Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named) (10 page)

“No, leave him,” she said suddenly. She winced, then looked relieved. “Ooh, that hurt. Your treeling just pulled out the wretched tick I’ve been carrying around for days. I couldn’t reach it with my teeth. What a relief!”

She let the treeling clean the rest of her back. When Aree was done, he jumped back onto Thakur and nestled between his shoulders, murmuring softly.

“Well?” Thakur looked at Ratha.

“Your creature felt like all the fleas in the forest were on my back, but I am glad to be rid of that tick.” Ratha shook herself. “Keep your treeling, then. I will tell the others not to eat the creature. He isn’t like the Red Tongue, but he seems to be useful. Will he groom others in the clan besides you and me?”

“If they are gentle and don’t frighten him.”

“What are you going to do with him now?” she asked.

“Take him to my den. I think he wants to sleep.” Ratha gave the treeling one more look. “I’m going to ask the yearlings if anything happened while I was gone,” she said and jogged away, swinging her tail. Thakur gazed after her, then turned up the path that led to his den. With his full stomach, he agreed with the treeling that a nap would be a good idea.

Chapter Eight

Most of the mated females became pregnant, carrying their cubs through the winter and giving birth in early spring. When the rainy season ended, the clan mothers brought their litterlings from the birth-dens to a secluded place amid an outcropping of stone. In this sheltered nursery, guarded by one or two females, the small cubs could sleep in the sun or crawl about on unsteady legs.

The nursery would have been too hot at midday if it hadn’t been for the shade of a sapling that leaned over the rocks. A gap in the lichen-dotted scones allowed a light breeze to cool the litterlings, but the nursery’s shelter kept out the chill of the early spring wind.

Ratha lay, half-asleep, with a heap of dozing cubs warming her belly. As in previous years, she had had no cubs of her own; she took nursery duty to allow the mothers a rest. She opened one eye and watched the sapling’s new leaves flutter in the breeze.

A fuzzy, chubby body blocked her view and little paws stepped on her face. The cub was too tiny to hurt her and she let him clamber across her muzzle, only objecting when he stopped halfway to chew on her whiskers. With a grunt, she shook him off, caught him by the scruff and swung him into the pile of his fellows who were still asleep.

“Hmph. Your mother had better teach you that my whiskers aren’t blades of grass, even though they may look that way when I’m lying down,” she grumbled, giving him a nudge with her nose.

She lay back to enjoy the quiet, but soon other litterlings woke and began climbing all over her, butting her with their heads and digging in the fur of her belly to find her nipples. They would have to stay hungry until one of the mothers came to feed them, she thought, regretting she had no milk.

“Sleep until Fessran comes and she will feed you,” she said.

Ratha flicked her tail away from a cub that had started gnawing on it, surprised that such tiny teeth could be so sharp. She tried to nap again, but the litterlings wouldn’t leave her alone. She was starting to lose some of her patience when Fessran slithered through the opening in the rocks and flopped down to feed the hungry young. There were tiny squeals and growls as the small cubs fought for places at her teats. Ratha sat and watched, smelling the rich scent of flowing milk as the cubs nursed.

“Well, has our clan leader had enough of tending nurslings?” Fessran teased.

“They don’t squabble as much as the grown cubs I have to look after,” Ratha said.

Fessran grunted. “Give them time. They will. Especially mine.” She leaned over to nudge her little male and left a sooty smudge on him. “The black stuff won’t hurt,” said Fessran. “It’s just another spot. I’ll clean him up when I’m through nursing the rest.”

“Being a Firekeeper’s cub may have its problems,” Ratha teased. “If he keeps gaining spots, how will he ever lose them as he should when he grows up?”

Fessran yawned. “Speaking of Firekeepers’ cubs, has Bira brought hers out yet?”

“No. She had a late litter. They’re still too young.”

“Ptahh!
She had them not long after I had mine. She’s just afraid that hers aren’t going to be the best. They’re not, of course, but I’m sure they’ll be acceptable. I think you should have a talk with her. She should be helping the rest of us mothers with the nursery.”

