The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Three

The meadow was large and irregular, with smaller areas fenced off by brush and low trees. In one such corner, Ratha found Cherfan guarding a herd of three-horn deer while his partner for the day, red-gold Bira, tended a watch fire nearby.

Bira was an unusual and striking color for the Named, who tended to be shades of brown and tan, some with faint spots that lingered from their cubhood. The hue of Bira’s long fur was most intense down her back, deep gold tipped with reds and oranges. Her one vanity was her beautifully plumed tail.

Bira had two treelings sitting on her back. One started to jump up and down with excitement as Ratha approached.

“Here she is,” said Bira to the bouncing treeling, as the Firekeeper and Ratha touched noses and slid along one another.

“Was Ratharee any trouble?” Ratha asked, as the little female sprang from Bira’s back to Ratha’s nape.

“Oh no. She just visited with Cherfaree while I looked after the fire.”

Cherfaree was Bira’s new treeling. She had selflessly given up her original treeling, Biaree, to Thistle-chaser when Ratha’s daughter needed him to tie ropes to True-of-voice during the rescue. Bira had named this new one after her one-time mate Cherfan because she was fond of him, but also liked to tease him.

Bira’s new partner was from the second litter that Aree, the original treeling, had birthed. Aree was getting a few gray hairs around the muzzle but was still as lively as ever. Ratha wondered how long treelings lived. She hoped Thakur and Aree would have many more seasons together.

She felt Ratharee starting to groom her nape as she took her leave and went on.

In another section of the meadow, she found the main herd of dapplebacks. New foals played with one another, rearing and play-kicking with their four-toed feet. Their sweaty wet-fur scent blended with the fresh grass. Mondir and Drani watched these animals. Gray-brown Mondir was the same age as Ratha and had trained with her under Thakur. Hazel-eyed Drani was several seasons older, having been born under Meoran’s rule. She had startled Ratha by asking to be trained as a herder. She wanted to give the clan more than just cubs, although they were important to her as well.

Thakur had given Drani one-on-one attention, since she was more mature and disciplined than his cub-students. Both had enjoyed the process, and Drani emerged as a dedicated herder who worked best with dapplebacks; she was fond of the little horses and gentle with them.

Ratha didn’t have to inspect the herd closely. Trusting the two herders, she gave the horses a quick sniff, and departed.

She then made a partial circuit of clan ground, pausing to rub her chin on saplings, leaving her scent. Larger trees she clawed and sprayed, leaving the message that this was clan territory.

With Ratharee on her neck, she ended her circuit and jogged back to the center of the Named territory along the outbound path she had taken.

She was nearing the clan dens when an outraged squall broke the peaceful scene.

“Yeaaarrrr! I don’t care why that thing stuck its nose in my den, Mishanti! Get it out!”

Ratha could already guess why Fessran was yowling. Around a bend in the path, she saw the two rumblers, Grunt and Belch. Belch was casually eating another treetop while Grunt knelt down, huge snout buried up to the eyes in the entrance of a newly dug lair. Grunt’s half-closed eyes suddenly widened and his head jerked back enough for Mishanti’s spotted form to scramble out past his face.

Fessran’s rising yowl followed the cub. The rumbler yanked his nose out of the den, starting to back away. He lurched and teetered as dirt gave way beneath a massive hind foot. Ratha winced. Grunt had stepped through the roof of another den. More outraged cries joined Fessran’s. “Get this thing out of here!”

Ratha briefly thanked whatever guardian spirit looked after errant cubs and overgrown animals that there were no shrieks of pain. Most of the dens were empty since the Named didn’t use them in the spring and summer.

She was about to dive in, although not exactly sure what to do, when she heard a gasp behind her.

“Oh, no.”

It was Bundi. He galloped jerkily past Ratha and bounded up the nearest tree, screeching at Mishanti, who was trying to climb up Belch’s enormous foreleg.

“You little ball of dappleback dung! You knew Grunt would try to follow you in there.”

From the tree, Bundi launched himself with startling agility to Grunt’s rump and scrambled up the rumbler’s back to the head. Hissing and batting the huge ears, he got the big beast into a lumbering turn, but not before a forefoot sank in deep again. Ratha grimaced.

