Ratha’s Challenge (The Fourth Book of The Named) (7 page)

The red light came from a fire-nest that Bira had built and was tending. She saw the Firekeeper move around the flame, feeding it dry wood. The treeling on Bira’s back helped, doing with its small hands what the Firekeeper could not accomplish with paws and teeth. On the other side of the flame crouched her mother, fawn coat turned orange by the light, green eyes turning to gold.

Thakur was beside Thistle now and she was glad. He was the one she wanted with her when she came up from those strange sea depths.

He seemed to sense that she had come back, for his voice was low and warm in her ears.

“Thistle?”

She lifted her head, swiveling her ears. Her vision swam and she let her chin drop onto her paws. “Still dizzy,” she mumbled, closing her eyes against the firelight. He moved to her other side, blocking out the fire, letting her stare into the cool, soothing velvet of the night. Her mother and Bira were on the far side of the fire. That was good. She wanted them away. What she needed to say now, she could say only to Thakur.

“What made you scream?” he asked softly.

“Wasn’t the other clan-cats. Not their fault.”

“Could you hear this song they were talking about?”

“Not sure. So faint and far away. Had to go inside. To a scary place. It was there.” She faltered, starting to tremble. Thakur knew what “it” was.

“Did your fear of the hunters bring your fit on?” he asked.

“No. Felt strange even before we started. The thing ... It started prowling.... I didn’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thakur’s voice was faintly reproving, though still gentle.

“Knew you had waited. So long. Wanted to try. For you. Means a lot to you. Didn’t want to make you wait ... anymore.”

She heard and felt the depth of his sigh.

“Oh, Thistle ...”

She snuggled closer to him, felt the warm weight of a paw as he draped it over her. He, more than any of the Named, could accept her for what she was. Yet there was coldness inside her because she had disappointed him.

“All ruined, Thakur? No chance to talk to others?” she asked. “Because of me?”

“Without you we would never have been able to try at all. Next time, though, you must tell me.”

“Next time?”

“Yes. If you are willing to try again. If you start feeling strange, though, we will back off and wait.”

“Won’t they fight us? Chase us away again?”

“I don’t know. One time they chased me; another time they let me approach. It is hard to tell what they will do. The only way is to approach them cautiously.”

“Want to help you, Thakur,” Thistle said. “Will try hard as I can. Maybe next time... bad thing... will stay away.”

Feeling his warmth and his tongue licking the back of her neck, Thistle drifted into sleep.

Chapter Six

Three days later, Ratha settled with the other members of her group beside an evening campfire. Thistle crouched beside Thakur, her eyes closed, her whiskers drooping. Ratha’s heart went out to her daughter. She had watched Thistle try again and again to approach the hunters, only to be attacked and overcome by the prowling terror that lived inside of her.

The thing that wears my shape and uses my teeth,
Ratha thought bitterly.

And then Thakur had tried, both alone and with Bira. The face-tail hunters refused. Each encounter was more savage and frightening than the last.

Thakur is going to get himself killed. When I watched from the bushes, I saw nothing to suggest these strangers might be like us. There is no reason to try to talk to them now.

The Named had then changed their tactics, leaving the hunters alone and concentrating on the animals. This hadn’t worked either. Any attempt to capture or kill a face-tail sparked retaliation from the other clan. They might not speak, but they certainly thought they owned the face-tail herd, Ratha thought. When the Named even ventured near, they were met with blind ferocity.

Ratha tried to groom her matted and soot-streaked fur, but gave up. Everybody else looked equally bedraggled and out of sorts.

Too many skirmishes in the last few days had taken much out of them. Ratha could see how her people were starting to suffer. It angered her.

She heard Khushi muttering to Bira as the young Firekeeper and her treeling tended the flame.

“Those hunters are greedy,” he growled. “There are plenty of face-tailed beasts for all, yet they keep driving us away.”

Bira agreed, her fur ruffled and her usually calm green eyes fiery with indignation. From the corner of her eye, Ratha caught a glimpse of Thakur and Thistle, who had heard Khushi’s words. She couldn’t help seeing Thakur bristle. Thistle looked tired and defeated. She was also limping slightly—having to run away from the attacks had strained her leg.

Seeing her daughter struggle inflamed Ratha’s anger even more.

“I think we have shown enough patience with these hunters,” she said. “I heard what Khushi said to Bira and I agree. Trying to speak to them is getting us nowhere.”

“I disagree,” Thakur said slowly. “Thistle and I did make some progress when we first tried. I understand them a little better than before.”

“I don’t understand them at all,” Bira said, wrinkling her nose. “There is plenty of meat for everyone. Why don’t they share? As far as I can see, they are no different than the savage Un-Named.”

“Ratha?” The clan leader felt Thakur’s gaze go to her.

She answered, trying to control her own impatience. “I sent Khushi here to scout for face-tails. My intent was to add them to our herds. The hunters are making that impossible.”

“So you would attack the other clan with the Red Tongue,” Thakur said in a low voice.

“Herding teacher, what choice do I have? If we are to survive and grow, we must enlarge our herds. I think these face-tailed beasts can be managed, but we have never really been able to try—the other clan keeps driving us off.”

“Perhaps we would be better to look in other places for other animals,” Thakur said stubbornly.

Khushi yowled scornfully. “And run away with our tails between our legs if someone else claims them? Herding teacher, I mean no disrespect, but we are the Named, after all. Are we going to back down just because this scruffy bunch is being unreasonable?”

“Enough, Khushi,” Ratha said, raising a paw. “Bira? You look like you have something to say.”

