The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Twenty-Four

Drifting up from velvet darkness, Ratha became aware that she lay with her back against a warm chest, her head resting on the inside of someone’s foreleg, the weight of his other foreleg resting on her side just below her shoulder. No, not just someone. Not a night-coated intruder, not a dream Bone-chewer. Just a nice, real, strong, warm Thakur.

She listened to him breathe, deep and powerful, slightly slower than her own rhythm, hers a counterpoint to his, male and female in a soft breath-song.

The urgency of her heat had been quenched for the moment, and all she felt was a satisfied laziness. She tried not to stir, savoring the quiet alone with the one she had wanted for so long and dared not have.

Memories rolled around in her mind, the courting circle, the squabbling males, and the latecomer with moonlit eyes. She knew now that her mind had transformed him into Bone-chewer and that she had begun to give herself to him. It was strange, though. Even though he had seized her nape, climbed onto her, started treading with his rear feet and even swept her tail aside, he never completed the act of mating.

She remembered her heat-driven surge of impatience as he became still over her, yet kept holding her nape. The eagerness in his smell was mixed with something else: a gentle reluctance, as if he realized that she was someone who should not or could not be taken in such a way. No, it wasn’t Thakur’s leap into the courting circle that had interrupted their mating. It had already halted, yet the male still crouched over her, holding her.

It made no sense, unless he was only protecting her from the other males who had no such hesitation. No, she had to be imagining it, just as she had imagined that he was Bone-chewer.

Thakur was no figment of a heated imagination. He was here, he was solid, he was comforting, he smelled wonderful, he was her mate, and that was all that mattered.

She wished she could hold that moment forever, clasped to her breast by her paws. She tried to stay still, but she knew she must have stirred, for his breathing quickened and he began to wake.

She felt him give a slight start as he woke to find her in his embrace. For a sharp instant, she thought he would pull away, but she felt him relax again, draw her closer, and start to purr.

“My Ratha,” he said, and the words lit a thrill of delight in her. “Finally.”

“My Thakur,” she purred, nearly lost in a wave of contentment. “For the rest of my life.”

She felt she could have stayed with him in the cocooning silence forever, but gradually, noises from outside began to filter through. She felt him lift his head, listen. She did the same, and distinctly caught a Named voice asking the whereabouts of the clan leader and the herding teacher.

“That’s Cherfan,” said her mate, gently sliding his foreleg out from beneath her cheek so that he could roll onto his front. “He’s forgotten that he is the clan leader, at least temporarily.”

“We should find out what happened,” Ratha said, but it was hard to end the moment.

Thakur licked her cheek gently and said, as if he knew, “There will be many more like this.”

She got up, fluffed her fur. “Just one question. The one who had me before you came. It was Night-who-eats-stars, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. There was something strange. He was just holding you, even though he could have mated.”

So Thakur noticed that, too! It wasn’t just my imagination.

“Of course, my view of things was a little confused,” he admitted.

“Thakur, he freed Thistle. He attacked another male so that she could escape. I thought I heard him telling Thistle to go. How could that be unless—”

“He is your son, Ratha. Yours and Bone-chewer’s. Thistle’s brother.”

Ratha calmed the excited thoughts that were swirling through her with a deep long breath.“That is why I could so easily think he was Bone-chewer. His scent—It reminded me so much of Bone-chewer.”

“Are you disappointed that—?”

“The one who has me now is not Bone-chewer? No, Thakur!” She rubbed her cheek against his side. “Yes, I loved him, but I never knew him that well. When he died, I made an image that stayed with me. I made it more than he really was.”

“Well, he was extraordinary,” Thakur answered softly. “I don’t fault you for missing him. I wish he hadn’t died.”

“I don’t have to miss him anymore. Bone-chewer is still here. He’s still alive. In you. I have both of you now. And the living one is even more precious.”

“You also have your son, if that’s what Night turns out to be. If so, he will be mine as well.” Thakur halted. “If we can find him. I hope I didn’t hurt him in the fight, but I wasn’t exactly thinking that clearly.”

“My gentle Thakur. Fighting! For me,” she teased.

“I never thought I could fight like that, but when I saw you in the midst of those …” He broke off as the clamor outside grew louder.

