“I wouldn’t,” Thakur confessed.
“Well then?”
“Ratha, just because such a thing is wrong for you or me doesn’t mean that it is wrong for the face-tail hunters.”
“How can anything be wrong or right if you don’t even have a choice?” she countered.
“All right. The way these hunters are controlled is hard to accept. I’m not having an easy time either.”
“I can’t even think about accepting it. I can’t believe anyone would want to stumble around in a trance their whole life. If this True-of-voice really forces his will on his people, he is bad,” Ratha said bluntly, and added, “Maybe the best thing we could do for them is to kill him.”
She watched Thakur’s green eyes go wide, and his teeth flashed as he spoke. “You don’t know enough to judge,” he said, his voice hard.
“There are times when I’ve known even less about an enemy, yet I’ve acted. How much did I know about the Un-Named when I first used fire against them?”
“Do you have to think of these hunters as enemies? When you saw them, you said they share some of our ways. ”
“Yes. I also saw how well they worked together and how devoted they are to their leader. They are a threat. I can’t pretend that I’m blind to it. We need to show our strength by wielding the Red Tongue.” She looked away from Thakur, then back. “I’m doing what I did when the Un-Named attacked us. It worked. And I never heard you speak out against it.”
“Perhaps I should have spoken out against it,” Thakur said in a voice that was nearly a growl. “Or maybe I should have spoken louder. Clan leader, we of the Named have already learned that things are not as simple as we once thought. We can no longer divide the world of creatures into those who are like us and those who are not.”
“It is easier to do that when you are clan leader,” Ratha said, feeling both shamed and justified. “Thakur, you know that I have to choose in favor of our people.”
“Does something that helps the Named have to hurt others?”
The green in his eyes seemed to burn into her, making her tongue clumsy. “N-no. But somehow it has happened that way.”
“In past seasons we were struggling so hard to survive that we couldn’t afford to worry about who we hurt. But now—and I credit your leadership, Ratha—things are better. We are not so much on the edge. Maybe we can afford to be more understanding. It may have unexpected rewards.”
Ratha eyed him. “You are thinking about Thistle, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She switched her tail. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t think so much, herding teacher. You’d be easier to live with.”
“I probably would be,” Thakur agreed.
“So you want me to postpone any face-tail hunts. How long?”
“Long enough for Thistle and me to convince you that True-of-voice’s people are not enemies.”
Ratha sighed. “All right. I’ll delay the hunt I’d planned and I’ll explain why to Bira and Khushi. If I have any rash impulses to go shred True-of-voice, I’ll sit on them. ”
“Or talk to me about them,” Thakur suggested.
She grimaced. “I don’t think that even you can make me feel differently about True-of-voice. My belly really doesn’t like him. I’m being patient for your sake, not his.”
“I appreciate that you are being patient. The reason doesn’t matter.”
And I’m doing this for your sake too, Thistle, Ratha thought as she jogged back to the campfire beside Thakur.
Chapter Twelve
For the third time in less than a day, Thakur watched Thistle’s eyes begin to swirl as her body went rigid and started to tremble.
He felt his own heart pound in his chest. He hated seeing this happen to her. He hated it even more when there were others around to witness her helplessness. Luckily, this time, no one was. He had taken her to a little hollow where they could be alone, where she could practice slipping into the dreaming state of mind that was so like that of the hunters.
Instead she was battling a nightmare.
“Come out of it, Thistle,” Thakur yowled as her pupils shrank to black slits in the stormy green sea of her eyes. “You’ve had enough. I’ve had enough.”
Twice before she had managed to pull herself out of the trance before it took her. But this time she was gone where only she could go.
Thakur had chosen this place for another reason. It had a pool. A marshy little wallow of a pool that was more mud than water.
She was starting to jump around, muttering nervously to herself. Thakur grabbed her by the scruff before she could dash off on a mad run, and swung her with a splash into the pool.
“There,” he said. “Now come back to me.”
Her pupils expanded with surprise as she started to thrash in the pool. The water was colder here than in the beach lagoon where she swam. He grabbed her scruff again until he felt her relax.
“Thistle?”
“Y-y-yes?”
She was shivering. He hauled her out and made her shake dry, then spread himself beside her to warm her up.
“Bad again,” she said, looking disconsolately at the ground between her paws. “Every time I go … inside … it … is there.”
Thakur didn’t have to ask what “it” was. He groomed the nape of her neck with his tongue.
“Have to try again,” she said stubbornly.
“Not today,” he answered.
“Yes, today. Have to talk to hunters.”
Thakur groaned. “Thistle, you’re tired.”
“Know. Talking getting not easy. Words running and hiding.”
“Then give it up for now.”
Thistle closed her eyes and let her head sink onto her paws. “Give it up for now,” she muttered. “Try and fail again tomorrow too? Can’t. Others. Him. The hurt one. Means too much.”
“Sh,” he said softly.
“Can’t … sleep… have to … talk….” But by the time the last word had fallen from her tongue, she was deep in slumber.
* * *
The next day was a repeat of the first. The following was the same. Thakur spent all his waking time with Thistle as she sought the pathways inside herself and was driven out by the apparition she called the Dreambiter.
Thakur had lost count of how many times he had watched the sea-green in her eyes swallow her pupils as she struggled in the grip of each fit. He also lost count of how many times he had thrown her into the pool and hauled her out. It was the only way to keep the seizures from claiming her completely.
His legs and belly were encrusted with mud. He was starting to sneeze from the repeated chill. His teeth ached and his mood had soured.
Thistle lay in a sodden puddle on the ground. She was so exhausted after the last attempt that she hadn’t even been able to shake off before collapsing. Thakur was almost glad that she was unconscious again. It meant that she couldn’t try to brave the Dreambiter.
He ran a paw along her side, trying to squeeze the muddy water out of her coat. At least the sun was warm today. It would dry her quickly.
He stared at her funny pointed little face, the eyes now shut, muddy smears on her nose and whiskers. His heart ached for her. Why is it so hard? Why does this wretched Dreambiter have to bar her way?
He watched the water dry on her coat, feeling helpless. This is beyond her. It is beyond me. Perhaps it is beyond all of us.
“Thakur?” said a voice. He lifted his head and stared at—the Dreambiter? His fur bristled before he could flatten it. Then he shook himself. It was just Ratha. Yarr! He was getting so involved in Thistle’s struggle that sometimes he felt as though he, too, could see the nightmare image. It took a shape he knew well.
Ratha crouched by Thistle, gave her a tentative nudge.