Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

Yearling, he thought, you are so young to have done as much as you have. That is one reason things hit you so hard. Quiet Hunter, bless him, had brought Ratharee back. Ratha rejoiced at her treeling’s return, but Thakur knew how easily she could slide back into paralyzing despair.

Hearing her say that she had blundered made his throat tighten. Anyone would have. None of the Named had any experience with a tribe like True-of-voice’s, an enemy like New Singer, or the strange forces that pulled at the situation, turning everything upside down and backward. Trying to cope with it all was like having each foot on a separately rolling log and trying to stay up. You have to dance like crazy, and Ratha had, longer and better than he had expected or hoped.

He looked down at the sleeping face, the graceful curve of the nose, the delicate yet strong sculpting of the muzzle and jaw, traced out in moonlight. It woke pangs in him that were not just the urges of mating.

Ratha, how I want you, how I want to be with you, take care of you, keep you from harm, give you what you need, delight in you, stand at your side while you hold the Red Tongue in your jaws and dance with you forever. Instead, all I can do is offer what is sometimes wisdom, sometimes foolishness.

He studied the markings on her face, wanting to run his tongue in a soft caress along her tear-lines. All the Named had such markings in black, brown, or dark amber — they accented the expression on feline faces so that intent could be read from afar. All had them, but there was something unique and beautiful about the way hers began at the inner corner of her sleeping eyes, swept down the sides of her nose, then S-curved to end at the patch of white fur behind her whiskers.

He saw an elegant arch-line that followed the swell of each brow and softer streaks that flowed down her cheeks. Not too many — that would have made her look striped, and she wasn’t; she was a self-colored tawny. And what a wonderful color. Even paled by moonlight, her rich gold shading stole his breath, the creamy fur on her chest and belly made him want to nestle up against her like a cub and wrap himself in its warmth.

He knew these were not the usual thoughts of a Named male. The females were just other clan members until the mating season, and then it was their intoxicating scent that drew the males.

No, what he experienced now was far more visual, perhaps because he tended to use sight more than smell. It was also far more aesthetic, for he had taught himself to see and value beauty.

The Named language had no words for what he was feeling now, a surge of joy and fear so strong it shook him to his depths.

She had asked him once about courage. He had no good answer then. Now he knew, as he bathed himself in the sight and smell and sound of her and trembled so that his whiskers vibrated, courage was the strength to hang over the abyss no matter how far the fall. Courage was the strength to love.

The faint sound of a footstep had the effect on Thakur of a splash of cold water. It was all he could do not to jump up and roar his resentment. He had so little time to be alone with Ratha that this unfair interruption seemed like an outrage.

Silently he got up as if to defend a mate against an intruding male. The footfalls stayed quiet but grew nearer. Thakur tried to catch an odor, but the newcomer had approached upwind. He heard teeth grate on wood and wondered if it might be a Firekeeper.

He saw a sliver of red light against a dark form. The red light went ghostly as if it had been covered. A wave of scintillation swept over the still-indistinct shadow, followed by a wave of even deeper dark that swallowed it. One flank seemed have been draped with a cobweb. The eyes opened, their shine an unearthly pale blue-green.

Night-who-eats-stars, Thakur realized. I thought he was gone, vanished. What has brought him back?

The herding teacher thought that the star-eater might have come upon him by mistake, but as Night moved closer, Thakur realized his approach was deliberate. Thakur’s first reaction was to hackle, but he saw two things that made him stop. First, Night was carrying something, a something that leaked intense orange-red light. Second, the way Night stood and the look in his eyes reminded Thakur powerfully of his lost brother Bone-chewer.

Thakur thought about rousing Ratha and the rest of the Named. Part of him wanted to jump on this enigmatic stranger, take out his anger on Night, and invite Ratha and the others do the same.

Instead, he held still, letting Night make the next move. Much as he wanted to challenge the star-eater with a direct stare, he kept his gaze averted.

Like the shadows he so resembled, Night flowed in out of the dark, carrying the shrouded glow. Thakur’s heart bounded. There was no source of such light other than Ratha’s creature, the Red Tongue itself. Bira had shown Thakur the charred sand-filled hollow log she had found while the Named were trying to track Night.

What Night bore and laid down in front of Thakur was another log, this one full of sand and live coals. The herding teacher didn’t move until the star-eater nosed the log gently over to Thakur. Very slowly, the herding teacher raised a paw and laid it on the log, afraid that the gift would be snatched back.

Why had Night done this? Thakur was baffled, but he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance between him and the star-eater. Only when the log and its precious contents rested securely under both forepaws did he look up at Night, half expecting him to have vanished.

Night remained, but he wasn’t looking at Thakur. Instead his gaze rested on the other shape sleeping nearby, now dimly lighted by the escaping glow. Night’s tail twitched, making and eating tiny specks of light. He took one step toward the slumbering clan leader.

Gift or no gift, Thakur wasn’t about to let any stranger near Ratha, especially one whose intentions were questionable. Sweeping the hollow log under a bush, he moved to shield Ratha by placing his body sideways between her and the star-eater. He met the other’s gaze. The moon paleness of Night’s eyes made Thakur shiver, but he recognized the light that burned within those eyes. It was the same light he’d sought in Thistle-chaser and struggled hard to bring out.

The eyes and the star-eater’s uncanny way of reminding Thakur of his brother convinced Thakur that Night was not only Named, but kin to Bone-chewer and Thakur himself. Now that the hunter tribe’s group-scent had worn off, Night’s smell also spoke of kinship.

“Who are you, star-eater?” Thakur asked very softly, feeling the tip of his own tail twitch.

Night, however, was silent, waiting. Again he looked beyond Thakur to the sleeping Ratha and then met the herding teacher’s eyes. Night wanted something very much. The star-eater’s scent and attitude told Thakur that Night wouldn’t harm Ratha.

“All right. You can come near her, but don’t wake her. She’s tired.” Thakur backed off, opening the approach. Night set his feet noiselessly one step at a time, lowering his head as he approached Ratha. Thakur remained alert for any change in the star-eater’s smell or movement that might betray a change of intention. No. All Night wanted was to look at Ratha and inhale her scent.

Sniffing very gently and circling her as if he were floating, Night seemed to immerse himself in the sight and smell of the clan leader.

Thakur hoped none of the Named would wake and interrupt this odd yet touching encounter. The stars in Night’s coat seemed to twinkle briefly before they vanished. The star-eater was trembling.

Thakur felt his head slowly cock to one side. He was suddenly eaten up with curiosity, yet he feared to indulge himself.

Abruptly, Night closed his eyes and swung away, tensing his hindquarters as if to spring into the dark.