Tad Williams - Tailchaser’s Song

Fritti lay motionless. An arching jet of burning-hot liquid shot up past his face. Scratchnail buried his teeth in Tailchaser's nape, gripping tight on the spine. Fritti could feel the mighty jaws closing… closing… and the pressure stopped.

Scratchnail had released his hold. He was staring down at Fritti, squat paws on the smaller cat's chest. Something in Scratchnail's eyes changed, and they lost focus.

"Star-face?" he said questioningly. His look of mad hatred seemed to change, to shift into something like fear. "It really is you, star-face?" He seemed to be recognizing Fritti for the first time, as if he had been fighting spirits, shadows that suddenly had become real. Scratchnail's expression began a slow twisting back into hatred.

"You have destroyed me, you little sun-rat," he snarled. The Clawguard swiveled his head from side to side in confusion, looking up into the farthest reaches of the cavern.

"What has happened?" he screamed. "What has happened to my…"

A hideous, grinding roar, and then a great wave of gray rock passed before Fritti's eyes, obliterating Scratchnail from his sight. Then this too was gone; suddenly, Tailchaser was alone on the ledge. Painfully turning his head, he saw the last of the sliding rocks careen down the sloping stone wall below him and, with a great splash, disappear into the swollen river. Of Scratchnail there was not a trace.

Fritti pulled himself upright and clambered laboriously over the broken remains of the avalanche, then went limping up the winding path. The cavern was shaking in earnest now; the water below leaped and danced in mighty spouts that climbed toward the cavern's roof. The heat was oppressive: Tailchaser had to exercise all his resolve not to lie down where he was and not move again.

He reached a tunnel leading out. Behind him, the cavern of the Flume was threatening to shake itself to pieces. He numbly put one foot in front of the other and trudged on until he could walk no farther, then fell prone to the tunnel floor. He could dimly see what seemed by happy fancy to be a patch of sky. The tunnel walls, too, were quivering.

How funny, he thought distractedly. Everyone knows there is no sky below the ground…!

The last noise he heard w as a rending crash from the cavern below. It sounded as if every tree in Ratleaf had fallen at the same time. Then the tunnel-collapsed behind him.

Spring was bursting and crawling, pushing forth irreverent scents and smells-the very ground beneath Tailchaser's back was warm with activity and renewed life. Soon he would get up and stroll back to his nest, to his box on the porch of the M'an-dwelling… but for now he was content to sprawl on the grass. A breeze ruffled up his fur. He waved his legs carelessly in the air, enjoying the cooling effect. Eyes closed, a long day of Squeaker-dandling and tree-scuffing behind him, he felt as though he could lie this way forever.

The feathering wind brought a tiny squeak, faint as the gleeful cry of a vole finding vole-treasure deep within the earth. Deep, deep within the earth. Again the cry came-louder, now-and Fritti thought he heard his name. Why would anyone want to disturb him? He tried to recapture his pleasant reverie, but the imploring voice became more insistent. The breeze increased, singing past his whiskers and ears. Why should his perfect day be spoiled? It sounded like Hushpad, or Roofshadow: felas were all alike, treating you like an old stoat until they needed you, then following you around and yowling as if they'd hurt themselves. Ever since he had brought Hushpad back from… from… where had he found her? It hadn't been more than an Eye ago, since…

"Tailchaser!" That cry again. His brow furrowed, but he would not condescend to open his eyes. Well… maybe just to take one quick look…

Why couldn't he see anything? Why was it all black?

The voice cried out again, sounding as though it were disappearing down a long, dark tunnel… or as if he were falling away himself… into the darkness…

The light! Where was the light?

Somebody-or something-was licking his face. A harsh, insistent tongue rasped across the sorest parts of his mask, but when he tried to pull his head away, that pain was worse. He lay back, resigned, and after a while little spots of light began to appear before his eyes. He could make no sense of these swirling, leaping points, but his nose finally distinguished a scent that was familiar. The floating specks began to coalesce; like tali grass pushed aside by a paw, the blackness slid away.

Roofshadow, with a look of fierce concentration, was washing his muzzle with her rough pink tongue. Fritti could not focus his eyes well-she was very close, and the effort was painful-but her smell confirmed it. He spoke her name, and was surprised when she did not react. He tried again, and this time she drew back and stared, then called out to someone he could not yet see: "He's awake!!"

Fritti tried to greet her, to tell her how glad he was to see her in the fields of the living-if that was where he was-but before he could do more than make a sound, he slipped back into darkness again.

When he awoke later, Roofshadow had been joined bv a large. shaggy red cat. It took him a long time to recognize Prince Fencewalker.

"What… what…" His voice was very weak. He swallowed. "What happened? Are we… on top of the ground?"

Roofshadow leaned forward, green eyes warm. "Don't try to talk," she said soothingly. "You're safe. Fencewalker brought you out." Fritti felt a weak, irrational stab of jealousy.

"Where's Pouncequick?" he asked.

"You'll see him soon," she said, and looked up at the Prince. Fencewalker beamed down with bluff good spirits.

"Worried about you. Didn't think… just worried, we were. What a row, what a row. Fabulous tussle." The Prince seemed about to give Fritti a good-natured thump. Roofshadow moved between Fencewalker and his intended victim, who was already tiring.

"Just sleep, and let Meerclar mend," she said. Tailchaser reluctantly let go his grip on wakefulness. So many questions…

Fritti found healing in the dream-fields. He soon found that he could sit up, although it dizzied him. A determined self-inventory found no serious wounds. His numerous cuts had stopped bleeding, and Roof-shadow's patient ministrations had cleaned the worst of the matted blood from his short fur. His eyes were swollen-he had trouble opening them more than halfway-but generally he was in good condition. Roofshadow did not want to answer his questions yet, and would sit patiently silent as he pressed her for information. Fencewalker dropped by frequently to see Tailchaser as he recuperated, but his roving temperament made it difficult for him to sit and talk long. His visits were hearty, but brief.

Fritti's dreams had not been entirely wrong. The ground was warm. The distant reaches of Ratleaf Forest were capped in snow, a white mantle extending into the misty horizon, but the fringe of the forest in which Tailchaser had awakened was green and wet-the thin carpet of grass humid and damp, as though the snow had been suddenly melted away by a hot sun. Roofshadow said that all the area around the mound was that way, but that she thought the snow would return eventually. It was, after all, still the ragtag end of winter.

Days went by, and before long Fritti was up and walking. He and Roofshadow explored the prematurely green forest, padding together through the sodden false spring. Here and there a solitary fla-fa'az could be heard singing bravely in the treetops.

Fritti still had not seen Pouncequick, but Roof-shadow promised to take him soon. Pounce, too, was recovering, she said, and should not be excited.