The meadow was large and irregular, with smaller areas fenced off by brush and low trees. In one such corner, Ratha found Cherfan guarding a herd of three-horn deer while his partner for the day, red-gold Bira, tended a watch fire nearby.
Bira was an unusual and striking color for the Named, who tended to be shades of brown and tan, some with faint spots that lingered from their cubhood. The hue of Bira’s long fur was most intense down her back, deep gold tipped with reds and oranges. Her one vanity was her beautifully plumed tail.
Bira had two treelings sitting on her back. One started to jump up and down with excitement as Ratha approached.
“Here she is,” said Bira to the bouncing treeling, as the Firekeeper and Ratha touched noses and slid along one another.
“Was Ratharee any trouble?” Ratha asked, as the little female sprang from Bira’s back to Ratha’s nape.
“Oh no. She just visited with Cherfaree while I looked after the fire.”
Cherfaree was Bira’s new treeling. She had selflessly given up her original treeling, Biaree, to Thistle-chaser when Ratha’s daughter needed him to tie ropes to True-of-voice during the rescue. Bira had named this new one after her one-time mate Cherfan because she was fond of him, but also liked to tease him.
Bira’s new partner was from the second litter that Aree, the original treeling, had birthed. Aree was getting a few gray hairs around the muzzle but was still as lively as ever. Ratha wondered how long treelings lived. She hoped Thakur and Aree would have many more seasons together.
She felt Ratharee starting to groom her nape as she took her leave and went on.
In another section of the meadow, she found the main herd of dapplebacks. New foals played with one another, rearing and play-kicking with their four-toed feet. Their sweaty wet-fur scent blended with the fresh grass. Mondir and Drani watched these animals. Gray-brown Mondir was the same age as Ratha and had trained with her under Thakur. Hazel-eyed Drani was several seasons older, having been born under Meoran’s rule. She had startled Ratha by asking to be trained as a herder. She wanted to give the clan more than just cubs, although they were important to her as well.
Thakur had given Drani one-on-one attention, since she was more mature and disciplined than his cub-students. Both had enjoyed the process, and Drani emerged as a dedicated herder who worked best with dapplebacks; she was fond of the little horses and gentle with them.
Ratha didn’t have to inspect the herd closely. Trusting the two herders, she gave the horses a quick sniff, and departed.
She then made a partial circuit of clan ground, pausing to rub her chin on saplings, leaving her scent. Larger trees she clawed and sprayed, leaving the message that this was clan territory.
With Ratharee on her neck, she ended her circuit and jogged back to the center of the Named territory along the outbound path she had taken.
She was nearing the clan dens when an outraged squall broke the peaceful scene.
“Yeaaarrrr! I don’t care why that thing stuck its nose in my den, Mishanti! Get it out!”
Ratha could already guess why Fessran was yowling. Around a bend in the path, she saw the two rumblers, Grunt and Belch. Belch was casually eating another treetop while Grunt knelt down, huge snout buried up to the eyes in the entrance of a newly dug lair. Grunt’s half-closed eyes suddenly widened and his head jerked back enough for Mishanti’s spotted form to scramble out past his face.
Fessran’s rising yowl followed the cub. The rumbler yanked his nose out of the den, starting to back away. He lurched and teetered as dirt gave way beneath a massive hind foot. Ratha winced. Grunt had stepped through the roof of another den. More outraged cries joined Fessran’s. “Get this thing out of here!”
Ratha briefly thanked whatever guardian spirit looked after errant cubs and overgrown animals that there were no shrieks of pain. Most of the dens were empty since the Named didn’t use them in the spring and summer.
She was about to dive in, although not exactly sure what to do, when she heard a gasp behind her.
“Oh, no.”
It was Bundi. He galloped jerkily past Ratha and bounded up the nearest tree, screeching at Mishanti, who was trying to climb up Belch’s enormous foreleg.
“You little ball of dappleback dung! You knew Grunt would try to follow you in there.”
From the tree, Bundi launched himself with startling agility to Grunt’s rump and scrambled up the rumbler’s back to the head. Hissing and batting the huge ears, he got the big beast into a lumbering turn, but not before a forefoot sank in deep again. Ratha grimaced.
Fessran’s yowl grew stronger as the Firekeeper sprang out of the ruined entrance at Mishanti, grabbing him by the tail with her teeth. He jerked free and shot up Belch’s neck, leaving a trail of scratches. The rumbler only looked vaguely startled; Mishanti hadn’t penetrated the thick skin. Like Bundi, Mishanti gave a swipe at the ears and got the same result; Belch turned and trotted ponderously after Grunt. Fessran, her odor stinging and all her fur on end, bared her teeth and screeched abuse at the retreating den-wreckers.
“I’ll shred your hides, you poor excuses for face-tails! I just finished digging this lair. Bundi! Mishanti! Get your scrawny tails back here!”
Ratha, knowing better than to interrupt, let Fessran yell until she was panting. A very large dust cloud hung in the air in the direction of the escapees.
Fessran turned and glared at Ratha. “And you, clan leader. You let those two cubs keep those … those things! You should have culled them. I’d rather have their meat in my stomach than their clumsy feet through the roof of my den … .”
“Fess, calm down. I’ll help you redig the entrance.”
Fessran flicked her whickers toward the massive hole Grunt had left. “That lair was Thakur’s. He’s not going to be happy.”
“He isn’t using it,” Ratha pointed out patiently. “As for culling the creatures, you try.”
“This isn’t the first time,” Fessran said, her fur starting to flatten again, fading her anger-scent. “Two days ago that Belch-thing stuck her nose in Bira’s den while she was sleeping and nearly scared her out of her fur.”
“All right, all right. I’ll have a talk with Bundi and Mishanti.”
“Make them dig their own lairs for those creatures to trample on.” Fessran was still ruffled, but starting to settle down. With quick tongue-strokes, she licked the front of her ash-streaked forepaws and got up.
“Have you thought about including my Firekeepers in the herders’ show?” Fessran asked. “Bira’s new treeling can do some impressive things with the Red Tongue.”
“Everyone will have a part.”
“But as herders, not Firekeepers.”
Ratha smelled disappointment.
“Fess, I’m sorry. This show is to introduce the other tribe to our ways.”
Fessran snorted. “The Red Tongue is our way. You, of all of us, know that.”
“Of course I do. But I want to be cautious with it. You know how my creature changed us. We need to be very careful in choosing how and when we introduce it to True-of-voice and his people. As much as I want to be friends with them, we have to recognize that they could be a powerful threat.”
“Rrrrr, I suppose you’re right, clan leader. Still, it would have been fun to have Bira’s treeling jump up on one of the tamer dapplebacks with a torch.”
“Next season,” Ratha promised and added, “I didn’t want to overload True-of-voice with too many new impressions. Trying to understand our ways will be confusing enough for his people. I want to go one paw print at a time.”
“And you want to lift the paw and clean it before setting it down again.” Fessran’s whiskers relaxed.
“You understand,” Ratha said, relieved. “Good.”
A slight teasing glint crept into the Firekeeper’s eyes.
“I’m going to check the fire-den, clan leader. Assuming those rumbler-things haven’t trampled it as well. I thought face-tails were trouble, but these things …” She padded off, still grumbling to herself, but Ratha knew she wasn’t really that upset.