Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“Which is small punishment for sharing clan meat with one outside the clan and not telling me,” said Ratha firmly. “Even if the meat came from your own belly and if the other is a cub.”

Khushi sighed and agreed. He picked up the cub, started to trot away.

“Wait.” The voice was Fessran’s. Ratha narrowed her eyes at the Firekeeper.

“Let me go with him, clan leader,” Fessran said. “You can spare me from tending the Red Tongue for a few days. I want to be sure we do the best we can for this cub. When Khushi’s jaws start aching, he’ll be tempted to leave the litterling anywhere.”

Ratha was tempted to argue. In truth, she did need Fessran at her post, especially if there was an attack or an emergency. Other Firekeepers were good, but Fessran had the most experience with the Red Tongue.

“There’s something else, clan leader,” Fessran added. “I hate the thought of leaving my lost treeling behind. Maybe I can take one last look before we get too far from clan ground.”

Ratha considered this. If Fessran did by chance find her treeling, that might cheer her up and take her mind off Un-Named cubs. But letting Fessran go with Khushi might not be the best idea. The Firekeeper clearly wanted to adopt the foundling, and letting her stay near the cub would only encourage her to disobey.

She knew Fessran had caught the look in her eyes, for the other’s tail shivered, and she stared away. Ratha felt ashamed for doubting her friend. Her gaze rested on the fading scars that parted the Firekeeper’s sandy coat. Shongshar’s slash had been intended for Ratha. Fessran had taken it.

Yet Ratha knew she would be faltering in her role as clan leader if she didn’t admit her suspicions. What was it in the wretched litterling that touched Fessran so? She couldn’t see anything promising about him, and the thought of his possible parentage made her shudder.

“Go look for your treeling, Fessran,” she said. “Help Khushi if he needs it, but remember, this is his responsibility, not yours.”

She knew from the slight twitch that narrowed one of Fessran’s eyes that her words had done no good. She could feel the rift between them deepening. She wanted to reach across, somehow draw Fessran back, but it was not the right moment or place. The animals waited, dusty and stamping. The herders started to stare.

“Both of you go before the day gets too hot,” Ratha said roughly, and turned back to the herd, not wanting to look as Khushi trotted away carrying the cub and Fessran followed.

Thakur’s return journey to the coast went more quickly because he knew the trail. Again he emerged from the coastal forest onto meadows crowning high cliffs and traveled north along bluffs and ridges until late one evening, when he came to the beach and the jetty. In the scrub behind a bluff overlooking the ocean, he discovered a hollow between two boulders, made himself a nest, and slept.

In the morning, he awoke and took Aree up to a wooded area in the foothills behind the bluff, where the treeling could forage for leaves and insects. When she had eaten her fill, he started back to the beach, intending to seek out the young stranger who lived among the seamares.

The late morning sun warmed his back, making him feel loose limbed and lazy. Aree was snoozing in the hollow behind his shoulders; he could hear her gentle snoring and feel her wobble as he padded along. He grinned to himself, enjoying the feeling of her fingers gripping his fur and her small but comforting weight on his back.

Then the treeling tensed. He felt her fingers clench just as a warning rattle of brush made him flatten his ears. In the next instant a rust-and-black form sprang at him from the side, landing half across his back. He heard teeth click as jaws snapped at Aree. The treeling scrambled onto his head, her hindquarters hanging over his muzzle, blinding him. But the strong tang of seamare mixed with female cat-scent told him who the attacker was.

With a shake of his head, he jolted Aree sideways so he could see again and at the same time flung himself onto his back, bringing his rear claws into play against his opponent’s belly. He felt her scrabble on top of him, lunging for the treeling. With a screech, Aree bounded away and up the nearest sapling, where she clung, swaying as the slender tree bent.

Now Thakur could concentrate on subduing his attacker. She leaped over him, but just as she landed he rolled over and snagged her hindquarters with his foreclaws, knocking her to the ground. He grabbed her around the middle, hauling himself onto her. Angrily she twisted herself back on him, but she had only one front paw to strike out with. He caught the flailing foreleg in his jaws, biting only hard enough to hold it still.

Tangled up and twisted around as she was, she could only wriggle and heave beneath him. He loosed one front paw to fend off her attempt to bite him, catching her under the jaw and shoving her head to the side.

Her jerks grew frantic, and the swirling sea green in her eyes grew stormy. Abruptly her pupils, expanded in rage, contracted to needle size. She fought him with a new and terrifying strength, but her efforts were unfocused, as if she no longer struggled against a flesh-and-blood enemy but against something within herself.

Thakur could only hold on as tightly as possible, keeping her rear legs pressed to the ground and her foreleg trapped in his mouth. He feared that if she did get free, she would attack him in a savage frenzy. Whatever he had wakened within her, he would have to contain it until the paroxysm passed.

At last her heaving became sporadic, and her struggles weakened. He loosened his grip, feeling her sag onto her side. He let her forepaw go and watched it flop. Panting, he sat and looked down at her. Once again she lay at his feet, defeated by the strange fit he had caused. This time, however, he didn’t feel as guilty, although he was surprised. He had never thought she would dare attack him, even with the temptation of the treeling on his back. Perhaps Aree’s smell proved too strong a lure. But the stranger was the one who had been caught.

Her lip twitched back, showing her upper fang. Her jaw trembled and her tongue moved. And then Thakur heard her voice.

“Stay away… from them….”

As she spoke the first few syllables, he leaned closer, wondering if he was imagining words in her inarticulate moans. Her voice was harsh and breathy.

“I won’t hurt you,” Thakur answered, puzzled as to whom she meant. “I held you off from my treeling, but I mean you no harm.”

She hadn’t heard him. She stared ahead, her gaze milky, shrouded, hissing words in strange disconnected clumps.

“… hwish they had been born dead… do you want her… she’s witless… why did you do this to me… why… ”

The sounds were indeed words in the speech of the Named, and he heard in them a pain and an eloquence that made him shiver. Yet the voice that said them was hollow and remote, as if she spoke without knowing what she said.

Her lips fell back over her fangs and she was silent, but her words still echoed in Thakur’s mind. He paced back and forth beside her in confusion. Who were those she warned him to stay away from? Cubs? He looked at her belly. No, she wasn’t nursing a litter. And what had she said about wishing “they” had been born dead? It made no sense to him.

But the agony had come through all too clearly. She whimpered deep in her throat, like a cub needing comfort. He lay down beside her, letting her feel his body warmth. Instinctively, she squirmed toward him. Though he wanted to move away because she was ungroomed and smelly, compassion overcame his disgust. He nuzzled her behind the ears. It soothed her, and she sank from confusion into sleep.