“No, Ratha. Leave them be. I’ll look after them,” Fessran answered in her soft voice.
“That little stallion doesn’t stop, does he? You’ll have enough dappleback colts to feed the clan well.”
“Yarrr. Thakur, you think only of your belly.” Fessran launched a disgusted swipe in his direction and Thakur ducked.
“I am pleased that she has done so well,” Fessran said seriously, looking at Ratha.
“Yes, I am also pleased. There are not many of the female cubs who have the ability, but she does and she has worked hard.”
Ratha was startled to see Fessran bristle.
“Have you grown as short-whiskered as Meoran?” she snarled. “The female cubs have no lack of ability. Our fleabag of a clan leader won’t let me train them! Drani’s daughter, Singra, has the same talent as Ratha. But her father forbade it and Meoran said he would chew my ears if I taught my art to any cubs except the ones he selected.” Fessran lowered her head and lashed her tail. “And Singra was not among the ones chosen last season or this season. Now it is too late and she grows soft and fat. Yarrr!”
“Gently, Fessran,” Thakur soothed. “You know how hard I fought for Ratha.”
“You only succeeded because Baire still lived. Now Meoran stands as clan leader and no she-cubs train as herders. Ptahh! He would mate me to a gray-coat and put one of his whelps in my place. How I hate him, Thakur!”
“Ssss, there are other ears in the meadow tonight. Be wary of your words, Fessran.”
“Wise Thakur. You always were more cautious than I.” Fessran smoothed her fur. “Those two dapplebacks should be finished. I’ll run them back to the herd.”
“Fessran.” She stopped and looked back at Thakur. “I’ll do my best for Ratha. You are the one I can’t protect. Choose your words with care and you may be safe.”
“My temper often chooses my words for me.” Fessran’s whiskers twitched ruefully and she trotted away.
Thakur sighed and settled himself on the damp stone, fluffing his fur. Ratha lifted a hind foot and scratched herself.
Across the meadow a herdbeast bawled. Thakur sat up. Another animal bellowed. Hooves beat, rushing through the grass. A harsh yowl began. It rose to a shriek and another answered. Ratha jumped up, her fur on end. Thakur leaped off his perch.
“That wasn’t a clan voice,” he said grimly as Ratha bounded to join him. She saw other herders running; heard wailing calls and snapping branches.
“Yearling, stay here,” Thakur said sharply.
A form appeared in the mist and galloped toward them. It was Fessran again.
“Thakur, the raiders have broken in at the end of the meadow. They’ve already pulled down two deer. Hurry!”
Thakur turned to Ratha. “Watch the dapplebacks, yearling. Keep them together.”
“What if the raiders come?”
“They won’t.” Fessran showed her teeth. “Not this far.”
“If anyone attacks my herd, I’ll fight.” Ratha lashed her tail eagerly.
“You will not.” Thakur glared at her. “You will climb the nearest tree and stay there until I call you. The clan can lose a few dapplebacks. Not you.”
“Arrr. I want to go with you, Thakur.”
“This is not cub-tussling, Ratha. I told you that before we left. You are not to fight. Is that understood?”
“Yes-s-s.” Ratha sighed.
A herdbeast cried out and then choked as it fell. Muffled yowling came through the ground mist.
“Hurry, Thakur,” Fessran hissed and the two sprang up and galloped away, leaving Ratha alone.
She shivered and looked up at the sky. The moon was a hazy smear of white, the stars were gone. She jogged toward the scattered herd of dapplebacks and began circling it, driving the little horses into a tighter bunch. They sensed the danger and were restive, squealing and milling. The little stallion shepherded his flock of mares together and tried to separate them from the other dapplebacks. Ratha drove them all back, nipping at their flanks. Once she had the herd packed together, she kept circling it, staying far enough away not to panic the animals, but close enough to catch any strays.
She stopped, panting, flicking dewdrops off her whiskers. She listened to drumming hooves and shrill cries from the other end of the meadow. A body fell. Another herdbeast down, she thought. She flattened her ears. None of the Un-Named dung-eaters would touch Fessran’s dapplebacks, she promised herself. The little horses stood together, their heads raised, their stiff manes quivering. Ratha gained her breath and began circling the herd again. Running kept her from thinking; kept her from being frightened.
On the opposite side of the herd, she caught a glimpse of something moving in the fog. A low, slender form; not a herdbeast. Ratha bared her teeth and dashed around the outside of the flock. She stopped and sniffed. She knew that smell. She nosed the ground. The smell was fading in the dampness, but footprints were there. Her tail began to flick as she peered through the mist in all directions. Where had he gone?
A sudden shrill scream told her. Ratha plunged into the middle of the herd, sending animals scattering in every direction. The killer was there, dragging his thrashing prey through the grass. Ratha opened her jaws in a full-throated roar as she charged at him. The raider jerked his head up, pulling his teeth from the dappleback’s neck before Ratha barreled into him, knocking him sprawling.
She scrambled to her feet. She had barely time to see his hate-filled yellow eyes before he leaped at her.
Ratha flipped onto her back and pedaled furiously, raking her adversary’s belly with her hind claws. She felt her front paw strike his chin as he snapped at her flailing feet. He missed, but his head continued down and before she could knock him away, his teeth raked the skin over her breastbone. She seized his ear and felt her teeth meet through the skin. As he dragged her along, she twisted her head and tasted oily fur when she scored his cheek with her small fangs. He dived for her belly and got a mouthful of her claws. His rough tongue rasped her pads; his teeth sliced the top of her foot. One claw caught and then tore free.
He seized her ruff. Her head snapped back as he threw her to one side. Her chest burned and throbbed. Warm blood crawled like fleas through her fur. Ratha writhed and wriggled, but she only felt the teeth sink deeper into her ruff as he lifted her and threw her down again. One heavy paw crushed her ribs and a triumphant growl rumbled above her. The teeth loosened from her ruff and the paw turned her over. When everything stopped spinning, she saw two glittering eyes and fangs bared for a last strike at her throat.
In one motion, Ratha curled over and lunged. Her teeth clashed against his and she felt something break. She grabbed his lower jaw and bit hard until her cheek muscles ached. His saliva wet her whiskers and was sour in her mouth. Blood welled around her teeth, tasting rich and salty as bone marrow.
He screamed and shook her off.
Ratha rolled away, staggered to her feet, spitting blood. He was crouched opposite her. She felt her chest burning and her ribs heaved. If he caught her again, he would kill her. Why hadn’t she listened to Thakur?
He pounced. She jumped aside. He whirled, lunged, and again she dodged him, making her shaking legs obey her. An idea began to form in her mind as she sprang away from him again. Thakur had trained her to trick the herdbeasts. The three-horn stag had been as intent on killing her as this Un-Named enemy. The Un-Named, Meoran had said to all the cubs, were no smarter than herdbeasts. Could she use her training to trick this killer?
She watched him carefully as he gathered for another attack. She waited until he was almost on top of her and jumped straight up, coming down behind him. She spun around and watched him shake his head in confusion until he sniffed, looked back over his shoulder, whirled and pounced. Ratha saw him land on empty grass, a tail-length away from her. She grinned at him, her tongue lolling.