“Yarr?” Fessran halted and looked back.
“You are cross because you were cold,” Ratha said patiently. “Are you cold now?”
“What a question! How can I not be with the wind blowing through. ...”
Ratha waited. Fessran stopped, blinked and fluffed her fur. “Your creature warms us,” she said in surprise. “I remember now; when we ran from the Red Tongue, I felt its hot breath on me and I ran faster.”
“There is no need to run from it now. My creature is only bad when it grows too large. I know how to keep it small,” Ratha said, a touch of pride in her voice. Fessran’s hackles smoothed, but she gave no indication of staying. She padded out past the rim of the firelit circle and melded with the darkness until only her eyes and teeth showed. Ratha followed to the brown-shadowed edge and shook herself as a sharp gust tore through her thin summer coat. She heard Fessran shiver.
“Come back to me and my creature,” Ratha called. She waited, then turned around in disgust and walked back to her Red Tongue. Something made her look into the dark. The eyes hadn’t gone. They still stared out at her.
Ratha ignored them. She flopped down, her belly to the fire, spreading her pads and feeling the heat flow around them. She heard hesitant footsteps behind her and began to grin.
“Be a good cub, my little Red Tongue,” she said softly to the dancing flame. “She may soon be your friend if she sees no reason to fear you.”
The footsteps grew quicker then and stopped. There was the soft brush of a tail being curled across feet. Ratha rolled her head back. Fessran sat behind her as if she were a wall protecting Fessran from the Red Tongue’s capricious play.
“You like it, don’t you?” Ratha said.
Fessran’s whiskers twitched. Her expression was still guarded, but her eyes, as she stared at the flame, were full of wonder rather than fear.
Ratha lifted her chin for a nuzzle and this time received an answering touch.
“Was I such a foolish cub to keep the creature alive?”
Fessran’s face softened. “Perhaps not, Ratha.”
Ratha yawned, arched her back and stretched until her toes and tail quivered. “Thakur told me once that the clanfolk thought old Baire was foolish when he tried to tame three-horns and add them to our herds,” she said.
“Those who spoke so had reason to be afraid,” Fessran answered. “I saw many herders die on those horns. We learned much and now we can keep the creatures, but we lost many clan folk.”
“Three-horns are good for the clan,” Ratha argued. “Baire wasn’t foolish to herd them. Maybe I’m not foolish to herd the Red Tongue. I already know much about it, and I can teach. Clan folk won’t have to die to learn.”
“May it be so, Ratha,” Fessran said cautiously. “You speak of Thakur. I have left him waiting in the cold.” She got up, shaking ash from her hindquarters.
“Call him here to warm himself beside my creature,” Ratha said.
“I’ll try, but don’t forget that he fears the Red Tongue.”
Fessran turned her back to the fire and called into the darkness where Thakur was still waiting.
Ratha saw him slink to the edge of the light where orange turned to brown and shadows grew long and wavering. There he crouched and would come no further despite Fessran’s coaxing. He wrinkled his brows and squinted away from the fire with frightened, watery eyes.
“Herd-brother, Ratha’s creature won’t harm us. Come and lie down with me. The Red Tongue makes the night as warm as your den.”
“My fur is warm enough,” Thakur growled. “The Red Tongue’s light bites my eyes. I would rather see by starlight.” He fluffed his fur against the wind. “The herdbeasts fear this thing and their fear is wise. Not to fear it is foolish.” He looked at Ratha.
“I know about it. I don’t have to fear it.” She flattened her ears.
“I know about it too.” Thakur’s lips drew back and his fangs gleamed as he spoke. “Have you forgotten how it ate the forest? Have you forgotten the dappleback I dragged away? Fessran, that was your little stallion I tried to save. I dragged the beast away from the Red Tongue, but like the snake’s tongue it struck.” He huddled, trembling, terror shimmering with the firelight in his eyes. “The Red Tongue licked at the stallion until the skin was black and falling off. It licked until the entrails burst and the bones showed white beneath. Aayowrr!”
Ratha glared at Thakur, hating him for making her remember the time when the thing she now called her creature had run wild, destroying the forests. The ashy stubble she stood on was reminder enough. She grew angrier as her own fear, the fear she had subdued to tame the Red Tongue, now rose again.
“Meoran must think you drowned in the river crossing since you haven’t yet returned to clan ground. If you don’t return soon, he’ll find a young male to take your place as herder.”
“Don’t taunt her, Thakur,” Fessran warned as Ratha felt her nape start to bristle.
“I don’t care what Meoran thinks!” Ratha snarled. Her belly churned as she remembered the clan leader’s cold eyes and scornful voice. Meoran thought her a weakling, unfit for the task of clan herder. Despite her words to Thakur, the thought stabbed into her, driving as deep as fangs into her flesh.
She quivered, wishing she could blaze out like the Red Tongue, to engulf Thakur, Meoran and all those who doubted her, to burn until nothing was left.
Thakur lifted his muzzle. “You cared what Meoran thought when you swam the river. And if you didn’t why, why, by the Law that named you, did you have to drag me across this place?” He scuffed a foot in the charred stubble. “The smell sickens me. The ash stings my feet. And you, Fessran,” he said, turning to her, “why do you encourage this foolish cub? Would you lead one of your dapplebacks onto a cliff and hope it didn’t fall off? I thought you had some sense.”
“I do,” Fessran said quietly, “and fear doesn’t keep me from using it.”
Thakur’s eyes went back to Ratha. The green in them was pale. She hated him for his weakness and she saw him flinch as he felt the depth of her hatred.
His next words were measured and careful. He stared right at Ratha as he said, “I made a mistake when I chose you to train. I should have obeyed Meoran. Teaching you to herd was a waste. I will think hard before I accept another female to train.”
“Go then!” Ratha spat, every hair on her body on end. “I’m tired of hearing you whine and tired of smelling your fear-scent. Go lie in the dark and cold, frightened one!”
Fessran’s jaw opened, but before she could say anything, Ratha sprang at Thakur.
“If what Meoran said about me was true, then what he said about you was even more so; your lair-father was an Un-Named chewer of bones, and you are unworthy of the name Baire gave you!”
She landed in front of him. He didn’t flinch or strike out. He looked at her steadily. Ratha lifted one paw to claw him, found she couldn’t and stamped in frustration, more furious at herself than at him. Thakur kept his eyes on her and the pain in them made her throat burn with shame. She wished she could dig a hole and bury her words deeper than she ever buried her dung.
“I will see you on clan ground,” he said very softly and was gone.
For a moment, Ratha stood staring at his pawprints in the flickering light and smelling the sour traces of his smell. Behind her she could hear Fessran licking her coat. She listened to the tongue strokes and the muted guttural sounds as Fessran routed fleas and combed out snarls and mats. At last her voice came from behind Ratha’s back. “He is a good herder. You did wrong to shame him.”
Ratha spun around, all patience gone. “Go with him then. I can herd the Red Tongue by myself.”
“You would do better, Ratha, if you herded your own tongue behind your teeth and kept it there for a while.” Fessran finished grooming herself, shook her pelt and got up. “Now show me how you feed this creature of yours so I may keep it alive while you sleep.”