He narrowed his eyes against the sheeting rain and headed for the farthest guard-fire, which had begun to gutter and smoke beneath the canopy of branches held over it by the Firekeepers. He saw Fessran there, fighting to keep the flame alight. She started and shivered as another burst of wild howling broke across the meadow.
“No!” she snarled, slapping a branch from the mouth of a Firekeeper. “That won’t do. It’s much too green and too wet.” She turned to another Firekeeper, a young female with a red-brown coat. “Bira, get a pinewood torch from the nearest fire-lair.” She glanced over her shoulder at Thakur. He heard Orange-Eyes canter up behind him as Fessran said, “Herding teacher, you could help by bringing more dry kindling. Take Orange-Eyes with you; he knows where the woodpiles are.”
Bira dashed off toward the den where the master fire was kept, and Thakur turned to Orange-Eyes. Before he could repeat Fessran’s request, the silvercoat said, “I know what she needs. Follow me, herding teacher.”
As Orange-Eyes sprang away, Thakur saw Fessran lay back her ears at another luckless Firekeeper. “Can’t you hold that branch so that it doesn’t drip right on the Red Tongue? No wonder the creature is dying!”
Thakur peered through the rain, made out the form of Orange-Eyes, ducked his head and galloped after him. When they reached the woodpile, a heap of broken branches thrown against the base of a large fir, Orange-Eyes began to pull the top ones off.
“The sticks underneath are dry,” he said quickly. Thakur forced his muzzle in among the piled branches, ignoring thorns that raked his face. He smelled the warm resinous aroma of wood that had been drying all summer. He fastened his jaws on a branch sticking out from the bottom of the pile and pulled until he thought his fangs would break.
With a sudden snap, the branch came free and he tumbled backwards into a puddle. He felt the clammy ooze soak through his fur to his skin as he scrambled to his feet, but he managed to keep the wood from getting soaked.
To keep the rest of the wood covered, Orange-Eyes replaced the sticks he had taken from the top of the pile. He wrapped his bundle of sticks in a large dock leaf before taking it into his mouth, and showed Thakur how to do the same. When the herding teacher was ready, they galloped back through the rain toward the dying guard-fire.
Thakur saw the blurred forms of Bira and another Firekeeper pacing alongside her with a pine bough held above the torch she carried. But it was already too late. He heard a despairing yowl above the rain and caught sight of Fessran deserting her fire-creature’s nest. For an instant he was puzzled; then he knew that the guard-fire had died and they were trying to save the next one.
He and Orange-Eyes changed direction and galloped to Fessran with their loads of thornwood. Ratha was there, helping the Firekeepers, but despite the new torch Bira had brought the guard-fire began to smoke and faded quickly to embers. They retreated to another blaze that was still alive.
Thakur passed the wood he had brought to the jaws of a Firekeeper and rubbed his muzzle against his foreleg to ease the sting of a scratch on his jowls.
“Go tell Cherfan to drive the three-horns under the oak with the other animals,” Ratha said to him. The rain ran down her face, streaking the soot on her muzzle. Behind him he heard Fessran roar in alarm, “The dapplebacks! They’re attacking the dapplebacks!”
As Thakur backed out of the choking haze, he saw a line of hunched forms lope from beneath the trees at the meadow’s far side. They galloped past the ashes of the dead guard-fires and toward the herd of horses. He could hear their shrill, excited yips.
Ratha bunched her hindquarters and sprang away, followed by Fessran and several Firekeepers. Thakur wheeled and sprinted after them. He felt mud spray his legs and found Orange-Eyes running alongside of him. Ahead were the bristlemanes, a full pack of them. He caught the flicker of Ratha’s fawn coat through the rain as she dashed to cut them off.
Her attack split the pack of marauders. Half of them ran past her, heading for the dappleback herd. She and the Firekeepers gave chase and disappeared into the rain. Fessran plunged after her, only to slide to a sudden stop. There were shadows in front of her, shadows turned gray by the rain. Thakur saw the Firekeeper lunge and slash with her foreclaws. The bristlemanes retreated, but not far. They started to close about her again with hungry whines.
Together Thakur and Orange-Eyes charged them. The animals loped away, their tongues hanging and their short, ragged tails tucked between their legs. Instead of scattering, the bristlemanes circled back. Thakur spun to seek a retreat only to find himself blocked in every direction. He, Fessran and Orange-Eyes were completely surrounded.
He backed up against the two others, smelling their fear and feeling them shake. The downpour grew heavier, until he could barely see a tail-length ahead or hear the faraway cries of the other herders. He felt the fur on his neck rise in fright. The three of them would get no help from the other herders, who must be busy chasing the other raiders from the herd.
The bristlemanes closed in. Now he could see the black and yellow mottling on their pelts and the stiff, coarse manes along their necks. Their eyes shone cold and eager. The flesh of the Named could fill those bellies as well as herdbeast meat, Thakur knew. Their nostrils widened and their large ears trembled, swiveling forward.
The bristlemanes approached cautiously, their black muzzles lowered, their heavy jaws slavering. Their smell reached him, making him think of flies crawling over white bones. The Un-Named One’s growl sounded on one side of him, Fessran’s snarl on the other. Her snarl turned to a screech as a bristlemane dived for her flank. Thakur saw her twist away and fasten her teeth in the thick mane, but the fur was so stiff and heavy that, however she worked her jaws, she couldn’t bite deeply enough. Blood began to run, but the creature stayed on its feet, dragging Fessran with it.
Thakur had to guard himself as another bristlemane rushed him and snapped at his belly. He sprang onto the creature’s back, sinking his teeth into its neck. The bristlemane strained its head back, shoving against his jaws until they ached. Teeth clamped on his tail and a savage jerk nearly dragged him off.
He fell to the side, his forelegs wrapped around the creature’s neck as he sought frantically for a throat hold. The pull on his tail dragged his hindquarters loose and he heard the shrill cries of the other bristlemanes as they danced around him. He lost his grip and fell heavily on his side. Paws stepped on his flank and noses snuffled at him.
For a moment he could see only legs and bellies. The nearest set of legs shuddered and then staggered. The bristlemane went down with Orange-Eyes on top of it.
Thakur was near enough to see every detail. The silvercoat flung his head back and his lower jaw dropped close to the underside of his throat freeing the full length of his fangs. His head drove down, the teeth descending with the full weight of the Un-Named One’s forequarters behind them.
There was a tearing and grinding as teeth sheared through fur and hide to meet bone. The bristlemane screamed once.
Orange-Eyes lifted his muzzle from the ruin of the animal’s nape. Thakur stared at him, caught in a sudden cold fright stronger than his fear of the bristlemanes. He knew that the stabbing bite he’d seen was like nothing the Named had ever used.
He pulled himself from his daze as he regained his feet, becoming aware that the other bristlemanes had retreated, whimpering uneasily. A short distance away, Fessran worried the limp body of another. She gave it one last shake and left it. Thakur did not have to approach to see the mark of Orange-Eyes’s bite.