Ratha's Courage (11 page)

“The mistake yesterday,” the sandy-furred Firekeeper leader interrupted, “was not in showing our herding skills. It was in letting a hunter actually get his claws on our herdbeast. This will not happen with the Red Tongue if only Firekeepers tend the flame.”

Ratha saw heads turning to exchange looks. Fessran had obviously made a strong point. “Bira,” she said, pointing with her nose at the ruddy-gold young female whose plumed tail curled around her feet. “You did well yesterday when you prevented a fight. What do you think?”

“If we place several Firekeepers at each campfire to prevent anyone from meddling with it, I will agree with Fessran. Quiet Hunter has spoken about the litterlings shivering in the wind. I feel it would be wrong not to help them,” Bira replied.

“Can the Firekeepers keep the campfire safe?” The question came from Mondir. Beside him, Khushi, Fessran’s son and also a herder, lifted his whiskers in support.

Hazel-eyed Drani had a suggestion. “If we keep the Red
Tongue on clan land and bring the other tribe’s small cubs here
. . .”

Before Ratha could stop Fessran, the Firekeeper leader snorted. “Haven’t you had enough of carrying our own litterlings around, Drani? The fur between my teeth makes everything I eat taste like cub hair.”

“Besides,” added Bira, “would the hunter cubs’ mothers allow us anywhere near them?”

“Then their mothers can bring them,” said Drani, refusing to back down.

Bira gazed at Fessran, “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Not all mothers will,” said Quiet Hunter softly. “If you make it harder, fewer will use it. Cubs will still shiver.”

Ratha swiveled her ears as they spoke, taking in all the opinions. She agreed with Bira. Letting the face-tail hunting tribe come to the Red Tongue on clan ground would be safer. Should they even allow that? Her eyes sought Thakur, who, so far, had said little.

“Herding teacher?” she asked.

Thakur sat up a little straighter. “I often take a longer view on things. Basically, we have only two choices. We either share your creature with the face-tail hunters, or we deny it. If we decide to share, we must know the risks and prepare for them. There is no halfway point.”

Again Ratha saw heads turning, eyes meeting. She showed her teeth slightly to quell any interruptions.

“If we don’t share, we must accept what the decision means,” Thakur continued. “This hunter tribe has a strong will. If they want the Red Tongue enough, they will take it. The only way to prevent this is to separate completely from them.”

Ratha felt her jaw drop a little. Thakur usually wasn’t one to claw such sharp lines. He also, however, wasn’t one to avoid facing the uncomfortable or unpleasant.

“This is not a taste I savor,” she heard Thakur say. “We would either seek a new home for ourselves and our herds or use the Red Tongue to keep the hunters away.” He turned his gaze to Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter. “Such a choice would be hard, especially for the two who just came to us.”

“You would chase the hunters away with the Red Tongue?” Fessran asked. “That is not like you, Thakur.”

“I didn’t say that,” the herding teacher answered patiently.
“Only if we choose that branch of the trail, we must follow it.”

Ratha waited while Thakur gathered his thoughts to
con
tinue. Her glance fell on Bira, who looked as if she needed
to speak. “Thakur, can you wait to finish? Bira has something.”

Thakur agreed and the young Firekeeper stood up, tail down in a gentle curve, whiskers, fanning out. Sometimes Ratha envied Bira’s even temper. “Why do you think that the answer only lies on one side of a clawed line?” Bira asked Thakur. “Keeping the Red Tongue here while letting the hunters warm their cubs is being careful.”

“True, but it is still a choice to share. You are right: doing so might reduce the risks, but risks are like fleas, they never go away entirely.”

And sometimes they bite you when and where you least expect it, Ratha thought.

“I also think we should let Thistle and Quiet Hunter speak,” said Bira calmly. “If we do choose to separate from the hunters, it will affect them the most.”

Quiet Hunter also rose, his ear tips trembling. “This one would . . . I would . . . do all I could to persuade True-of-voice not to do wrong with the clan’s gift. If the two tribes must be apart, Thistle and I would suffer.”

“Drani’s idea is good one,” said Thistle when it was her turn to speak. “Would be even more careful, though. Maybe start slowly with hunters coming to just one Red-Tongue-nest on clan land. And all Firekeepers watching it.”

