed attempts, it stopped chasing me. It took a brief pause to clean the dirt from its face.


    I staggered to my feet, the pain in my arm intensifying. My breathing quickened as adrenaline began to wear off.


    I took a moment to center myself, steeling my resolve.


    The leopard, sensing my change, charged toward me, eyes closed in blindness. I feigned a move left but darted right, trying to confuse it. It pounced, but missed by a single step. I grinned, taunting, “Not there anymore, stupid!”


    I took off toward the clearing’s edge, making as much noise as possible to lure the leopard after me. As the trees drew near, I leaped up, catching a branch with my injured arm. Pain seared through me, but I didn’t hesitate. The leopard charged straight into a tree, dazed.


    I dropped down and struck, my axe poised to cleave into its skull. The beast crumpled beneath me. I quickly backed off and collapsed to my knees, waiting for any sign of movement, but there was nothing.


    Exhausted, I slowly got to my feet, clutching my mangled arm. “Screw the plan; we’re heading back home,” I wheezed. “We won’t make it like this.”


    June didn’t argue. She stood, limping, and started back toward town. I grabbed my bag to follow, but then—a rustling behind me. I froze, heart pounding, praying it wasn’t another leopard.


    To my horror, three smaller snow leopards—probably the dead one’s cubs—emerged from the foliage, their eyes fixed on their fallen mother. They hissed at me, the bloodied killer. I was paralyzed, panic rising in my chest.


    The cubs stalked closer, far more cautious than their mother had been.


    “Anna, run!” June’s voice rang out behind me, calm yet urgent.


    Her shout broke me from the edge of panic, and I immediately forced my legs into motion. I couldn’t let them get to June. I had to take her out of the equation to protect her. I turned and fled deeper into the woods, leaving my sister and my bag behind and hoped that I’d somehow make it through this.