She heard Khushi muttering to Bira as the young Firekeeper and her treeling tended the flame.
“Those hunters are greedy,” he growled. “There are plenty of face-tailed beasts for all, yet they keep driving us away.”
Bira agreed, her fur ruffled and her usually calm green eyes fiery with indignation. From the corner of her eye, Ratha caught a glimpse of Thakur and Thistle, who had heard Khushi’s words. She couldn’t help seeing Thakur bristle. Thistle looked tired and defeated. She was also limping slightly—having to run away from the attacks had strained her leg.
Seeing her daughter struggle inflamed Ratha’s anger even more.
“I think we have shown enough patience with these hunters,” she said. “I heard what Khushi said to Bira and I agree. Trying to speak to them is getting us nowhere.”
“I disagree,” Thakur said slowly. “Thistle and I did make some progress when we first tried. I understand them a little better than before.”
“I don’t understand them at all,” Bira said, wrinkling her nose. “There is plenty of meat for everyone. Why don’t they share? As far as I can see, they are no different than the savage Un-Named.”
“Ratha?” The clan leader felt Thakur’s gaze go to her.
She answered, trying to control her own impatience. “I sent Khushi here to scout for face-tails. My intent was to add them to our herds. The hunters are making that impossible.”
“So you would attack the other clan with the Red Tongue,” Thakur said in a low voice.
“Herding teacher, what choice do I have? If we are to survive and grow, we must enlarge our herds. I think these face-tailed beasts can be managed, but we have never really been able to try—the other clan keeps driving us off.”
“Perhaps we would be better to look in other places for other animals,” Thakur said stubbornly.
Khushi yowled scornfully. “And run away with our tails between our legs if someone else claims them? Herding teacher, I mean no disrespect, but we are the Named, after all. Are we going to back down just because this scruffy bunch is being unreasonable?”
“Enough, Khushi,” Ratha said, raising a paw. “Bira? You look like you have something to say.”
“Yes, I do,” said Bira in her soft voice as she curled her plumed tail around her feet. “I am a Firekeeper. I know how cruel the Red Tongue can be. It is not easy for me to think about using it against others. If I thought these strangers might be like us, I would be horrified by the idea.” She paused. “But I have watched them, looking for signs that they are like us. I haven’t seen any.” She glanced at Thakur and then away again. “Herding teacher, I am sorry.”
Despite herself, Ratha was startled. Gentle Bira would give anyone the benefit of the doubt. If even she had hardened her heart, then it must be because the other clan didn’t deserve any sympathy.
“What makes you feel that way, Bira?” Thakur asked.
“All the time I have watched this other clan, I have never seen them show any sign of caring for each other—not the way we do. Each one walks past the others as if they were not even there.”
“They think differently than we do,” Thakur began, but Bira gently, yet firmly, cut him off.
“That should not make a difference. Our treelings think very differently than we do, yet they care for us.” She nuzzled her treeling, Biaree, who was snuggled up against her neck.
Thakur had no answer for that. Ratha saw him staring down at the ground between his paws. “I think,” he said after a long silence, “that they do care for each other, but in a very different way than we do.”
“Herding teacher, is it possible you are seeing something in these people that you only wish was there?” Ratha asked softly.
“I admit I have made that mistake in the past, clan leader. We both have. But this time I think I am right. I only ask for the chance to prove it.”
Ratha felt her ears twitch back. “I’ve given you that chance. I’ve given the other clan that chance. What can I do if they refuse it?” She sighed. “To be frank with you, Thakur, I don’t like these hunters. I like them even less than the witless Un-Named. At least the Un-Named do not enslave themselves willingly to a tyrannical leader, as this True-of-voice seems to be. And they walk around in an endless dream, unable to wake up. It makes me shiver.”
“And because you judge them different, you are willing to drive them with the Red Tongue, like animals?” Thakur’s voice was very low, nearly a growl.
“My duty is not to the other clan,” Ratha snapped. “The Named must come first.”
“I thought there might be room in the world for the Named and others as well,” Thakur said softly.
“It is their choice whether to attack us,” she retorted. “Thakur, the decision is made. We will catch a face-tail tomorrow. If any of the hunters interfere, Bira and I will use the Red Tongue.”
She heard Thistle gasp softly, almost a moan of pain, as if she had been struck. For an instant anger burned away the exhaustion in her eyes, and Ratha braced herself to endure a passionate defense of the hunters.
But the spark died, extinguished by weariness. Her daughter only said, “Doesn’t matter what Thistle feels. No right to speak anyway. Not clan member.” She limped away into the darkness before anyone could stop her.
As much as Ratha wanted to go after her, she knew it would be useless.
She turned instead to Thakur. She thought she had succeeded in becoming hard both inside and outside, but it hurt her to see how Thakur stared at the fire and fell silent.
Chapter Seven
The fire was banked and burning low. Above its crackle Thistle could hear the sounds of breathing—Ratha, Bira, and Khushi were asleep nearby.
Thakur wasn’t asleep. Thistle could tell by the way he moved restlessly beside her. She wasn’t asleep either, and it was not just his squirming that was keeping her awake.
She was angry at Ratha. Khushi and Bira too, but mostly Ratha. Once again her mother had chosen to strike out at those she did not understand.
She did that to me and she is doing it again to this other clan. I thought she would have learned better by now.
Beside her, Thakur rolled over again, sighed, and started to get up.
“Thakur?” she said, not wanting his comforting warmth to be replaced by the cool night air.
“Sh, Thistle. Don’t wake the others. I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d go watch the stars for a while.”
“Can’t sleep either. Go with you?”
“All right, but be quiet.”
They left the campfire and the sleepers behind, Thakur moving noiselessly through the scrub. Thistle glanced back. The fire had become a dim glow in the distance between the trees. When the low boughs and brush overhead opened up to a clear night sky, Thakur sat down and lifted his chin. Thistle did too.
There was no moon that night. Each star was as sharp as the point of a claw. Across part of the sky there was a misty light wafting outward like a plume of smoke from the Red Tongue. To Thistle, the night had a stark, aching beauty.
“It makes me want… something I do not even know about,” she said, wriggling a little closer to Thakur’s warmth.
Thakur said, “It makes me want to lift my paw to the sky, even though I know I cannot reach the stars.”
“Night-flying birds,” Thistle said. “The mice with wings and big ears—could those creatures fly high enough?”
She felt him give a sigh again. “Somehow … I don’t think so.”
After a long silence, she asked, “Thakur, does… she… ever sit like this and look up? My mother, I mean.”
“I think she did when she was a cub. But that was a long time ago. She hasn’t done it for a while.”
“Being clan leader is hard. Too many things to think about,” Thistle said.