Tailchaser’s Song

CHAPTER 7

Tailchaser was doing a lot of thinking. The long days of walking had given him time to do that, and he was adding up facts in a very careful way.

Pouncequick's story of pursuit fit in with the other things he had heard: the disappearance of some of the Folk; the Rikchikchik's tales of cat raids.

Lord Snap had mentioned four cats: the number alone made Fritti believe someone other than Folk was responsible for the raids on the squirrel-nests. And Karthwine the fox had said that the beasts had smelled part badger, part cat. Perhaps the creatures just looked enough like cats to lead small animals like the Rikchikchik to a false conclusion.

Even Stretchslow had said that something strange was in the air. A new kind of marauding beast? Pouncequick's descriptions of eyes and claws came back to him, and he shuddered.

With a sudden start, he thought of Hushpad-could those things have gotten her? But no, he had smelled no fear at her empty nesting place. They might have caught her in the forest, though! Poor Hushpad! Such a big world, and so full of dangers…

His attention was diverted by Pouncequick, who was annoying a badger. The great digging beasts could be savage when they needed to be. Tailchaser threw over his pondering and hurried to extricate the youngling from a potential disaster.

Dragging Pouncequick away by the scruff of the neck, Fritti mumbled an apology to the nettled badger. The beast grunted scornfully at him as he retreated, then waddled off, striped sides huffing.

A lecture failed to dampen Pouncequick much. Soon they were off again, heading toward the outer edge of the Old Woods.

Waking from his midday nap, Tailchaser felt eyes upon him. Across the clearing stood the strange cat they had seen at the jutting rock. Before Fritti could untangle himself from the snoring Pouncequick the cat was gone, leaving no trace. It seemed to Fritti that the odd creature had been about to speak to them-there had been a strange yearning in its eyes.

That evening, as they were crossing a stand of aspens, the cat again appeared before them. This time it did not run away, but stood gnawing its lower lip nervously as they approached.

Seen up close, the cat was a fantastic sight. Its original color was long since hidden under the dirt and mud that caked its fur and twined the hair into swirls and tangles. Sticks and leaves, bits of tree lichen and evergreen needles, all manner of odd clutter festooned its coat from head to tail-tip. It had bent whiskers, and its eyes looked sad and puzzled.

"Who are you, hunt-brother?" asked Fritti cautiously. "Do you seek us?" Pouncequick hung close by Tailchaser's side.

"Who… who… who… the Ruhu…" the stranger intoned solemnly, then fell to chewing his lip again. His voice was deep and male.

"What is your name?" Fritti tried again.

"Ixum squixura… hollow and hellioned… how so?" The strange cat looked vaguely into Fritti's eyes. "Eatbugs is me, I am… I ran, so I am… so you see…"

"He's mad, Tailchaser!" squeaked Pouncequick nervously. "He has the dripping-mouth sickness, I'm sure of it!"

Fritti signaled him to hush. "You are called Eatbugs? That is your name?"

"The same, the same. Grass-gobbler and stone-chewer… isky pisky squiddlum squee… oh! No!" Eatbugs whirled around, as if something were creeping up behind him. "Aroint thee!" he cried at the empty air. "No more of your dandly dancing out of earshot, you hugger-mugger hiss-mouse!" He turned back toward the cats with a wild look in his eyes, but as they stared, a change seemed to come over him. The crazed look was replaced by one of embarrassment.

"Ah, old Eatbugs gets confused sometimes, he does," he said, and scuffed the ground with his grimy paw. "He don't mean no harm, though-never would, you see…"

Pouncequick hissed with alarm. "He is mad-did you see him? We must go!"

Tailchaser was also a little nervous, but something about the old cat touched him. "What can we do for you, Eatbugs?" he asked. Pouncequick stared at him as though he, too, had gone quite mad.

"There you are," the stranger said. "There you be. Old Eatbugs were just lonesome for some talk. It's a big world-but precious few there are to speak with." The old cat scratched distractedly at his ear and dislodged a small seed pod, which fell to the ground. Eatbugs bent and sniffed it eagerly, then a moment later swiped at it angrily with his paw and sent it rolling away.

"That's your world, now isn't it? That's your world," he mumbled, then seemed to remember the others. "Your pardon, young masters," he said. "I do wander a bit, betimes. Might I walk with you a ways? I do know some stories, and a game or two. I was a hunter when the world was a pup, and I catch a fair bit of game still!" He looked hopefully at Fritti.

Tailchaser did not really want another companion, but he felt sorry for this scruffy old torn.

Ignoring Pouncequick's frantic "no" signals, he said: "Certainly. We would be honored to have you accompany us for a while, Eatbugs."

The mud-splattered old cat leaped up and cut a caper in the air so ridiculous that even Pouncequick had to laugh.

"Piglets and pawprints!" cried Eatbugs, then paused and looked quickly around. He leaned toward his companions. "Let's be off!" he added, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

Eatbugs was not a bad traveling companion. His occasional fits did not prove dangerous in any way, and after a while even Pouncequick accepted him without too much trepidation. He kept up a constant stream of songs and strange poetry all through the evening. When Fritti-wanting a little peace-finally asked him to quiet down a bit, he became silent as mud.

