Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

Ratha was momentarily distracted as Fessran entered the group and came alongside.“Well, clan leader,” the Firekeeper said, evidently having heard part of the conversation, “it could be worse. True-of-voice might have wanted revenge by killing some of us.”

“If he means this as punishment, it is. Do you really want a mouthful of …?” Ratha broke off. “Fess, keep looking for the black hunter. Take anyone you need. We’ve got to keep him from setting the Red Tongue loose again.”

Waving a soot-streaked paw, Fessran added more of the Named to her search party, which already included Bira and other Firekeepers. She took Thistle, leaving Quiet Hunter as interpreter, saying that Thistle had been on hunters’ ground so often that, of all the Named, she knew it best. Quiet Hunter might know it better, but Thistle’s young mate felt he needed to join in the search for the hunter dead. Ratha was grateful that the usually impatient and demanding Firekeeper leader would respect that.

Then Ratha and the Named settled down to wait until the fire had burned itself out. Waiting, for her, was the hardest part. Too many thoughts crowded into her head, memories of finding the Red Tongue, bringing it to the clan, of killing the old clan leader Meoran by jamming a lighted torch through the bottom of his jaw. Then she felt triumph. Now it made her shudder and she suddenly wanted the comfort of her treeling very badly.

Thakur seemed to sense her distress, for he left his nest in the ashes and came to her.

“Thakur, what have I done? I thought the trail that led us to the Red Tongue was done, but it isn’t. What unbearable thing will come next? Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Then we would have perished, clan leader,” he answered, his whiskers brushing her cheek fur. “And all our uncomfortable thoughts with us.” He licked the nape of her neck; his scent started to make her head swim. Oh, no. Not this. Not now …

As if he sensed the effect he had on her, he moved downwind, staying close enough to be comforting, far away enough not to be distracting.

“Yearling,” he said, “if it helps, I believe that you will lead us through this and we will be better because of it.”

His words made her want to wrinkle her nose, yet it touched the needy part of her and soothed it.“That is a lot of faith, herding teacher.”

“Faith based on knowing you,” he answered simply.

She shifted.“It is going to be hard pulling those dead ones out of the canyon. My nose and my tongue won’t like me for it. And knowing that it was my creature that killed them. I’m afraid when I pick them up, they will just fall apart, like dead coals … like Meoran did when the Red Tongue finally let him go ….”

“I was beside you then. I will be beside you tomorrow.” He paused. “Don’t take this all on yourself, yearling. You did all you could to prevent it. If there is blame, it lies with the one whose pelt eats stars.”

“He … he … fascinates me, Thakur. I can’t help it. He draws me like the Red Tongue draws a dazed dappleback. How can that be, when he has done so much harm and I hate him? I would bring him down with a throat-bite, yet I have to know who he is, where he comes from.”

“I thought you believed he was True-of-voice’s son.”

She turned, stared into the emerald of his eyes.“He couldn’t be. Not after what he did to his own people.”

“Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he was trying to help and the fire got away from him.”

“Help?” This time her nose did wrinkle in disbelief.

“They were hunting face-tails in that canyon. Remember several days ago when the tusked ones ran into the fire? You told me that Night was there and watching. Maybe he thought he could help the hunters by drawing the face-tails or driving them.”

Ratha sat, thinking.“That’s true, Thakur. I saw the look in his eyes. He understood what fire would do to the beasts.” And I saw that, and failed to act.

“If Night-who-eats-stars is alive and out there, he may be in as much pain as you are now. That is another reason to find him.”

“Well, his ‘help’ has caused a mess that I have to clean up. An ugly one, and I am not just thinking about the corpses in the canyon. I hope Fessran can find Night-who-eats-stars. I need to know why and how he did this.”

Ratha lay down, her nose buried in her tail, but she didn’t sleep for a long time.

In the morning, Fessran and her search party returned, tails switching in frustration. They had found no trace of Night-who-eats-stars, no scents, no footprints, not even a hair. Bira had a small hollowed out log, part of it burned away, but still containing sand and ash. She carried it in her mouth and placed it before Ratha.

“I think Night used this to keep the Red Tongue alive. Look at the tooth-marks on it.”

Blinking sleep away, Ratha studied Bira’s find. “If he did use this, and we now have it, does that mean he no longer has the Red Tongue?”

“He could make or find another log and scoop coals into it,” Fessran said, interrupting Bira’s reply. “No, my guts tell me that he still has the Red Tongue’s cubs. You were right, Ratha. This black fawn-killer is too smart.” A yawn muddled the Firekeeper’s last words, and she stretched her jaws open and arched her tongue, the tip curling up between her two lower fangs.

Ratha stared at the remains of Night’s hollow fire-carrier, lying between her paws. Its charred bark reminded her of the task that lay ahead: finding those who had been slain by the blaze. “Keep this safe,” she said finally, rolling the log back to Bira.

She felt Fessran’s gaze on her and lifted her head to meet it.

“Ratha,” her friend said abruptly, “let me lead the hunt for the dead. You take the search party and look for Night. You might do better than I did.”

“And I would be spared the smells, sights, and tastes of the ones my creature killed. You would do this for me?”

“Why not? I’ve seen similar things. I’m older, harder, meaner; it won’t bother me.”

For a tail-wave, Ratha was tempted to take Fessran’s offer. She dreaded the grisly job that loomed ahead. But she knew that the Firekeeper also would hate the task, even if she showed and said nothing. There was a core of kindness deeper than the streak of ruthlessness or the surface toughness in that soot streaked sandy coat and those fire-stung eyes. She didn’t want to damage that well-hidden but precious reserve.

“No, Fess. The Red Tongue is my creature and this is my task. Rest a bit, then please, if you can, take the search party out again.”

Fessran paused, holding Ratha’s gaze as if she meant to argue, but then she lowered her head, brushed past Ratha in a silent acknowledgment, and padded away. Bira followed, Night’s fire-carrying log in her jaws.

Ratha groomed herself briefly, just enough to get the worst of the ash out of her fur. A few last swipes, and she was ready to face the day and her people, who were waking and gathering around her.

“True-of-voice has asked that we help recover the bodies of the hunters who were slain by the Red Tongue. Anyone who feels they can’t do it may return to clan ground, especially the younger ones. I won’t just be directing the search; I will work among you.”

“Why must we do this?” Cherfan asked. “We didn’t set the fire. The fawn-killer did.”

“We do it because True-of-voice has asked. Yes, we did not start the fire, but we are responsible for taming and keeping it.” She paused. “You may be excused, if you wish, herder.”

“No. I may grumble and sneeze, but I’ll help you, Ratha. Just don’t ask me to climb any trees. I’m too big for that.”

She picked out the younger clan members.“You half-grown ones should be spared this. Go back to clan ground and wait for us there. Bundi, you lead them.”