Tailchaser’s Song

CHAPTER 10

Now the rains set in.

Moving across the broad back of Sunsnest, the cats at first would run for what scant cover they could find. But as shelter became more scarce and rain more frequent, they were forced to resign themselves to wet fur.

Pouncequick caught a cold, and his sniffling began to intrude on Tailchaser's own private misery. Sometimes the interruption would bring a rush of sympathy for the little cat, and Fritti would strive to say a cheerful word, or give an affectionate nudge. Sometimes, though, he responded to Pouncequick's illness and smallness with flashes of annoyance that flared, then quickly faded.

One night, when a scared, cold Pouncequick had climbed onto him during a violent thundershower, all the frustration that Tailchaser had been feeling welled up; he pushed the kitten away, swatting him with his paw. As Pouncequick crawled into a thatch of grass, little crying noises shaking his small form, Fritti felt a sudden wave of terror. Pouncequick would die, and leave him alone in this vast, wild land!

Then, realizing what he had done, he went and caught the small cat up by the nape of the neck and brought him back. He licked the kitten all over his wet fur and huddled against him to keep him warm until the rains would cease for a time.

Several days later, still proceeding with flagging determination, Fritti began to feel that something was following them. After the larger part of the day had passed, the feelings had not departed; they had, in fact, grown stronger. He mentioned this as casually as he could to his young comrade.

"But, Tailchaser," Pouncequick pointed out, "game has been awfully scarce lately, and we haven't had much to eat. Really, I expect you're just not quite yourself. Who but a couple of madcats would be out and about in this weather?"

It was a canny point, but deep inside Fritti felt that something more than simply lack of mice was acting on his senses.

That night, in the most secret part of Final Dancing, Fritti sat bolt upright in their sleeping spot.

"Pounce!" he hissed. "There's something out there! There is! Can't you feel it?"

Pouncequick obviously could: he, too, was now awake and trembling. They both strained their eyes into the surrounding darkness, but could find nothing except the void of night. A creeping, tingling cold was in their whiskers, though, and from somewhere close by the moisture-soaked air carried a scent of blood and old bones.

They passed the rest of the night like the Squeakers they hunted-starting at every sound-but at last the sensations diminished, then were gone. Even in the thin light of morning they did not feel like sleeping. They were on their way without stopping to hunt for breakfast.

The rains increased that day, the skies dark and swollen, and from time to time a wind blew up from the North and sent the water sheeting into their faces as they trudged forward. The feeling of being watched had not departed, and had now spread from Fritti to Pouncequick. So it was that when they finally did run down a small, bedraggled Squeaker in the late evening, they ate hurriedly and standing up, despite their great hunger and weariness.

The last mouthfuls of stringy meat were just passing their lips when from the swirling, rainy darkness beyond them there came a horrible wailing cry that turned them into immobile stone where they stood, stopping their hearts for a moment in midbeat. Another cry-no less terrifying, but a little farther away- choked up from the other side at the two cats.

Hemmed in! The sickening idea came to them both simultaneously. An odd, chuffing sound came from the site of the first howl, and then something crashed toward them through the tall grasses.

Breaking suddenly from his frozen stupor, Fritti turned and butted Pouncequick with his head, so hard that the little cat almost tumbled over.

"Run, Pounce, fast as you can!" Fritti squeaked, trying to keep his voice down. Pouncequick recovered his balance, and the two bolted forward like snakes from beneath an overturned rock. From the other side now, they could hear the rustling and snapping of brush. They ran as fast as they were able, ears tight to their heads, tails straight out behind them. There were sounds of pursuit.

"Oh, oh, it's the same ones, the red claws, oh!" moaned Pouncequick.

"For the love of Whitewind, save your breath and run!" gasped Tailchaser. Behind them a sputtering, echoing cry was raised into the storm winds.

On and on they pelted, rain and darkness surrounding them, wind blowing against them. Fortunately the ground was level, and there were no trees or rocks-they could not have seen their way even if they had found the presence of mind to look. They were tiring rapidly.

Finally, when it seemed as if they had been running forever, the sounds of pursuit began to dwindle, then were gone. Still they staggered forward as long as they could, until finally they felt as though their legs would not carry them across another jump of ground. They slowed to a stumbling walk, listening intently, straining to hear any trace of followers over the pounding of their hearts and their ragged breathing.

