“I heard that you found Thistle-chaser,” he said, startling Ratha.
She found her voice. “Yes. She’s . . . she’s getting a lot better.”
“I don’t smell her scent on clan ground. Where is she?”
“She took a mate from the face-tail hunting tribe. His name is Quiet Hunter.”
“Oh, yes.” Bonechewer’s voice took on a note of scorn. “That bunch. They trail after their leader like cubs. You had some trouble with them.”
“We settled it. We haven’t solved everything, but we’ve kept things peaceful.”
“That’s a change.”
His words stung Ratha. She grimaced. “I know what you think. But we have learned. I understand now that I can’t solve everything by shoving a firebrand into someone’s face. Thistle helped teach me that,” she added. “She’s amazing. I never thought she could get this far, considering what happened to her.”
For an instant Ratha thought he would interrupt with “Considering what you did to her,” but he didn’t. Instead he said, “I know. I’ve been watching. That’s why I came back.”
Ratha was still shaking so hard that when she narrowed her eyes at him, her sight blurred.
“If you’ve been watching, why did you wait so long?”
“Don’t assume that I didn’t miss you, Ratha.” His voice softened. “I did.”
“Then why did you stay away?”
“I wasn’t ready. For one thing, I nearly did die.” He nosed his side. “It took many seasons for this wound to heal. Now I’m ready, and so are you. You and your people have grown up.”
Ratha stared at him, lost. “Ready? For what?”
Bonechewer turned his head, fixing her with the full power of his eyes. “To bring your dream to life.” He paused. “The one you once told me about when we were curled up together in a hollow tree. Surely you remember.”
Ratha halted in her circling, one foot lifted. The crazy, impractical idea she had when she was barely beyond cub-hood, that the Named could meet the UnNamed not with fire but with friendship. She’d envisioned that she could lead her people in reaching out and gathering in the frightened, the struggling. That she could found new groups of Named and UnNamed that would spread and flourish. Her experience with Thistle-chaser and other Named-UnNamed crosses had shown that the witless cub problem was not intractable, though not simple either.
Her recent encounter with True-of-voice’s tribe had taught her even more. Her long-denied, long-delayed vision could, at last, take steps on the trail to reality.
“So you do remember,” Bonechewer said.
Ratha spluttered, “You mocked me for it, Bonechewer.
You called me a fool. You said that most of the UnNamed weren’t worth saving.”
There was a long interval where the two just breathed and measured each other. Finally he said, “You weren’t the only one who had to grow up, Ratha.”
She listened, hoping. Was it true? Youth often judged prematurely and callously. Maturity had brought her a more patient and generous outlook. Had it done the same for him?
“So you’ve . . . come to help me?”
“Yes. If you try to reach out to the UnNamed ones by yourself, you’ll fail. You don’t know them. I do. Furthermore, they trust me.”
“Why do you trust me?” Ratha had to ask.
“Because I cared for you once, as my mate. I feel I could care again,” he answered, making her dizzy with hope. “I’ve seen what you and your people have done, Ratha. With Thistle-chaser. With that young UnNamed cub, Mishanti. With the face-tail herders and True-of-voice.”
“True-of-voice? But you disdain them all.”
He swept his flanks with his long tail. “My personal attitude toward them has been . . . regrettable, I admit. I am opinionated, as you well know. But they have as much right to live and flourish as you and I do. That applies to others of the UnNamed as well.”
He really means it
, Ratha thought, overjoyed and amazed
. And he says he could care for me again. I could have both my dreams, not just the one.
This time it was she who tensed, eager to run and call the rest of the clan.
“What are you doing?” Bonechewer’s voice was sharp. “No, don’t get the others yet. We need to talk. Alone.”
Ratha blinked in surprise. “Don’t you at least want to see Thakur? He’s missed you.”
“And I have missed him. But I am not yet ready. For him or the others.”
“Well, you’d better get ready,” Ratha snapped, cocking her ears. “Someone’s coming.”
“I will see you tomorrow night at your fire,” he said quickly. “This place is still too close. Move it to the edge of clan ground. Be there alone. Don’t talk to the others about this.”
Before Ratha could protest, he was gone.
She went to where he had stood, but she had no chance of tracking him. He was far too light and quick. There was nothing left but a strong, strange scent that made her head swim. The campfire?
