Tad Williams - Tailchaser’s Song

Here and there in the unseasonal greenery the startled faces of other Folk would appear, gaunt and staring-eyed. Most of those who had made their way to freedom during the dying Hours of the mound had lingered only a short while, leaving to search for better hunting or to return to home grounds. No spirit of fellowship seemed to tie these survivors: they drifted off one by one as they became strong enough to travel. Only the sick-and the dying- remained with Fencewalker's band of hunters, and soon even the Prince would lead most of his party back to the wooded bowers of Firsthome. A small guard would be mounted to stay and keep watch on the site.

Seeing these survivors, Fritti wondered aloud about the fate of the uncounted multitudes, masters and slaves, who had not escaped. Hearing this, Roofshadow told Fritti as best she could of the final Hour in Vastnir.

"When we left you with that… beast," she said, "I ne\er expected to see you again. It seemed as if the world was coming to pieces." She walked silently for a while. Fritti tried to say something reassuring, but she stopped him with a curiously stern look.

"Pounce was half dead, bleeding. I pulled him up the last tunnel by the neck. Things were falling, crashing… it sounded like giant creatures fighting. Finally, we made it out of that place, out into the valley; it was covered with snow. There were others there, too, milling and crying. We were like lost kas, stumbling, falling in the snow. The ground was shaking."

Their walk had taken them out to the rim of Ratleaf. Before them stretched the rising plain, slick with melted snow, droplets gleaming on the leaves of stunted vegetation. Roofshadow led on, continuing her story.

"I saw someone dashing about, making loud noises and leading Folk to and fro… it was Fencewalker, of course. I caught up with him and told him what had happened. I'm afraid I was rather ears-back at that point, but the Prince understood. He said, 'Tailchaser? Young Tailchaser?'-Fencewalker's not so very old, but he acts as if he'd like to be. Anyway, he said: 'Can't have that, not young Tailchaser, must do something, by all means!' You know how he talks. Well, he gathered up a few of the healthier Folk and I led them all back to the tunnel. I stayed with Pouncequick, whose… who was very weak and sick."

"They found you half buried, under dirt and rocks, and carried you out just before the rest of the place shook itself down. I didn't know you were alive for a very long time. I hadn't been able to bear waiting to find out."

Fritti was stepping over a twisted root, and missed the expression on the gray fela's face. Stopping for a moment to shake dry a sopping paw, he asked: "What do you mean when you say the place shook itself apart? I'm afraid I don't remember the end very well."

"I'm going to show you," said Roofshadow.

They toiled awhile longer up the sloping plain, wrapped in thought. At last they reached the edge of the valley in which the mound had stood.

Where Vastnir had once pushed its brooding head up through the vallev floor there was now a wide, shallow basin-the ground sunken as if beneath the tread of a league-wide paw. The soil was as black as the wing of a Krauka.

On the way back to Ratleaf, Fritti asked again to see Pouncequick. "He has been with me longer than anyone, "Shadow." he pointed out.

She seemed disturbed by his use of the shortened name.

"I never tried to prevent you, Tailchaser," she said unhappily. "I just suggested what I thought best… He's gotten very strange," she added after a moment.

"Who could blame him, after what he's been through?" countered Fritti. "Who could blame any of us?"

"I know, Tailchaser. Poor Pouncequick. And Eat-bugs, too." Fritti looked at her, wondering, but Roofshadow was shaking her head sadly. "I haven't asked yet, but I suppose I know," she said. "He was… well, you were too late to help him, weren't you?"

Fritti balanced his secret and decided to keep it. "By the time I found him… Eatbugs was gone."

And that is mostly true, he thought.

"Such sad times," said Roofshadow. "I suppose I should take you to Pouncequick. Tomorrow, all right?" Fritti bobbed approval. "I didn't know him," she continued. "Eatbugs, I mean. Understand, I intend no disrespect, Tailchaser, but you have the oddest friends and acquaintances!"

Fritti laughed. "I'll race you back," he said, and they ran like wildfire.

Fritti, pulled taut in a walking stretch, spotted the Prince swaggering through the underbrush, moisture gleaming on his shaggy form. At his side stalked the graceful biack form of Quiverclaw. A cry of pleasure from Tailchaser was followed by warm greetings all around, and the three cats, two large, one small, sprawled contentedly and conversed.

"I hear that Stretchslow's confidence in you was amply filled, Tailchaser."

Quiverclaw's grave words made Fritti want to wriggle with pleasure, but the demands of maturity won out over indulgence. "I am honored that great hunters like the Prince and yourself think so, Thane. I must admit that most of the time I was in that place I would have settled for a quick, painless death. I truly would have."

"Ah, but you didn't, did you?" crowed Fencewalker. "That's the nose-biter!"

"And from what I hear, sent for help by squirrel," smiled Quiverclaw. "Unusual, but effective."

This time, Tailchaser's wriggle escaped suppression. "I thank you both," he said. "The main thing, though, is that you came. I saw it; it was wonderful." Fritti sobered. "I also saw… that thing that Heart-eater called up. Horrible… it was horrible."

Quiverclaw nodded. "Things like that were not meant to be. Already I have trouble remembering what it looked like, so wrong it was. The os given flesh-I suppose that soon I will be thankful I cannot recall its aspect. But it caused grave loss. Squeak-erbane, Harar bless his mighty heart, fell before it-he and others beyond my reckoning."

"Did… is Hangbelly… dead?" asked Fritti quietly. Quiverclaw pondered silently for a moment, then lifted his head with a crooked grin.

"Hangbelly? He was grievously injured… but he will live." The Thane chuckled. "It will take more than even that terror to kill old Bounce-Gut."

Fritti was pleased to hear of the fat First-walker's survival. Fencewalker smiled, but looked uncharacteristically morose.

"Many, many brave Folk fell," said the Prince. "The world will not see a gathering of the Folk like that for many seasons-more seasons than the forest has tree trunks. Many good fellows never came up from the ground again… Bah!" Fencewalker's pink nose twitched in sorrow and disgust. "Snaremouse, and young Furscuff… Pokesnout… the Thanes, scrawny old Sourweed and Squeakerbane… Day-hunter and Nightcatcher, my fine lads-they died protecting me. you know-they are all down in the cold earth, and we sit in the sun." Visibly upset, the Prince turned away and curried his tail. Fritti and Quiverclaw stared at the ground between their paws. Tailchaser's nose felt hot and itchy.

"But… but what did Hearteater mean to do?" Fritti finally blurted out. "Why did it all happen? Meerclar," he breathed, the thought occurring to him for the first time, "Lord Hearteater is… gone, isn't he? Dead?" He looked anxiously at the Thane.

"We think so," Quiverclaw said seriously. "We have talked about it, the Prince and I. If nothing else, we must be able to tell the Queen of the outcome. Yes, we think Hearteater is gone. Nothing could have survived that final Hour."

Fencewalker, who had straightened up, said, "Oh, aye, that was a real whisker-bender!"

"What happened?" asked Fritti.

"Well," intoned Quiverclaw, "when the Fikos-thing came up from the pit we tried to fight. It was laying about fiercely, though; we were forced to retreat from the cavern."