The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Nine

Ratha waited before she decided to go after Shongshar. He must know by now that his cubs will never bear names, she thought. Bira knows and she has cut herself off from them. He must do the same or leave clan ground.

The late afternoon sun had slipped behind a cloud and the rocks beneath her were starting to chill. Wearily she rose and left the nursery, seeking the path to Shongshar’s den, a trail her feet were coming to know too well.

He was there, lying across the entrance to the lair as if guarding the way in. Two spotted faces peered out over his back. He lifted his head, showing his profile, and his lip drew back to expose the length of his fangs. He did not look at her.

Ratha sat down, keeping her distance. She waited as the shadows of trees and bushes lengthened, spreading across the ground to the mouth of the den. Her own shadow crept with the others until it touched him.

The wind shifted, blowing his scent to her. She smelled the pungent odor of anger and the bitter acrid scent of despair. She rose and took one pace toward him. The orange glow in his eyes deepened and his nape lifted. Fear struck at her and she fought it aside.

“You have long fangs, Shongshar,” she said. “They could easily find my throat. Killing me would not change the truth about your litterlings.”

“It is not you I would kill, clan leader,” Shongshar answered in a low growl.

Ratha’s gaze hardened. “If you seek revenge on Bira, you are wrong. She is clan born. Had she taken someone other than you—”

“It is not Bira’s fault. I know that.”

Her fear eased, but she remained wary. “Bira will not return to these cubs. Now that you know what they are, you must abandon them and never think of them again.”

The little female started to climb over Shongshar’s back. He took her by the scruff, laid her down between his paws and began licking her, even though she smelled as though she had already been washed. Ratha sensed this was his answer.

At last he looked up at her and said, “I didn’t know how I would feel about my cubs when I made you the promise that gave me my name. I didn’t know how hard it would be.” His eyes added the accusation, You can’t know how hard it is, clan leader.

Her belly ached for him in his sorrow. “You think I ask you to give up your cubs without knowing the bitterness of it?” she asked. He had begun licking the female cub again, but he stopped and laid a paw over her.

“I will tell you something,” Ratha said to him. “I have told it to only one other among the Named. I bore a litter of cubs like yours. I took a male who came from outside the clan, like you. When I realized that my young were witless, I nearly went mad.” The words poured out of her as the memory came flooding back. “I attacked my mate and tried to kill one of the cubs. He drove me away. Later, he died. I don’t know what happened to the cubs; they are probably dead now.”

Shongshar lay, looking at her in silence while the shadows crept over his coat. His daughter squeaked and he hushed her. “So you know what this is like.” He nudged the cub, who gave Ratha a wide-eyed stare, then blinked and yawned.

Ratha found it difficult to keep her gaze steady. “Yes, I do,” she answered finally. “I’m … sorry.”

He looked away. “What must I do now if I choose to obey you?”

“Take the cubs far away from clan ground and leave them. Or, if you choose not to obey me, you may leave the clan tonight and take them with you.” She paused, letting him absorb her words. “I will return to your den tomorrow morning. Either way, if you stay or leave, the cubs must be gone.”

“And if I choose to go?”

Ratha swallowed. “Then we will lose the best fire-tender we have ever trained. Your name will be given to the eldest male in the next litter that is born and you will again be the orange-eyed one among the Un-Named.”

She got up. The shadows were fading with the coming twilight. “Despite everything, I wish you well, Shongshar,” she said and hoped he couldn’t see how she had begun to tremble.

She suddenly wanted to be with someone who could give her comfort, or at least some understanding and companionship. Thakur, she thought, I need you. I know we have disagreed, but don’t turn away from me now … please don’t turn away …

The desire to see the herding teacher became an overwhelming hunger that sent her flying down the darkened trail in search of him.

“Watch out, clan leader!” came a familiar voice out of the dusk; she saw a pair of green eyes ahead on the trail. Ratha stopped so fast to avoid a collision that she skidded on wet leaves and fell on her side. Her breath burning in her throat, she hauled herself to her feet.