“We’d better see what’s happened,” Ratha said, feeling suddenly guilty and wondering how much time had passed since the herd had stampeded overhead.

She climbed out of the fire-den, feeling her belly tighten and her ears flatten for a fight if they were still surrounded by New Singer and his renegades. Instead, as she emerged, she was surrounded by the odors and body-rubs of the Named, both males and females.

“Clan leader!”

“Where did you go?”

“You should have seen those belly-biters run when we … ”

As Thakur emerged behind her, he, too, was engulfed by the living wave of fur, affection and excitement. They all toppled together in a squirming panther-pile.

“Wait,” Ratha said, as she tried not to get squashed. “You mean we won?”

“We won?” boomed a voice close to her ear. “Clan leader, it was like slapping a paw down on a bunch of sleepy flies, the way that rabble scattered. We probably didn’t need the other animals. One look at the rumblers and New Singer just about jumped out of his stripes. Herding teacher, that was a brilliant idea!”

“It wasn’t mine, Cherfan,” Ratha heard Thakur puff as he climbed free of the panther-pile and shook himself. “It was Mishanti and Bundi’s. Where are they?”

“Leading the herd back to the meadow,” Cherfan replied cheerfully. “Clan ground is ours again!”

“No sign of another attack?” Ratha asked, untangling herself reluctantly from the flopping tails, rubbing bodies, and licking tongues of her friends. Her fur was completely rumpled, but she didn’t care. It was so good for them to be together again on their home ground.

“I don’t think so,” Cherfan rumbled. “The last we saw of those renegades were their tails disappearing. Still, we’ll post scouts.”

“New Singer didn’t have time to even think his dung-eating song, much less send it.” This was Fessran, rubbing up against Cherfan. “Oooh, you big furry monster, you smell sooo luscious… .”

Ratha suddenly remembered the cubs. “They’re in the rock fall shelter by the steam.”

“Before we start making new cubs, we’d better get the old ones,” Cherfan said. “Quiet Hunter, give Ratha and Thakur their treelings and come with me. Mondir, Bira, Drani, you as well. Fessran, you stay. If you go, we’ll never get there.”

With his party in tow, the big herder brushed past Fessran, who collapsed on her rump with a “Hmmrh.” The Firekeeper turned to Ratha and Thakur. “So where did you two disappear to? I was afraid that all we would find of you would be flattened fur in the dirt.”

“We fell into the fire-den. It was a good thing that the rumblers didn’t break through the roof,” Ratha explained. “Bundi and Mishanti must have guided them away from it.”

“So it was the terrible two who saved our tails this time,” Fessran grinned. “Well, maybe I’ll forgive them for wrecking my den.”

“Where’s Thistle-chaser?”

“Sleeping in Quiet Hunter’s den. Well, actually it’s Thakur’s old one and Quiet Hunter repaired it. When Thistle escaped, he ran to her, and I imagine that they were soon doing the same thing in that lair that you two were doing in the fire-den.”

Ratha bristled, “Fess!”

She turned to Thakur. “I think I should find Thistle. After what she went through in the courting circle …”

“I think that Quiet Hunter can provide more than a cure for that,” Fessran replied.

“I think that we should leave them alone,” Thakur said quietly to Ratha. “If Thistle needs you, she’ll come to you. I should go to the meadow and check the animals. And Bundi and Mishanti may need some help getting untied from their rumblers.”

The urgency of her heat reduced for the moment, Ratha followed Thakur into the meadow, enjoying the feel of Ratharee riding once again on her back. Actually, it was the edge of the meadow, for Thakur had to locate some tall trees in order to reach the two rumbler-riders and help them get down. Both Bundi and Mishanti were tired and stiff, but they still gave their mounts grateful pats and strokes. Grunt and Belch responded with their tongues, the only part of them that wouldn’t squash their small friends. Aree, clinging to Thakur’s shoulder as he climbed, and Ratharee, perched on Ratha as she followed, quickly freed the two riders from the vine ropes, which had gotten into a horrific tangle.

Thakur carried Bundi down; Ratha took Mishanti.

“I know you could have climbed down,” Ratha said to the pair when they reached the grass again. “But you’re tired, and we don’t want to risk having you two heroes fall.”