“Yes, I do,” said Bira in her soft voice as she curled her plumed tail around her feet. “I am a Firekeeper. I know how cruel the Red Tongue can be. It is not easy for me to think about using it against others. If I thought these strangers might be like us, I would be horrified by the idea.” She paused. “But I have watched them, looking for signs that they are like us. I haven’t seen any.” She glanced at Thakur and then away again. “Herding teacher, I am sorry.”

Despite herself, Ratha was startled. Gentle Bira would give anyone the benefit of the doubt. If even she had hardened her heart, then it must be because the other clan didn’t deserve any sympathy.

“What makes you feel that way, Bira?” Thakur asked.

“All the time I have watched this other clan, I have never seen them show any sign of caring for each other—not the way we do. Each one walks past the others as if they were not even there.”

“They think differently than we do,” Thakur began, but Bira gently, yet firmly, cut him off.

“That should not make a difference. Our treelings think very differently than we do, yet they care for us.” She nuzzled her treeling, Biaree, who was snuggled up against her neck.

Thakur had no answer for that. Ratha saw him staring down at the ground between his paws. “I think,” he said after a long silence, “that they do care for each other, but in a very different way than we do.”

“Herding teacher, is it possible you are seeing something in these people that you only wish was there?” Ratha asked softly.

“I admit I have made that mistake in the past, clan leader. We both have. But this time I think I am right. I only ask for the chance to prove it.”

Ratha felt her ears twitch back. “I’ve given you that chance. I’ve given the other clan that chance. What can I do if they refuse it?” She sighed. “To be frank with you, Thakur, I don’t like these hunters. I like them even less than the witless Un-Named. At least the Un-Named do not enslave themselves willingly to a tyrannical leader, as this True-of-voice seems to be. And they walk around in an endless dream, unable to wake up. It makes me shiver.”

“And because you judge them different, you are willing to drive them with the Red Tongue, like animals?” Thakur’s voice was very low, nearly a growl.

“My duty is not to the other clan,” Ratha snapped. “The Named must come first.”

“I thought there might be room in the world for the Named and others as well,” Thakur said softly.

“It is their choice whether to attack us,” she retorted. “Thakur, the decision is made. We will catch a face-tail tomorrow. If any of the hunters interfere, Bira and I will use the Red Tongue.”

She heard Thistle gasp softly, almost a moan of pain, as if she had been struck. For an instant anger burned away the exhaustion in her eyes, and Ratha braced herself to endure a passionate defense of the hunters.

But the spark died, extinguished by weariness. Her daughter only said, “Doesn’t matter what Thistle feels. No right to speak anyway. Not clan member.” She limped away into the darkness before anyone could stop her.

As much as Ratha wanted to go after her, she knew it would be useless.

She turned instead to Thakur. She thought she had succeeded in becoming hard both inside and outside, but it hurt her to see how Thakur stared at the fire and fell silent.

Chapter Seven

The fire was banked and burning low. Above its crackle Thistle could hear the sounds of breathing—Ratha, Bira, and Khushi were asleep nearby.

Thakur wasn’t asleep. Thistle could tell by the way he moved restlessly beside her. She wasn’t asleep either, and it was not just his squirming that was keeping her awake.

She was angry at Ratha. Khushi and Bira too, but mostly Ratha. Once again her mother had chosen to strike out at those she did not understand.

She did that to me and she is doing it again to this other clan. I thought she would have learned better by now.

Beside her, Thakur rolled over again, sighed, and started to get up.

“Thakur?” she said, not wanting his comforting warmth to be replaced by the cool night air.

“Sh, Thistle. Don’t wake the others. I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d go watch the stars for a while.”

“Can’t sleep either. Go with you?”

“All right, but be quiet.”

They left the campfire and the sleepers behind, Thakur moving noiselessly through the scrub. Thistle glanced back. The fire had become a dim glow in the distance between the trees. When the low boughs and brush overhead opened up to a clear night sky, Thakur sat down and lifted his chin. Thistle did too.

There was no moon that night. Each star was as sharp as the point of a claw. Across part of the sky there was a misty light wafting outward like a plume of smoke from the Red Tongue. To Thistle, the night had a stark, aching beauty.

“It makes me want... something I do not even know about,” she said, wriggling a little closer to Thakur’s warmth.

Thakur said, “It makes me want to lift my paw to the sky, even though I know I cannot reach the stars.”

“Night-flying birds,” Thistle said. “The mice with wings and big ears—could those creatures fly high enough?”

She felt him give a sigh again. “Somehow ... I don’t think so.”

After a long silence, she asked, “Thakur, does... she... ever sit like this and look up? My mother, I mean.”

“I think she did when she was a cub. But that was a long time ago. She hasn’t done it for a while.”

“Being clan leader is hard. Too many things to think about,” Thistle said.

“Too many,” Thakur agreed.

Again the silence fell and covered them both. The stars seemed to shimmer against the night sky.

“You were right,” said Thistle abruptly. “What you said—to my mother and the rest—you were right. Don’t let anyone make you back away from what you said.”

“Why do you say that, Thistle?” Thakur asked in a mild voice. The herding teacher sounded slightly puzzled, as he often did when she took off on a different thought trail without letting him know where she was going.

“Because the other Named ones—they will try to make you say you are wrong about the hunters. And my mother—she will try the hardest of all.”

“She is clan leader, Thistle,” she heard him say gently. “She is doing what she thinks is best for all of us. She must, or we will not survive.”

“Not best for me,” she protested. “Not for you either, or for the hunting clan. You said, ‘Can’t there be room for Named and others as well?’ Think there can be.” She paused, feeling her whiskers tremble with the force of passion. “Don’t let them make you give that up, Thakur.”