Fire Bringer (17 page)

‘We have no Corps or Outriders,’ answered Dearg simply.

‘These things are not necessary.’

‘Not necessary? But who guards you from Lera? Who makes your decisions?’

Dearg smiled.

‘We all make decisions in the park,’ he said. ’Communally. But you don’t need to trouble yourself with such things. You look tired and I’m sure your fawns want to eat.’

Although Bracken and Shira held back a little, the thought of food was too much for the hinds to resist.

‘What’s a park?’ asked Quaich as they went, but Morar shook her head.

Scarp led them over to a patch of low ground, almost completely clear of snow. Here the deer were astounded to see a huge pile of dried grass.

‘Help yourself,’ said Scarp cheerfully. ‘There’s plenty for all.’

‘But where does it come from?’ asked Bracken.

‘We collect it in the summer,’ answered Scarp, looking rather distracted, ‘ready for the cold times.’

As Rannoch and the others approached, they sniffed the fodder nervously and were surprised to find that it smelt strongly, not of grass but of herbs, rosemary mostly and thyme and other plants that they didn’t recognize. Indeed they could see now that herbs were mixed in with the dried grass. Their lips began to water as the thick scent came to their nostrils, for they were all desperately hungry. Rannoch held back though, for he was still very nervous and he fancied that underneath the pungent, almost cloying smell, he had caught the faint breath of some other odour. The fawn couldn’t fathom what it was but it made him feel vaguely sick.

The sight of the food was so good, though, that the other fawns and their mothers dived in, munching happily at the delicious feed. Not even Shira could resist, although she ate nervously and kept looking around her.

When they had had their fill Scarp led them back again towards Dearg and the other stags but as they were running through the fallow herd Fern suddenly cried out in amazement. Among the strange palmed antlers, she had spotted a single red deer. The great spiked tines on his head, twelve in all, and his heavy, dull-brown winter coat looked oddly out of place among these Herla, but the stag seemed perfectly at home.

‘Look at his feet, Bracken,’ said Fern. ‘It’s Whitefoot.’ Fern had recognized Brechin’s brother, the Outrider who had gone missing two seasons before.

‘It can’t be,’ whispered Bracken, looking suddenly at Rannoch. ‘What’s he doing here?’

‘Let’s find out,’ said Alyth.

Scarp tried to dissuade them but the hinds swung away towards Whitefoot. Bracken’s heart was pumping but, as the hinds and the fawns approached, Whitefoot hardly raised his head.

‘Whitefoot. Whitefoot. It is you,’ cried Fern, as the hinds gathered round him.

Brechin’s brother lifted his antlers. He had a good face, strong and clear as Brechin’s had been, with large scent glands and a wide muzzle. But when he looked at the hinds his eyes were glassy and he hardly seemed to register the red deer’s arrival.

‘It’s me, Whitefoot. Fern. What are you doing here?’

The stag didn’t say anything. He went on munching on the dried grass in his mouth.

‘Whitefoot, don’t you recognize me? We’ve run away from the home valley, Whitefoot. Drail and Sgorr have taken the herd and destroyed the Outriders. Whitefoot?’

There seemed to be a flicker of recognition in the stag’s eyes but when he spoke his voice had a distant, melancholy sound, as though he was trying to remember an old dream.

‘Well, you’ll be safe here.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Hinds are always safe in the park.’

‘But, Whitefoot,’ said Shira desperately. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Come,’ said Scarp, suddenly stepping up. ‘We should get back to Dearg.’

‘But, Whitefoot. . .’ pleaded Fern.

Whitefoot had turned away and was gazing out towards the trees.

The hinds were considerably unnerved as they followed Scarp back to the other fallow stags and Rannoch kept looking over his shoulder towards Whitefoot.

‘Now, that’s better, isn’t it?’ said Dearg as Scarp and the hinds returned. ‘And I see you’ve met an old friend. I am glad. We’ll all rather fond of Whitefoot here, aren’t we, Scarp? He’s quite a novelty in the park and very swift. Now listen to me. I have some splendid news. We have been discussing you while you ate and have decided that you are very welcome to stay with us. We need hinds in the herd and fawns are always welcome in the park.’