She saw both rumbler-riders exchange surprised glances and grins that quickly became yawns. She and Thakur herded them both into the shade beneath an oak and told them to sleep. Mishanti collapsed atop Bundi, who gathered his smaller friend in his paws. They both dissolved in snores while Grunt and Belch began browsing in a tree nearby.

“The terrible two,” Ratha mused. “Who would have thought they’d be the ones to save the clan.”

“Now they’ve got a reputation to live up to,” Thakur answered. “I’ll see that they do.”

Ratha stared at the female rumbler. Something about the line of the animal’s belly seemed a bit different. “Thakur, I don’t know much about these beasts, but I think Belch is going to have cubs… .”

She looked at him and she knew they were both sharing the same thought. More tree-eaters. More den-wreckers. But more guarantees that New Singer or one like him would have more difficulty overrunning clan ground.

“Maybe you’ll have to learn how to ride a rumbler,” Thakur teased.

“I don’t think so. The thought makes me dizzy.” At the sound of running footsteps, she spun around. “Look, Cherfan and the others are already back with the cubs.”

Trotting through the high grass of the meadow came Cherfan, decorated with Fessran’s two surviving youngsters; Bira, carrying her own plus her treeling, Cherfaree; Mondir, carrying an assorted bunch whose parentage Ratha couldn’t remember, and Quiet Hunter with Biaree on his nape and a clan cub held gently in his mouth. Last came hazel-eyed Drani, with her young son clinging to her neck, and, in her jaws, a hollow log packed with the Red Tongue’s embers. Ratha knew that the log contained what was left of the gift that Night-who-eats-stars had given the Named.

It was not the fire itself that mattered, for the Firekeepers had kept their lighted torches and a new blaze now burned in the fire-den. It was the idea, the technique that made fire much easier to keep and carry. Fessran and the Firekeepers would welcome anything that made their task less difficult.

If Night-who-eats-stars is my cub, he must have all my gifts and perhaps more, Ratha thought. I have to find him.

But not now. Now was for nuzzling and licking cubs, sorting out who was from what litter, giving them back to their mothers and then parading back to the nursery where everyone could flop down, the mothers could feed their young, and the rest of the clan could watch and relax, taking time to think about the events that had tumbled through the last few days. Ratha lay close beside Thakur, wondering when she might join Bira, Drani, and the others who lay in quiet contentment, suckling their young.

Ratha was mildly surprised when Quiet Hunter appeared in the nursery. He was alone but had Biaree on his back. He didn’t enter, but made his way around the edge to Ratha and Thakur.

“Where’s Thistle?” Ratha asked.

“Asleep in a safe place. This one has only comforted her, helping her to put the bad memories aside. This one will wait until she knows she is ready and has no fear. Even if the wait is until the next mating season.”

A weight that Ratha had not known was there felt lifted off her. She met Quiet Hunter’s eyes, saw there the depth of his caring for Thistle, and was deeply grateful.

Still a little shy, he looked away. “This one will do all he can for Thistle.”

“I know you will,” Ratha answered. “I am so glad you came to us, Quiet Hunter.”

“For this one, it was not easy. Losing the song brought death close. If not for Thistle and you, this one would no longer walk in life.”

“Me?” Ratha was startled.

“You made the choice to save the source of the song. Even Thistle’s caring could only sustain me for a while. When you saved and healed True-of-voice, you healed me as well. You and Thistle and all the others—you have taught me how powerful is the thing you call … kindness.”

Surprise and awe sank Ratha back on her rump, knowing that any other words would be inappropriate.

“This one … I … will go back to Thistle now. If she needs you, may I come and get you?”

“Yes, of course,” Ratha managed. She stared after Quiet Hunter as he left, her jaw hanging slightly open. She felt Thakur’s paw gently bump underneath her chin. Swallowing, she closed her mouth.

“Do you still think that saving True-of-voice was a mistake?” Thakur asked as she settled back against him.

“M-maybe it wasn’t. I have to think about what has happened.”

She laid her head on her paws and watched the cubs play in the nursery. Ratharee curled up beneath her chin, chirring softly.

* * *

Ratha knew that her first task was to make sure clan ground was safe and secure. With Thakur and Fessran by her side, she patrolled clan land, ready to search out and chase away any remaining threat. She didn’t find any. All the raiders, including New Singer, were gone.