At that moment a huge shape stepped from a clump of weeds before them.

"Now we have you!" it said. With squeals of despair the two cats tottered and fell at the feet of the great, dark creature.

Fritti's spirit struggled back to perception. He was tired, and sick to his stomach. It seemed as though the world was bouncing up and down around him. Confused, he wondered where he was and what had happened.

Then he remembered the chase, and the giant, looming shape.

Fritti tried to twist himself onto his feet, but found himself held fast. There was a sharp grip on the back of his neck, and he could feel nothing beneath his paws. Dizzily, he opened his eyes and peered about.

At his side Pouncequick was being nape-carried, dangling unconscious from the jaws of the biggest cat Tailchaser had ever seen. The monstrous gray-green-and-black-striped torn turned an impersonal stare at Fritti. Pouncequick's captor was pacing beside him, but Fritti's feet were touching nothing but air…

Tailchaser slowly turned his head around. He could not see the face of his warder, but he could see the tree-limb-thick legs of the cat measuring out the ground. Fritti was bobbing and swaying in the grip of this beast, as helpless as a three-day-old kitten.

With a rush of panic he threw back his head, wriggling, and then the light faded again.

Some time later, Tailchaser reawakened, but he made no more attempts to break free.

Finally the seemingly tireless beasts stopped. Fritti was dumped unceremoniously to the ground, and beside him he heard the sound of Pouncequick being dropped like a dead Squeaker. A voice spoke, using the Common Singing, and Tailchaser screwed his eyes tightly shut.

"Surely this can't be what we were searching for?" the voice said, displeasure evident in its inflection. Curiosity lost out to fear: Fritti did not open his eyes, but remained crumpled face-down in the grass.

The cat that had carried him was the next speaker.

"They disappeared, like, sir," it said, slowly and deeply. "One moment they was there, and the next- they wasn't. Right strange."

"Strange-I'm with you, there. And more than a mite disturbing," said the first voice thoughtfully. "Where did these two whelps come from?"

"Ran right into us, they did, sir. Shrieked like snagged squirrels and fell down flat. We thought we should bring them in. Been running, they had."

There was a moment's pause. Tailchaser felt recovered enough to lift an eyelid fractionally. Beside the vast, fuzzy shapes standing over Pounce and him, there was a smaller shape. Smaller, but still considerably bigger than Fritti himself. He shuddered.

"Did you spot anything interesting before they disappeared, Nightcatcher?" the smaller shape asked Pouncequick's guard. Fritti heard no reply, but some kind of response must have been made, for the smaller blur spoke again.

"I know. I was only hoping. Tails and Nails! Too many questions, not enough answers." The speaker sat quietly for a moment as the two big cats patiently waited, then rose and walked to Pouncequick and sniffed him.

"Just a kitten!" it said. "Odd place for an apprenticeship." It turned toward Fritti, who immediately squeezed his eyes shut and went limp down to his last tailbone. The voice came next to his face-it took all his courage not to bolt and run.

"And this one hardly seems a hunter himself. P'raps they've lost their mother?" The speaker leaned closer and sniffed Fritti's ear, then howled so suddenly and loudly that Tailchaser rolled head over heels from the shock: "I am Prince Fencewalker, and I order you to wake up and be questioned!"

Tailchaser-panting, ears ringing, claws sunk into the earth for something to hang on to-swayed in place and shook his head.

Fencewalker? he thought. Where have I heard that name?

He opened his eyes to find a large, shaggy cat staring at him curiously. The cat's pelt was as red-golden as autumn leaves. The Prince, for so he was, wore an expression of pleasure, his tongue poking out from between his front teeth. He appeared very gratified by Tailchaser's response.

Fencewalker turned to the large brindle that had carried Fritti, and now wore a lopsided grin. "Nothing like authority," the Prince said. "Right, Dayhunter?"

"No sir," responded the big cat.

The mad humming of Tailchaser's nerves began to subside. He remembered now that Hangbelly had mentioned Fencewalker as a good friend to have at Court.

Looking at the chortling Prince and his two monstrous companions, Fritti wondered if he would be able to survive such a friendship.