“She’s young; this is her first litter,” Ratha protested. “I don’t want to bother her yet. But I am curious about Shongshar. Does he take an interest in the litter?”

“Yes. He is more concerned with his cubs than any male I’ve known.”

“He seems to be good with youngsters,” Ratha said reflectively, getting up. The prospect of Shongshar having a strong attachment to his cubs made her uneasy, but she did not voice her concerns to the Firekeeper. Instead, she asked, “Is Shongshar as good a Firekeeper as you had hoped he’d be? I know the guard-fires have stayed strong and we haven’t recently lost any animals to raiders.”

Fessran’s eyes lit with pride as she answered, “Shongshar is as good as I’d hoped and even better. Not only is he brave and quick, but he sets a good example for the younger Firekeepers and encourages them to work harder.”

“Good.” Ratha let her uneasiness fade.

The cubs who hadn’t found a place to nurse crawled all over Fessran, their mewing shrill and insistent.

“Is someone coming to help you feed the litterlings?” Ratha asked.

“Drani is coming and her teats are full.” Fessran grimaced and shoved a cub away from her belly. “Ouch, you little son of a mare! You’re supposed to suck, not chew.”

With that, Ratha took her leave.

During the next few days, she found herself watching both Shongshar and Bira. Shongshar was immensely proud of his new offspring and it showed in every step he took. Bira, however, seemed subdued. She was pleased at having her first cubs. But the happiness Ratha saw in the eyes of other mothers was marred in hers by uncertainty. Bira still did not bring her litterlings to the nursery and Ratha decided, reluctantly, that it was time to speak to her about it.

It was just after sunset and she was resting in her den trying to think of the best way to approach the young mother about her secrecy. She heard the tread of someone approaching and smelled Fessran. She raised her head, catching the sharp scent of anger in the Firekeeper’s odor.

“What is it?” she asked as Fessran came to the mouth of the den, her tail wagging and her fur bristling.

“That little idiot Bira!” Fessran hissed. “She’s abandoned her cubs. Shongshar came to me when he found them cold and hungry. She must have gone mad. I’ve never heard of anyone doing such a thing.”

A prickling apprehension began to creep over Ratha. “Is Shongshar with you?”

“No. He’s with the cubs, trying to keep them warm. I’ll go to Bira’s den and nurse them if you’ll try to find her.”

Ratha hesitated. Invading a new mother’s lair was not something that clan females usually did. Each of them knew how fiercely they guarded their own privacy and the right to decide whether they would show their cubs. Only the clan leader could violate that privacy and only when there was need. Fessran hadn’t said it directly, but Ratha knew she was asking for permission to enter Bira’s den.

“All right. Go feed them.” Ratha crawled out of the den and shook herself, trying to get rid of the cold chill that seemed to crawl through her fur. It was a worry she had long suppressed and had almost forgotten about. Now it came back in Thakur’s words and his voice.

“No,” she growled to herself. Fessran gave her a puzzled look.

“Nothing. Go on. I’ll find Bira. Where did you see her last?”

“At one of the guard-fires around the meadow. Her partner left, but she may have stayed,” Fessran said and bounded away.

Ratha took the trail that led to the meadow. Bira’s scent was present, but faint, telling Ratha that the Firekeeper had gone to the meadow but had not returned. When Ratha arrived, she looked into the night, narrowing her eyes so she could see farther. At the most distant flame she made out the form of a single fire-tender.

As Ratha neared the fire, Bira charged out, her ears flattened and her teeth bared. “Go away! I told everyone I don’t need any help.”

Ratha held her ground. Bira’s pace slowed and her lashing tail went stiff. “I appreciate your diligence, Firekeeper,” Ratha said dryly. “But there are others who are waiting to serve their turn at duty.”

Bira’s eyes widened in dismay. “Clan leader! I didn’t
   
mean ...”

“I know you didn’t,” Ratha said, trying to make her voice sound kind. “Come back to the fire and tell me why you abandoned your cubs.”

