Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

She offered herself gladly in return and rejoiced.

Thistle had eventually fallen asleep by Quiet Hunter, and the others had wandered off to nap or groom. But Quiet Hunter lay awake, full of questions that would not go away, even when the song was well heard.

What was behind Thistle’s eyes? Sometimes it seemed the same as what lay behind the eyes of his own people. Sometimes it seemed so different.

What makes her give healing and comfort? Quiet Hunter wondered. True-of-voice and the song had no answers for this.

He wanted to give Thistle something in return. So much that it hurt like a bone chip in the belly.

Behind Thistle’s eyes lay something that cared for Quiet Hunter. Something more than her voice, the color of her fur, the way she moved, the depth of her gaze.

If she were killed and torn apart to find this thing, he thought, it would not be found.

Sweat came to his paw pads, and prickles woke beneath his fur at the thought that what was behind Thistle’s eyes might cease to be if she were killed.

These thoughts were all new, all disturbing. There were no words in the song for them. There never had been.

Thistle stirred and woke up.“Quiet Hunter?” she asked after a while. “Feel I have done something … bad to you.”

A surge of impatience kept Quiet Hunter silent.

I,I… What is thisI? I’s and ifs and me’s. Meaningless!

It was all tangled up. Words, thoughts, everything. No sense was left. The only sense lay in the song.

Go back to it, Quiet Hunter scolded himself. Forget everything else.

“You … looking at me in … funny way. Why?” Thistle asked, but Quiet Hunter couldn’t answer.

Me. Looking… at… me, he thought. You looking at me.You is Quiet Hunter. Looking at is done with the eyes.Me — the mystery at the center.

And then, with a quiet shattering, the mystery fell away. It was Thistle. But not just Thistle.Me was what was looking out through her eyes. That was what Quiet Hunter wanted in her.

First, he sensed, he had to find it in himself.

He said the word softly. It was dry in his mouth.“Me.”

Thistle wanted to stop. This was not the right way for Quiet Hunter. The way of the song was the right way.

But once a hunt like this is begun, it cannot be abandoned, thought Quiet Hunter. He was looking out through his own eyes and speaking new words.

She said,“Your eyes are changing, Quiet Hunter.” Thistle sounded regretful, almost fearful. He knew what she was thinking.

I don’t want your eyes to change. Go back to where you were meant to be. With True-of-voice. With the song.

But even if you did not want Quiet Hunter’s eyes to change, Thistle, you caused it anyway. Just by being what you are, saying the words you say.

Quiet Hunter knew that his eyes had been opened. Even he could not close them again.

In the Named camp, Ratha watched Bira kindle a morning fire.We don’t really need it, Ratha thought,but Bira likes to keep to her routine. Besides, it was good to renew the Red Tongue’s embers each day so that they stayed hot.

She turned her thoughts to the face-tails. If the Named wanted one, they would have to capture it before the herd departed, as Thistle said it would. The hunters still would not allow the Named to approach the beasts. Thistle had tried her best, Ratha had to admit, but the differences in understanding between those who followed True-of-voice and those who followed her were too great even for Thistle to cross.

What was the next step? Should the Named take what they needed by means of fire?

Ratha stared at the flames, remembering how she had found the Red Tongue and used it against threats to her people. The choice to use fire had never been easy. This time it was much more difficult.

She wanted to delay, yet she couldn’t. All too soon, Thistle had told her, the face-tail herd would start its migration. The hunters would go with it.

If Thistle chose to stay with them, she might go as well. Ratha could not bear to think about that.

As she sat watching the fire, Khushi trotted up with a grouse in his jaws. She stared at him and lifted her tail in a wordless question. When had Khushi learned to hunt?

“Thakur caught it,” the scout confessed. “But he’s teaching me how. He thought you might like a meal, clan leader.”

The growling in Ratha’s stomach came more from uneasiness and worry about her daughter than from hunger, but to show her appreciation, she took the grouse and shared it with Bira.

While she was eating, Khushi relayed a report from Thakur.“He thinks that True-of-voice’s people will hunt once more before the herd starts to migrate,” the scout said. “In fact, he thinks the hunt will happen today.”

Ratha sneezed out a mouthful of feathers before she could reply. She left the rest of the grouse to Bira, who was better at dealing with feathered prey.

“We’ll join Thakur,” she said. “This is a good opportunity.”

“To do what, clan leader? We can’t catch a face-tail.”

“No. I promised Thistle that we wouldn’t and I will keep that promise. But the other clan hasn’t forbidden us to watch.”

Khushi groaned.“That’s all I have been doing.”

“Well, I want to see how True-of-voice’s people hunt. Thakur says they might have picked up some ideas from Thistle.”

“Unless they are hunting seamares, I don’t know what good her ideas would do them,” grumbled Khushi.

Bira raised her muzzle from her feathery meal and spoke quietly.“Thistle knows about more than seamares. She survived by herself for a long time.”

“All right, so I’m wrong again,” said Khushi. “If we are going to watch, clan leader, let’s hurry.”

“Sorry to rain on your fur, scout,” Ratha said, “but you and Bira are staying here. I only want two of us watching the hunters. They are already wary of us, and I don’t want to endanger Thistle. If they get irritated with us, they could turn on her. I may not agree with everything Thistle does, but I realize that she has risked a lot to be accepted by the hunters. Any mistake on our part could ruin everything she’s done.”

“Then I’ll help Bira with the fire,” said Khushi, who was never in a bad mood for long.

“If you need help, send for us,” said Bira quietly.

Ratha noticed that the Firekeeper and her treeling had laid out resin-filled branches so that firebrands would be quickly available if needed. Bira was probably the most reliable one among the Named, Ratha thought. She rarely made a fuss and she had developed an effective partnership with her treeling, Biaree. They worked so efficiently together that they seemed to be done with tasks before they even started.

I hope I won’t need you, Bira, but thank you anyway, Ratha thought as she left.

She met Thakur on the knoll near their camp. At a ground-eating pace he led her up one of the little valleys that opened onto the plain, down a rugged gully, then up and over the top of a ridge of wooded hills. From a viewpoint just below the crest, where the trees thinned out, Ratha saw some face-tails bunched together in a tight group. Behind the great beasts, in a bow-shaped line, were the hunters.

“I’ve never seen True-of-voice’s people do that before,” Ratha said, puzzled.

“I haven’t either.”

They both moved closer, paralleling the hunters and the driven band of prey. Soon Ratha could see that the land was a tilted plateau. The beasts were being driven up-slope.

“There are cliffs ahead,” said Thakur. “If the hunters do what I think they are planning, they will drive the herd over the edge.”

“The whole herd? That sounds wasteful.” The idea of seeing so many of the great beasts crashing down from the drop-off disturbed Ratha. “Are you sure they picked this up from Thistle?”