Fessran’s yowl grew stronger as the Firekeeper sprang out of the ruined entrance at Mishanti, grabbing him by the tail with her teeth. He jerked free and shot up Belch’s neck, leaving a trail of scratches. The rumbler only looked vaguely startled; Mishanti hadn’t penetrated the thick skin. Like Bundi, Mishanti gave a swipe at the ears and got the same result; Belch turned and trotted ponderously after Grunt. Fessran, her odor stinging and all her fur on end, bared her teeth and screeched abuse at the retreating den-wreckers.

“I’ll shred your hides, you poor excuses for face-tails! I just finished digging this lair. Bundi! Mishanti! Get your scrawny tails back here!”

Ratha, knowing better than to interrupt, let Fessran yell until she was panting. A very large dust cloud hung in the air in the direction of the escapees.

Fessran turned and glared at Ratha. “And you, clan leader. You let those two cubs keep those … those things! You should have culled them. I’d rather have their meat in my stomach than their clumsy feet through the roof of my den … .”

“Fess, calm down. I’ll help you redig the entrance.”

Fessran flicked her whickers toward the massive hole Grunt had left. “That lair was Thakur’s. He’s not going to be happy.”

“He isn’t using it,” Ratha pointed out patiently. “As for culling the creatures, you try.”

“This isn’t the first time,” Fessran said, her fur starting to flatten again, fading her anger-scent. “Two days ago that Belch-thing stuck her nose in Bira’s den while she was sleeping and nearly scared her out of her fur.”

“All right, all right. I’ll have a talk with Bundi and Mishanti.”

“Make them dig their own lairs for those creatures to trample on.” Fessran was still ruffled, but starting to settle down. With quick tongue-strokes, she licked the front of her ash-streaked forepaws and got up.

“Have you thought about including my Firekeepers in the herders’ show?” Fessran asked. “Bira’s new treeling can do some impressive things with the Red Tongue.”

“Everyone will have a part.”

“But as herders, not Firekeepers.”

Ratha smelled disappointment.

“Fess, I’m sorry. This show is to introduce the other tribe to our ways.”

Fessran snorted. “The Red Tongue is our way. You, of all of us, know that.”

“Of course I do. But I want to be cautious with it. You know how my creature changed us. We need to be very careful in choosing how and when we introduce it to True-of-voice and his people. As much as I want to be friends with them, we have to recognize that they could be a powerful threat.”

“Rrrrr, I suppose you’re right, clan leader. Still, it would have been fun to have Bira’s treeling jump up on one of the tamer dapplebacks with a torch.”

“Next season,” Ratha promised and added, “I didn’t want to overload True-of-voice with too many new impressions. Trying to understand our ways will be confusing enough for his people. I want to go one paw print at a time.”

“And you want to lift the paw and clean it before setting it down again.” Fessran’s whiskers relaxed.

“You understand,” Ratha said, relieved. “Good.”

A slight teasing glint crept into the Firekeeper’s eyes.

“I’m going to check the fire-den, clan leader. Assuming those rumbler-things haven’t trampled it as well. I thought face-tails were trouble, but these things …” She padded off, still grumbling to herself, but Ratha knew she wasn’t really that upset.

Ratha and her treeling both fluffed their own fur, exchanging glances. Fessran had left one thing unsaid, which was how Ratha was going to keep the rumblers from disrupting tomorrow’s herding show. Well, she was clan leader, so she’d have to figure it out. She lowered her head and went to find the two mischief makers and their charges.

She discovered the culprits deeper in the forest, near the edge of clan ground. Both were sitting on their rumblers’ heads, Mishanti now on Grunt, Bundi on Belch. Everyone looked and smelled disgruntled. Belch was starting to destroy another tree crown. Mishanti looked startled when Ratha approached; Bundi just gave her a resigned look and flopped along Belch’s head, his paws dangling just behind the rumbler’s eyes.

“I’m not coming up,” Ratha said meaningfully.