She sent out younger males as scouts, including Ashon, Mishanti, and others who were not yet affected by the mating season. They reported that the renegades had gone back to the parent hunter tribe. That baffled Ratha until Quiet Hunter and Thakur joined the scouts in a foray near hunter territory. Quiet Hunter got close enough to pick up some of the scents, sounds, and feelings that transmitted True-of-voice’s mysterious song.

It was no longer “black” for him or any of the other young males. In addition, the one the Named had called “New Singer” was no longer, for he was again with his father, caught up in the power of True-of-voice’s song.

“I don’t understand,” Ratha said to Quiet Hunter after the two had returned. “Why did True-of-voice take the renegades back? When I asked him to, he refused. Their tribe still has too few females and again, too many males. Why did he change his mind?”

Quiet Hunter had a partial answer, though for Ratha, it was difficult to understand. Quiet Hunter’s mastery of Named speech was strained by the task, and Thakur had to help him explain.

In essence, when New Singer was literally driven back to True-of-voice by the stampede, the father could not help absorbing his son’s experience. Now True-of-voice understood what his exile of New Singer had done to the Named. His son and the other renegade males had not only attacked the Named as individuals, they had abused and destroyed the clan’s spirit, or what True-of-voice understood as the “song” that united the Named.

“I don’t really care how he thinks of it,” Ratha said at last. “What matters is that he understands enough to act, and he has.” She raised a paw and licked it thoughtfully. “But he still has the problem that we caused. The death of too many females in the canyon fire.”

“When this one spoke to Thistle-chaser,” Quiet Hunter began, “she said she was willing to live with me as a hunter for a while, and raise her cubs as both Named and song-hearers, as she and I are. If any of the cubs are females, that will help. It would be by their own choice, of course,” he added. “Neither I nor Thistle would allow our daughters to be forced, as she nearly was.”

“How soon would that move happen?” Ratha asked, starting to feel anxious. “I mean, I just got Thistle back.”

“Not for a while. This one, Thistle, and you—we can decide together. This one knows you have missed her.”

Thakur, who had been listening, entered the discussion. “There are other possibilities as well. We could ease the imbalance by inviting other young hunter males to take the same path as Thistle’s mate has, to learn the ways of the Named. We can also adopt male cubs, if True-of-voice is willing.”

“This one senses that he will be. He is pressed to find an answer, but one that does not harm the song of the Named.”

“If so, we can work with him,” Ratha said. “He must understand, though, that we can’t allow his actions to damage us. She glanced at Thakur as she spoke.

“There is something else,” the herding teacher said, sitting up and leaning forward. “This affects both you and I deeply, Ratha, but we must talk about it. Quiet Hunter, cubs have been born in the clan who could not be raised as Named. In the past we have been forced to exile and abandon such young ones, a very painful thing.” He paused. “I am wondering if such cubs could be raised as song-hearers instead. Would True-of-voice accept that?”

Quiet Hunter was silent for a long time. “We will only know by trying,” he answered at last.

Ratha was opening her mouth when Thakur turned to her. “Yearling,” he said softly, using his affectionate name for her, “I don’t think this will happen with our cubs, but there is no harm in thinking ahead.” He paused. “Not only to protect the young ones, but both of us as well.”

She agreed. She never again wanted the misery of having to take animal-eyed young from clan ground and cast them out to live or die as they might. It was better that they had another chance among the face-tail hunters.

“Whatever we do,” she concluded, “if True knows that we will help him instead of leaving him to struggle, that in itself will help.”

“I will do the best I can to bring him that message. I think he will understand its wisdom, clan leader,” said Quiet Hunter, before he left to return to Thistle.

Ratha caught Thakur cocking his head as he watched Quiet Hunter depart. “He’s still got Biaree on his back,” the herding teacher answered her look. “I thought he didn’t like treelings.”

“I guess that’s another change he’s made. He’s pretty adaptable, isn’t he, Thakur? If there are more like him among the hunters, we have good reason to hope.”

Before she allowed her heat to take her again, Ratha went to her den to do some serious thinking. She let Ratharee stay with Thakur and Aree, so there would be no treeling distractions. There was still something to be resolved. Telling Thakur she would talk to him later, she lay half-inside, looking up at the stars, trying to work out the question of how two so very different societies could interact without harming one another.

