Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

He shoved a paw between her chest and his and began to pry her away. She could not sustain her grip against his powerful forelegs. She twisted her head, trying to bite deeper, but her teeth tore from the wound. The great pressure of his massive paw against her chest threatened to crush her ribs, and she drew short painful breaths.

She lost her hold and he forced her to the cave floor, one paw on her neck, the other on her chest. She writhed and wriggled, but only exhausted herself.

Above her, his teeth gleamed and his eyes burned. His jaw dropped far down, exposing the full and terrible length of his fangs. He lowered his head, and she felt the hard curve against the pulsing of her throat. His claws drove into her to hold her still as he reared his head back for the killing downslash.

“Ratha!” The scream filled the cave. From the corner of her eye, she saw the circle of herders give way as someone burst through. She grunted at the sudden impact of a body hurtling on top of her own and felt scrabbling claws as Fessran’s smell washed over her.

Ratha caught a glimpse of Shongshar’s fangs driving down toward her; then Fessran heaved and jerked. She felt the shock as Shongshar struck and heard the shriek of teeth against bone. She wrenched herself out from beneath them as a dismayed hiss welled up from those watching.

In her blurred sight, Shongshar lifted his reddened fangs from the body of the Firekeeper who had once been her friend.

“I bare my throat to you again, Ratha,” Fessran whispered, rolling her head to look up at her. “Forgive my foolishness.”

A sudden commotion broke out near the fire. One of the Firekeepers guarding Thakur recoiled from his slash. Using the moment of confusion to break free, he streaked across the cave floor to Ratha.

“Run!” he cried. She gave Fessran one last, despairing look and plunged after Thakur as he passed her. They dashed out of the cavern, down the gallery, and were out in the sunlight before roars and howls broke from the cave behind them.

Thakur rushed to the stream that spilled from the base of the falls, leaping from rock to rock until he was nearly lost in the spray. She followed, fighting to keep her footing on slick stones. He ran downstream and leaped onto the bole of a tree that leaned out from the steep slope rising before them. She sprang up behind him and together they bounded through the brush until they reached the crest of the hill.

“That should confuse them,” Thakur panted, looking back. “They’ll think we took the trail.”

Ratha was too numb to hear his words. She still seemed to feel the shock and shudder as Fessran took the strike meant for her. Softly she moaned her friend’s name aloud.

“Ratha,” Thakur said. “Ratha, there’s no hope for her. Even if he hasn’t killed her, she will die soon. Those fangs went deep.”

“I should go back and take my revenge on him. I should fight for my place as clan leader,” she hissed, rage and despair choking her throat.

“And there will be another of the Named to lie bleeding on the floor in the Red Tongue’s den. Without you, neither Bira nor I have any hope. The time is past when you can listen to anger,” he said, and Ratha knew he was right.

The sound of angry calls below sent them running up the slope of the next hill.

“Soon the Firekeepers will find our track,” said Thakur. “We should split up and draw them away from where Bira and the treelings are hiding.”

“I’ll draw them. You circle back, find Bira and tell her what has happened. Don’t worry,” she said, at his doubtful look. “I won’t try to turn and fight them. I’ll meet you at the little cave by the stream.”

“All right.” He flicked his tail and trotted uphill. After he was gone, she went back along his path, smearing out his pugmarks and covering his smell with hers. Satisfied that she had concealed his trail, she glanced at the sun and galloped down the slope, away from the cries that told her that Shongshar and the Firekeepers had found her tracks.

Resting briefly, Ratha leaned on a dew-dampened rock, laying her cheek against its coolness. She heard the Firekeepers crashing through brush and dead leaves. She could see the approaching flicker of their firebrands through the trees and sensed that once again they were picking up her trail. A shiver that was half fear and half excitement ran through her.

She was glad, however, that the Firekeepers had chosen to track her by torchlight. A scent trail, which they might have followed easily in the damp night air, became difficult and elusive in the smoky haze from the torches. No. Shongshar knew better than to think he would catch her this way. He had brought out the torchbearers to show the Red Tongue’s wrath and let her own fear drive her like a renegade from clan ground.

She grinned bitterly as she ran across a patch of hair-ferns that made no rustle to give her away. She had already seen the worst that the fire-creature could do. It could burn flesh and bone and even forest, but it could also possess the minds and twist the wills of her people as if they were pieces of bark glowing and curling in the heart of the flame.

The sky above the treetops showed deep violet and the glittering stars were dimming. Ratha realized, looking up, that she had been leading the Firekeepers astray all night. Thakur would have had plenty of time to reach Bira. It was time to put an end to this cub’s play before daylight gave the searchers additional advantage.

She crept away a little farther and listened. Again they had come to a halt and were casting about for signs of her. She spat quietly to herself, disgusted with the noise they were making, and then slipped away through the underbrush.

She kept to the edge of clan ground to avoid being seen by accident. To conceal her trail, she frequently backtracked, waded in streams and rolled in the dung of other animals to disguise her smell.

The sun was just showing over the treetops when she reached the sandy path that led beneath the overhang to the cave where she, Bira, Thakur and the treelings had spent the previous night. She had a bad moment when she discovered that particular hollow empty. She was nervously searching the other caves when the sound of Thakur’s voice came from the shadows beneath the overhang.

“Over here,” he said. “We’ve moved our hiding place.” Her relief made her nearly collapse on the sand, but she only lolled her tongue out and padded after him.

Thakur led her farther upstream, to a smaller fall where the water cascaded down onto split stones that turned it into many tumbling rivulets. Ratha turned for a moment to watch the morning light dance and run down the falling water. Then she glimpsed Thakur’s tail disappearing between two slabs of rock that leaned against each other.

She followed him, reluctant to leave the cheerful morning and go into the dimness of a cave. When she was inside, however, she found the tilted stone floor dappled with sunlight and shadow and felt a breeze that carried the fresh smell and sound of the little fall. It was sufficient shelter to keep anyone who hid within from being seen, yet it was open enough not to feel confining.

Bira lay in a sun-washed hollow with the treelings gathered around her and on top of her. Ratha looked for Ratharee and saw the young one’s black eyes gleam as Ratharee spotted her. With a squeal of joy, the treeling scampered up the sloping rock and launched herself at her companion.

“Ooof. She’s getting heavy, Thakur,” Ratha groaned, but she couldn’t quite make her voice sound convincingly plaintive. Once the treeling had taken her usual place on Ratha’s shoulder with her tail curled around her neck, Ratha stretched out in a pool of sun near Thakur and Bira.