“Glad you not Fessran,” Mishanti said, swatting his beast’s ear down with a forepaw. Grunt lowered his long neck. To Ratha, the rumbler’s motion looked like a tree falling. Her body wanted to skitter away, but her determination kept her still.

“I can get Fessran if you want,” she said through clenched teeth, eyeing Grunt.

“Oh, no, we fine without.”

At the edge of her vision, Ratha saw Bundi slide off Belch’s huge back and land without incident. Grunt conveyed Mishanti down to Ratha’s level, and the half-grown cub climbed off while the rumbler inspected Ratha. She could handle its mild gaze, and its breath wasn’t offensive, but when an unexpectedly long purple tongue extended and tried to lick her, she backed off, walking stiffly.

With a commanding wave of her tail, she beckoned Bundi and Mishanti over.

“I’m sorry, clan leader.” Bundi said, his eyes down. He dragged a claw along the ground. “It’s just that they really like us.”

“Lots,” added Mishanti. He peered up at Ratha, his head cocked to one side. “We in trouble? Two big troubles?”

“Are you going to have them culled or driven away?” Bundi asked, his scent tinged with sadness.

“Not if you help me keep them away from True-of-voice and his people.” Ratha replied, not saying that all of the Named together couldn’t drive off the beasts, much less cull them. “They follow you all the time, don’t they?”

Bundi waggled his whiskers in a yes.

“Well, if you stayed here with them during the herder’s display, that might work,” Ratha suggested.

“We’re supposed to be part of the show,” Bundi said.

“You don’t have to be.”

Bundi’s eyes widened. “But we want to be. You’re not going to swat us out, are you?”

“If that’s the only way to keep your creatures from destroying everything, I will. Unless you have another idea.”

“Trap them,” Mishanti said. “Tall canyon, pile big rocks.”

“Do you think that any rock pile we could make would be much more than a bunch of pebbles to them?” Bundi asked scornfully.

“I’m going to lay this prey right before you,” Ratha said. “I will not allow your rumblers to disrupt this display. It is too important both for us and True-of-voice’s people. If this means that you are both out of the show, then you are and that’s it.”

“Arrr,” Bundi and Mishanti grumbled together. Then Bundi stared at Mishanti. “Grunt and Belch will stay here even if there’s only one of us with them.”

“You, me, both in show,” Mishanti objected.

“Not together. You can be here while I do my herding part, then I’ll come replace you and you can go do yours.” Bundi turned to Ratha. “Clan leader, if you set things up so that I’m at the end and Mishanti is at the beginning, then we can do it. Please.”

“I can still make changes,” she said, noting the sudden urgency in his eyes. It is important to Bundi to join us in the show. He cares about it as much as he cares about the rumblers, a part of her whispered. “All right, I’ll do that, even if I have to argue with Fessran. Are you sure you can keep Grunt and Belch away? It will mean a lot of running back and forth.”

Mishanti grimaced. “Maybe you put us and rumblers in show. Then no running.”

“Good pounce, Mishanti, but no catch. Grunt and Belch have to stay here.”

“Then running. Bundi getting too fat anyway. Needs running.”

“I am not too fat,” Bundi exploded, diving at his partner. The brief flurry ended with Bundi sitting on top of Mishanti. Only the tip of the half-grown cub’s tail and the ends of his whiskers showed under Bundi’s paws and belly, but Mishanti’s defiance was still alive, although muffled. “Are too fat, too. Squishing me!”

“Enough cub-play!” Ratha snapped. “Don’t make me drive Grunt and Belch off with the Red Tongue!”

Bundi climbed off Mishanti, and both sat, suitably chastened. Ratha smoothed her fur.

“You two make sure that Grunt and Belch stay here. If you can’t, I’ll send Fessran out with the Firekeepers to enforce my orders. Am I understood?”

Two sets of whiskers waggled assent.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the display,” Ratha said. “Assuming this idea works.”

“It will,” the two answered together.

As Ratha began to pad off in the direction from which she had come, she heard Bundi say, “Just because you’re a scrawny little river-crawler doesn’t mean— Ow, Mishanti! Yarrr, Belch, quit that … .”

Ratha quickened her steps. She had to get ready—she would be very busy tomorrow.