Ratha's Courage (32 page)

The growing roar was not only the outrage of the black usurper. Even through his rage and desire, he recognized the sound of the stampeding herd.

He was still rolling, his forelegs wrapped around Ratha, twisting and tumbling. The ground shook and the thunderstorm of the stampede shuddered through him. Ratha screeched in terror, and he found his voice joining hers. Through smeared vision he saw the huge shapes, the pistoning legs and the descending feet.

Not knowing how or why, he wrenched himself and Ratha over to a shadow that looked only a tiny bit different than all the others in the flickering light of the campfire. The ground suddenly disappeared from underneath him, and he spilled, still clutching Ratha, down a dirt slope, rolled, and slammed into an earthen wall.

“Thakur?” she squeaked, but the explosion of sound from above drowned Ratha out. He could only tighten his grip on her as the two were bounced about the chamber, hoping that a rumbler’s foot would not crash through the roof or a face-tail avalanche down on top of them.

He found himself burying his nose in the fur of her neck, his teeth seeking her nape. Her odor was wonderful, alluring, arousing.

He no longer cared about any danger that threatened. The thunder overhead only excited him. He was here with one he had loved for so long, with endless patience and hidden misery.

She felt the same—he could tell by her frenzied tongue-strokes on his neck, his chest, his belly, the root of his tail, the way she breathed his name and the way she moved beneath him.

“Thakur, I want you. I have always wanted you.”

Ratha, yearling, clan leader, bearer of the Red Tongue, beloved—how I have ached to hear you say that. How I burn now and only you can soothe me.

Neither heard the noises outside or felt the end of the earth shaking, for they were both enraptured with one another, singing together in wild joy, trembling fiercely. Their scents mixed and the wonderful aroma cocooned Ratha and Thakur as they came closer together than ever before, burying themselves in one another, entangled and entranced by their need. It grew deeper and more passionate until Thakur spent himself.

He heard Ratha cry out and twist sharply beneath him. Instinctively he braced himself for her claw-strike across the face, feeling the muscles of her shoulders tense. Her paw moved, but she checked it and only her velveted paws touched and stroked Thakur’s face.

They curled around one another, each bathing in the feel of the other’s fur, the shape of their body, the glow of their eyes, the brush of their whiskers.

Thakur felt a rush of tenderness as strong as the mating urge. It nearly made him choke as he tongue-caressed her head, her ears, felt the whiskers over her eyes, then the lashes.

Ratha, my Ratha, as long as we live.

“Yes, I am yours,” she whispered, as if he had said his feelings aloud, then he felt her relax and her breathing become slow and regular. Sleep took him, too, and he sank into it, surrendering himself to a lazy bliss he thought he would never know.

The question of cubs and the Named light in their eyes crept through his mind. Things had changed. They were not as definite or forbidding as before. Thistle-chaser had certainly proved that cubs from his and Bone-chewer’s line could be as intelligent and self-aware as any others of the Named. If Night-who-eats-stars was, as Thakur suspected, Thistle’s brother from Ratha’s lost first litter, the brilliance in his eyes showed that he shared her gift.

Thakur had noticed that the most talented Named cubs grew more slowly than others less gifted. He himself had lagged as a cub, and he remembered how others had thought him stupid and slow for a long time.

Ratha’s judgment of her young had been too early. She herself had been young, with the rashness of youth. Now that she was older, she would have more patience. With what he now knew, he could guide her. Whatever gifts her cubs had or didn’t have, he knew that he would love them dearly.

His years of exile were over. Now he could stand proudly and openly at her side as her partner, her helper, and, most of all, her mate.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Drifting up from velvet darkness, Ratha became aware that she lay with her back against a warm chest, her head resting on the inside of someone’s foreleg, the weight of his other foreleg resting on her side just below her shoulder. No, not just someone. Not a night-coated intruder, not a dream Bone-chewer. Just a nice, real, strong, warm Thakur.

She listened to him breathe, deep and powerful, slightly slower than her own rhythm, hers a counterpoint to his, male and female in a soft breath-song.

The urgency of her heat had been quenched for the moment, and all she felt was a satisfied laziness. She tried not to stir, savoring the quiet alone with the one she had wanted for so long and dared not have.