Canisp and Morar greeted the news more enthusiastically than the others, who were now on edge, but it was nearing Larn and too late to move on. So the hinds agreed they should stay with the fallow deer for one night at least. Fern, for one, wanted to learn more about what had happened to Whitefoot.

Dearg told the deer they were welcome to wander among the fallow deer as they liked and to help themselves to as much food as they could eat. By morning the hinds were certainly impressed with the state of the herd and some of their initial fears had been allayed. The deer were so well fed that it could have been high summer. The reason was obviously their method of storing up food, unknown in any other deer herd, and the hinds soon discovered that there were several piles of dried grass and herbs around the edges of the park.

That second evening the hinds and their fawns drifted among the herd trying to make friends and resting from the journey and the shock of Bhreac’s death. For three suns they continued like this and soon they all felt refreshed and stronger again. Quaich recovered considerably and, as Morar fed, her milk became richer and nourished the calf greatly as he suckled on her flanks. Thistle seemed to have cheered up too and now something happened that made the calf very proud. Two little furry bumps appeared on his head. They were the pedicles that would, next season, form the base of his first antlers.

The deer got nothing more from Whitefoot though and Bracken kept a keen eye on Rannoch. The fawn wouldn’t touch the strange fodder and he was scratching for pasture late one morning when he saw Bankfoot, Thistle and Tain wandering over to him.

‘Hello, Rannoch,’ said Tain.’You seem unsettled. What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ answered Rannoch, scraping the snow.

‘Well, you’ve hardly said anything for three suns,’ said Thistle irritably.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Rannoch, ‘and I don’t like it here.’

‘Why not? It seems nice enough to me’

‘Yes,’ agreed Bankfoot. ’At least there’s l-l-lots to eat.’ Bankfoot was growing quite fat again.

‘I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling, that’s all,’ said Rannoch.

‘Not one of your feelings,’ said Thistle coldly.

‘Yes. One of my feelings. What do you think, Tain?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s all right, I suppose. There is lots to eat. There’s just one thing, though.’

‘What?’ asked Rannoch keenly.

‘Well. It seems rather boring to me, that’s all. I mean, have you seen the fawns? They never do anything. They never have any fun. Bankfoot and I tried to get some of them to play yesterday by the trees but they just stared at us blankly. I don’t think they know what it is to play.’

‘I know what you mean,’ agreed Rannoch. ‘But they’re all like that. So calm. Even the stags. And that’s another thing. Have you noticed how few stags there are?’

‘And their eyes,’ whispered Tain. They frighten me.’

‘Stop it,’ snapped Thistle, suddenly rounding on Rannoch.

‘It’s you. You’re always causing trouble, Rannoch. You and that mark. We had to leave the herd because of you and now I suppose you want to leave here too. Well, it’s wrong. I like it here and you’re only saying this because you want to be the centre of attention all the time. You want to be special. Well, I’m not going to listen.’

Thistle turned and ran back towards his mother.

‘Well, perhaps we should keep an eye out,’ said Rannoch, as he watched Thistle go. ‘What do the other fawns think?’ Neither Tain nor Bankfoot had seen much of the others, so they agreed to talk to the fawns and meet at Larn near a young birch tree. Tain and Bankfoot set off together and Rannoch wandered over to the forest. He felt drawn suddenly to enter the wood but instead he trotted along its northern edge looking for the twins, lost in his own thoughts but relieved that he had at least had a chance to share some of his worries with his friends.

He was coming around a spur of trees when he saw Peppa and Willow near a group of the fallow deer. The hinds and fawns were lying down in the snow. Fern was nowhere in sight for there were two stags with the group and she had felt confident enough to wander away from her fawns to feed at the dry grass.

‘Hello,’ Rannoch called. ‘I was looking for you.’

The twins greeted him warmly and Rannoch explained about the meeting and some of his fears.

‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,’ he said as cheerfully as he could. ‘Let’s walk up here though, where we can talk properly.’

The three of them were wandering away from the fallow deer when Rannoch stopped dead. He began to blink and look around him.

‘What is it, Rannoch?’ said Willow.

‘Danger,’ answered Rannoch immediately. He had smelt something strange on the air.

The twins glanced round nervously but the fallow deer seemed unmoved and the stags appeared to have scented nothing. Rannoch turned and looked towards the trees. The three fawns froze. The trees rustled and suddenly a fox poked his head through the leaves. It was only about a tree’s length from where the fallow deer were sitting.