She forgot her embarrassment and her soggy flank as Thakur’s voice and scent reached her. The green eyes blinked. Another, smaller pair glowed momentarily and Ratha made out the shape of the treeling’s face between the outline of Thakur’s ears.

The herding teacher came forward to touch noses with her. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”

“To find you,” Ratha gulped. “You were right about Shongshar. Bira’s cubs are witless. You were right and I didn’t listen,” she cried. “Oh, I wish I had!”

Thakur was quiet for a while and his silence tore at her in a way worse than angry words could. When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he said, “Come with me to my den. We’ll talk there.”

Gratefully she padded after him until they reached his lair. He stood aside to let her in and then followed.

“I knew Bira had abandoned her litter,” he said as she curled up with the earthen wall of the den against her back. The rich smell of soil and leaf-mold mixed with his scent made her feel better.

“Their eyes are empty,” she said, feeling her voice growing steadier. “I know. I looked at them.”

“There is no chance that you are mistaken?”

“How could I be wrong, when my own cubs were like that? I’ll never forget my daughter’s eyes. I imagine Bira won’t forget hers either.” Her voice was heavy with self-accusation.

“She’ll get over it, in time. You did.”

Ratha laid her head on her paws. “I did until seeing Shongshar’s cubs brought it all back.”

“What have you told Shongshar?”

“I reminded him of his promise to me and gave him the choice of abandoning his cubs in order to stay, or taking them with him and leaving the clan.”

“Can he take them?” Thakur asked.

“I think so. They were still nursing, but Fessran was starting to feed them chewed meat. He can’t give them milk, but he can chew meat for them.”

She heard the soft sound of the herding teacher’s tail brushing the ground as he curled it around himself. “When does Shongshar have to make the choice?”

“I said I would come to his den tomorrow. If the cubs are still there, I suppose I will have to take charge of them myself.” She sighed unhappily at the thought of that possibility.

She heard an odd shuffling noise and then Thakur saying softly, “Go on, little friend. She knows you. She won’t hurt you.”

She felt the treeling’s paws on her hind foot and held still as Aree hopped up onto her leg and walked up her flank to her back, where he began grooming her fur. Aree’s touch was so gentle and careful that she wondered if the treeling knew she was upset.

“The longer I have Aree, the more I think he knows what I’m feeling,” said Thakur, and his voice was warm with affection for the treeling. “He doesn’t speak, but he seems to say things with his paws.”

“He is very gentle. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m a bit wet.” Ratha felt her tenseness seeping away and stretched her mouth wide in a great yawn. “I just had a funny thought.”

“What?”

“Aree grooms me the way you would if you had his clever little paws. Maybe he’s got some of you in him.”

“Perhaps,” said Thakur softly. “Do you feel better?”

“A little. I wish he could groom out all my bad feelings along with the ticks and the fleas.”

“Not even a treeling can do that.”

Ratha drew in her breath and let it out in a huge sigh, lifting the treeling up on her ribs and letting him sink down again.

“Are you thinking about tomorrow?” Thakur asked, after he had been quiet awhile.

“Yes. I hope Shongshar’s cubs are gone when I reach the den. I’ll still have to face Fessran and tell her what has happened, but I’d much rather do that than have to take them out and abandon them myself.”

“I’ll come with you, if you want.”

“I thought you were angry with me,” she said, surprised.

“Not any more.” He paused. “If you do have to take the cubs, you can’t carry both of them at once.”

“Thakur, you don’t have to,” Ratha answered, ashamed and grateful at the same time. “This is my responsibility.”

“The responsibility belongs to all of us,” he said as Aree finished cleaning Ratha’s fur and climbed down from her back. She felt warmed, comforted and ready to sleep. Perhaps she would be able to face the coming day after all, she thought.

She woke early, unsure of what had roused her. It might have been a bird trilling outside or the faint morning light filtering into the den. She buried her nose in her tail and tried to shut her eyes again, but it was useless. Thoughts of the task that lay ahead stole sleep away. All she could do was watch and wait while the gray light outside grew stronger and Thakur’s ribs rose and fell with his slow breathing. Aree, curled up against his belly, looked like a small cub with dusky brown fur.

