Shongshar lay, looking at her in silence while the shadows crept over his coat. His daughter squeaked and he hushed her. “So you know what this is like.” He nudged the cub, who gave Ratha a wide-eyed stare, then blinked and yawned.
Ratha found it difficult to keep her gaze steady. “Yes, I do,” she answered finally. “I’m … sorry.”
He looked away. “What must I do now if I choose to obey you?”
“Take the cubs far away from clan ground and leave them. Or, if you choose not to obey me, you may leave the clan tonight and take them with you.” She paused, letting him absorb her words. “I will return to your den tomorrow morning. Either way, if you stay or leave, the cubs must be gone.”
“And if I choose to go?”
Ratha swallowed. “Then we will lose the best fire-tender we have ever trained. Your name will be given to the eldest male in the next litter that is born and you will again be the orange-eyed one among the Un-Named.”
She got up. The shadows were fading with the coming twilight. “Despite everything, I wish you well, Shongshar,” she said and hoped he couldn’t see how she had begun to tremble.
She suddenly wanted to be with someone who could give her comfort, or at least some understanding and companionship. Thakur, she thought, I need you. I know we have disagreed, but don’t turn away from me now … please don’t turn away …
The desire to see the herding teacher became an overwhelming hunger that sent her flying down the darkened trail in search of him.
“Watch out, clan leader!” came a familiar voice out of the dusk; she saw a pair of green eyes ahead on the trail. Ratha stopped so fast to avoid a collision that she skidded on wet leaves and fell on her side. Her breath burning in her throat, she hauled herself to her feet.
She forgot her embarrassment and her soggy flank as Thakur’s voice and scent reached her. The green eyes blinked. Another, smaller pair glowed momentarily and Ratha made out the shape of the treeling’s face between the outline of Thakur’s ears.
The herding teacher came forward to touch noses with her. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“To find you,” Ratha gulped. “You were right about Shongshar. Bira’s cubs are witless. You were right and I didn’t listen,” she cried. “Oh, I wish I had!”
Thakur was quiet for a while and his silence tore at her in a way worse than angry words could. When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he said, “Come with me to my den. We’ll talk there.”
Gratefully she padded after him until they reached his lair. He stood aside to let her in and then followed.
“I knew Bira had abandoned her litter,” he said as she curled up with the earthen wall of the den against her back. The rich smell of soil and leaf-mold mixed with his scent made her feel better.
“Their eyes are empty,” she said, feeling her voice growing steadier. “I know. I looked at them.”
“There is no chance that you are mistaken?”
“How could I be wrong, when my own cubs were like that? I’ll never forget my daughter’s eyes. I imagine Bira won’t forget hers either.” Her voice was heavy with self-accusation.
“She’ll get over it, in time. You did.”
Ratha laid her head on her paws. “I did until seeing Shongshar’s cubs brought it all back.”
“What have you told Shongshar?”
“I reminded him of his promise to me and gave him the choice of abandoning his cubs in order to stay, or taking them with him and leaving the clan.”
“Can he take them?” Thakur asked.
“I think so. They were still nursing, but Fessran was starting to feed them chewed meat. He can’t give them milk, but he can chew meat for them.”
She heard the soft sound of the herding teacher’s tail brushing the ground as he curled it around himself. “When does Shongshar have to make the choice?”
“I said I would come to his den tomorrow. If the cubs are still there, I suppose I will have to take charge of them myself.” She sighed unhappily at the thought of that possibility.
She heard an odd shuffling noise and then Thakur saying softly, “Go on, little friend. She knows you. She won’t hurt you.”
She felt the treeling’s paws on her hind foot and held still as Aree hopped up onto her leg and walked up her flank to her back, where he began grooming her fur. Aree’s touch was so gentle and careful that she wondered if the treeling knew she was upset.
“The longer I have Aree, the more I think he knows what I’m feeling,” said Thakur, and his voice was warm with affection for the treeling. “He doesn’t speak, but he seems to say things with his paws.”
“He is very gentle. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m a bit wet.” Ratha felt her tenseness seeping away and stretched her mouth wide in a great yawn. “I just had a funny thought.”
“What?”
“Aree grooms me the way you would if you had his clever little paws. Maybe he’s got some of you in him.”
“Perhaps,” said Thakur softly. “Do you feel better?”
“A little. I wish he could groom out all my bad feelings along with the ticks and the fleas.”
“Not even a treeling can do that.”
Ratha drew in her breath and let it out in a huge sigh, lifting the treeling up on her ribs and letting him sink down again.
“Are you thinking about tomorrow?” Thakur asked, after he had been quiet awhile.
“Yes. I hope Shongshar’s cubs are gone when I reach the den. I’ll still have to face Fessran and tell her what has happened, but I’d much rather do that than have to take them out and abandon them myself.”
“I’ll come with you, if you want.”
“I thought you were angry with me,” she said, surprised.
“Not any more.” He paused. “If you do have to take the cubs, you can’t carry both of them at once.”
“Thakur, you don’t have to,” Ratha answered, ashamed and grateful at the same time. “This is my responsibility.”
“The responsibility belongs to all of us,” he said as Aree finished cleaning Ratha’s fur and climbed down from her back. She felt warmed, comforted and ready to sleep. Perhaps she would be able to face the coming day after all, she thought.
She woke early, unsure of what had roused her. It might have been a bird trilling outside or the faint morning light filtering into the den. She buried her nose in her tail and tried to shut her eyes again, but it was useless. Thoughts of the task that lay ahead stole sleep away. All she could do was watch and wait while the gray light outside grew stronger and Thakur’s ribs rose and fell with his slow breathing. Aree, curled up against his belly, looked like a small cub with dusky brown fur.
The treeling began to stir. Thakur twitched and moved in his slumber. She hoped he would wake soon; it was nearly time to depart for Shongshar’s den. When he settled down again and began to snore, she reached out a hind foot and poked him. He grumbled a sleepy protest, but his eyes opened and, when she stepped over him on her way out of the den, he quickly came to life.
A ragged fog lay along the ground and patches of mist hung around the few stands of trees. Thakur crawled out of the den with Aree wobbling and yawning on his back. The treeling eyed the weather with distaste and fluffed his fur.
The moist air held scents well and before Ratha reached Shongshar’s den she knew he and the cubs would still be there. Someone else would also be with them. Fessran’s odor and footprints were fresh, telling Ratha that the Firekeeper leader had taken the same path earlier in the morning.