Bira followed her back to the circle of warm light thrown by the guard-fire. Ratha saw that Bira’s red-brown coat was rough and her tail ungroomed and matted. The young mother’s nipples bulged with too much milk and she admitted that they hurt.

“Why don’t you go and feed your litterlings?” Ratha asked again. Bira flinched and ducked her head, saying nothing.

“Is there something the matter with them?”

Bira trembled and then gave a little jerk as if she wanted to jump up and flee. She turned her head away and gazed with longing into the night. This was not like Bira at all, Ratha thought. She had always been calm and level-headed, even as a cub. Her only fault was vanity; she was overly proud of her long bushy tail. That she had ceased to groom herself told how troubled she was.

As Ratha watched her, she grew more certain that she knew the cause of Bira’s distress.

“Bira,” she said softly. “Are you afraid your cubs have no light in their eyes?”

The young mother shuddered and suddenly the words burst out of her. “Shongshar thinks there’s nothing wrong with them, but he doesn’t know. I’m the one who sees the lack of something in their eyes. I’m the one who tries to get them to say their first word, afraid that they will never speak ...”

“Bira, it’s too early to tell,” Ratha said, trying to make herself believe her own words. “Have any of the cubs in other litters begun to talk?”

“No ... but they try. Fessran said that her little female is starting to imitate her and makes noises that are almost words.”

“Ptahh! Fessran brags about her young. All the mothers do,” Ratha said, trying to comfort her. “And you should know better than to listen to them.”

But Bira didn’t seem convinced. “No,” she said stubbornly, looking at the ground. “There is something wrong. Maybe I carried them too long or my milk is bad.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your milk,” Ratha insisted. Bira said nothing. She sat and shivered even in the warmth of the fire. For a long time she stared at nothing.

“Fessran asked to nurse your cubs,” Ratha said at last. “I told her to feed them. I can’t let litterlings starve just because you think there is something wrong with them. We need every cub we can raise. I want you to take them back and care for them until we know if they can be named. Will you go and nurse them?”

Bira shut her eyes. “No, clan leader.”

Ratha sighed. “Well, I can’t drag you to your den and force you to nurse. Since Fessran is willing to feed your young, would you be willing to care for hers?”

“If my milk made my litterlings sick, wouldn’t it hurt hers?” Bira asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Ratha patiently.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble ... yes, I will feed Fessran’s cubs.”

Bira gave the guard-fire some more wood and then followed Ratha back across the meadow. The clan leader waved her tail at two other Firekeepers, who promptly took Bira’s place.

The young mother wasn’t sure that Fessran’s cubs would accept her, but soon Bira was lying on her side in the maternal lair with three cubs sucking and kneading her belly. Once she had been made comfortable, Ratha went to the other den to tell Fessran that her young were being cared for. Then she returned to her own den and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning Ratha came by to see how Bira’s cubs were faring. When she arrived at the den, Fessran had finished feeding them and was gone. Shongshar was taking them out of the den to play. This was the first time she had seen his young in full daylight and she studied the cubs carefully.

Even though his litterlings were slightly younger than most of the clan cubs, they seemed older. They were larger, stronger and steadier on their legs than cubs in other litters. Although their heads had the same round baby form as other cubs’, there was a subtle hint that they would develop the same arched skull as their father. The color of the fur between their spots was a fawn so light it looked ashy, with touches of silver-gray. Their infant chubbiness couldn’t quite hide the heavier forequarters and longer forelegs. Their paws were large, showing that they would someday equal their father in size. The smell on them was more Shongshar’s than Bira’s.

She watched him too and saw that, unlike most of the clan males, who wouldn’t tolerate their cubs until they reached a sensible age, Shongshar was delighted with his. He abandoned his usual reserve and played with them as if he were just another cub in the same litter. He let them attack his tail, chew on his ears and climb all over him. Ratha had never heard Shongshar purr, but the continuous rumble that came from his throat as he rubbed his cheek against the little male was the sound of absolute contentment.