He trotted away downstream and, after one last look at Shongshar’s cubs, Ratha followed.
She said little on the journey back to clan ground. Although there was some hope that the abandoned young might survive, she knew she couldn’t risk telling Shongshar where they had been left. Thakur led the way back and she paced after him, wondering if she would ever lose the weariness of body and spirit that had crept over her, numbing her feelings.
Chapter Ten
For a while after Thakur and Ratha returned to clan ground, he noticed that she was unusually subdued and did not appear among the Named any more often than she had to. She spent much time in her den, her head resting on her paws, her eyes staring ahead at nothing.
“It would have been no easier for me if Shongshar had taken his cubs out and abandoned them,” she muttered in response to Thakur’s gentle questioning. “It was I who allowed him into the clan to sire those cubs and it was I who decided he must lose them. I wish I could forget that they were ever born, but I keep seeing those little faces before me.”
“You didn’t kill the cubs,” Thakur pointed out. “We chose a place for them where there is food and they will be safe.”
“Until the next hungry beast comes along. It doesn’t really matter. Shongshar thinks they are dead and so does everyone else who knew about them. Only you and I know that they may survive, at least for a little while.”
She sighed, laid her head back on her paws and stared away again, not noticing when Aree hopped up on her and began to groom her pelt. Thakur called the treeling back again, knowing that Ratha’s distress was something she would have to come to terms with by herself; he couldn’t help her. He wondered if the faces she saw in her waking dreams were those of Shongshar’s cubs or of her own lost young.
Gradually she came out of her lassitude, but whether she had resolved her feelings or just buried them, Thakur couldn’t tell. As much as he wanted to stay with her and comfort her, he had other duties that called him. The cubs in the spring litters were now old enough so that he would soon have to begin training some of them as herders.
“It’s too early to wake up,” Thakur grumbled, opening one eye at his treeling. Aree cocked his head at him and evaded his sleepy paw. For some reason the creature was unusually frisky. On all fours he galloped to the threshold of the den, poked his nose out, galloped back and leaped on Thakur. The creature pawed his fur and told him, with various treeling noises, what he thought of those who snored in their dens while there was such a beautiful morning outside.
The scolding, plus the impact Aree had made when he landed on him, brought Thakur fully awake. “I’m feeding you too much,” he growled at the treeling. “You’re getting heavy.” The treeling had grown rapidly, reaching his adult size. Now when Aree stood beside Thakur on all fours, his back reached the level of the herding teacher’s belly. With his legs and tail outstretched, he could extend himself from Thakur’s shoulder to withers.
Aree looked at Thakur with such wide soulful eyes that he knew he must feed his creature. The herding teacher crawled wearily out of his den and found a dead tree that was covered with bark-beetles. Aree climbed up and munched on the insects until he was sated.
Thakur’s belly was still comfortably full from the previous day’s herdbeast kill, so he would not have to eat for a few days. He shivered as the cold in the early morning air crept into his coat. The mothers would eventually bring their cubs to the meadow and the first day’s teaching would begin, but it was still much too early.
He considered returning to his den, but the treeling was still lively. Aree would never let him go back to sleep. He decided instead to take a walk out to the meadow. Some Firekeepers might still be on duty and he could warm himself at the guard-fires.
Only a single fire was still going when he got there, and he could see that the Firekeeper was getting ready to put it out. During winter, the guard-fires burned night and day, but in summer they were only needed in darkness, or when an attack threatened the herds.
He quickened his pace and called to the Firekeeper. He had not expected that it would be Bira.
She greeted him with a nose-touch and asked when he was to start teaching.
“This morning, but not for a while,” he answered. “My treeling got me up.”
“Could Aree groom my tail?” asked Bira, glancing at the treeling. “I didn’t take care of myself for a while and now I’ve got some wretched burrs that I can’t get out with my teeth.”
“I think Aree wouldn’t mind.” Thakur nosed Aree off his back and Bira spread her tail along the ground. She still looked a bit thin and worn, but the fact she had begun to care about how she looked told Thakur that she was recovering from the shock of learning that her young were witless.
“Are the cubs gone?” she asked suddenly.
Thakur hesitated. “Yes. I helped Ratha take them away.”
“Don’t tell me where. I don’t want to know.” Her tail twitched beneath Aree’s paws. “I’ll have another litter next spring. Shongshar will have to go away when the mating season comes again, won’t he?”
“I suppose he will,” the herding teacher answered. Perhaps Shongshar would accompany him on his annual journey away from the clan. The prospect of having a partner during his yearly exile was something he might welcome to help ease the loneliness of being away. However, he reminded himself, his own retreat was self-imposed. Shongshar’s might not be. Ratha certainly didn’t want any more empty-eyed litters born on clan ground.
Bira dug her claws into the dirt and grimaced as Aree pulled hard at a tangle in her tail. The treeling wrapped his own tail around hers, to steady himself. He gave a tremendous yank and the burr came free. Aree held the hair-covered thing up in his paws and Bira sighed with relief.
When the treeling had finished grooming Bira, he climbed back on Thakur and cleaned his own coat. She yawned and then began scuffing dirt on the flickering fire.
“Wait,” said Thakur. “It’s early and I’m still cold. Why don’t you let me keep the Red Tongue for a while?”
Bira looked doubtful. “The ashes should be buried. Fessran said that was important.”
“I’ll bury them when I’ve warmed myself. Look at Aree. He’s shivering too. After all, he did get that burr out of your tail.” He nudged the treeling and Aree responded by giving Bira a mournful look.
“All right. Since the other Firekeepers are gone, I’ll let you have it. But … don’t let Fessran know. She’s becoming strict with us about the proper care of the fire-creature. She wasn’t that hard on us before, but she is now. I think she’s been listening to Shongshar a lot lately.” Bira wrinkled her nose. “Too much if you ask me.”
Mildly surprised at this, Thakur promised and Bira trotted off, swinging her tail and yawning. He curled up near the fire, which had fallen into embers with a few ragged flames licking charred branches. Aree sat on Thakur’s flank, gazing at the fire. He noticed that the treeling had stopped fidgeting and grown unusually quiet.
All creatures except the Named feared fire and would not come close to it. Even Aree had huddled in Thakur’s fur when he had first brought his new companion near the Red Tongue. Now Thakur wondered if his treeling might have gained some of the same understanding that allowed the Named to tame their fear of the fire. It was ridiculous to suggest that treelings could think as well as the Named did, but Aree had shown surprising cleverness and interest in things other than food and grooming. The treeling also seemed to be aware of Thakur’s feelings; something the herding teacher did not expect from a creature he thought of as an animal Dapplebacks and three-horns were animals too, but they were kept to be eaten. Aree was different.