Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named)

Chapter Seven

Thakur felt the treeling dig his paws deeper into his fur and crouch low on his back. He peered through the gray drizzle that sifted between the trees and looked toward the meadow where the herd grazed. Smoke billowed above the grass and he saw the amber flicker of fire. The treeling shook himself and fluffed his fur. Thakur could feel how uneasy Aree was by the way he shivered and clung. A gust of wind blew the smoke toward them. The herding teacher had almost forgotten how smoke stung his nose. He sneezed and glanced at Aree as the treeling drew back his whiskers and rubbed his muzzle with the back of his paw.

Thakur circled along the edge of the meadow and approached upwind of the guard-fire, allowing his scent to drift ahead of him to announce his presence to the young Firekeeper. The yearling might be nervous, and a mistaken attack could frighten Aree away. Soon Thakur could see the ring of guard flames that surrounded the clan’s animals.

He jogged toward a point midway between the closest outlying guard-fires. A Firekeeper came out to meet him. At the sight of Thakur, the youngster’s tail went up and a look of relief came over his face. Thakur guessed that he was anxious for the clan adults to return from mating and take over their duties once again.

“Welcome back, herding teacher!” the Firekeeper called. He stopped, stared and cocked his head. Thakur knew the yearling had seen something odd about him, but he wasn’t about to stop to answer questions. He quickened his pace.

As he crossed the meadow, he glanced toward the oak where several clan members had taken shelter from the misty rain. Among them he saw the gleam of a silver pelt. He hadn’t thought of Shongshar in a while. Having Aree as a companion had distracted him from his old doubts, but now they came back in a rush. Shongshar’s head lifted and he trotted out to meet Thakur.

Thakur felt ashamed of his worries. Shongshar had already proven himself a worthy and valued member of the group, the herding teacher reminded himself. It seemed that only he, Thakur, continued to doubt him. And that doubt was not based on Shongshar’s character but on the things he couldn’t control, such as the length of his fangs, the manner of his bite and the uncertainty of his parentage. Was it really fair to hold such things against him?

As Shongshar approached, Thakur could see that he had grown heavier; the powerful muscling in his shoulders and neck was even more evident. Now he was almost full-grown, and there was an air of maturity and a new sense of assurance about him. When the silvercoat drew closer, Thakur could see why. Shongshar’s muzzle was marked with claw scratches. The herding teacher had seen those marks on other young males after the mating season. The older males had enough experience to jump away before the female could claw them, but younger ones often caught their partner’s sudden change of mood too late to prevent a strike across the face.

For many of the young males, this was a badge of maturity and they wore their wounds proudly, as Shongshar did now. He slowed from a jog into an easy walk, his tail swinging. Again Thakur felt Aree tense as Shongshar’s scent reached them. The silvercoat, however, seemed to know the need to keep his distance.

“Herding teacher, if you’re hungry, there is a fresh kill,” said Shongshar at last, after eyeing the treeling. “You are among the first to return, and the yearlings have left plenty.”

His words reminded Thakur that his stomach hadn’t been filled with fresh meat in many days. He was seized by a strong hunger that cramped his belly and made him weak.

“Over here, herding teacher.” Shongshar led the way under the oak. At the sight of the kill, Thakur forgot everything else and ate until the pangs in his stomach had eased. When he felt sated, he scrubbed his muzzle and washed behind his ears, bumping the treeling with his forepaw.

He yawned, feeling the satisfying weight of a full belly. “Ah, that is so much better!” he said, stretching out and not minding the damp grass.

Shongshar ate a few bites and then washed himself as Thakur had done, stopping now and then to study the tree-ling. “What does it eat?” he asked.

“Bugs. And those soft things that hang on trees.”

Shongshar wrinkled his nose. “Oh.” He sat up, his nose in the air and then listened attentively. “I think some of the others are coming.”

Unwillingly, Thakur got up. All he wanted was to lie down and digest his dinner, but he had to do something with Aree before the other clanfolk arrived.

They got there much sooner than he expected. He had only reached the path that led to the dens when a whole group of long-absent clan members spilled out of the underbrush and greeted him with enthusiastic rubs and nuzzles. With a terrified squeal, Aree dived underneath him and clung to the long fur on his belly. Everyone retreated in surprise and Thakur was able to sort them all out. He saw Shoman, Cherfan and Fessran on one side of him, Ratha and Bira on the other. They looked tired and thin, but happy. They also looked and smelled hungry.

Their voices tumbled together in his ears.