When they stopped to rest at Final Dancing, Eatbugs was still not speaking.

Fritti felt badly about how the old cat had taken his admonishment-he had not wanted to silence him completely. He walked over to the stranger, who was lying on the ground with his eyes in that odd, unfixed gaze.

"You told us that you knew some stories, Eatbugs. Why don't you give us one? We'd enjoy it."

Eatbugs did not immediately respond. When he raised his head to look at Tailchaser, his eyes were filled with a great and terrible sadness. At first Fritti thought that he had been the cause, but a moment's observation showed that the old cat wasn't seeing him at all.

The look suddenly passed from Eatbugs' begrimed mask, and his eyes focused on Tailchaser. A weak smile came to his mouth.

"Ah, what, lad, what?"

"A story. You said that you would tell us a story, Eatbugs."

"Yes, I did. And I know plenty-ramblers and tumblers and bottom-droppers. What do you want to hear about?"

"One about Firefoot. His adventures!" said Pounce-quick eagerly.

"Oh…" said Eatbugs, shaking his muddy head. "I'm afraid I don't know any good ones, kitling… not about Firefoot. What else?"

"Wellll…" Pouncequick pondered, disappointed. "What about Growlers? Big, mean Growlers-and brave cats! How about that?"

"By the Sniffling Snail, I do happen to know a good one about the Growlers! Shall I sing it for you?"

"Oh, please do!" said Pouncequick, wiggling in his fur. He had missed stories.

"All right," said Eatbugs. And he did.

"Long ago, when cats were cats, and rats and mice sang 'mumbledy-peg, mumbledy-peg' in the brush at night, the Growlers and the Folk lived in peace. The last of the devil-hounds had died out, and their more peaceable descendants hunted alongside our ancestorous ancestors.

"There was a prince-O, such a prince-named Redlegs, who had suffered great unhappiness in the Court where his mother, Queen Cloudleaper, ruled. He went whispering and dancing into the wilderness to hugger-mugger with the rocks and trees, and to have Adventures-"

"Just like Firefoot!" squeaked Pouncequick.

"Hush!" hissed Fritti.

"Well," continued Eatbugs, "one day, when the sun was high in the sky and hurt his eyes, Redlegs came upon two giant piles of bones lying on either side of his path at the mouth of the valley. He knew that he was at the gates of Barbarbar, the City of the Dogs. Growlers and Folk had no quarrel at this time, and Redlegs was anyway a prince of his people, so he entered into the valley.

"Around him he did spy every manner of Growler: tall and small, fat and flat; who leaped and bounded and barked, and dug holes, and carried bones hither and yon. But most of the bones were being carried to the pillars of the gate, where the yapping and yelping crews clambered up the piles and laid them on top. As the day wore on, the shinnying Growlers had more and more difficulty getting to the top- where they were trying, dry-nosed and gasping, to join the pillars into an arch.

"Finally, a huge and majestic mastiff appeared, barking commands; the Growlers jumped and gyrated in their efforts to please him, but at last nothing further could be done to join the pillars at the apex. Every leg-sprightly pup of the dog city was sent up to fill the last small gap-which was but one bonelength wide-but none could climb to the top of the curving pillars…"

Tailchaser had an unusual feeling. As he lay, eyes tightly shut, listening to Eatbugs' song, he found that he could see the events in a way that he had never been able to at Meeting Wall. In his mind's eye, he witnessed the leaning towers of bone, the efforts of the Growler-folk and their mastiff leader, as clearly as if he had been present. Why did he feel this way? He licked his foreleg and washed his face, concentrating on the old cat's words.

"Now," Eatbugs was saying, "in those days dogs had not become the lick-M'an, drunk-slobber wretches we see today, but the Folk have always found them amusing-unless in direct battle, you see. So, as Redlegs watched the parade of frightened doglings shinnying up the gate arch, only to come cowering down in defeat a moment later, he could not help laughing.

"At the sound of this the huge mastiff turned in anger and gullet-growled: 'Who are you that laughs so, cat?'

"Redlegs stilled his merriment, and said: 'I am Redlegs, of the line of Harar.'

"The mastiff looked at him. 'I am Rauro Bite-then-Bark, of these dogs the King. It is not meet or seemly that I should be mocked in this way!' At this the dog-king puffed out his chest and goggled his eyes in such an important way that Redlegs almost laughed again.

" 'How long have you been building your gate. O King?' he asked.

" 'Full three seasons it has been,' replied Bite-then-Bark, 'and we but lack one bone to make it complete.'

" 'So I see,' said Redlegs, and suddenly he was of an inclination to play a trick on the puff-puddle-pompous King of the Dogs. 'Your Majesty, if I can finish your gate for you, will you grant me one favor?' he asked.

" 'What would that be?' inquired the King suspiciously.

" 'If I can do your task, I would like a bone for my own.'

"The King, thinking of the thousands of bones that he held sway over, yapped with delight at the cheapness of the request and said: 'You shall have any bone you desire in my kingdom, only you do this for me.'

