The Un-Named One snarled, showing a broken lower fang. Ratha waggled her whiskers at him from a safe distance. He rushed her again and she bounced away. She started to lead him in circles until she had him almost chasing his own tail. She danced around exuberantly, taunting him.
“Dung-eater! Scavenger!” she hissed as he staggered dizzily. He glared at her, his eyes burning. “Cub-catcher! Bone-chewer!” Ratha paused and caught her breath. “Poor stupid bone-chewer,” she hissed. “You can’t even understand what I’m saying, can you?” The Un-Named One stood panting as Ratha danced around him. “Yarrr, you couldn’t pounce on your mother’s tail,” she said, showing her teeth at him. “When Thakur gets back, he’ll chew your other ear off, you eater of mud-croakers and chewer of bones!”
“Clan cub, you have lots of words. Say them now before I tear out your throat.”
Ratha froze. Her eyes went wide.
“What are you staring at?” the other said.
“Y ... you.” she faltered. “I never thought. ...”
“That the clanless ones could speak?”
Ratha stared at him, her mouth open.
“ ‘Poor bone-chewer,’ ” he mimicked, “‘you can’t even understand what I’m saying, can you?’ ” Before she had time to answer, he leaped at her. She saw his paw coming and ducked, but she wasn’t quick enough. He clouted her on the side of the head, knocking her down into the wet grass. By the time she staggered to her feet and her vision cleared, he was dragging his prey toward the forest. She lurched after him, tripped over her paws and fell on her face.
“I don’t care if you can speak,” she yelled after him, “you are still a scavenger and bone-chewer!” The only answer was the muffled sound of a body being dragged across soggy ground. Ratha tried to get up, but her paws wouldn’t stay underneath her. She sprawled miserably on her front. The dapplebacks were scattered all over the meadow, easy prey for other raiders. There was no way she could get them rounded up before Fessran and Thakur got back. She put her chin down on her front paws, wondering if Fessran was going to leave enough of her in one piece for Thakur to punish.
CHAPTER THREE
Ratha woke shivering. The heavy moisture on her coat was soaking through to her skin. Droplets from her brow whiskers dripped onto her nose. She blinked and shook her head. Fearing that she had dozed away the rest of the night, she peered into the mist for signs of dawn or of Thakur’s return. She saw neither. The sky was still murky overhead and the half-moon a faint wash of light above the dark mass of the trees.
Ratha drew her front paws underneath her and pushed herself up. Pain lanced across her chest and into her forelegs. She felt one of the bite-wounds on her neck pull open as she bent her head down to lick her front. She coaxed her hindquarters up and stood, hanging her head. Everything ached, from her teeth to her tail. Neither Thakur nor Fessran had returned.
The wind blew past her ears with a hollow early-morning wail. It had no effect on the mist, which only grew thicker. Ratha could barely see the grass a tail-length ahead. She tried a step and winced as the motion jarred the pain from her jaws into her head, where it sat throbbing behind her eyes. Why hadn’t she listened to Thakur and climbed a tree when the raider came?
Ratha felt something wedged in her teeth, behind one upper fang. With her tongue, she worked it loose and felt it. A scrap of skin with slimy fur on one side and bitter-tasting wax on the other. A piece of the raider’s ear. She grimaced, spat the ear-scrap out and pawed it aside, feeling a certain grim pleasure.
She tried a few more limping steps, clamping her jaws together to keep her head from ringing. As she walked, the burning knot in her chest loosened, freeing her stride. She spotted something solid in the fog and broke into a shaky trot toward it, hoping it was one of her escaped dapplebacks. She drew her whiskers back in disgust when she realized that she’d been stalking the sunning rock. Well, at least she knew where she was. She hopped on top of the stone and sniffed, knowing that the moist, still air captured and held scent-trails. There. A faint trace, but growing stronger. She inhaled the musky odor of the little horses and climbed down off the sunning rock after them.
Ratha found the dappleback stallion and his mares huddled together, the mist swirling around their legs, their stiff manes and coats flecked with sweat and dew. The faint trace of moonlight made the dapplebacks’ eyes phosphorescent as they watched her. The stallion reared and whinnied, showing his short, pointed canine teeth. Carefully she cut in behind the herd and, as the horses retreated from her, guided them to the sunning rock. She circled the flock, driving the dapplebacks together into a tight bunch. Some of the stragglers returned to the herd, but Ratha knew from the individual scents missing from the herd-smell that many more of the animals were lost or slain.
Ratha stopped her nervous pacing. She stood still and listened, but she could only hear the dapplebacks shuffling behind her. The fog muffled all sounds except those close by. She could neither see nor hear anything from the other end of the meadow. Only smells reached her and they made her fur stand on end. The tang of sweat was acrid in her nose; the odor of blood rich and metallic. The strongest smell was fear, and it seemed to spread over the meadow mixed in with the mist, paralyzing everything it touched.
Another shadow, dim, then definite. A familiar smell, then a familiar figure.
“Ratha?” Thakur’s voice was cautious.
“Here, Thakur,” she answered.
Ratha touched noses with Thakur. He was panting; she felt his warm breath and wet whiskers on her face. “Yearling, this is much worse than I thought it would be. Meoran has badly underestimated the raiders this time.”
Ratha felt fear shoot through her like the pain in her chest. “Have we lost the herd?”
“No, by our teeth and claws we’ve held the raiders back, and if we can hold them until dawn, the fight will be over, for the Un-Named Ones do not attack by day.” Thakur paused and sniffed at her ruff. “You bleed, yearling.”
“I fought, Thakur. I know you told me to climb a tree, but when he killed one of Fessran’s dapplebacks, I ran at him.”
Thakur sighed. “I have trained you too well. Your lair-mother is going to chew my ears for bringing you back wounded.”
“I chewed his ears, Thakur,” Ratha said fiercely. “He got the dappleback, but he left some skin between my teeth.”
“Huh,” Thakur grunted, circling her and nosing her. He licked the bites on her throat, rasping away the fragile clots. He squeezed the wounds with his jaws, forcing the blood to run freely. Ratha squirmed and whimpered.
“Quiet, yearling. Do you want to get an abscess? You will if these heal too quickly. There. I’m finished.”
“Thakur,” Ratha said quickly. “I know who that raider is.”
He blinked and stared at her, an odd stare that made her feel uncomfortable.
“The one on the trail.”
“Yearling, that was—” Thakur began.
“No, he wasn’t a clan whelp! Would a clan-cub have killed one of Fessran’s dapplebacks? Thakur, I saw him and I fought with him.” Ratha paused, watching him carefully. “You asked me, on the trail, if he had spoken to me when I ran over him that time in the thicket, when I was a cub. It frightened me. I saw him again tonight and I think you are going to ask me the same thing again.”
“No! I wish you would forget what I said on the trail. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“But I’m not frightened any more. I want to know why! Why did you ask me if the Un-Named One spoke?”