She told herself to stop reacting as if this were the mating season, but she couldn’t stop the tumble of astonishment, relief, jubilation, and disbelief in her mind. She also groaned at the nearly impossible task he had set her—to keep silent while bursting with news. She knew by listening that her task had grown suddenly harder. The approaching footsteps and wafting scents were those of Quiet Hunter, Thistle-chaser, and Thakur.
Quickly Ratha rounded the fire and scuffed away any trace of Bonechewer’s visit. She took some twigs from the nearby woodpile and laid them in the fire-nest with her teeth. Ratharee was asleep in a nearby sapling and Ratha didn’t want to wake the treeling. Then the clan leader took a deep breath and turned to greet the new arrivals.
She thought she had concealed all the evidence, but she hadn’t done such a good job on herself. She could tell that Thakur spotted her agitation. He, however, was polite enough not to say anything, at least while the two guests were here.
She felt her inward turmoil ease as she looked at the pair. Quiet Hunter’s pale dun coat had thickened and darkened. Even while she watched, his hazel eyes sharpened away from their dreamy remoteness. Ratha guessed that he was making the transition from the thinking mode he used among his own tribe to the more individualistic thought of the Named.
“This one is glad to see you, clan leader,” he said, following the formal nose-touch with an affectionate forehead rub. Thistle-chaser tumbled into the firelight after him, crowing, “Happy, happy, happy to be back, Ratha-mother.”
Ratha waited for her daughter to stop prancing around, but she rejoiced that Thistle could. Her daughter’s once withered and crippled foreleg no longer hampered her, and Ratha rejoiced to see how well it had healed.
Still bouncing a bit, Thistle rubbed alongside Ratha, looping her tail over Ratha’s back. “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” Thistle crooned, then stopped and sniffed. “Smell both happy and not-happy. Something happen?”
“I had a strange dream,” Ratha said.
“Strong smell for just a dream,” Thistle said, but she seemed to accept the explanation.
Thakur, however, looked Ratha meaningfully in the eyes before he nose-touched. While he head-rubbed with Ratha, he hissed, “You’ve seen him again, haven’t you?”
“Not now, Thakur,” she growled back. “I’ll tell you more later.” She butted him away gently and turned to Thistle. “That leg looks so much better.”
“Quiet Hunter. Helping stretch it. Every day.” Thistle grimaced at her verbal clumsiness. “Sorry. Not talked too much. Face-tail hunters don’t. Mouth will get better talking with you.”
“These two got here late,” put in Thakur smoothly, “but I thought you wouldn’t want to wait until morning.”
Ratha thanked him and sat down, letting herself relax while Thistle and Quiet Hunter told her news of the other tribe.
“Tooth-broke-on-a-bone has new cubs. Thought she was too old but mated with True-of-voice. Has male cub, silver and white. Cub will be leader after True-of-voice.”
Ratha’s ears pricked. So the leader of the enigmatic face-tail hunters had sired a successor. This would be interesting.
“Well, I hope we don’t have to fish him off a ledge, like we did his father,” she said.
“All are grateful for the rescue,” said Quiet Hunter. “This one feels that there will be lasting peace between this one’s kind and the Named.”
“Good,” Ratha said. She turned to Thistle. “Tell me more about True-of-voice’s son.”
“Called New Singer. Big cub. Growing fast. Name not like clan name. Changes. Now is New Singer, later will be next True-of-voice.”
“Then the song will call the elder ‘Once-Sung,’” added Quiet Hunter.
Ratha shook her head in confusion, making her ears flap. She knew she still had difficulty understanding this face-tail hunting tribe. At least she had made and kept peace with them. She hoped that Quiet Hunter’s judgment of the peace being “lasting” was true.
She also knew that Thistle and Quiet Hunter, acting as envoys, would do their best to ensure that things stayed friendly.
“You’ve both done well,” she said, glad that her praise made Thistle’s sea-green eyes sparkle. Quiet Hunter’s hazel ones glowed with pride.
Ratha suddenly felt a huge yawn building behind her jaw and realized that she was too tired to fight it.
“You’re tired, Ratha,” said Thakur. “I’ll take these two to my lair, get them fed, and bed them down. The rest of this can wait until morning.”
“Thank you, herding . . .” she mumbled, her head sinking down on her paws, asleep before she had finished speaking.