By the time that the sun had begun to warm the grasslands around them, Pouncequick had joined Tailchaser in consciousness. Still sick, tired and frightened, the little cat did not move or speak much, but lay listening as Fritti finished telling the Prince of their journey. The Prince asked many questions, and was very interested in the chase of the night before- even more so with Pouncequick's scarlet-clawed thing in the Old Woods. He would have probed the kitten on the subject, but Fritti-worrying about his young companion's weakened state-managed to intercede. Fencewalker reluctantly agreed to postpone the interrogation until later.

Prince Fencewalker then explained that there had been disturbances of a similar kind all along the oudands of the Court of Harar. He and his massive companions, Dayhunter and Nightcatcher, twin sons of an old Court bloodline, had taken on the assignment of bringing the malefactors to bay. They had found no luck, however.

"It makes a cat wonder," said Fencewalker grouch-ily. "They're here, they're there, then they're gone. We three just can't keep up with them. I suppose it's a good thing the First-walkers are taking an interest- we could use some more paws on this."

"But you're the Prince!" said Fritti, surprised. "Can't you find all the help you need at Court?"

Fencewalker glowered. "It doesn't work out that way," he said, shaking his red-gold mane. "Nobody will take this sort of thing seriously. Everybody's got something more important to do. Nothing matters to anyone if it's not gnawing at his own tail. Even Mother and the Prince Consort more or less said: 'Go ahead and scout around if you enjoy it.' Hah! Serve them right if these cat-badgers-or whatever they are-come climbing out of the trees and chew their ears off!"

This set Tailchaser to worrying in silence for a while. What if there was no help at the Court? How would he proceed in his search for Hushpad? The memory of her waving tail and black-trimmed nose came forcefully back to him.

If no one else cares what happens to her, he thought angrily, all the more reason why I must continue the search.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of little Pouncequick being sick. His young friend's poor health was another problem. The rains were here to stay, and Pouncequick would be in bad shape if he didn't get to shelter and food soon.

"Prince Fencewalker, will you be returning to Court now?" he asked.

"I hadn't really decided yet," muttered the Prince. "I suppose we might as well try to scare up another cat or two. Why do you ask?"

"My companion is not well, as I'm sure you can see. If you would help us get to the Queen's Seat, we would be grateful." Fencewalker looked thoughtful.

"The little scuffler isn't doing none too good, sir," offered Dayhunter helpfully. "He probably needs to get warm-like."

Fencewalker passed over to Pouncequick, who was shivering miserably on the moist grass. "We'll get you to a place you'll like, little fellow," said the Prince in his bluff, friendly manner, "if we've got to kitten-carry you all the way. We'll get you to the Court."

Pouncequick was carried the last leagues across the Sunsnest Plains by Dayhunter and Nightcatcher, but Fritti was strong enough to walk. He found himself enjoying the company of Fencewalker and his hunt-mates.

The Prince was garrulous, telling hunting stories of great length and interminable detail, and frequently interrupting his narrative to check details with Dayhunter. It was particularly hard on continuity when the Prince's huge companion was taking his turn transporting Pouncequick.

"… Now I believe," the Prince would say, "I believe, and I really should be able to remember, that that was the day after we had run down a simply magnificent grouse. Or perhaps it was a cock pheasant? Do you remember, Dayhunter? Was that a cock pheasant?"

"Mmmff!" Dayhunter would reply through a mouthful of Pouncequick.

"Pardon? Grouse, did you say?"

"Mmmf-mmmff."

"Oh, a pheasant? You're sure?" And so on.

The Prince was a cheerful soul-full of rough good humor, and an affection for sudden, surprising shoves that sent companions tumbling. The companion would then be helped to rise by a guiltily solicitous Fencewalker, who would promise not to do it again without suitable warning.

The twins were so alike as to be indistinguishable in outside appearance, although they could be told apart by scent. Dayhunter was not a clever cat, but goodhearted and very chatty. His brother, Night-catcher, was very quiet.

After traveling with the three for a day, Fritti finally realized that Nightcatcher's stolidity was involuntary. He was mute, and communicated only in the soundless ways given to the Common Singing. Fencewalker explained to Fritti that Nightcatcher had sustained a throat wound while protecting the Prince from a maddened fox, and had been unable to make a sound since.