The fawns’ first instinct was to bolt, but the fox was quite a way from where they were standing. Instead they stood mesmerized as the animal emerged into the snowy daylight. It was a large vixen, long and sleek, with a great bushy tail.

‘They’ll see it in a minute,’ whispered Rannoch.

The fox trotted forward across the snow and looked about unafraid.

‘There,’ whispered Willow. ‘The stags, they’ve seen it.’ The two stags had indeed seen the fox and turned their antlers towards it. But then, to the fawns’ horror, they simply turned away again. The fox was approaching the fallow hinds and their fawns.

‘Why don’t they do anything?’ said Peppa desperately.

‘I don’t know,’ whispered Rannoch.

The fox was now only a branch’s length away and it stopped and sniffed the air. Then, making up its mind, it swung right, towards a hind and a very young fawn who were standing a little off from the main group. Although some of the hinds were now looking towards the fox, they seemed completely unmoved.

‘Do something,’ cried Willow.

‘Look out!’ shouted Rannoch, beginning to stamp the ground.

Some of the hinds turned their heads towards Rannoch but they still didn’t stir and the three fawns began to shout frantically. But the fox trotted forward quite calmly, licking its lips. The horrified fawns watched as it approached the mother and her little one.

‘At last,’ shouted Rannoch, for now some of the hinds had got up.

But rather than bolting, they simply walked calmly away.

‘The mother must do something,’ gasped Willow.

‘Yes,’ shouted Peppa. ’Look.’

The hind had seen the fox. She began to stir fearfully and to bleat, but rather than run over to her fawn, who was still unaware of the vixen’s approach, she turned her back on the fox and started to kick at the ground with her back hoofs. The fox stopped again, its body quivering. Suddenly it sprang forwards, leaping through the snow. The fawn had seen it and, seized with terror, she bolted towards her mother. But the fox was now between the fawn and the hind and the little creature froze. The fox was on her in an instant. Its jaws caught the fawn straight in the throat and the vixen bit deep, pulling her to the ground and shaking her little head to and fro. It was over.

Very slowly the fox started to pull the fawn’s body back towards the trees. The fawn’s mother stood blinking in bewilderment and then she simply turned away and trotted back to the other deer, who had already begun to settle down again. There was a rustling by the trees and the fox was gone.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Peppa, her voice trembling with shock. ‘They didn’t do anything. They didn’t even run.’

‘No. Nor do I,’ whispered Rannoch. ‘But I know one thing. We must get away from here.’

At Larn both the fawns and the hinds had gathered together. When Rannoch told Bracken what they had seen she immediately summoned the others. Bracken felt a new strength rising within her now as she nuzzled the calves into the centre of the group and quizzed them carefully about the vixen. Only Thistle was missing and when Alyth heard the fawn’s story she was frantic with worry for her calf. But all the hinds soon agreed that something was wrong in the herd and, now they thought of it, each had a story of some strange incident among the fallow deer.

Fern told how she had seen the hinds ignore a young fawn who was caught in a thicket and Alyth said she had overheard Scarp and Dearg talking strangely about the fawns, saying how good it was to have some new males in the herd. She had also noticed that whenever the hinds took their fawns to feed, the males would be allowed to eat first and if a doe tried to help herself the hinds would kick her and bash her with their muzzles. Only poor Morar was reluctant to listen, for her nerves were shattered and she feared for Quaich if the hinds decided to leave. The hinds were engaged in their discussion when they saw a group of the fallow stags running towards them. Scarp and Dearg were with them and they bowed to the hinds as they approached.

‘Dear, dear,’ said Scarp immediately. ‘The hinds tell me you are not happy. Is there anything we can do?’

‘Yes,’ said Bracken angrily, surprised at her own courage.

‘You can tell us why a fawn was taken by a fox today and the stags did nothing.’

‘Yes, I heard about that.’ Scarp nodded seriously. ‘Most unpleasant. But such things happen, I’m afraid.’

‘But one of you could have stopped it,’ cried Bracken. Scarp and Dearg looked at each other quizzically.

‘I suppose so,’ said Dearg, ‘but the stags didn’t see why it was necessary. After all, it was only a young doe.’

‘Only a young doe!’ shouted Bracken. The stags looked back at her blankly.