Even without intent, one could inflict great damage on the other. Knowledge that was essential or useful to the Named could turn devastating or tragic if gained by the hunters. The opposite was true as well. An act that was normal and natural for the hunters could rebound with serious consequences for the Named. Driving away excess males, which was something even the clan had once done, led to New Singer’s attack on the clan.

Ratha remembered the events that led to True-of-voice’s fall from the cliff and subsequent rescue. The Named had sparked that off as well, by inadvertently showing the hunters how to kill face-tails by driving them off a cliff.

What Thakur said at the beginning might be right, that the herders and the hunters could not live so closely together. Isolation wasn’t the answer either. Bonds had been formed and would not easily be broken—Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter, for one.

This was a difficult problem, and Ratha knew she wouldn’t solve it even with many days and nights of thinking. Chewing at the situation in her mind, as if it were a gristly piece of meat, she began to see some guidelines that might lead to benefits for the Named and the hunters.

First, distance. The hunters and the Named could not be direct neighbors. An expanded area of neutral territory between the two groups would lessen inadvertent contact. Ratha was willing to shift the borders of clan ground to help create such a territory. Whether True-of-voice would reciprocate, she didn’t know, but he might. The hunters were more nomadic than the Named, following the face-tails on migrations north and south.

Next, time. Although her clan and True-of-voice’s hunters were developing a friendship of sorts, it was fragile and too easily disrupted by the acts and accidents that both sides had just experienced. Each had abilities and powers that could easily upset and damage the other. The face-tail hunters had True-of-voice’s mysterious song, which the Named were only starting to understand. The clan had the Red Tongue, in some ways more powerful, but hard to control and limit. Both societies, Ratha thought, needed time to grow, both in terms of replacing numbers, and in maturity and insight.

Thirdly, control based on respect. Even with time and distance, there would be contact. There had to be, for if the Named and the hunters isolated themselves completely from one another, they might again begin to think of one another as enemies. Ratha didn’t want that and, she suspected, neither did True-of-voice.

If only those individuals with experience that had developed respect for the other group were permitted and encouraged to cross between the two cultures, limited contact could work. Among the Named, Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter would be first. Their cubs, too, when the couple had a family. Also Thakur, for her newly won mate had amply demonstrated the insight and wisdom needed.

The next name that came to her mind surprised her. Bira. It was the young Firekeeper who had pushed for kindness and for sharing the warmth of fire. Although Bira had been badly scared by her experience in the courting circle, Ratha knew the Firekeeper was resilient—she had bounced back from other difficulties in her life. She could also separate the renegade males in her mind from the rest of True-of-voice’s people.

Ratha hesitated to include the next one who came to mind. Herself.

She knew she still had deep-seated feelings she would have to wrestle with before she could understand and accept the ways of the hunters. She remembered how alien she had thought them and how willing she had been to attack them with fire. She had managed to hold back and think things through, but her temper, she knew, could still get her into trouble.

That is where Thakur would come in. He could guide her and advise her. He was older, more experienced, and, above all, patient. He could not only teach the age-old herding skills that the Named depended on, he could also teach tolerance, kindness, and insight. The younger cubs with more flexible minds, half-grown clan members such as Ashon and Mishanti, even the older Bundi, might also become bridges between the song-hearing, dream-stalking hunters and the alert, aware, individualistic Named.

Ratha thought this all out, packaged it carefully in her mind, with the right words, gestures, inflections, tail-waves, and even scents to express it.

One more difficulty remained, and she knew this would be the most difficult piece of the problem to chew apart.

What would she do with the Red Tongue? If she shared it, as she had started to do, would that act rebound again on her and her people? If she kept it strictly for the Named, would that be right? Was there some center trail that could minimize risks and benefits for both?

She yawned. She was starting to get dizzy with thinking.

Sitting up under the deep night sky, she shook leaf litter out of her coat and began to groom herself. The snap of a twig and soft footfalls made her pause, look up. Two shapes approached, one carrying a torch. The flame reflected on a copper coat and a red-gold one. Thakur had his treeling and Ratharee. Bira was reunited with Cherfaree. The herding teacher approached first, and Ratharee sprang from his back to Ratha’s. Before he nose-touched with her, he had to drop the load of wood in his jaws.

