Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“Shouldn’t you start with the fur on your belly?” Ratha made her tone more pointed.

“Ratha, what are you talking about? If you have something to tell me, just say it and quit chasing your tail.” Fessran’s own tail switched irritably.

Ratha got up and paced toward her, keeping her eyes fixed on Fessran’s. “You know what I’m talking about: keeping your teats clean to nurse a cub. That Un-Named litterling I made Khushi return never was taken back to the place he was found, was he?” She felt the hackles on her neck rising. “You may be keeping your teats clean, Firekeeper, but the rest of you stinks, and the smell is worse than the seamare dung on me.”

Fessran’s face grew tight as her ears flattened. “All right. Yes, I kept Mishanti.”

“Mishanti? By the Red Tongue’s ashes, you’ve already given him a name?”

“Yes, because he deserves one. You are wrong about him, Ratha. As soon as Khushi stopped for a rest, I looked at that cub, and I knew that if we took him out and abandoned him, I would hate myself for the rest of my life. It would be like killing one of my own litter.”

Ratha closed her eyes.“We’ve trodden this path already, Fessran. You know where it leads. I thought when you turned from me to support Shongshar and his fire-dance, it was something that would happen only once. Now you have disobeyed me again, tricked me, lied to me. ”

Fessran swallowed and her laid-back ears began to droop, but the determined glitter stayed in her eyes.“The part of you I disobeyed and tricked and lied to,” she said slowly, “is not the part of Ratha that I know. The part I know would not have me kill or abandon this cub out of a fear of what he might become.”

Ratha gritted her teeth.“You forget too easily. Shongshar… ”

“Stop holding Shongshar over my head,” Fessran hissed. “This isn’t the same at all. A cub’s life is what I seek, not power over the Named.”

“What is the same is a headstrong Firekeeper who does what her belly tells her without regard for what anyone thinks, even me.”

This stung. Ratha could see Fessran flinch.“You don’t think I didn’t worry about your feelings? I’ll tell you, I spent a lot of time thinking.”

“With that misbegotten Un-Named suckling curled up next to you, kneading your belly,” Ratha sneered.

Fessran’s voice and eyes went cold, stabbing Ratha deeper than she expected. “You are wrong about Mishanti, clan leader. You don’t know how wrong.”

Ratha turned away from her, began to pace the banks of the pool. She stopped to look at herself, saw the bared teeth, the angry eyes that did not look quite like hers. Was Fessran right? What part of her was saying these ugly things? And was there something blinding her to what Fessran saw?

She made an angry turn, tore up moss with her claws as she pivoted. When she came back to Fessran, she had trodden down her doubts and felt as cold and determined as the Firekeeper looked.

“Fessran, I won’t exile you from the clan, as I have the right to. I need you too badly. I also know that you don’t have the skills to survive outside.”

At this, Fessran bridled, but Ratha could see she knew the truth of those words. Fessran had managed her own stays away from the clan only by depending on the hunting and fishing skills of others.

“I will, however, break you down in rank to the lowest wood-stacker and give you a few good swipes into the bargain if you don’t get rid of that cub. And if I come and find him in your den, I’m taking him. Is that clear?”

Fessran’s sides heaved. She looked at the ground. “It is, clan leader. And I am very sorry for you.”

“If you’re sorry for me, don’t hurt me any more. Do what I told you to in the first place.” Ratha turned and left, without waiting to see what Fessran’s reaction would be.

Thakur watched Newt’s foreleg sweep back and forth beneath the water of the lagoon. She could move it fast enough now to make a little wave curl over her paw.

“Stronger?” Newt asked.

“Much stronger,” Thakur answered. “Good. You’ve been working.”

“Swim. Out there.” Newt jerked her muzzle toward the ocean. “Helps.”

“Now let’s try stretching again,” Thakur said, wading out of the pool toward a heavy driftwood log. “See if you can keep your claws fastened in the wood and then pull so your muscles stretch.” He watched as Newt emerged, still limping, but no longer holding her foreleg against her chest. Now her foot brushed the ground, and Thakur hoped she might soon be able to put some weight on it.

She did the exercise as he directed, getting a clawhold in the gray driftwood and pulling back with all her weight to limber and stretch the contracted muscles. He saw Newt grimace as she pulled hard, straightening her leg.

“Hurts,” she said between grunts of effort. “But good for leg.”

Then Thakur saw her abruptly freeze, her claws still embedded in the log, her stare fixed at a point beyond. Even as his gaze followed, his nose caught the smoke-tinged scent of the Firekeeper leader. Beside him, he felt Newt tense, jerk her claws from the driftwood, and start to growl.

Fessran sat in a hollow between two dunes, cocking her head to one side.“Phew, herding teacher,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I had to force myself to follow your trail. You don’t have to roll in seamare dung now that we’ve got the creatures penned.” She got to her feet, her eyes roving over Newt. “And who is that? She stinks as much as you do.”

Thakur didn’t know whether Newt understood Fessran or not, but he heard her growl deepen. “No,” he said sharply, pushing Newt back with his shoulder.

“So I’m not the only one who has dealings with the Un-Named.” Fessran grinned. “What does our clan leader have to say about this?”

“If Ratha has anything to say about it, you can be sure she will,” he said irritably.

Fessran fixed her gaze on Newt, who bristled.“When did she turn up?”

“She’s the one who gave me the idea about herding seamares.” Thakur turned to Newt. “Put your fur down,” he told her. “That is Fessran. She’s often rude, but she won’t harm you.” He halted. Newt’s eyes had gone glassy and started to swirl.

“The smell,” he heard her hiss. “In her coat. The Dreambiter’s smell.”

Before Thakur could stop Newt, she was over the log in a bound and charging at Fessran. The puzzled stare on the Firekeeper’s face turned to an angry snarl. Thakur sprinted after Newt, trying to launch himself between the two, but he wasn’t fast enough. Newt and Fessran met in an angry flurry, then broke apart. Newt suddenly withdrew, muttering to herself. Fessran stood, her head lowered, her nape erect, ready to fight off another attack, but Newt had gone into a strange trance in which she circled aimlessly for several minutes, looking confused, then toppled over onto her side.

“What, by the Red Tongue’s ashes, is the matter withher?” Fessran demanded.

Thakur lost his temper.“What is the matter withyou, Firekeeper? I told the others I didn’t want to be disturbed, but you obviously didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry, Thakur,” Fessran said contritely. She flattened her fur, came a few steps closer. “Is she all right?”

“Her name is Newt, and she’s not going to die, if that’s what you mean. But she’s not all right. She gets these fits. Her foreleg is injured, and I was trying to help her when you stuck your whiskers in.”

“What was she saying about my smell?”

“I don’t know. I think your scent had something to do with the fit. Maybe you’d better back off.” Thakur nosed the fallen Newt, who had started to twitch and stir. Fessran retreated downwind as Newt slowly rolled onto her front and shakily got up. “Just because I don’t cover myself withduck-footed dappleback dung. ” Thakur heard the Firekeeper mutter. Newt shook her head in confusion then peered at Fessran. For an instant, he thought she was going to attack again. Then she took a breath and spoke.