Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

No, the other tribe’s leader was still alive and healthy, and acting as he always did. So what had driven Quiet Hunter away? Thistle was more baffled than ever, and her nosing became frantic.

A neigh behind her made Thistle aware once again of the horse and its load. As much as she wanted to tear around through the brush in search of her mate, she had to get this horse back safely. Her whiskers still quivering, she picked up a few spilled fish from the trail and put them back into the net baskets. Biaree, no longer frightened, clambered from her loins onto her shoulders where he settled with a sigh. With dying hope, Thistle called once again, but when the dusk remained still and silent, she picked up the lead rope with her teeth and started down the trail with the dappleback.

When she reached clan ground, she would tell Ratha what happened. Maybe her mother would know. She could ask her to send a search party to seek Quiet Hunter and bring him back.

She jogged along, trying to ignore a sad ache in her chest that seemed to spear down into her once-lame front leg. Fighting away an old fog that hovered about her eyes and mind, Thistle quickened her pace. She was determined to discover what had happened to her partner and mate. She wouldn’t rest, nor would she let the Named rest, until she found out.

Evening came slowly during the summer on clan ground. The brisk wind of late afternoon faded to a light breeze, and the sunning rock held enough of the day’s heat to be uncomfortable. Ratha was sitting in the cooling grass at its base when she saw Bira and Fessran approaching. Their forms were shaded, and Ratha knew them only by the shine of their eyes and their scents.

By Ratha’s order, the Firekeepers made only one fire-nest each night for the hunter tribe, on the border of clan land and hunter territory. The fire was small and well guarded, although Ratha felt that even doing that was a risk. Ratha did it because Bira pleaded passionately that the clan should not stop helping the hunter mothers and cubs. The renegade Night-who-eats-stars had apparently vanished, which helped Ratha’s decision.

Bira looked worried; Fessran, puzzled. When Ratha asked why, Bira answered that something odd seemed to be happening in the hunter tribe.

“Often we get others besides mothers and nurslings at the campfire. I’m used to seeing some of the young hunter males. But the last few nights only one came. He seemed upset, even a bit … crazy, talking about how the song had somehow changed and ‘gone dark’ for him. I didn’t see him last night. It may be silly, but I thought I should tell you before we went ahead and built the fire.”

“It isn’t silly, Bira,” Fessran answered. “I sent out some Firekeeper scouts to make sure the fawn-killer wasn’t still around and to see what was going on. All the younger males in True-of-voice’s tribe are affected. They ramble on about how that rat-scratching song-thing has changed for them. It seems to be driving them away.” She swished her tail as Ratha got up and paced. “These hunters seem to get more weird things happening to them. I’d rather be squabbling with the Un-Named again,” she grumbled.

“I’ve watched the mothers and other females who have come to my fire,” Bira said. “They don’t seem to feel any such change. I’d still like to make the fire-nest for them, if you feel that it is safe.”

“I …” Ratha started, then turned her head abruptly, staring into the deepening dusk. “Thistle-chaser’s back,” she said, and bounded away from the Firekeepers. They followed.

Ratha could tell by the bitter tang in Thistle’s scent that something had happened along the return trail. Her night-sight told her that Thistle’s fur was rumpled, and the nose-touch revealed her daughter’s whiskers were vibrating with anger and grief.

“Oh, Thistle,” Ratha breathed, wishing she could curl protectively around her cub, protecting her daughter from more of the blows the world gave her.

“Brought back the horse,” Thistle said shortly. “Lost Quiet Hunter.”

Ratha looked up as Fessran and Bira caught up with them.“I can guess,” said Fessran drily. “Did he start yowling some nonsense about the song going black and then high-tail it into the bushes?”

“How do you know?” Thistle glowered suspiciously at the Firekeepers and spat,“Were you hiding, spying?”

“Don’t raise your fur at me, youngster,” Fessran retorted. “No, I wasn’t. We’ve been seeing this happen to the other young toms in their tribe.”

“Others?” Thistle said, and then broke off, turning to Ratha. “Please help me find him. Know what he means. Send out Named ones in search, ask True-of-voice. Just bring him back.”

“I’ll help you, Thistle,” Ratha said hastily. “First I need to know exactly what happened.”

Thistle breathed deeply to steady herself.“Was walking back from sea with horse and fish. Passing face-tail valley. One from hunter tribe jumped out in front. Wasn’t Night-who-eats-stars. Was one Quiet Hunter knew. Said so. Then, touched noses with other. Went stiff, fuzzed fur. Thought Quiet Hunter had been hit. He talked about changein song. Fangs behind the eyes …”

“Did he say anything else?” Ratha asked, while Fessran and Bira looked on.

Thistle’s facial markings emphasized the crinkle over her eyes as she squeezed them shut. “Remember now. Said, why must he go, didn’t want to, didn’t want to leave me, but had to. Said he had to find others that hear blackness, bleakness. Then, gone.”

“Fangs behind the eyes …?” Ratha heard Fessran muse, while Bira drew in her breath sharply, hissing between her teeth at the image.

“You couldn’t track him?”

“No scent. Must have flattened fur to keep smell in. Miss him lots already.”

Ratha ached at the mournful tone in Thistle’s voice.

“Look, there is no point in blundering around in the dark,” said Fessran. “If we are going to talk about this, we might as well be comfortable around a fire.”

Thistle flashed again at Fessran.“Don’t want to be comfortable around a fire. Want to find Quiet Hunter!”

“Fessran, go find Thakur. Bira, please have the Firekeepers make a small campfire in the same place as before. Enough of us will be there so that nothing will happen and we can figure out what to do.”

Both Firekeepers left. Ratha calmed her daughter, saying that she would do all she could to find Quiet Hunter, but the Named had to act intelligently, not just send scouts out to thrash around the woods.“Quiet Hunter is important to you, but I feel something more is happening.”

They rejoined the two Firekeepers at the small fire. Fessran had fetched Thakur as well, and he lay in a half-sphinx attitude, his face toward the dancing flame, his copper fur metallic-tipped by its glow.

Thistle nose-touched with him, and then sat down by his side.“Seeking Quiet Hunter. Seen him, herding teacher?”

“Why no, Thistle. I thought he was with you at the seacoast.”

Ratha stepped into the conversation.“She’s back, but he isn’t. She told me that something strange happened to him on the way. Thistle, tell Thakur just what you told me.”

When Thistle had finished, Thakur rested his muzzle on the back of his forepaw. After some silence, he said,“Hmrrrr. Just a nose-touch?”

“Was all I smelled, or saw, or heard,” Thistle replied. “No claw, no swat, no lunge, no growl. Then, Quiet Hunter vanished.”

“You say that he felt the song change, turn color to black,” Thakur mused. “You can also hear the song. Did you feel a change in it?”

“Couldn’t sense it very well. Got something, though. Not changed for me.”

“Or for any of the older males, or the hunter females, if I understand Bira and Fessran.”