Tad Williams - Tailchaser’s Song

Quiverclaw showed no sign of noticing Fritti's embarrassment. "Sadly, we cannot take you with us to the Thane-meet. There are strong feelings about outsiders, you understand…"

Tailchaser sat silent. The task of finding Hushpad loomed once more. How difficult it was being responsible! He missed the simple pleasures of kitten-hood. How could he discover her? Every idea that ran through his mind turned out, under examination, to be useless.

"I suppose," he asked the Thane finally, "that Pouncequick told you why we are abroad in these woods?"

"He did, young hunter. And a right brave and proper thing it is to do. I wish I could give you some wise words about where to find your fela, but alas, it is a large world. She is not the first to suffer from mysterious happenings, though, but more I cannot say. I am bound to hold silence until the Thane-meet." The black cat lifted his leg and scratched reflectively behind his ear.

"I, too, have heard many odd stories," agreed Tailchaser. "As a matter of fact, my clan sent a delegation to the Court of Harar to seek help in this situation. I suppose I should go and meet them there, and see what they have learned. I'm afraid I had not given the whole subject much more than a sniff and a lick when I decided to set out. Yes, I suppose I must try to reach the Court."

A strange look flickered across Quiverclaw's slitted eyes.

"The Court, eh?" he grunted. "Well, each hunter must set his own paws to the path. Unfortunately, when we get to Woodsedge in a day or two's time, we must part ways. Sourweed's territory lies Vez'an-ward-to the east-and your path must take you toward Va'an. We will give you good directions, though… and good wishes." Quiverclaw rose. "Take some sleep, now. I wish to set off again after Smaller Shadows." The black hunter paced sinuously off.

The rain had steadied into a drizzle that matted the fur and muddied the paws of the travelers. Through the gray afternoon and evening they marched on across the failing fringes of the old forest. Pounce-quick-being the smallest and least fastidious-fell into several puddles, not always by accident.

They reached the final line of trees at the threshold of the downs as the sun was disappearing over the horizon. Quiverclaw decided that they should stop and spend one last night beneath the shelter of the trees.

Bobweave and Scuffledig scouted up a relatively dry spot on a rise beneath a stand of pine trees, and after an unimpressive hunt the party repaired to their sleeping place.

For a long time they lay quietly watching the growing rivulets of water snake past them, each trickle seeking its own path to low ground. Pouncequick and Scuffledig played Hide-and-Swipe across Quiver-claw's back for a while-until an errant paw took the Thane on the side of the head. Ears back, he snarled the restless pair into uneasy stillness. Then, realizing that it was a losing battle, the chief of the First-walkers turned to Hangbelly.

"Old friend," said Quiverclaw, "it looks to be a long night. How about a little entertainment-if only to save my aching head from any more Hide-and-Swipe?"

"A grand idea!" shoutted Scuffledig. "Tell the story of Bobweave and the hedgehog!"

Bobweave looked at Scuffledig with a grimace of distaste. "Certainly," he said sourly. "Then we must have the story of Scuffledig's first gopher hunt."

Scuffledig looked over in alarm. "Perhaps we should save the hedgehog story for another time," he conceded.

Quiverclaw smiled. "Why not a song or a poem?" he asked. "Mind you that it's proper for our young friends."

Hangbelly sneezed a laugh and rolled over onto his stomach, which spread impressively beneath him. "I have just the thing," he chortled, "as long as some folks as I could name remember their manners and pay attention, like." This brought Pouncequick-who had been sneaking up on Scuffledig-sheepishly back to lie next to Fritti. Hangbelly sat up, almost bumping his stripy head on a low-hanging branch, and sniffed importantly.

"This," he said, "is a small verse as is called 'Snagrat and the Spirit-Mouse.' " He hummed for a moment, then sang.

"Snagrat was a cat who liked his rats An' he liked 'em sweet, an' he liked 'em fat Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, liked his rats.

Snagrat, ye know, would a-hunting go In the summery sun and winter snow Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, hunting go.

One day he spied by the riverside A Squeaker plump, rat-mother's pride Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, rat he spied.

At the rat he jumped, with a leap and bump

To take the beast in its hiding clump

Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, leap and bump.

But beneath his claws no rat he saw And he gaped a gape from dangling jaw Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, no rat saw.

Then he heard a squeak, and a rat did speak But he could not find it however did seek Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, rat did speak.

Said the voice: 'Dear cat, I'm the spirit-rat And I will haunt you and hunt you flat! Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, haunt you flat.

Snagrat's head spun at the spirit's dun

And up he leaped and away he run

Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack, leaped and run.

No more Snagrat is a mousing cat Now he feeds on beetles and bark and sprat And… here and there a low-flying bat But he has no taste for mouse or rat!

Sing: Hey-crack, derry-crack

Yow-meow-a-derry-crack

Hey-crack, derry-crack, eats no rats!"

The end of Hangbelly's song was followed by much laughing and cheering. Tailchaser noticed that even Eyeshimmer had a look of honest amusement on his ascetic face.

Sunrise brought a temporary end to the rains. After a morning meal, the party made its way to the edge of the forest and paused for a while to sift the breeze. The downs stretched out into the distance, shrouded in mist. Tailchaser wondered how far away home was.

As Quiverclaw and Hangbelly argued over routes, Pouncequick hopped and danced on the dewy grass. The catling's pleasure at being out from under the brooding weight of the forest was understandable; Fritti wished that his heart, too, could be so light.

If this forest is the worst place we pass, we'll be exceptionally lucky, he thought. It's nice to be out in the open, but there seem precious few hiding places on the downs. That's one thing that does speak well for dense woods.

The Thane of the First-walkers approached him, the rest of his party gathered behind in a semicircle.

"I take it you still mean to head for the Court," Quiverclaw rasped. Again it seemed that disdain was in his voice, but Fritti's mind was too full to give it much thought.

"Yes, Thane, I think it best."

"Well," said Quiverclaw, "we must turn east here, along the rim of the Old Woods. I think that some directions would help you, would they not?"

"Certainly," said Fritti. "We've come this far on some very slight information given to us by Stretch-slow, but he said we would need help once we were through the forest"

The black cat leaned forward with an inquiring look. "Did you say Stretchslow?"

"Yes. He is a friend of ours from Meeting Wall. He gave me my hunt-singing!" Fritti added proudly. The Thane wrinkled his nose and smiled.

"Is he a big, tawny fellow?" Quiverclaw asked. "Always acting as though he'd just wakened up?" Fritti nodded.

"Stretchslow!" came the eruptive bellow from Hangbelly. The stripy old torn wiggled his head in delight. "Old Stretchslow! Why didn't you tell us, you sly little lizard?"

Fritti was amused."I didn't expect you'd know him."

"Know him?" Hangbelly gurgled. "Every sniff, every scent! We hunted together in the Southern Rootwood for seasons and seasons and seasons. An excellent cat! Ha! What a whiskerbender!"