Ratha’s Challenge (The Fourth Book of The Named) (11 page)

“Do you have to think of these hunters as enemies? When you saw them, you said they share some of our ways. ”

“Yes. I also saw how well they worked together and how devoted they are to their leader. They are a threat. I can’t pretend that I’m blind to it. We need to show our strength by wielding the Red Tongue.” She looked away from Thakur, then back. “I’m doing what I did when the Un-Named attacked us. It worked. And I never heard you speak out against it.”

“Perhaps I should have spoken out against it,” Thakur said in a voice that was nearly a growl. “Or maybe I should have spoken louder. Clan leader, we of the Named have already learned that things are not as simple as we once thought. We can no longer divide the world of creatures into those who are like us and those who are not.”

“It is easier to do that when you are clan leader,” Ratha said, feeling both shamed and justified. “Thakur, you know that I have to choose in favor of our people.”

“Does something that helps the Named have to hurt others?”

The green in his eyes seemed to burn into her, making her tongue clumsy. “N-no. But somehow it has happened that way.”

“In past seasons we were struggling so hard to survive that we couldn’t afford to worry about who we hurt. But now—and I credit your leadership, Ratha—things are better. We are not so much on the edge. Maybe we can afford to be more understanding. It may have unexpected rewards.”

Ratha eyed him. “You are thinking about Thistle, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

She switched her tail. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t think so much, herding teacher. You’d be easier to live with.”

“I probably would be,” Thakur agreed.

“So you want me to postpone any face-tail hunts. How long?”

“Long enough for Thistle and me to convince you that True-of-voice’s people are not enemies.”

Ratha sighed. “All right. I’ll delay the hunt I’d planned and I’ll explain why to Bira and Khushi. If I have any rash impulses to go shred True-of-voice, I’ll sit on them. ”

“Or talk to me about them,” Thakur suggested.

She grimaced. “I don’t think that even you can make me feel differently about True-of-voice. My belly really doesn’t like him. I’m being patient for your sake, not his.”

“I appreciate that you are being patient. The reason doesn’t matter.”

And I’m doing this for your sake too, Thistle,
Ratha thought as she jogged back to the campfire beside Thakur.

Chapter Twelve

For the third time in less than a day, Thakur watched Thistle’s eyes begin to swirl as her body went rigid and started to tremble.

He felt his own heart pound in his chest. He hated seeing this happen to her. He hated it even more when there were others around to witness her helplessness. Luckily, this time, no one was. He had taken her to a little hollow where they could be alone, where she could practice slipping into the dreaming state of mind that was so like that of the hunters.

Instead she was battling a nightmare.

“Come out of it, Thistle,” Thakur yowled as her pupils shrank to black slits in the stormy green sea of her eyes. “You’ve had enough.
I’ve
had enough.”

Twice before she had managed to pull herself out of the trance before it took her. But this time she was gone where only she could go.

Thakur had chosen this place for another reason. It had a pool. A marshy little wallow of a pool that was more mud than water.

She was starting to jump around, muttering nervously to herself. Thakur grabbed her by the scruff before she could dash off on a mad run, and swung her with a splash into the pool.

“There,” he said. “Now come back to me.”

Her pupils expanded with surprise as she started to thrash in the pool. The water was colder here than in the beach lagoon where she swam. He grabbed her scruff again until he felt her relax.

“Thistle?”

“Y-y-yes?”

She was shivering. He hauled her out and made her shake dry, then spread himself beside her to warm her up.

“Bad again,” she said, looking disconsolately at the ground between her paws. “Every time I go ... inside ... it ... is there.”

Thakur didn’t have to ask what “it” was. He groomed the nape of her neck with his tongue.

“Have to try again,” she said stubbornly.

“Not today,” he answered.

“Yes, today. Have to talk to hunters.”

Thakur groaned. “Thistle, you’re tired.”

“Know. Talking getting not easy. Words running and hiding.”

“Then give it up for now.”

Thistle closed her eyes and let her head sink onto her paws. “Give it up for now,” she muttered. “Try and fail again tomorrow too? Can’t. Others. Him. The hurt one. Means too much.”

“Sh,” he said softly.

“Can’t ... sleep... have to ... talk....” But by the time the last word had fallen from her tongue, she was deep in slumber.

* * *

The next day was a repeat of the first. The following was the same. Thakur spent all his waking time with Thistle as she sought the pathways inside herself and was driven out by the apparition she called the Dreambiter.

Thakur had lost count of how many times he had watched the sea-green in her eyes swallow her pupils as she struggled in the grip of each fit. He also lost count of how many times he had thrown her into the pool and hauled her out. It was the only way to keep the seizures from claiming her completely.

His legs and belly were encrusted with mud. He was starting to sneeze from the repeated chill. His teeth ached and his mood had soured.

Thistle lay in a sodden puddle on the ground. She was so exhausted after the last attempt that she hadn’t even been able to shake off before collapsing. Thakur was almost glad that she was unconscious again. It meant that she couldn’t try to brave the Dreambiter.

He ran a paw along her side, trying to squeeze the muddy water out of her coat. At least the sun was warm today. It would dry her quickly.

He stared at her funny pointed little face, the eyes now shut, muddy smears on her nose and whiskers. His heart ached for her.
Why is it so hard? Why does this wretched Dreambiter have to bar her way?

He watched the water dry on her coat, feeling helpless.
This is beyond her. It is beyond me. Perhaps it is beyond all of us.

