Thistle even speaks less awkwardly with Fessran than with me. But as soon as I try to be friendly, she freezes up and I feel bad. I wonder if having her on this trip is really going to work.
As soon as Fessran had gone, carrying Mishanti by the scruff, Ratha turned to Thistle. “Khushi is coming with us. He’ll be waiting at the top of the cliff. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Thistle replied softly.
Ratha paced ahead, letting her daughter follow.
* * *
Khushi joined Thistle and her mother on the way up the cliff trail. He would lead, for he knew the way back to Thakur’s camp. No more preparation was needed. Thistle knew that Ratha and Khushi had eaten enough to sustain them for several days. She had tried to do the same, although pickings on the beach were a bit sparser than eating from a kill.
“Don’t worry about food,” Ratha said to Thistle. “I asked you to make this trip, so anything Bira or I catch, we’ll share.”
Her words were meant as reassurance, but they also reminded Thistle that leaving the beach meant that she was much more vulnerable and dependent on others—something she hated.
As she followed Khushi, with Ratha bringing up the rear, she thought, Perhaps Thakur wants me because he has found others like me. She felt the loneliness rise up inside her along with a strange aching hope. If the other clan-cats Thakur had found were like her, they could understand the paths she had to take, paths that the Named could not follow. Perhaps the strangers could give her as much as she could give them.
Chapter Four
It was morning of the third day after they’d set out, and a light rain was falling. The three companions kept to a steady trot. Ratha put Khushi in the lead most of the time. Not only did the young scout know the way, but he chose a pace that was easy for Thistle to keep without straining her nearly healed foreleg. Ratha knew that if she went up front with Khushi, it would be hard for her to keep from leaping ahead, for she was excited and intrigued by Thakur’s message.
Another clan like the Named! Could it be? Had Thakur really discovered a group that might band with their own, providing fresh ideas and new talents?
Ratha felt her hopes soar. If Thakur was sure enough to send for her, he must have found another Named clan. His difficulties in speaking with them would quickly be resolved. They probably have a few different words and customs, that’s all.
Her tail waving in anticipation, she trotted along the trail, eager to speak to the leader of the newly found clan.
* * *
With Khushi as guide, Thistle and Ratha wound their way over the coastal foothills and then down into a river valley, where the soil was marshy.
Thistle watched as Ratha sniffed some huge round footprints in the damp soil.
She listened as Ratha spoke to Khushi about the footprints. “Face-tails,” replied the young scout. “You can’t mistake that stink. Almost as bad as Thistle’s seamares. We do choose smelly animals, don’t we?”
“Well, it makes them easier to find. How far away are Thakur and Bira?” Ratha asked.
“Just up beyond this knoll,” Thistle heard the scout reply as he began pacing through the long, waving grass that covered the hill.
Bira met them at the top. Thistle liked the ruddy-coated Firekeeper, with her long plumed tail and gentle manner. Even the acrid smell of the Red Tongue in Bira’s coat did not put her off.
Bira had a treeling, a male called Biaree. Thistle was intrigued by treelings. She had never had one and she wasn’t sure she wanted one, but they were fun to watch. She saw how they soothed and comforted the Named. Perhaps someday she might like a little companion who could comfort her.
Would a treeling ride on my back when I swim?
Biaree jumped briefly onto Thistle’s back for a quick welcoming groom before scampering back to Bira.
“Welcome, everybody,” Bira said, touching noses with Ratha and then Khushi. Turning to Thistle, she said, “If you are hungry, I caught some grouse this morning.”
Thistle’s mouth watered, but first she wanted to see Thakur. Then she would eat. Bira said she would save the birds. There were plenty for everyone.
Eager to meet her friend again, Thistle scampered after Bira as she trotted down into a little hollow where a campfire burned beneath a sheltering overhang. And there was Thakur, his coppery coat gleaming, his green eyes alight at the sight of her. She was so overjoyed to see him that she broke into a run, dashing ahead of Bira.
“Hello, little seamare herder,” Thakur purred, rubbing his chin along her back and flopping his tail over her in greeting.
“Missed you, missed you, missed you,” Thistle answered, losing her eloquence to a rush of emotion. “So much, Thakur.”
She rubbed her head against him and stood back with a satisfied sigh while the others greeted him and rubbed past him, their tails arching over his back. After the greetings were done, Bira provided the promised repast.
When the meal was finished and the leavings buried, all five relaxed around the small fire and listened to Thakur. As he recounted his experiences with the other cat clan, Thistle listened carefully. He spoke of many things that baffled her. Someone called True-of-voice. Something called “the song.” The strange way that the newly found clan seemed to speak and the way that the awareness of an outsider seemed to spread instantaneously through their group.
Thistle also cast glances at Ratha during Thakur’s tale. Though her mother’s ears stayed up, her whiskers drooped a bit in puzzlement and disappointment.
“These face-tail hunters sound even stranger than I thought,” Ratha said. “Are you sure they are not just another group of the empty-eyed Un-Named?”
“Not completely,” Thakur admitted. “But I feel that these clan-cats have the same gift as we do. They just use it differently. Their eyes are not empty, but their awareness is turned… inside themselves.” Thistle felt his gaze travel to her and rest there as he spoke softly. “As yours was when I first found you.”
“Do you think you can bring them outside of themselves, the way you did her?” Ratha asked Thakur.
“Perhaps, although I doubt it. The way they think must be right for them, as our way is for us. I don’t think my coaxing will make any of them become like the Named.”
Ratha’s eyes widened. “Then what do you plan?”
“I tried to speak to them once, but Khushi and I were chased away. I intend to try again. This time I’d like Thistle to come with me.”
Thistle’s belly began to flutter with anticipation, but she heard a silence as the other four exchanged glances with one another.
“I am afraid that you are venturing on trails where I have trouble following,” said Ratha at last. Khushi and Bira made sounds of agreement.
“I know. I’m not comfortable with such things either,” said Thakur, and another silence fell.
Thistle ended it. “This song thing. Ears don’t hear it?”
Thakur answered, “No. Mine can’t. Nor Khushi’s. Judging from the way the hunters spoke, they don’t listen with their ears. I think they hear it inside their heads. Thistle, you have said things to me that sound as though you can also hear things inside your head.”
Thistle felt awkward, though grateful that he had not spoken directly of the Dreambiter. She was not sure how much Khushi or Bira knew about the strange fits that fell on her.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes frightening things, sometimes good things. Not hearing them as much now as I used to. Talking… takes them away. When I change the way I think, sometimes they come back.”
“Can you still do that? Change the way you think?”
“Not easy. Speaking with you and others—that is easier thing now.”