"He did it for me, Harar keep 'im," said Fencewalker. "These are my true hunt-brothers, don't you see." Nightcatcher beamed with permanently quiet pride.

The plains began to slope uphill. Fritti knew from Quiverclaw's instructions that they were reaching the outer fringes of Sunsnest. The grade was slight but constant, and at the end of a day's walk Tailchaser's back legs throbbed.

At last they reached the banks of the Purrwhisper. It was a much quieter stream than the Tailwend, gentle and gurgling. Its bed was covered with many-colored stones, and above these could be seen the flashing dart of shiny fish.

They stopped to drink, and even Pouncequick clambered down to lap up the chill, clear water. It was sweet and refreshing, and when they had finished, Pouncequick and Tailchaser lay side by side on the stream bank and shared a silent feeling of hope for the first time in a long while.

Pounce is still a very sick kitten, though, thought Fritti. He was moving closer to warm him when Fencewalker approached.

"Well, here we are at the Purrwhisper. Just a hop and a stumble to go now, little chap!" he said to Pouncequick. "See that line of shadow there?" The Prince indicated with his chin a ribbon of darkness running along the horizon, just visible against the gray skies, "That's the outskirts of Rootwood-the biggest, grandest forest in the world. If we follow the Purrwhisper here in a ways-and none too far a way, either-do you know where we'll be?" Fencewalker looked down at the two companions. "Firsthome! That's where-and warm and fat and dry as can be!" He grinned. "I certainly wouldn't want to spend all my time rubbing fur in the Court, but even I admit it's a very nice nest to come back to."

The Prince gave Fritti a friendly swat. "I'll bet a couple of outland Folk like you will be amazed. Amazed!"

The following days passed in a sort of walking dream for Tailchaser. Pouncequick was feverish now, and hung quietly in the gentle jaws of the twins. Tailchaser himself was as tired as he had ever been in his short life, but Fencewalker and his companions, close now to their home, were setting a rapid pace. It was all Fritti could do to keep up.

They were moving along the northern bank of the Purrwhisper. Fritti decided that someday he would like to come back and explore the country they were passing-someday when he wasn't exhausted and footsore. All manner of vegetation grew on the shores of the softly splashing river. Sheltered spots and hidden grottoes, protected from the now-constant rain, beckoned invitingly to the weary Tailchaser, and animal and bird noises were calling him to come and investigate. Every whisker of his self-control was necessary to keep him marching on behind his stronger fellows, to shut out the blandishments of the river-world.

At last the small band of cats reached the eaves of Rootwood. Even in his harried condition, Fritti could feel how different this forest was from the Old Woods near his home. There was a feeling of age to this place that made the Old Woods, despite their name, seem kittenlike and fresh. Rootwood looked, felt, smelled and sounded so ancient and established that it seemed inconceivable that any of the great trees about them had actually grown. It seemed, rather, as though the world itself had grown up around their roots and trunks.

When Fritti mentioned his feelings to Fencewalker, the Prince nodded. Instead of responding with his usual irreverence, the red-gold hunter merely said: "Aye. This is the first forest."

In answer to Fritti's request for an explanation, Fencewalker suggested he wait and ask in the Court.

"There are those who can speak of the forest better than I, and I would not want to give insult by accident."

Tailchaser had to accept this, for nothing more was offered. But when he asked later about the game of Rootwood, the Prince was again his usual, hearty self and gave Fritti an exacting description of everything that ran, slithered, swam or flew beneath the ancient trees.

The traces and hunt-marks of other Folk became commonplace. Tailchaser was now only interested in ending his journey; he ignored the excited discussions that Fehcewalker and his companions had over what the various indicators meant: who had been doing what, and when, and with whom. Pounce-quick, now sleeping constantly, was oblivious to it all. After a day of staggering and limping, Tailchaser himself could walk no more. He and his kitten friend were once more carried side by side in the mouths of the brindled twins.

Sliding in and out of uncomfortable, bouncing sleep, Fritti was dimly aware of voices. The Prince and other cats were calling back and forth, and when Fritti dazedly opened his eyes he could see cat-shapes everywhere-a sea of Folk. It was too much for him to take in, and he closed his eyes again.

He felt himself put down on something soft. As the voices faded away he bounded into the dream-fields.