“I think that Quiet Hunter can provide more than a cure for that,” Fessran replied.
“I think that we should leave them alone,” Thakur said quietly to Ratha. “If Thistle needs you, she’ll come to you. I should go to the meadow and check the animals. And Bundi and Mishanti may need some help getting untied from their rumblers.”
The urgency of her heat reduced for the moment, Ratha followed Thakur into the meadow, enjoying the feel of Ratharee riding once again on her back. Actually, it was the edge of the meadow, for Thakur had to locate some tall trees in order to reach the two rumbler-riders and help them get down. Both Bundi and Mishanti were tired and stiff, but they still gave their mounts grateful pats and strokes. Grunt and Belch responded with their tongues, the only part of them that wouldn’t squash their small friends. Aree, clinging to Thakur’s shoulder as he climbed, and Ratharee, perched on Ratha as she followed, quickly freed the two riders from the vine ropes, which had gotten into a horrific tangle.
Thakur carried Bundi down; Ratha took Mishanti.
“I know you could have climbed down,” Ratha said to the pair when they reached the grass again. “But you’re tired, and we don’t want to risk having you two heroes fall.”
She saw both rumbler-riders exchange surprised glances and grins that quickly became yawns. She and Thakur herded them both into the shade beneath an oak and told them to sleep. Mishanti collapsed atop Bundi, who gathered his smaller friend in his paws. They both dissolved in snores while Grunt and Belch began browsing in a tree nearby.
“The terrible two,” Ratha mused. “Who would have thought they’d be the ones to save the clan.”
“Now they’ve got a reputation to live up to,” Thakur answered. “I’ll see that they do.”
Ratha stared at the female rumbler. Something about the line of the animal’s belly seemed a bit different. “Thakur, I don’t know much about these beasts, but I think Belch is going to have cubs… .”
She looked at him and she knew they were both sharing the same thought. More tree-eaters. More den-wreckers. But more guarantees that New Singer or one like him would have more difficulty overrunning clan ground.
“Maybe you’ll have to learn how to ride a rumbler,” Thakur teased.
“I don’t think so. The thought makes me dizzy.” At the sound of running footsteps, she spun around. “Look, Cherfan and the others are already back with the cubs.”
Trotting through the high grass of the meadow came Cherfan, decorated with Fessran’s two surviving youngsters; Bira, carrying her own plus her treeling, Cherfaree; Mondir, carrying an assorted bunch whose parentage Ratha couldn’t remember, and Quiet Hunter with Biaree on his nape and a clan cub held gently in his mouth. Last came hazel-eyed Drani, with her young son clinging to her neck, and, in her jaws, a hollow log packed with the Red Tongue’s embers. Ratha knew that the log contained what was left of the gift that Night-who-eats-stars had given the Named.
It was not the fire itself that mattered, for the Firekeepers had kept their lighted torches and a new blaze now burned in the fire-den. It was the idea, the technique that made fire much easier to keep and carry. Fessran and the Firekeepers would welcome anything that made their task less difficult.
If Night-who-eats-stars is my cub, he must have all my gifts and perhaps more, Ratha thought. I have to find him.
But not now. Now was for nuzzling and licking cubs, sorting out who was from what litter, giving them back to their mothers and then parading back to the nursery where everyone could flop down, the mothers could feed their young, and the rest of the clan could watch and relax, taking time to think about the events that had tumbled through the last few days. Ratha lay close beside Thakur, wondering when she might join Bira, Drani, and the others who lay in quiet contentment, suckling their young.
Ratha was mildly surprised when Quiet Hunter appeared in the nursery. He was alone but had Biaree on his back. He didn’t enter, but made his way around the edge to Ratha and Thakur.
“Where’s Thistle?” Ratha asked.
“Asleep in a safe place. This one has only comforted her, helping her to put the bad memories aside. This one will wait until she knows she is ready and has no fear. Even if the wait is until the next mating season.”
A weight that Ratha had not known was there felt lifted off her. She met Quiet Hunter’s eyes, saw there the depth of his caring for Thistle, and was deeply grateful.
Still a little shy, he looked away. “This one will do all he can for Thistle.”
“I know you will,” Ratha answered. “I am so glad you came to us, Quiet Hunter.”
“For this one, it was not easy. Losing the song brought death close. If not for Thistle and you, this one would no longer walk in life.”
“Me?” Ratha was startled.
“You made the choice to save the source of the song. Even Thistle’s caring could only sustain me for a while. When you saved and healed True-of-voice, you healed me as well. You and Thistle and all the others—you have taught me how powerful is the thing you call … kindness.”
Surprise and awe sank Ratha back on her rump, knowing that any other words would be inappropriate.
“This one … I … will go back to Thistle now. If she needs you, may I come and get you?”
“Yes, of course,” Ratha managed. She stared after Quiet Hunter as he left, her jaw hanging slightly open. She felt Thakur’s paw gently bump underneath her chin. Swallowing, she closed her mouth.
“Do you still think that saving True-of-voice was a mistake?” Thakur asked as she settled back against him.
“M-maybe it wasn’t. I have to think about what has happened.”
She laid her head on her paws and watched the cubs play in the nursery. Ratharee curled up beneath her chin, chirring softly.
* * *
Ratha knew that her first task was to make sure clan ground was safe and secure. With Thakur and Fessran by her side, she patrolled clan land, ready to search out and chase away any remaining threat. She didn’t find any. All the raiders, including New Singer, were gone.
She sent out younger males as scouts, including Ashon, Mishanti, and others who were not yet affected by the mating season. They reported that the renegades had gone back to the parent hunter tribe. That baffled Ratha until Quiet Hunter and Thakur joined the scouts in a foray near hunter territory. Quiet Hunter got close enough to pick up some of the scents, sounds, and feelings that transmitted True-of-voice’s mysterious song.
It was no longer “black” for him or any of the other young males. In addition, the one the Named had called “New Singer” was no longer, for he was again with his father, caught up in the power of True-of-voice’s song.
“I don’t understand,” Ratha said to Quiet Hunter after the two had returned. “Why did True-of-voice take the renegades back? When I asked him to, he refused. Their tribe still has too few females and again, too many males. Why did he change his mind?”
Quiet Hunter had a partial answer, though for Ratha, it was difficult to understand. Quiet Hunter’s mastery of Named speech was strained by the task, and Thakur had to help him explain.
In essence, when New Singer was literally driven back to True-of-voice by the stampede, the father could not help absorbing his son’s experience. Now True-of-voice understood what his exile of New Singer had done to the Named. His son and the other renegade males had not only attacked the Named as individuals, they had abused and destroyed the clan’s spirit, or what True-of-voice understood as the “song” that united the Named.
“I don’t really care how he thinks of it,” Ratha said at last. “What matters is that he understands enough to act, and he has.” She raised a paw and licked it thoughtfully. “But he still has the problem that we caused. The death of too many females in the canyon fire.”