“Is that a tree-creature, Thakur?”

“Where did you get it?”

“Are you going to eat it?”

“I’ve never had one of those before. Can I have a taste?”

“It smells good. Come on, aren’t you going to share?”

Thakur looked frantically for a way out of the ring of hungry friends. He could feel Aree trembling and pulling his belly fur so hard that it hurt. They all crowded around him again, except for the clan leader, who stood back watching, with an annoying look of amusement on her face.

“Ratha!” Thakur bellowed, trying to guard Aree from inquisitive muzzles and paws.

She waded in among the group, butting, shoving and dealing out cuffs to those who didn’t get out of her way. “All right, leave Thakur alone, you greedy bunch. I smell a kill over by the oak; the yearlings are welcoming us back.”

Cherfan lifted his head and tail. His eyes brightened and he galloped away, followed by Shoman, Fessran and Bira.

“Leave enough for me!” Ratha roared after them before she turned back to Thakur.

Aree had stopped shaking, but he still clung tightly to Thakur’s underside. Ratha paced around the herding teacher, trying to peek under his belly at the treeling. He could hear her stomach growl, and he wasn’t sure whether her interest was just curiosity.

“Are you really going to keep this creature?” she asked at last.

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Well, I don’t know. No one in the clan has ever kept one. I’m not sure why anyone would want to. Are you waiting for it to grow fatter so it will make more of a mouthful?”

“The meat is over there,” Thakur said icily, flicking his whiskers in the direction of the old oak. “If you can’t think of anything except your belly, go and eat.”

Ratha reassured him that she wouldn’t eat his treeling but there was still a spark of mischief in her eyes. She admitted one could keep a creature for reasons other than eating it. After all, she had tamed and kept the Red Tongue.

“I don’t think this treeling is quite the same as the creature I brought to the clan,” she said critically as Aree grew bold enough to leave his refuge under Thakur’s belly and clamber up onto his back. With a suspicious look at her, the treeling began grooming himself again; once he had finished, he started to part Thakur’s fur, sifting through his pelt.

Ratha grimaced. “Yarr! He’s putting his paws into your coat. Doesn’t that feel terrible?”

“At first it did, but now I don’t mind,” Thakur answered. Ratha sat down and scratched herself briefly.

“What’s he doing?” She stared harder at the treeling.

“Aree is eating my ticks. He’s cleaned me off pretty well and I don’t have many fleas either. You probably have more than I do now.”

“I probably do. When the fleabane plant dies in the winter, we scratch until spring.” Ratha added the action to the word. When she stood up again, Thakur bumped up against her and tried to nudge the treeling onto her back.

“Oh no.” She sidled away. “I don’t want that thing pawing through my fur.”

“Are you afraid of a treeling after you’ve tamed the Red Tongue?” Thakur lolled his tongue at her.

“Of course not!” Ratha’s whiskers bristled.

“You want to get rid of all those itchy fleas, don’t you?”

“I don’t think he will climb on me,” Ratha said, but Thakur could see her resistance was weakening.

“He will if you don’t try to eat him.”

Still looking doubtful, Ratha edged against Thakur. He nosed the reluctant treeling off his back. Aree hissed at him and gave his whiskers a pull before he scrambled onto her and began to groom her ruff. Aree buried his muzzle in her pelt and bit at something. Alarmed, Thakur tried to take the treeling off, unsure whether he was trying to bite Ratha or something in her fur.

“No, leave him,” she said suddenly. She winced, then looked relieved. “Ooh, that hurt. Your treeling just pulled out the wretched tick I’ve been carrying around for days. I couldn’t reach it with my teeth. What a relief!”

She let the treeling clean the rest of her back. When Aree was done, he jumped back onto Thakur and nestled between his shoulders, murmuring softly.

“Well?” Thakur looked at Ratha.

“Your creature felt like all the fleas in the forest were on my back, but I am glad to be rid of that tick.” Ratha shook herself. “Keep your treeling, then. I will tell the others not to eat the creature. He isn’t like the Red Tongue, but he seems to be useful. Will he groom others in the clan besides you and me?”

“If they are gentle and don’t frighten him.”

“What are you going to do with him now?” she asked.

“Take him to my den. I think he wants to sleep.” Ratha gave the treeling one more look. “I’m going to ask the yearlings if anything happened while I was gone,” she said and jogged away, swinging her tail. Thakur gazed after her, then turned up the path that led to his den. With his full stomach, he agreed with the treeling that a nap would be a good idea.