The treeling began to stir. Thakur twitched and moved in his slumber. She hoped he would wake soon; it was nearly time to depart for Shongshar’s den. When he settled down again and began to snore, she reached out a hind foot and poked him. He grumbled a sleepy protest, but his eyes opened and, when she stepped over him on her way out of the den, he quickly came to life.

A ragged fog lay along the ground and patches of mist hung around the few stands of trees. Thakur crawled out of the den with Aree wobbling and yawning on his back. The treeling eyed the weather with distaste and fluffed his fur.

The moist air held scents well and before Ratha reached Shongshar’s den she knew he and the cubs would still be there. Someone else would also be with them. Fessran’s odor and footprints were fresh, telling Ratha that the Firekeeper leader had taken the same path earlier in the morning.

“I think Shongshar came to get her,” Thakur said, from behind Ratha. “His scent is alone on one side of the trail and mingled with hers on the other.” Aree contributed a sneeze to the conversation and then shook itself.

Ratha glanced back and wondered whether Thakur should bring his treeling on an errand such as this. She was so grateful for his presence that she decided not to say anything. No one would notice anyway; the creature had become so much a part of him. If Shongshar became angry and forced a fight, Thakur would send his companion up into the nearest tree.

“Even so,” she said to him as they approached, “you let me go first.”

She saw Shongshar waiting outside the den. His feet and legs were lost in the white swirl of ground fog and the silver in his coat blended into the gray mist. His eyes were the only part of him she could see clearly and they burned at her with a mixture of pain and defiance.

“I couldn’t abandon them,” he said in a low growl “I tried, but I just couldn’t do it.”

Ratha faced him directly. “Do you wish to stay with us?”

“I came to the clan because it was the only way I could survive. There is nothing for me outside.”

“You have disobeyed me,” Ratha said. “The cubs are still here and so are you. However, if you stand aside and let me take them you may keep your name and your place among us.”

He moved away from the mouth of the lair and stared away as she passed him. “I’m sorry, Shongshar,” she said but he gave no indication that he had heard.

She bent her head and crawled inside the den. A warm, milky scent met her nose. Enough light entered the lair so that she could see Fessran stretched out with Shongshar’s young at her teats.

“They won’t be nursing much longer,” she said. “I’ve begun to feed them chewed meat, but they still need a little milk.”

“I thought you weren’t going to care for them any more.”

“I wasn’t.” Fessran replied. “But when Shongshar came and asked me again, I couldn’t refuse him. Why aren’t you doing something about getting Bira to nurse them?”

Ratha braced herself and said in a flat voice, “Bira is not coming back to them, Fessran. Hasn’t Shongshar told you what I said to him last night?”

The Firekeeper narrowed her eyes and curled closer about the litterlings. “So you are going to take them to die. I didn’t believe you could do such a thing.”

Ratha lost her temper. “Oh, stop trying to fool yourself! You’ve looked at those cubs and you know as well as I do that there is nothing in their eyes.” She stopped, trying to calm herself. “Didn’t Drani tell you about the trouble in the nursery?”

“Yes,” Fessran admitted, looking down at the floor between her paws. She sat up as the restless cubs continued to paw at her belly.

Ratha leaned forward and opened her jaws to take the little male by the scruff. Fessran blocked her, snarling. “No! I have given these cubs my milk. I don’t want them to die.”

Ratha crouched, her own nape raised, lips pulling back from her teeth.

“I … I just think you should give them a little more time, that’s all …,” Fessran faltered, embarrassed by her sudden flare of anger.

“And you think that it will be easier then? When you have nursed them longer and begun to think of them as yours?” Ratha hissed.

“No. I know they are Bira’s.”

“But you will still want to see them kept and raised, for Shongshar’s sake.”

The Firekeeper stared back, her eyes reflecting the light from the lair’s entrance.