Memories rolled around in her mind, the courting circle, the squabbling males, and the latecomer with moonlit eyes. She knew now that her mind had transformed him into Bone-chewer and that she had begun to give herself to him. It was strange, though. Even though he had seized her nape, climbed onto her, started treading with his rear feet and even swept her tail aside, he never completed the act of mating.

She remembered her heat-driven surge of impatience as he became still over her, yet kept holding her nape. The eagerness in his smell was mixed with something else: a gentle reluctance, as if he realized that she was someone who should not or could not be taken in such a way. No, it wasn’t Thakur’s leap into the courting circle that had interrupted their mating. It had already halted, yet the male still crouched over her, holding her.

It made no sense, unless he was only protecting her from the other males who had no such hesitation. No, she had to be imagining it, just as she had imagined that he was Bone-chewer.

Thakur was no figment of a heated imagination. He was here, he was solid, he was comforting, he smelled wonderful, he was her mate, and that was all that mattered.

She wished she could hold that moment forever, clasped to her breast by her paws. She tried to stay still, but she knew she must have stirred, for his breathing quickened and he began to wake.

She felt him give a slight start as he woke to find her in his embrace. For a sharp instant, she thought he would pull away, but she felt him relax again, draw her closer, and start to purr.

“My Ratha,” he said, and the words lit a thrill of delight in her. “Finally.”

“My Thakur,” she purred, nearly lost in a wave of contentment. “For the rest of my life.”

She felt she could have stayed with him in the cocooning silence forever, but gradually, noises from outside began to filter through. She felt him lift his head, listen. She did the same, and distinctly caught a Named voice asking the whereabouts of the clan leader and the herding teacher.

“That’s Cherfan,” said her mate, gently sliding his foreleg out from beneath her cheek so that he could roll onto his front. “He’s forgotten that he is the clan leader, at least temporarily.”

“We should find out what happened,” Ratha said, but it was hard to end the moment.

Thakur licked her cheek gently and said, as if he knew, “There will be many more like this.”

She got up, fluffed her fur. “Just one question. The one who had me before you came. It was Night-who-eats-stars, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. There was something strange. He was just holding you, even though he could have mated.”

So Thakur noticed that, too! It wasn’t just my imagination.

“Of course, my view of things was a little confused,” he admitted.

“Thakur, he freed Thistle. He attacked another male so that she could escape. I thought I heard him telling Thistle to go. How could that be unless—”

“He is your son, Ratha. Yours and Bone-chewer’s. Thistle’s brother.”

Ratha calmed the excited thoughts that were swirling through her with a deep long breath.“That is why I could so easily think he was Bone-chewer. His scent—It reminded me so much of Bone-chewer.”

“Are you disappointed that—?”

“The one who has me now is not Bone-chewer? No, Thakur!” She rubbed her cheek against his side. “Yes, I loved him, but I never knew him that well. When he died, I made an image that stayed with me. I made it more than he really was.”

“Well, he was extraordinary,” Thakur answered softly. “I don’t fault you for missing him. I wish he hadn’t died.”

“I don’t have to miss him anymore. Bone-chewer is still here. He’s still alive. In you. I have both of you now. And the living one is even more precious.”

“You also have your son, if that’s what Night turns out to be. If so, he will be mine as well.” Thakur halted. “If we can find him. I hope I didn’t hurt him in the fight, but I wasn’t exactly thinking that clearly.”

“My gentle Thakur. Fighting! For me,” she teased.

“I never thought I could fight like that, but when I saw you in the midst of those . . .” He broke off as the clamor outside grew louder.

“We’d better see what’s happened,” Ratha said, feeling suddenly guilty and wondering how much time had passed since the herd had stampeded overhead.

She climbed out of the fire-den, feeling her belly tighten and her ears flatten for a fight if they were still surrounded by New Singer and his renegades. Instead, as she emerged, she was surrounded by the odors and body-rubs of the Named, both males and females.

“Clan leader!”

“Where did you go?”

“You should have seen those belly-biters run when w
e . . . ”

As Thakur emerged behind her, he, too, was engulfed by the living wave of fur, affection and excitement. They all toppled together in a squirming panther-pile.

“Wait,” Ratha said, as she tried not to get squashed. “You mean we won?”

