Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

Ratha grimaced.“You’re right. I really can’t get my claws into this. I keep asking how they can walk and speak and eat and raise cubs and have a tribe and have light in their eyes and not have selves?”

“Not as we do,” Thakur answered. “I think that their whole tribe together forms a very powerful ‘self’ of a sort.”

Ratha paced restlessly, sweeping her tail along her flanks.“I want to do what is best, but I can’t if I don’t understand. How do I walk a path I can’t see or feel?”

“Trust,” the herding teacher answered, and the growing warmth in his scent matched the increasing gold in his eyes. “In yourself, in what you sense is right. And in the two who carry your good words and wishes: Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter.”

Ratha wanted to protest — why did things have to be so complex, so twisted around like a vine choking a tree? But instead, she lowered her gaze and said, “I will try hard to look at this without resentment, Thakur.”

“That is already a long step on the path.”

Except I feel as though I’ve been stumbling, Ratha thought.

“Herding teacher, your words have helped. I feel better, so I won’t keep you from your herding students. Don’t work them too hard.”

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Thakur replied.

With a parting nose-touch and a flip of her tail, Ratha trotted on about her rounds.

In the afternoon, when the shadows grew and the sun sank, Ratha came back, looking for Thakur.

In another corner of the meadow near the forested border, she stopped, her eyes widening in curiosity, her whiskers and tail lifting. A strange little scene lay before her. In the shade of a large live-oak tree, Thistle-chaser, Thakur, and their treelings were busily making something. As Ratha approached, she caught the dry-leather smell of three-horn, dappleback, and striper hides lying rumpled and stiff on the ground. Several cubs were cleaning and softening the skin sides with their tongues.

Thistle and her treeling, Biaree, crouched over a deer hide, doing something that Ratha couldn’t see at first. When she moved closer, she saw that Biaree was using his finger to widen a hole someone had bitten in the hide. With prompting from Thistle, the treeling took a strip that had been bitten or torn from another hide, and poked one end through the hole.

Staying quiet, Ratha watched. Biaree pulled at the poked-through end until he had enough length to twist and loop the strip back around itself. He did this several times and then pulled both ends so that the strip was securely attached to the hide.

Nearby, Thakur and his treeling, Aree, were doing the same thing, although slower.

“Ashon,” Thakur called, “come over here and bite some holes for me. Your fangs are sharper than mine.”

The cub came over and did what Thakur asked, using a fang on one side to pierce the skin.

“I can use my claws,” Thakur said, glancing up at Ratha, “but it takes longer. These hides are tough.”

Ashon and several other cubs acted as hole punchers, moving around between the hide workers and biting wherever a claw pointed.

For a moment Ratha was puzzled by what they were doing, then she remembered a previous discussion with Thakur.

“Yes, we’re making the beast-riding hides we talked about,” he said. “We agreed that we couldn’t keep the older cubs from trying to stay on a bucking dappleback, so Thistle and I figured out how to make skins to wrap around the animals. The hides give the cubs a way to hang on without clawing the horses.”

Ratha remembered the first time she had tried to climb onto a dappleback and the resulting frenzied plunging when the animal tried to throw her off.

She also remembered Thakur’s scolding when he saw the bleeding claw marks along the horse’s side and flanks. He had tried to discourage the cubs’ sport by pointing out that it not only injured the herdbeasts and could harm the young riders, it undermined the training that he was trying to instill. He said that the riders became too excited and that the activity woke the killing urge that a good herder had to control.

But Thakur faced a tradition of beast riding among the cubs. Everyone had done it when they were that age. The cubs had always done it and always would. Even Thakur finally had to make a compromise. This was it.

“Finished this one,” said Thistle abruptly. “Biaree needs a rest. Paws are tired.”

“Maybe you should try the first pad before you make more,” Ratha suggested.

“I’ll get a dappleback,” Thakur answered. “Ratha, would you look after Aree for a few tail-waves?”

As she felt Thakur’s treeling climb onto her shoulder, she sniffed one of the completed hides. Usually the Named dragged the skins aside or tore them up for teething cubs to chew.

Thakur was soon back, driving the small three-toed horse ahead of him. This beast, Ratha knew, was one of his practice animals. It was an experienced and calm little mare, used to being chivvied around the pasture by clumsy beginners.

Thakur and Aree wrapped a long hide strip around the horse’s head, just behind the ears. Thistle, with Biaree on her shoulder, grasped the free end in her jaws.

“All right, keep her still,” Thakur said as he and Ashon started tugging one of their creations over and onto the dappleback mare. It was awkward, and Ratha joined in to help.

The mare shifted restlessly and snorted as the hide was draped over her back and then secured with treeling-made tangles.

The tangle-making skill that Thistle, and especially Biaree, had mastered was becoming very useful to the clan. These tightened tangles could bind anything from wood to wet fish. They could also be tied onto things so that the items could be pulled or lifted. Ratha remembered how critical this skill had been in rescuing True-of-voice from the ledge where he had fallen.

The Named had experimented with these string-tangles before, but had never settled on a particular way of making them. Thistle and her treeling had found a repeatable method that resulted in knots that stayed tight.

“Yesterday we tried several ways of holding it on,” Thakur explained. “This seems to work the best.”

Ratha studied the way they had threaded and tangled the strips so that two ran under the mare’s belly, one across her chest and one behind her rump, below her tail.

The mare only grunted and blinked as the chest, belly, and breech straps were pulled tight. Thistle did have some trouble with the bellybands. Ratha thought they were tight, but when she looked again, they were hanging loose.

“Bump her in the belly with your head,” Thakur instructed Thistle. “She’s holding her breath.”

When Thistle did, the mare let out the inhaled air with a whoosh. This time the bellybands stayed cinched.

Thakur stood back, cocking his head and eyeing the result.

“A little big, but good enough. Now we need a cub.”

Ashon volunteered. Ratha helped Thakur lift him onto the mare while Thistle held the horse.

“Don’t let her go,” the cub said, sounding slightly nervous. His scent took on the slight saltiness of paw pad sweat. “I haven’t done this before.”

“We won’t,” Ratha answered. “This is just to see if it works.”

“Face-tail chaser scared of a dappleback?” Thistle teased Ashon.

“It’s one thing herding beasts. Riding them is another,” the cub retorted.

Ratha and Thakur backed away. Ashon settled onto the mare, gripping the hide covering with his claws.

“He’s a bit big for her,” Ratha observed. “He should be on one of the striper colts.”

“This first,” Thakur said firmly, and Ratha agreed.

With his teeth, Ashon grabbed a strap that lay low across the horse’s neck and shoulders.