Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

Thakur and Quiet Hunter solved the difficulty, with more cooperation from the hunters themselves. By lying on their backs, pushing the vine ropes up off the ground with their paws, they protected the lines against damage and allowed them to slide slowly but freely. Several of True-of-voice’s people even draped themselves over the edge, their companions hanging onto their forepaws, in order to use their powerful hind legs to cantilever the lines away from the cliff.

Soon True-of-voice was suspended by the vines that had been tied by treeling hands.

Ratha felt Thistle come alongside her, with Biaree still onboard.

“Treeling tied good knots,” Thistle said, giving her companion an affectionate nudge. “Nothing slipped.” She paused, then yowled at Thakur, who was helping Quiet Hunter. “Tell those fur-brained furballs not to bite down so hard. Will break the ropes!”

Ratha grinned to herself. Talk about leadership. She had a good idea who would probably be leading the clan when her fur did go gray and her muzzle turned white.Thistle’s even bossier than I am.

Slowly, carefully, True-of-voice was lifted, then lowered past the ledge where he’d been trapped. The teams of rope holders kept the lines securely anchored, yet allowed them to slip.

“Easier if we had treeling paws,” Thistle said, watching. “But using teeth works too. Wouldn’t want to be where True-of-voice is now, though. Had enough of hanging off rocks.”

Ratha narrowed her eyes, wondering if True-of-voice was alert enough to be aware of what was going on. She thought she had seen his eyes flutter open briefly. But he was either aware enough or unconscious enough not to struggle.

Just don’t die before we get you to the bottom. And don’t die then either.

As the vine-roped form descended, the hunters who had been moping at the foot of the cliff gathered and waited, their heads lifted, their eyes filled with wonder and hope.

And then came the moment when the ropes went slack because their burden had reached the ground. A weary team of rescuers, Named and hunters alike, turned to one another with relieved expressions. Below, at the foot of the cliff, the ones who had been keeping vigil now crowded in around their leader.

Thakur came to Ratha with Quiet Hunter. They crouched beside Ratha as Thakur said,“I’m going down there with him. Have you recovered enough to go with us?”

In answer, Ratha sprang to her feet.“We’d better hurry before they kill him with happiness. Thistle, you come, too. But watch your treeling.”

She saw a look of pleased surprise come over her daughter’s face.

Yes, I’m going to treat you as an equal now, so get used to it.

Once all the tumultuous greetings had died down, the hunters stood aside so that the Named and their healer could get to True-of-voice. At the bottom of the cliff,Ratha watched, wondering if all the effort had been for nothing or whether True-of-voice would survive.

Thakur worked devotedly over the hunting clan’s leader while others of the Named ran back and forth, gathering the herbs he asked for.

“He’s pretty battered, Ratha,” Thakur said when he paused briefly in his efforts, “but there are no severe wounds. What nearly killed him was lack of water.”

He spent the rest of the day and most of the night tending True-of-voice, while both the Named and the hunters kept a quiet but hopeful vigil.

Their patience was rewarded when a weary Thakur at last came to Ratha and said that True-of-voice would take several days to recover his strength, but he was out of danger. When Ratha had Quiet Hunter announce it to his people, there were yowls of joy.

Her gaze went to Thistle and Quiet Hunter, standing on each side of Thakur and helping to keep the herding teacher from falling over out of sheer exhaustion.

The two did not join in the outburst of celebration, but Ratha could tell by the looks they exchanged that they were the happiest of all.

Thistle is not the only one who can cross over between the two peoples. Quiet Hunter, who can swim in the bright and bubbling flow of the song, can also walk the trails of the Named.

The gift the Named have given to the hunters is the words that they have taught.

Understanding. Acceptance. Wisdom.

In both clans.

The song is heard.

There had never been such a meeting between the Named and outsiders before, Ratha thought. The same was true for the hunters, or so True-of-voice said. Ratha had received the information through Thistle and Quiet Hunter. She had not yet spoken directly to True-of-voice at any length, although she had exchanged brief words with him while he lay under Thakur’s care.

The meeting took place on the open grassy plain. Each of the two tribes sat in a semicircle around its leader. Both leaders had someone special at their sides. Beside Ratha sat Thistle, her eyes clear, her ears up, and a treeling perched on her shoulder. Across from Ratha was True-of-voice, the massive gray male who was more than just a leader to those who clustered about him. Beside True-of-voice sat Quiet Hunter.

The two who can cross over to the others’ trails. The messengers. The sinews that bind our tribes together.

Among the Named were those who had not been on the initial search for face-tails. Beside Thakur in the half circle of the Named sat Fessran and others who had been summoned to be present.

The excited buzz that was running through both sides of the circle died down. As if it were a signal, both Thistle and Quiet Hunter rose, their gazes fixed on each other. Ratha knew that for these two, little else existed right now. The bond between her daughter and the shy son of the hunting group was far more than the mating of male and female. Thistle and Quiet Hunter shared experiences that none of their people had known. Each had had to break out of a familiar way of being and risk those things that they valued most. Now both were being rewarded.

As Thistle and Quiet Hunter came together and touched noses, Ratha felt that something new had been born — a feeling deeper than any that could be felt by members of either tribe alone. When she looked across to True-of-voice, she knew that he realized the same thing, for his gaze was also fixed on the young pair.

True-of-voice. I have wondered about him. I have hated him. Now I am about to know him.

Thistle and Quiet Hunter came first to Ratha, one flanking her on each side.

“I am still a little afraid,” Ratha said in a low voice to her daughter.

“Everyone here is also. That is where the bravery is,” Thistle answered. “You are brave enough, Ratha-mother.”

The daughter of the Named and the son of the hunters brushed close to Ratha on either side as they escorted her to the center point of the full circle made up by the two tribes. The pair then went to True-of-voice, took up positions to either side of him, and brought the leader forward.

Ratha watched him approach, her heart beating hard with a mixture of trepidation and hope. He and she were so different. His people and the Named were so alien to each other. How could it possibly work?

Yet, looking at Thistle and Quiet Hunter, she knew that it could. With enough wisdom. and bravery. on both sides.

She extended her head for the nose-touch, breathed in True-of-voice’s breath, and gave hers to be breathed in by him.

What is it like to walk in a dream with your people? To be center and soul to them? To be the wellspring of the song?

He’s probably asking himself what it is like to be me, how I can be leader to a bunch of stubborn characters who not only know their own names but think for themselves whether I want them to or not!

True-of-voice, I don’t think we are that different after all.