“We won?” boomed a voice close to her ear. “Clan leader, it was like slapping a paw down on a bunch of sleepy flies, the way that rabble scattered. We probably didn’t need the other animals. One look at the rumblers and New Singer just about jumped out of his stripes. Herding teacher, that was a brilliant idea!”

“It wasn’t mine, Cherfan,” Ratha heard Thakur puff as he climbed free of the panther-pile and shook himself. “It was Mishanti and Bundi’s. Where are they?”

“Leading the herd back to the meadow,” Cherfan replied cheerfully. “Clan ground is ours again!”

“No sign of another attack?” Ratha asked, untangling herself reluctantly from the flopping tails, rubbing bodies, and licking tongues of her friends. Her fur was completely rumpled, but she didn’t care. It was so good for them to be together again on their home ground.

“I don’t think so,” Cherfan rumbled. “The last we saw of those renegades were their tails disappearing. Still, we’ll post scouts.”

“New Singer didn’t have time to even think his dung-eating song, much less send it.” This was Fessran, rubbing up against Cherfan. “Oooh, you big furry monster, you smell sooo luscious. . . .”

Ratha suddenly remembered the cubs. “They’re in the rock fall shelter by the steam.”

“Before we start making new cubs, we’d better get the old ones,” Cherfan said. “Quiet Hunter, give Ratha and Thakur their treelings and come with me. Mondir, Bira, Drani, you as well. Fessran, you stay. If you go, we’ll never get there.”

With his party in tow, the big herder brushed past Fessran, who collapsed on her rump with a “Hmmrh.” The Firekeeper turned to Ratha and Thakur. “So where did you two disappear to? I was afraid that all we would find of you would be flattened fur in the dirt.”

“We fell into the fire-den. It was a good thing that the rumblers didn’t break through the roof,” Ratha explained. “Bundi and Mishanti must have guided them away from it.”

“So it was the terrible two who saved our tails this time,” Fessran grinned. “Well, maybe I’ll forgive them for wrecking my den.”

“Where’s Thistle-chaser?”

“Sleeping in Quiet Hunter’s den. Well, actually it’s Thakur’s old one and Quiet Hunter repaired it. When Thistle escaped, he ran to her, and I imagine that they were soon doing the same thing in that lair that you two were doing in the fire-den.”

Ratha bristled, “Fess!”

She turned to Thakur. “I think I should find Thistle. After what she went through in the courting circle . . .”

“I think that Quiet Hunter can provide more than a cure for that,” Fessran replied.

“I think that we should leave them alone,” Thakur said quietly to Ratha. “If Thistle needs you, she’ll come to you. I should go to the meadow and check the animals. And Bundi and Mishanti may need some help getting untied from their rumblers.”

The urgency of her heat reduced for the moment, Ratha followed Thakur into the meadow, enjoying the feel of Ratharee riding once again on her back. Actually, it was the edge of the meadow, for Thakur had to locate some tall trees in order to reach the two rumbler-riders and help them get down. Both Bundi and Mishanti were tired and stiff, but they still gave their mounts grateful pats and strokes. Grunt and Belch responded with their tongues, the only part of them that wouldn’t squash their small friends. Aree, clinging to Thakur’s shoulder as he climbed, and Ratharee, perched on Ratha as she followed, quickly freed the two riders from the vine ropes, which had gotten into a horrific tangle.

Thakur carried Bundi down; Ratha took Mishanti.

“I know you could have climbed down,” Ratha said to the pair when they reached the grass again. “But you’re tired, and we don’t want to risk having you two heroes fall.”

She saw both rumbler-riders exchange surprised glances and grins that quickly became yawns. She and Thakur herded them both into the shade beneath an oak and told them to sleep. Mishanti collapsed atop Bundi, who gathered his smaller friend in his paws. They both dissolved in snores while Grunt and Belch began browsing in a tree nearby.

“The terrible two,” Ratha mused. “Who would have thought they’d be the ones to save the clan.”

“Now they’ve got a reputation to live up to,” Thakur answered. “I’ll see that they do.”

Ratha stared at the female rumbler. Something about the line of the animal’s belly seemed a bit different. “Thakur, I don’t know much about these beasts, but I think Belch is going to have cubs. . . .”