“Got you,” Anders said, and followed directions, adding on his own initiative a spray or two of antiseptic. He figured treecat spit was probably good enough, but why take a risk? “Now, let me see that ear.”
He motioned and Valiant understood. Very carefully, Valiant pulled away the pad to reveal the complete ruin of what had only moments before been a perky treecat ear. The wreckage was still seeping blood, and Valiant clamped the pad back down.
Anders fought an urge to gag, swallowed hard, then reached back into the first aid kit.
“First stop the bleeding. If you can’t, figure out if something major has been cut and seal the wound…” he muttered to himself.
He managed the first two steps. Since none of the treecats they’d tended back at the camp had been freshly wounded, the kit still held all its trauma supplies. With Valiant’s help—he’d started that thrumming purr again—Anders got the wound cleaned and treated. He didn’t think anything could be done to replace the ear, but at least Guide wouldn’t be in so much pain.
Anders was finishing up when he heard an urgent “bleek” from Valiant. The ’cat had risen all the way onto his true-feet and was pointing in the direction in which they’d been heading. Anders turned to look.
The attacking treecat lay where they’d left him, still bound, although he’d managed to toss his head free from the enclosing folds of Anders’ jacket and lay glowering.
But that wasn’t what had Valiant’s attention. He was looking beyond their captive, up into the forest canopy. Anders looked into the trees and gasped.
The branches were full of treecats and, if he was any judge of that species, they were not at all happy.
Chapter Twenty
Dirt Grubber’s mind was almost overwhelmed by the flood of unfamiliar mind-glows. Normally, he would not have found meeting even an entire clan all that difficult, but these People were unhappy and the force of their emotions was directed fully at him.
Complicating matters was the swirl of dark and incoherent emotions coming from where Swimmer’s Scourge lay bound. The elder Person’s mind voice was silent, but the anger and tension that flowed from him was so powerful that it made Dirt Grubber anxious and tense. He found it difficult to shape a coherent thought, and he wished he could simply beat away this newest complication.
Fortunately, Nimble Fingers was a tough sort—or maybe he was more accustomed to the madness that was Swimmer’s Scourge. He broadcast as loudly and firmly as he could, <This is my friend Dirt Grubber of the Damp Ground and Windswept Clans. Without the help of him and his two-leg friends, I would not be speaking with you.>
He went on, swiftly sharing images of how Swimmer’s Scourge had attacked them, how Bleached Fur had broken the assault, then tended the injured. Without leaving room for comment or debate, he segued immediately into images of what he had learned from Keen Eyes regarding the death of Red Cliff. In the manner of the People, this vast wash of information was shared even more quickly than the original events had unfolded.
As Nimble Fingers concluded, a brown figure with white spots separated herself from the general throng. Politely, she introduced herself to Dirt Grubber, <I am Pleasant Singer, senior memory singer of the Trees Enfolding Clan.>
She did not need to say how shocked and appalled those assembled were by what they had just learned, nor that the news would be relayed to those of the clan who had remained behind at their central nesting place. Dirt Grubber could taste that in the framing of her thoughts.
Pleasant Singer continued, <Can you believe that we knew nothing of this? Nimble Fingers’ report is like the breeze that sweeps away the fog. I see now that our minds have been fogged since the days when the fires threatened us and gnawed at our territory. Our losses were not as great as those of this Landless Clan, but they were enough to leave us in turmoil.>
Dirt Grubber understood. Pleasant Singer’s words were accompanied by images that made him shiver. Most of the time a clan benefited from shared mind-glows. If one mind was out of balance—due to illness or injury—then there were mind healers to rebalance it, as a more usual healer would clean and treat physical wounds.
But the mind healers of Trees Enfolding Clan had been overwhelmed by the need of their clan mates. Then, too, Swimmer’s Scourge had possessed the cunning of his insanity. He had hidden his deeper unbalanced state within the cloak of the general unsettled situation of the clan. As a scout, he had also had ample excuse to stay away from the central nesting place. Lastly, the mind healers, so overstressed by the many demands upon them, had simply not looked deeply beneath the surface of the thoughts of such a respected senior. However, the inner turmoil of Swimmer’s Scourge had not been unfelt. It had seeped into the general mood of the clan, eventually tipping the balance so that the members who felt most threatened by Landless Clan’s presence when their own range was so reduced had overreacted when Nimble Fingers had been taken.
After that, there had been yet more injured bodies and minds to be treated, for the Landless Clan had fought back with a ferocity born of sheer desperation. The end result was that Swimmer’s Scourge had been lost—and only this moment was he found out for the poor, dangerous, tormented Person that he was.
<If you will give Swimmer’s Scourge to us,> Pleasant Singer went on, <we will take him home and see what our mind healers can do for him. We would like to take Nimble Fingers home, too. I promise you, the Landless Clan will not be harmed. I will send one of my junior memory singers to them with our promises. We will bring them what food we can spare.>
Dirt Grubber listened thoughtfully. Then he said, <I see, though, that you believe that your territory will not support the Landless Clan, even if the members of both clans combine their efforts.>
Pleasant Singer twitched back her ears in unhappiness. <I fear not. Perhaps if this was the middle of the growing season and there was time to gather more food. Perhaps if the fires had not driven away so many of the larger prey animals, perhaps then. But the days of deep snows are coming. Already many of the prey animals that remain are drifting to even lower reaches than these.>
Dirt Grubber had to agree. If they pooled their efforts, the two clans might manage to survive, but they would be taking a tremendous risk. From the sense of her territory that Pleasant Singer shared with him, he could also see why she did not think that simply permitting the Landless Clan to move through to seek a new home would solve the problem. Time and again, there were reasons against new settlement in a particular area beyond Trees Enfolding’s borders. Some were natural, but all too many were caused by the two-legs claiming the same lands.
<Then you and your clan will help for now,> he replied, <and I will see what can be done to find these landless People a new nesting place, one rich enough to carry them through winter.>
Pleasant Singer did not ask how this could be done for he had shared with her his hope the two-legs could somehow be enlisted. Dirt Grubber felt that Windswept and Bleached Fur were as devoted as he was to making sure the Landless Clan could live through the cold months. He felt they were wise enough to realize that doing this would take more than a few boxes of dead birds.
When the conference was ended, several of the strongest males came forward with a litter made from net strung between branches. They lifted Nimble Fingers with great gentleness.