“Then later, if it works, two,” said Fessran, her tail tip flicking in growing excitement. “I’m willing to start very slowly and to pull back if needed.”

“Isn’t this really the clan leader’s decision?” asked Mondir, glancing at all the others, then at Ratha. “I mean, she can listen to us, but she has to choose.”

“Yes, you have given me that responsibility,” Ratha answered him. “But this is so important, I’d like to see the clan agree as much as you can. If you can’t, I will make the choice.”

She saw many looks of approval, a few of doubt. She let them argue but kept the talk from becoming too heated. Thakur and Thistle were the holdouts.

“We may be setting our paws down very carefully, but we are still choosing the path,” the herding teacher said. “Thistle is right about being extremely careful. Even if we finally agree, we must keep the risks in mind and be ready for them.”

“Just waking up each day is risky,” said Fessran. “Herding teacher, don’t be an old frog-in-the-mud.”

Thakur only sighed patiently.

“We sound close to agreement,” said Ratha. “For the Named it is unusual, but I won’t question it.”

At her side, she felt Thistle shift restlessly. “Go ahead,” Ratha prompted.

“One Red-Tongue-nest,” Thistle said. “Here. With all the Firekeepers.”

Across the circle Ratha saw Fessran wrinkle her nose.

“Fess?” she asked.

“I said that we should walk carefully, not crawl.” Fessran paused. “All right, all right, I agree. I think we’ll soon see how well this works and can move faster.”

“So then”—Ratha stood up, fluffing her fur—“we will share the Red Tongue, but we will start with one fire-nest on clan ground. If there are even the slightest problems, we will stop.” She paused. “The decision is made. We will begin tomorrow. It is the will of the Named.”

The clan’s voices echoed hers. “It is the will of the Named.”

“Good,” said Fessran as she got up and stretched. “My tongue is getting tired.”

“Your tongue never gets tired,” teased Cherfan, bumping the Firekeeper’s flank with his head. She answered him with a sheathed-claw swat, and he retaliated. The two tumbled over, play-biting like cubs.

Ratha shook herself. “My ears are tired. I want a drink, a bath, and a nap. Take yourselves off, all of you,” she mock-scolded, shooing them away like errant cubs.

With Thistle by her side, she padded away, feeling glad she had guided the clan to a consensus. It was a rare accomplishment and she felt proud, though weary. Beside her, Thistle yawned and Ratha found herself gaping widely.

“You’re right. This has been hard work,” she said. Both strolled away, swinging their tails.

D D D

On the following day, Fessran and the Firekeepers, with the help of their treelings, built a campfire at the edge of clan ground closest to the hunters’ territory. Quiet Hunter and Thistle-chaser went to tell True-of-voice that his people could come that night and bring their young.

There was scarcely enough room around the campfire for all who came. With Thistle and Quiet Hunter’s help, Fessran, Bira, and other Firekeepers arranged the visitors so that small cubs and their mothers were closest to the fire, older cubs and elders next, then pregnant females. When Ratha visited the campfire, she saw True-of-voice, sitting at the back with other adults.

Ratha also noticed an unusual quiet. She heard no speaking, only the sounds of infant cubs suckling from their mothers or the raspy breathing of the very old. At first, the other tribe hesitated, but when the Named showed True-of-voice that the campfire was safe, they approached.

Each evening Bira and some Firekeepers kept their visitors safely back until other Firekeepers and their treelings readied the fire. Before letting the other tribe near, the fire-builders tucked their treelings safely away in nearby branches. Ratha didn’t think that their guests would be so rude as to eat a treeling, but the memory of the needlessly slain three-horn shadowed her.

After a few days, she noticed on her evening visit that True-of-voice’s people brought wood. She had mixed feelings about this. The hunters’ contribution eased the wood-gathering burden on the Firekeepers, which Fessran welcomed. At the same time, the act showed that True-of-voice and his people now knew what the Red Tongue needed. Ratha added another precaution, asking herders to assist the Firekeepers, increasing the number of clan members overseeing their guests.

She didn’t see the black fawn-killer at the campfire gathering and thought that True-of-voice must have gotten rid of him. A few days later, Bira reported that the fawn-killer did appear. She also said she would keep a close watch on him.

