The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Twelve

For the third time in less than a day, Thakur watched Thistle’s eyes begin to swirl as her body went rigid and started to tremble.

He felt his own heart pound in his chest. He hated seeing this happen to her. He hated it even more when there were others around to witness her helplessness. Luckily, this time, no one was. He had taken her to a little hollow where they could be alone, where she could practice slipping into the dreaming state of mind that was so like that of the hunters.

Instead she was battling a nightmare.

“Come out of it, Thistle,” Thakur yowled as her pupils shrank to black slits in the stormy green sea of her eyes. “You’ve had enough. I’ve had enough.”

Twice before she had managed to pull herself out of the trance before it took her. But this time she was gone where only she could go.

Thakur had chosen this place for another reason. It had a pool. A marshy little wallow of a pool that was more mud than water.

She was starting to jump around, muttering nervously to herself. Thakur grabbed her by the scruff before she could dash off on a mad run, and swung her with a splash into the pool.

“There,” he said. “Now come back to me.”

Her pupils expanded with surprise as she started to thrash in the pool. The water was colder here than in the beach lagoon where she swam. He grabbed her scruff again until he felt her relax.

“Thistle?”

“Y-y-yes?”

She was shivering. He hauled her out and made her shake dry, then spread himself beside her to warm her up.

“Bad again,” she said, looking disconsolately at the ground between her paws. “Every time I go … inside … it … is there.”

Thakur didn’t have to ask what “it” was. He groomed the nape of her neck with his tongue.

“Have to try again,” she said stubbornly.

“Not today,” he answered.

“Yes, today. Have to talk to hunters.”

Thakur groaned. “Thistle, you’re tired.”

“Know. Talking getting not easy. Words running and hiding.”

“Then give it up for now.”

Thistle closed her eyes and let her head sink onto her paws. “Give it up for now,” she muttered. “Try and fail again tomorrow too? Can’t. Others. Him. The hurt one. Means too much.”

“Sh,” he said softly.

“Can’t … sleep… have to … talk….” But by the time the last word had fallen from her tongue, she was deep in slumber.

* * *

The next day was a repeat of the first. The following was the same. Thakur spent all his waking time with Thistle as she sought the pathways inside herself and was driven out by the apparition she called the Dreambiter.

Thakur had lost count of how many times he had watched the sea-green in her eyes swallow her pupils as she struggled in the grip of each fit. He also lost count of how many times he had thrown her into the pool and hauled her out. It was the only way to keep the seizures from claiming her completely.

His legs and belly were encrusted with mud. He was starting to sneeze from the repeated chill. His teeth ached and his mood had soured.

Thistle lay in a sodden puddle on the ground. She was so exhausted after the last attempt that she hadn’t even been able to shake off before collapsing. Thakur was almost glad that she was unconscious again. It meant that she couldn’t try to brave the Dreambiter.

He ran a paw along her side, trying to squeeze the muddy water out of her coat. At least the sun was warm today. It would dry her quickly.

He stared at her funny pointed little face, the eyes now shut, muddy smears on her nose and whiskers. His heart ached for her. Why is it so hard? Why does this wretched Dreambiter have to bar her way?

He watched the water dry on her coat, feeling helpless. This is beyond her. It is beyond me. Perhaps it is beyond all of us.

“Thakur?” said a voice. He lifted his head and stared at—the Dreambiter? His fur bristled before he could flatten it. Then he shook himself. It was just Ratha. Yarr! He was getting so involved in Thistle’s struggle that sometimes he felt as though he, too, could see the nightmare image. It took a shape he knew well.

Ratha crouched by Thistle, gave her a tentative nudge.

“Don’t worry, she won’t wake up. After that last fit, she’s going to be out for a while. You can show her a little affection if you like. She won’t feel it.”

Ratha shot him such a hurt look that he instantly regretted the words.

“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “Three days of struggling with this hasn’t helped my patience. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Ratha put a paw on her daughter and tried to squeeze more water out of her fur. “She’s a mess. You’re a mess. What are you attempting to do?”

“I thought I explained it.” Thakur, trying to groom himself, sneezed into his fur.

“Here, sit down and let me clean you up,” Ratha said. She spat and grimaced after her first lick. “Ugh. That mud tastes awful.”

“I know,” Thakur answered.

“So she’s trying to get herself into that sleepwalking state to talk to the hunters?” she asked. “Is it working?”

“No. Every time she tries, something kicks off another one of her fits.”

“Something?”

“The Dreambiter.”

He saw Ratha shift her gaze, felt an angry twist in his stomach. She was going to back off again, retreat into her clan-leader role. She’s leaving me with the responsibility that should be hers.

“You don’t like to hear that word, do you?” Thakur said, his voice flat.

Ratha yanked a piece of dried clay from his belly. It took some fur with it. She spat it out, then backed away. “I think I’ll come back when you are in a better mood.”

“Are you going to run away again, clan leader?”

“Thakur, I don’t know what kind of burr you’ve got in your coat this time, but—”

“I don’t have a burr. I’ve got your daughter. Your daughter,” he said again. “And I’m fed up with seeing you run away from her.”

He watched Ratha’s eyes narrow. “I gave you what you asked for. I gave you both a chance to talk to the hunters.”

“Yes, you did. I need more than that, Ratha. I need your help.”

He could almost see her closing down inside, becoming remote. “There is nothing I can do,” she said. “If Thistle can’t overcome this …”

“She can’t. Not alone. Not with me either. She needs you.”

“Why? I can’t do anything for her. She doesn’t need a mother. She’s responsible for herself.”

“I want you to face your part in her life,” Thakur snapped. “Who is the Dreambiter, Ratha?”

Again she looked away, and when she looked back, her green eyes were blazing. “Don’t blame that on me, herding teacher. That thing isn’t me. It’s part of her sickness. She dreamed it up. Why, I don’t know. But she made it.”

“Yes, she made it,” Thakur said, his voice steady. “It looks like you.”

Ratha flinched. “I bit her when she was a cub. I know I did. I was impatient. I wanted her to talk, to be like other Named cubs. I couldn’t accept that she wasn’t. I can’t go back and undo everything.” He heard her voice start to tremble. “It is all in the past. You can’t change the past.”

“For Thistle it is not the past. Ratha, I am not trying to blame you. I am only saying that both of you created the Dreambiter. It will take both of you to put it to rest.”

A sudden look came over Ratha’s face, one Thakur had never seen before. He found himself staring at her in fascination and frustration. He had seen her triumphant, angry, grieving, even scared. But never had he witnessed this expression of utter dread that seemed to steal the life from her face and drain the color from her eyes.

Her voice sank to a whisper. “I can’t, Thakur. I’ve given you what I can. A chance. I can’t give any more.”

She was backing, turning tail. A part of her had already fled far away.

“Ratha, please don’t run,” he said softly.

She glanced back at him, a glance so filled with torment that it seemed to hit him like a blow.

“Tell her I was here,” she said, and before Thakur could speak or move, she was gone.