Ratha stiffened, her rage paralyzing her tongue. “You wouldn’t dare!” she finally spat.
“Me? Certainly not. But there are others who dislike the idea of the clan leader dirtying herself with those animals.”
“And you wouldn’t raise a paw to stop anyone from doing such a thing. Let me tell you this, Shongshar. If any one of the Firekeepers even makes a threat against Thakur or his tree-lings, this cave will be closed down and the Red Tongue will die. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I do,” he said in a silky voice that was almost a purr. “But to be sure, I would also ask them.” He flicked his whiskers at the dancers. His voice hardened. “And then I would ask them who they obey. It might surprise you, clan leader.”
His eyes still held their same orange glint, but now a cold ruthlessness came into them. Their hate struck into Ratha as if he had slashed her with his fangs, and she backed away from him, trembling with fear and the cold certainty that she had left Thakur and the treelings open to attack.
She whirled and sprinted away from him, across the shadows that still danced and flickered on the cave floor, through the gallery and out into the darkness. The fire-creature’s fading roar became a mocking howl as she slipped and skidded on the graveled trail and fought to find her way with eyes that had been made night-blind by the angry light.
Thakur, you told me not to go and again you were right. I was too angry to listen, but anger does me no good now. There was a bright spot before her eyes where she had looked at the heart of the cave-fire, and she could only see in front of her by turning her head from side to side as she ran. By the time she reached the path to Thakur’s den, her sight had recovered, but she could not find the welcoming flicker of the little fire she had left with him.
She thought at first that her panic might have led her down the wrong trail, but the scents about her and the feel of the ground were right. She peered ahead, her growing apprehension choking her throat and tightening her chest. The smell of smoldering ashes drew her to the remains of the fire she had left. It had been broken and scattered.
The ashy acrid smell was strong, and mixed in with it were traces of other scents that she could detect but not recognize. There were pugmarks faintly visible in the starlight, but they were smeared, as if whoever made them had slipped while running.
“Thakur ...,” she moaned softly, her whiskers trembling. “Aree ... Ratharee ...” She approached a shape on the ground and touched it tentatively with her paw, fearing it might be the torn body of a treeling. It was only a broken branch from the scattered fire, and she sighed with relief as it rolled under her paw.
She made her way to the den itself and crawled inside, thinking a treeling might have taken shelter there, but the den was cold and empty except for the same ashy smell that filled the air outside.
When Ratha left the den she froze at the sight of two amber eyes staring at her from the night-shadow of a tree. The eyes blinked and moved forward. Ratha arched her back and flared her tail, unable to catch the newcomer’s scent in the wind that blew away from her.
“Clan leader?” The voice was female and quavery with uncertainty.
“Who is that?” Ratha snarled. “Are you a Firekeeper?”
“I’m Bira. Clan leader, come with me. I know where Thakur is.”
Her first impulse was to follow Bira eagerly, but caution held her back. Young and friendly as Bira was, she belonged with those who tended the Red Tongue.
“How do I know that Shongshar hasn’t sent you?”
“He sent me down with those who were to kill the tree-lings. but I turned on them and fought beside Thakur,” Bira answered. “If you want proof, here is the ash that I rubbed into my pelt to disguise myself like them, and here is the bite on my foreleg from Nyang’s teeth.”
Bira came forward, letting Ratha smell her fur. As she approached, Ratha saw a small shape crouched on Bira’s neck. “Thakur told me to bring your treeling, and she came with me, even though she was still frightened,” said the young Firekeeper. “Here.” She came alongside and Ratha felt treeling paws grasp her fur as Ratharee climbed from Bira’s back to hers. The treeling wound its tail around her neck and hugged her fiercely, its trembling telling her how lost and frightened it had been.
Ratha suddenly felt steadier. Bira wouldn’t have brought Ratharee in order to lead her into a trap. If Shongshar wanted to have her killed, there were other, easier ways. The young female’s story sounded true and there was no taint of deceit in either her words or her smell.
“Hurry, clan leader! Once Shongshar knows I have betrayed him, he will send others after me.”
“All right, Bira. Take me to Thakur.”
She followed Bira down the path until it met the main trail. As soon as Bira took the turn that led to the creek trail, Ratha’s suspicion flared again, and she followed warily, testing the air for scents of hidden attackers. Soon, however, Bira cut off the creek trail and began to climb the steep bank above it. Before long they were in the deeper darkness amid the great trees, and Ratha’s paws fell on crumbled bark and pine needles.
Ratha sensed they were making a wide circle to avoid the base of the falls and the cave that sheltered the Red Tongue. She wondered if Fessran and the others were still at their wild dance. The thought made her shiver.
“We’re going to some little caves above the falls. I found them one day when I was exploring, and no one else knows about them,” Bira explained as Ratha padded beside her. “I brought Thakur up this far, told him where to find the place and then went back down to look for you.”
“Did you save all the treelings?”
“Yes. One of the little ones got a scratch and Aree’s a bit bruised, but they’re all right.”
Some of the tension seeped out of Ratha and she concentrated on climbing. At last they found an old trail that had many rises and drops as well as endless switchbacks. Ratha was sure they must be far beyond clan ground when Bira turned off the path and disappeared down a brush-covered slope. The way led into a little vale with the sound of a brook chuckling over rocks and the glint of starlight on foaming water. Bira ran along the near bank and ducked under a great gray slab of broken rock.
Now Ratha could throw her fear aside, for Thakur’s scent was strong in the air about the streambank. Beneath the overhang were small recesses that barely qualified as caves. She found Thakur and the treelings nestled together in the largest one.
“Shh, Aree. It’s only Ratha,” he soothed as the largest of the treeling shapes lifted its muzzle in alarm. He shifted over to make room for Ratha on the soft sandy floor. Her relief at seeing him safe overwhelmed her, and for a while she could only crouch beside him, licking his ears, and saying, “Thakur, I should have listened. I should have listened,” over and over.
“Well, I was lucky,” he said when she finally calmed down. “The Firekeepers weren’t really after me, just the tree-lings. And when Bira turned and started helping me fight, that really confused them. That gave us time to gather up the tree-lings and run.”
“We nearly lost Aree,” added the young Firekeeper. “When Nyang scratched one of her cubs, she flew at him and bit him hard. You should have heard him yell.”
“Nyang again,” Ratha said with distaste. “He will do anything for Shongshar, won’t he? I imagine he was the one who pushed Bundi into the fire.”