Curiosity brought Ratha to the shared fire later the same night. She had seen the black hunter only from a distance.

None of the other face-tail hunters wore much more than a trace or shade of black. Lighter, dustier pelt colors and patterns concealed better on the open plains. Ratha had once encountered a completely black female among the Un-Named on her travels with Bone-chewer, but that was the only one. Though the meadow-and forest-dwelling Named had a wider range of colors, none were a solid black.

Ratha learned to her surprise when she got close that the fawn-killer wasn’t solid black either. Though sparsely scattered in his midnight pelt, white-tipped hairs caught the fire’s light for just an instant, so that it seemed as if tiny stars flashed and died in his coat as his muscles moved beneath. On one flank, the white-tipped hairs were close enough that they appeared to connect in ghostly lines, as if the fur was draped with a cobweb.

Ratha had never seen such markings. She wondered if the firelight was reflecting from sand grains in his coat. When she watched him groom, however, the pattern stayed.

His eyes, too, were strange, turning from pale blue to even paler green as he turned his sleek head in the firelight. Ratha had seen similar eyes only in those whose coats were completely white.

She found herself oddly fascinated yet repelled. Who was he? Had he been birthed among the face-tail hunters or joined them later? Was he a son of True-of-voice? She could tell nothing from his scent, which was dominated by the hunters’ group smell. Yet something within told her he was not completely like them.

The impression came from his eyes, Ratha finally decided. Though they held the same dreamy far-seeing stare as other hunters, occasionally there came a sharpness as quick and intense as the shimmers in his coat. Was that why he seemed shy, turning his head away from direct stares and keeping his gaze down?

At the same time, she felt that the fleeting intensity followed her when she wasn’t looking. It almost made her ask the Firekeepers to ban him from the campfire, but what if he was True-of-voice’s son, and perhaps the next in line for leadership. She thought about trying to talk to him, but Bira said she hadn’t heard him speak.

Ratha could not let him distract her. Her role in supervising the fire sharing needed her full attention. Her emotions swung oddly from one extreme to the other. When she visited the campfire site, she felt warmed by the sight of cubs curled up comfortably in the Red Tongue’s glow. Then she was proud that she had overcome the fiercer instincts that would have used the fire not to warm but to sear.

However, she could not rid herself of a nagging doubt that closed in when she was alone. Had she done the right thing? Would her precautions be enough to prevent another tragedy? Was she indeed seeking the best interests of the Named, or would her need to befriend another tribe ultimately betray her own?

Fire’s power to help or harm was great, but even greater was the sweeping change it produced in those who used it. Living with fire tapped an unused potential within the Named for good or evil. What then would fire do to those whose potential might be even stronger? What might it release inside True-of-voice, or the song? Friendship or harm? In her mind, the image of cubs sleeping before the fire alternated with the memory of the black hunter killing the fawn.

She couldn’t argue that it was her people, not their leader, who had made the final choice. Yes, she had refrained from imposing her feelings on them, but she might have somehow herded them to a premature decision.

Was her attempt to reach out a sign of vision or blindness? Perhaps she should have listened to the instinctive revulsion that still sometimes churned in her belly. Equally strong was her sense that reaching out to these strangers was right.

As Thakur said, the paw prints were already on the trail. The only way lay ahead. If she moved with utmost care, taking all imaginable precautions, it might be enough.

Chapter Nine

Ratha could scarcely believe that, after many nights of sharing the campfire with True-of-voice’s tribe, nothing threatening had happened. Fessran and the Firekeepers soon asked for permission to build another campfire near the first. Keep it small at first, Ratha told them.

Visiting and inspecting both campfire sites, she found Fessran and Bira doing exactly as she asked. If anything, they were even more careful. The only change was that the hunters had started to bring face-tail meat as well as wood.

“I think True-of-voice realizes that building and tending the Red Tongue takes much effort,” Fessran said during one of the clan leader’s visits. “So far, sharing the Red Tongue with the hunters appears to be going very well.”

Ratha felt she could relax a little if adding a second campfire caused no problems. She waited before giving Fessran permission to enlarge this second fire.