“Thakur?” said a voice. He lifted his head and stared at—the Dreambiter? His fur bristled before he could flatten it. Then he shook himself. It was just Ratha.
Yarr!
He was getting so involved in Thistle’s struggle that sometimes he felt as though he, too, could see the nightmare image. It took a shape he knew well.

Ratha crouched by Thistle, gave her a tentative nudge.

“Don’t worry, she won’t wake up. After that last fit, she’s going to be out for a while. You can show her a little affection if you like. She won’t feel it.”

Ratha shot him such a hurt look that he instantly regretted the words.

“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “Three days of struggling with this hasn’t helped my patience. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Ratha put a paw on her daughter and tried to squeeze more water out of her fur. “She’s a mess. You’re a mess. What are you attempting to do?”

“I thought I explained it.” Thakur, trying to groom himself, sneezed into his fur.

“Here, sit down and let me clean you up,” Ratha said. She spat and grimaced after her first lick. “Ugh. That mud tastes awful.”

“I know,” Thakur answered.

“So she’s trying to get herself into that sleepwalking state to talk to the hunters?” she asked. “Is it working?”

“No. Every time she tries, something kicks off another one of her fits.”

“Something?”

“The Dreambiter.”

He saw Ratha shift her gaze, felt an angry twist in his stomach. She was going to back off again, retreat into her clan-leader role.
She’s leaving me with the responsibility that should be hers.

“You don’t like to hear that word, do you?” Thakur said, his voice flat.

Ratha yanked a piece of dried clay from his belly. It took some fur with it. She spat it out, then backed away. “I think I’ll come back when you are in a better mood.”

“Are you going to run away again, clan leader?”

“Thakur, I don’t know what kind of burr you’ve got in your coat this time, but—”

“I don’t have a burr. I’ve got your daughter. Your daughter,” he said again. “And I’m fed up with seeing you run away from her.”

He watched Ratha’s eyes narrow. “I gave you what you asked for. I gave you both a chance to talk to the hunters.”

“Yes, you did. I need more than that, Ratha. I need your help.”

He could almost see her closing down inside, becoming remote. “There is nothing I can do,” she said. “If Thistle can’t overcome this ...”

“She can’t. Not alone. Not with me either. She needs you.”

“Why? I can’t do anything for her. She doesn’t need a mother. She’s responsible for herself.”

“I want you to face your part in her life,” Thakur snapped. “Who is the Dreambiter, Ratha?”

Again she looked away, and when she looked back, her green eyes were blazing. “Don’t blame that on me, herding teacher. That thing isn’t me. It’s part of her sickness. She dreamed it up. Why, I don’t know. But she made it.”

“Yes, she made it,” Thakur said, his voice steady. “It looks like you.”

Ratha flinched. “I bit her when she was a cub. I know I did. I was impatient. I wanted her to talk, to be like other Named cubs. I couldn’t accept that she wasn’t. I can’t go back and undo everything.” He heard her voice start to tremble. “It is all in the past. You can’t change the past.”

“For Thistle it is not the past. Ratha, I am not trying to blame you. I am only saying that both of you created the Dreambiter. It will take both of you to put it to rest.”

A sudden look came over Ratha’s face, one Thakur had never seen before. He found himself staring at her in fascination and frustration. He had seen her triumphant, angry, grieving, even scared. But never had he witnessed this expression of utter dread that seemed to steal the life from her face and drain the color from her eyes.

Her voice sank to a whisper. “I can’t, Thakur. I’ve given you what I can. A chance. I can’t give any more.”

She was backing, turning tail. A part of her had already fled far away.

“Ratha, please don’t run,” he said softly.

She glanced back at him, a glance so filled with torment that it seemed to hit him like a blow.

“Tell her I was here,” she said, and before Thakur could speak or move, she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

With Bira and Khushi, Ratha made her way along the outskirts of the face-tail herd. The animals spread over the river plain, and there were some small groups that had broken off from the main herd.

It was the morning of the day following her talk with Thakur. She wasn’t ready to face him again. Nor did she want to see Thistle.

“Surely the hunters won’t bother us here,” said Bira, when the three found several face-tails and their young in a small side valley between two hills.

“We’ve just come to watch the animals,” Khushi reminded her. “Ratha said that we need to learn more before we try to catch one again.”

The clan leader listened to them, feeling slightly guilty. She wasn’t going to break her promise to Thakur, but he had said nothing about scouting the beasts. Well, watching was all they would do, no matter how the creatures tempted her. Anyhow, Thakur wasn’t with them and he was the best at dealing with face-tails.

He was also the only one who could cope effectively with Thistle. He had said he would keep her from trying again to make herself ready to talk with the hunters. There was no reason to, at least for now.

No sooner had she, Bira, and Khushi settled down in the grass to watch the face-tails than Bira’s sharp eyes caught movement in a bush nearby.

“That is definitely not a face-tail,” Bira said. “I think the hunters are spying on us.”

Ratha considered a hasty retreat, but the idea made her hackles rise. Khushi and Bira both agreed with her. They weren’t going to be frightened off by one spy.

“They don’t own the whole face-tail herd,” Khushi said indignantly.

“Perhaps the watcher will just stay hidden and report later,” the more even-tempered Bira suggested. “But I could go and light a torch from the fire-den I dug.”

“No,” Ratha said. She wanted to keep her promise to Thakur. She had disappointed him—and Thistle—in so many ways already. She wasn’t going to add another, although Bira’s offer was tempting. She would like to feed these arrogant hunters a small taste of the Red Tongue.

She turned her attention to watching the face-tails, but it was hard to keep her mind on the big animals.