"So Redlegs agreed, and, taking the last bone-piece of the gate in his mouth, climbed carefully and skillfully up the swaying arch. When he got to the top, he carefully pushed the final piece between the tips of the two curving towers, where it fit like the last scale Meerclar put on lizards. Then he walked down again while all the Growlers barked and harrumphed with pleasure to see their work completed, and their mighty gate standing finished.

"While all stared upward, ears flopping and tongues lolling in glee, Redlegs walked to the base of one of the gate towers. He searched scrupulous careful for a moment, then leaned forward and tugged out one of the bones that was therein piled.

"Nothing happened for a few hiccoughing heartbeats-then waver, wail, and wallow, the gate bent a little to this side, a little to that side… then collapsed, with a noise like all the dancing dead.

"When King Rauro Bite-then-Bark, drooling with shock and horror, turned to look at Redlegs, the Prince only said to him: 'See, I chose my bone, as you stipulated!' and began to laugh.

"Looking from Redlegs to his shattered gate, the eyes of the King became red with fury, and he woofed: 'G-g-g-get that c-c-c-c-ursed c-c-c-cat! K-k-kill him!' And all the Growlers of Barbarbar leaped up at once, and did sprint after Redlegs, who was nonetheless too fast for them and made his escape.

"Over his shoulder as he ran, he called back: 'Think of me, O King, when next in your pride you gnaw at a hipbone on your unburied dunghill throne!'

"So it is that these days We Cats and Those Dogs are enemies wherever we meet in these fields we know. They have never forgiven the humiliation of their King, and pledge they never shall-till the sun falls from the sky, and snakes learn to fly on the morning breeze."

When Eatbugs finished his song Pouncequick was already asleep, rumbling softly. Fritti felt the strange feeling of true-seeing leave him. He wished to question the muddied stranger-cat, but Eatbugs was in a staring trance, half asleep, and would not respond. Finally, Tailchaser also succumbed to the voice of sleep, and crossed over into the fields of dreams.

The morning sun had risen high into the sky when Tailchaser was ousted from slumber by the kneading pressure on his chest and stomach.

Pouncequick, still dozing, was treading softly with his paws as he lay curled against Fritti. The kitten, only recently weaned, was probably dreaming of his mother and nest. Tailchaser again felt a prick of worry over exposing his young companion to the dangers of the quest. The Folk were normally solitary hunters and adventurers once out of kittenhood; responsibility felt a little unnatural.

Of course, he thought, many unnatural things have been happening of late.

As Pouncequick continued his sleepy milk-tread Fritti was reminded of his own mother… and was suddenly glad for the security of another warm, furry body to curl up with in these strange environs. He licked the soft fur of Pouncequick's inner ear and the sleeping kitten rumbled happily. Fritti was just drifting back down into sleep when he heard a voice.

Eatbugs was up and stalking around, talking to himself. His eyes had the faraway look that Fritti had already seen. He carried his tattered, grime-spattered body erect and tensed.

"…Pounding and pumping and trapped… here we are… trapped! Pinned beneath this wall, this wiggly-woggly wall and all…" Eatbugs mumbled vehemently as he paced back and forth before Fritti's fascinated stare.

"…The birds and the shrieking, shriking, jelly-eyed red ones… laughing and dancing-can't get out!… scratch at the door, where is it?… must find it…"

Suddenly the old cat went all abristle, as if surprised by sound or smell. Fritti sensed nothing. Hissing and spitting, claws shot, Eatbugs flattened himself against the ground and snarled in a voice forced out between bared teeth: "They're here! I feel them! Why do they want me? Why?"

He yowled, looking wildly from side to side, as if surrounded by enemies. "They need me, and it… hurts… Ahhh!… the Vaka'az'me… forgive… Ah! There's a crack! A crack in the sky!"

With this, Eatbugs squirmed and shook all over, then sprang away into the underbrush. The commotion of his flight quickly receded into the distance.

At Tailchaser's side, his young companion had awakened.

"What was that?" he yawned sleepily, and stretched. "I thought I heard the most terrible ruckus."

"It was Eatbugs," Tailchaser responded. "I think he's run away. He was having one of his fits-he seemed to think that something was following him." Fritti shook his head from side to side, trying to shed the weird image of Eatbugs.

"Well, I expect it had to happen," said Pouncequick matter-of-factly.

"He may be back," Fritti pointed out.

"Oh, he's not a bad sort, really. Mad as a mockingbird. Tells good stories, though. I quite like the one about Redlegs. Who was Redlegs, anyway, Tailchaser? I've never heard Bristlejaw sing of him. Or of Queen Cloudleaper either, for that matter."

"I really don't know, Pounce," said Fritti, and was about to suggest a hunt for breakfast when he finally noticed that the birds had stopped singing. The forest air was completely silent.

Suddenly, as quietly as grass growing, several large cats appeared out of the surrounding vegetation: stranger cats, every one as silent as a shadow. Before the startled Fritti and little Pouncequick could say a thing, or make a move, the strange cats had drawn themselves into a wide circle around the pair.

Pouncequick began to whimper in fright. The strange cats stared at them with cold, cold eyes.