Ratha woke with her treeling nestled in her flank fur. Nearby, someone tended the fire. She expected to see Bira or Fessran, but the sunlit coat shone copper. Thakur.
A sideways glance at the sun told Ratha that she had slept late.
“Where are Thistle and Quiet Hunter?” Ratha asked, stretching and spreading her forepaws.
“Still sleeping.” Thakur paused. “I came to talk to you first.”
Something in his voice made Ratha shake sleep away. “Thistle may be a little awkward at speaking, but she certainly picks up things.” Ratha extended and stiffened her hind legs, arching her back. “And you do too.”
“Then you did see the stranger again last night.”
“Not a stranger,” Ratha said with a sideways jerk of her head. “He was Bonechewer.”
Thakur looked puzzled, then annoyed. “Why didn’t you get me?”
“I tried. Bonechewer stopped me. He said he’s been alone so long that he isn’t ready to meet any of us.”
Ratha could see the rising flicker of jealousy in Thakur’s eyes even before he said, “Except you.”
Was he envious of her because he also missed his brother and wanted badly to see him? Or was he jealous of Bonechewer because he was realizing that he might have a serious rival for Ratha. Or both?
Thakur started pacing, his scent growing sharp and salty. “I can understand why he would seek you. But why would he be afraid of me?”
“He isn’t afraid. He’s just not ready to meet us. Can you blame him?”
“Well, I suppose that after we burned, trampled, and killed him, he might be reluctant,” Thakur said wryly, though he couldn’t hide a sarcastic Bonechewer note in his voice.
“Apparently we didn’t. Kill him, I mean,” Ratha added at Thakur’s narrowed eyes. “Thakur, I know. He was my mate. Thistle’s father,” she protested, hating to wake the look in his eyes that said, “I am to be your mate. Or I was.”
His ears twitched back. “Ratha, I want to believe you, but I can’t unless I see him myself.”
This struck sparks of anger in Ratha, but instead of letting them ignite, she mentally stamped them out. “You’re right. I could be seeing what I want to see.”
“So I’ll come after the Firekeepers light the Red Tongue for you. Then we’ll both see him and know.”
“Thakur, I hate to say this, but I don’t think he’ll come if we’re both there. For some reason, he needs to talk to me alone.”
“Why? ” This time Thakur’s voice had the rawness of pain. “He never turned his back on me before. Even when my mother Reshara took him and left me in the clan as an orphan, he would find me.”
Ratha had opened her mouth in surprise. She closed it slowly. “I didn’t know . . .”
“I told you long ago that he was my brother.”
Ratha felt she was stumbling. Well, she was confused too. When someone who was supposedly dead turns up again, it causes all sorts of complications. “Thakur, you’ve trusted me before. Trust me now.”
“Trust you that he really is Bonechewer? Or . . .” Thakur bit off the last words, but Ratha heard them in her mind.
Or trust you not to trample my feelings in the rush toward your dream?
She wondered if she should tell Thakur about the second part of her dream, that Bonechewer would help her reach out in friendship to the UnNamed. No. Thakur had enough for tonight. She also wondered if she could indeed trust herself not to destroy his dreams while chasing hers.
Thakur lowered his head, shadowing his eyes. “What has Bonechewer, if it is him, asked you for?”
“He just wants me to move the fire out where no one else will go. And stay there alone tonight.”
“I think I should hide nearby, just in case.”
“He’ll know you’re there. He’s much better at stalking and hiding than we are.”
“Arrr.” The herding teacher grimaced. “You’re right, but I don’t like it.”
“He might not come anyway. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
Thakur fell silent and pawed the end of his tail, a sure sign that he felt uncomfortable. “So what will you do?”
“Make the Red Tongue’s nest myself, with Ratharee. I’ll keep a few unlit torches ready. Resin pine, so they’ll light quickly.”
“All right,” Thakur said. “I’ll keep myself and the others away, but if I hear you yowl . . .”
Again Ratha sat alone by her fire at the edge of clan ground. Again Bonechewer visited her. After she finished devouring him with her eyes, they both settled on the same side of the campfire, although he still kept a slight separation. As she had promised Thakur, she had unlit firebrands laid nearby. She hoped Bonechewer wouldn’t notice the torches, or even know what they were. He did give the firebrands a quick glance, but she was unsure if the narrowing of his eyes was her imagination.