As Ratha came alongside the herding teacher, she saw another cub preparing for a turn with the beast.
“No, let the face-tail rest,” Thakur said to his class, and added, “I need to speak to Ratha. We’ll practice again later. Go and lie down in the shade.”
To the mud-drenched Ashon, he said, “Very good. Keep working on the stare. You must seize the creature’s gaze the moment you decide to approach it. Now go rinse off in the creek before that stuff hardens.”
When the students had trotted away, their tails swinging, Ratha touched noses with Thakur. She breathed in the musky honey of his scent and rubbed along his side from shoulder to tailbase, arching her own tail up and flopping it lazily over his back.
“The Named are gifted with the best herding teacher ever,” she purred.
“It helps when you have good students,” Thakur purred back, flopping his longer tail across hers.
Ratha stretched, sliding her forepaws out while her back bowed. “I thought Ashon would be too timid to herd face-tails.”
“I thought so, too, but he’s surprised me.”
“Speaking of training herders, Bundi and Mishanti are in the forest with their rumbler-things, if you want either of them today.”
“No, I’ve drilled them enough. Anyway, they don’t have that big a part in tomorrow’s gathering.” He paused, lifted his whiskers. “I assume True-of-voice and his people will come?”
“Thistle-chaser said they would.”
“Good.”
After another pause, Ratha said, “Thakur, do you think they’ll understand what we are doing?”
She had good reasons to wonder. True-of-voice was a huge male who led his tribe in hunting face-tails. Though the light in hunters’ eyes was as strong as that of the Named, it was turned strangely inward. True-of-voice’s people seemed to move in a trance that Thistle-chaser had called “dream-stalking.”
Instead of the obedience and loyalty that held the Named to one another and their leader, the hunters were bound to one another and True-of-voice by a strange emanation that arose from him. They called it “the song,” although it seemed to be transmitted by scent as much as hearing. It pervaded every part of face-tail hunter life, controlling each hunter so that they no longer had the ability or the freedom to make conscious choices.
After befriending a young hunter male, Thistle had brought him into the clan and helped him survive the tremendous change from dream-stalking hunter to self-aware clan member that was forced upon him with the near-death of True-of-voice. The male, named Quiet Hunter, was now Thistle’s intended mate.
Thakur’s voice brought Ratha back from the quick flight of her thoughts. “With Thistle and Quiet Hunter there to interpret, I think True will catch the idea.”
“I hope so. I want to help them get familiar with us so we can learn to trust one another.” Her ears twitched, and she stared moodily at the grass. “I wish I could speak to True-of-voice directly. Thistle and Quiet Hunter have done well, but hearing his words through them isn’t quite the same.”
“Well, if you want to talk about the taste of meat or the sharpness of teeth, you could,” Thakur replied, and Ratha knew he was remembering his experience with True-of-voice’s tribe. He had been disappointed to learn that the hunters used language only for very basic things. “Anything more has to come through the song.”
“And I’m deaf to it, even though I’ve tried to learn from Thistle.”
“I have done the same with Quiet Hunter and Thistle, but I’m still as song-deaf as you.” Thakur paused to nibble on a claw. “Perhaps we just have to admit that there are paths we can’t follow.”
“Why must True-of-voice be so … remote? Does he think he is so much greater than his people? Or so much greater than the Named?”
Thakur peered into her face. “You smell as though you resent him, Ratha.”
“I do. I know this doesn’t make sense, but I really do. I feel as though he is perched up on a high place looking down at us with a sneer. I’d feel better if I could just speak with him whiskers-to-whiskers. After all, our peoples both use the same basic language.”
“Yes, but we use it very differently. Ratha, your feeling is honest. I must confess I have felt that way myself, since I’m a bit spoiled by having a clan leader who actually listens to me.” He paused. “Remember, though: we can’t make any assumptions about how True-of-voice feels or why he acts as he does.”
“I just wish that he would at least try to come down to our limb on the tree,” Ratha grumbled.
“Or up to it, or onto it from another at the same height.”
Ratha looked up at Thakur, thanking the patience in his eyes. “Maybe I didn’t really learn from our experience last season. I just can’t get rid of the feeling that True-of-voice is isolating himself from us deliberately. Why can’t he even try to speak with me?”
“Understanding this new tribe is hard to get a claw into,” the herding teacher answered. “I don’t know if True-of-voice or any of his people can understand what you want, Ratha.”
She tried not to let her voice break as she said, “I really wanted to find another clan like us. Instead we got these strangers who seem to be dazed all the time and can’t even think for themselves.” She paused. “And I chose to help them … .”
“And you chose to help them,” agreed Thakur. “So why can’t True-of-voice be a little more grateful?”
“Yes. I know they have given us face-tail meat and a few young animals, but that doesn’t …”
Thakur looked at her steadily. “You want them to give of themselves. You want True-of-voice to give of himself.”
“Why not? We’re willing to. I know you are, and I’ll try. I just want to be friends with him.”
“Giving of one’s self means that one has a self to give,” the herding teacher answered. “True-of-voice and his people may not.”
Ratha grimaced. “You’re right. I really can’t get my claws into this. I keep asking how they can walk and speak and eat and raise cubs and have a tribe and have light in their eyes and not have selves?”
“Not as we do,” Thakur answered. “I think that their whole tribe together forms a very powerful ‘self’ of a sort.”
Ratha paced restlessly, sweeping her tail along her flanks. “I want to do what is best, but I can’t if I don’t understand. How do I walk a path I can’t see or feel?”
“Trust,” the herding teacher answered, and the growing warmth in his scent matched the increasing gold in his eyes. “In yourself, in what you sense is right. And in the two who carry your good words and wishes: Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter.”
Ratha wanted to protest—why did things have to be so complex, so twisted around like a vine choking a tree? But instead, she lowered her gaze and said, “I will try hard to look at this without resentment, Thakur.”
“That is already a long step on the path.”
Except I feel as though I’ve been stumbling, Ratha thought.
“Herding teacher, your words have helped. I feel better, so I won’t keep you from your herding students. Don’t work them too hard.”
“I’ll be here if you need me,” Thakur replied.
With a parting nose-touch and a flip of her tail, Ratha trotted on about her rounds.
* * *
In the afternoon, when the shadows grew and the sun sank, Ratha came back, looking for Thakur.
In another corner of the meadow near the forested border, she stopped, her eyes widening in curiosity, her whiskers and tail lifting. A strange little scene lay before her. In the shade of a large live-oak tree, Thistle-chaser, Thakur, and their treelings were busily making something. As Ratha approached, she caught the dry-leather smell of three-horn, dappleback, and striper hides lying rumpled and stiff on the ground. Several cubs were cleaning and softening the skin sides with their tongues.