“Are you learning to be a Firekeeper?” she asked, half teasing.

“I’m just helping Bira.”

“Clan leader,” Bira began, “I thought you might like a little fire near your den. I’ll make you one, if you like.”

The night wasn’t that cold, but Ratha welcomed the thought of a bright friendly flame. She also sensed that Bira wanted to talk. After Bira and her treeling had built and lit the campfire, Ratha invited the young Firekeeper to lie down facing her. Wanting Thakur next to her, she gave the ground a pat with her tail, and he settled there.

“I just wanted to tell you and Thakur that I appreciated what you did for me. Tell Thistle, too. She was frightened, but she still tried to comfort me.”

Ratha waited, giving Bira time to untangle her thoughts.

“I’m feeling better now,” Bira said. I’m still having dreams about those horrible males in the courting circle, but I think they’ll go away. Especially since Thakur got there before they mated with any of us.” She looked at her paws, then said abruptly, “I know that sharing the Red Tongue with the hunter mothers and cubs helped bring all this on, but …”

“Go on,” Ratha coaxed.

“I still don’t feel that it was a bad thing to do. I wanted to help the hunters.”

“And you still have that wish.”

“Yes, even after what happened.” She gave a small cat-grin. “Am I crazy, clan leader? Rolling around with my tail in my mouth, scratching Fessran across the face, then turning around and saying that I want to build Red Tongue-nests for the young hunter cubs—I must be up a tree.”

Ratha exchanged glances with Thakur. “Bira, if you are up a tree, than I must be as well. I’ve been thinking about the same thing.”

Bira’s eyes widened. “You want to continue what we were doing? Letting me make the fires to warm their cubs?”

Ratha paused. “Yes, but not right away. We need to think of a way to do it so that what happened this time doesn’t happen again. I can’t do that by myself—I need all of the clan to help me, including you, Bira.” She paused. “We can take the opportunity to plan. The nights are warmer now and not as windy. The hunters won’t need the Red Tongue until the fall.”

“So you are willing to help them, after all that happened?” Bira asked.

“Well, you are,” Ratha answered with a cat-grin. “Bira, I can’t make absolute promises. We’re still feeling our way with the hunters. If we are respectful and careful, we can share my creature without hurting them or us. When the clan’s mating season is over, I intend to meet with True-of-voice again. I’ll tell him what I just told you.”

“I can’t ask for anything more than that, clan leader,” Bira said, getting a contented glow in her eyes. “Will the fire be all right for a while? I need to go feed cubs in the nursery.”

With a soft swish of her tail, Bira got up and padded away. Ratha went to the small woodpile and gathered up some sticks. She came back and fed the fire.

“What a trail my creature has led us along!” she said as she laid the wood gently in the hearth with her teeth. “What do you think will come next, Thakur?”

He sighed, but it was a sound of contentment, not worry.

She wiggled closer to him. He laid a paw over her. Nesting between them, the two treelings cuddled and groomed one another.

“My Ratha and her courage,” he said.

“Why courage, Thakur?”

“Because you’ve found out what courage really is, yearling.”

“I thought you told me. Courage is taking the risk of being kind.”

He nuzzled her nape, breathing gently into her fur. “That was only part of it. Real courage is being kind again, after you’ve felt that your kindness was thrown in your face. To risk it once more, or even twice more takes a special strength.”

Ratha felt warmed by the fire and by her mate. She had taken another step forward in learning leadership, though she wasn’t sure exactly when or how. “Thakur,” she said sleepily, “it wasn’t their fault. I mean True-of-voice and even New Singer. They were doing what their natures told them to. They didn’t mean the harm they did.” She paused. “They didn’t have a choice. I’m glad we do.”

“We can choose to be careful, and at the same time, we can choose to reach out,” Thakur answered.

“I know that we can’t prevent all the mistakes. Something like this could happen again, but I feel better prepared … and I will try not to be so hard on myself again.”

In answer he licked her nape. His closeness woke her heat again. Ratharee and Aree, sensing what was starting, scurried aside. Ratha flipped her tail mischievously. “You know what I want now?”

“I do,” he said, his voice deepening with hunger.

With a strong paw, he rolled her over, and they both tumbled into the shelter of her den.