“Fessran, I would do you no kindness by allowing you to keep them. What will happen when these cubs grow up and you have to face the truth about them? What will happen when the mating season comes? We won’t be able to keep them from mating, any more than we could keep Shongshar from it. Do you want to see more litters like this? Do you want to birth cubs like this?”

“No!” Fessran cried. “No, not if you are right about them. But you could be wrong.”

Ratha snatched the little male and placed him so that the light from outside the lair fell across his face. “Go on, look at him,” she hissed. “Look at him and tell me if you really think I’m wrong.” She seized him by the scruff and held him up before Fessran.

The cub hung in her jaws, making no effort to struggle. Fessran peered into his face, studying him intently. Something like pity and revulsion came into her eyes and she turned her head away.

“All right, take him,” she said harshly. “Take the female, too; she’s the same.”

Ratha put the cub down long enough to say, “Go back to your family, Fessran. Go back to your little daughter who is starting to talk. Think how proud you will be when you bring your cubs before the clan to be given names.”

She picked the litterling up and carried him from the den.

Outside, she paused in front of Shongshar and put the cub on the ground to free her jaws. “These cubs are yours,” she said. “If you still want to take them and abandon them yourself, I will trust you.”

“No, clan leader,” he answered. “You were the one who asked for that promise. You have said my cubs must die. I can’t fight you, but I won’t help you either.”

She took a breath. “All right. They are my responsibility now. I accept that.”

She picked up the cub again, but Shongshar stood, blocking her way. His orange eyes burned with grief, but what frightened Ratha was the sudden hate that flared in their depths. It was as if she were looking into the eyes of an old bitter enemy. Ratha felt her nape and back itch as the hair lifted; she narrowed her eyes and growled, sweeping her tail from side to side. Shongshar moved out of her way, but as Ratha passed him she sensed that she had not won the confrontation, she had only delayed it.

Fessran crawled out of the den, her coat rumpled. Without looking at the clan leader, she said, “Come with me, Shongshar. I am having trouble being a Firekeeper leader and raising a family at the same time. Cherfan isn’t interested in my cubs. If I share my family with you, it will help both of us.”

Shongshar lowered his head and paced to Fessran’s side. Neither of them looked back at Ratha as they left.

When Shongshar and Fessran had gone, Thakur came out of the brush and fetched the female cub from the lair.

Carrying the cubs in their mouths, the two left clan ground and trotted toward the hazy shapes of the mountains beneath the rising sun. Ratha’s jaw was soon aching from straining against the male cub’s weight, but she forced herself to go on carrying him, without stopping to rest. Something told her to get these litterlings as far from clan territory as possible.

Part of her started to go numb as she traveled, and it wasn’t just her jaw. Her legs seemed to go on by themselves while her mind functioned only enough to choose the path. The litterlings, seemingly dazed, never cried or struggled, which made them seem more like lifeless burdens than living creatures.

For the rest of the day Ratha and Thakur traveled over plains and foothills until they reached the mountains. Among the pine forests that covered the lower slopes, they found a stream leading up through a shallow canyon until it entered a sheltered meadow. The surrounding canyon walls protected the meadow from wind and the stream lay close by. When the two saw the enclosed pasture, they knew they had come far enough.

As soon as Thakur let the female cub down, she began stalking a large beetle that clung to a swaying stem. She wriggled, pounced, and then Ratha heard her jaws crunch on the insect. The litterling grimaced in disgust at the taste but she gulped it down.

Ratha stared at her, then at Thakur as he said, “Hmm. If she can eat insects, there is a chance that she and her brother may survive here.”

“Maybe. Fessran said they had begun to eat chewed meat.”

She watched the cubs as they romped around their new home. When they reached the far end of the meadow, she felt Thakur nudge her. “We should go now,” he said softly.

He trotted away downstream and, after one last look at Shongshar’s cubs, Ratha followed.

She said little on the journey back to clan ground. Although there was some hope that the abandoned young might survive, she knew she couldn’t risk telling Shongshar where they had been left. Thakur led the way back and she paced after him, wondering if she would ever lose the weariness of body and spirit that had crept over her, numbing her feelings.