Fessran only yawned. “You bear no scars on your pelt,” she said dryly. Some of the Firekeepers lolled their tongues in derisive grins.
Shoman’s eyes blazed. “Wounds may be deep but unseen. I know my lair-father died at the jaws of the Un-Named. That is enough.”
Several of the herders who were Shoman’s friends flattened their ears at the Un-Named One. The silvercoat ignored them, drawing himself in and sitting stiffly.
“No, it is not enough,” Fessran snapped. “What you want, Shoman, is revenge, not what is best for the rest of us. As for teeth, we all have them and we could all bite each other’s throats if we were savage enough.” She stamped impatiently. “You of the clan, don’t you know what you saw that night of the dance-hunt? You saw someone with the strength of will to fight his fear of the Red Tongue, someone who stood his ground against my Firekeepers even when he was sick and starving.”
Fessran began to circle, twitching her tail. “Yes, he wants to fill his belly. All of us do. And he will earn that right by using his courage to defend our herds.”
She reared up on her hind legs, her belly fur showing golden-white in the flame’s glow.
“Cherfan!” she called to him. “You lost a litterling in the Un-Named raids. What was his name?”
Cherfan reacted slowly, blinking in surprise. “He was called Shongshar.”
“Good. What the Un-Named have taken, they will give back. Had Cherfan’s cub lived, he would have been a brave herder and sired strong young. I have seen that this one”—she wagged her whiskers toward the silvercoat—“shows much courage in guarding the animals. As for young, we will have to wait a little while, but not too long, I think.” Fessran cast a sly glance at the young females among the Firekeepers.
Trust Fessran to provide a little humor, Ratha thought, but the Firekeeper’s words made her uneasy and the shadow of an old memory fell across her mind. She looked for Thakur and found him sitting stiffly. She had never seen him look so solemn.
“Shongshar is a good name,” Fessran was saying. “It shouldn’t be lost. Let the newcomer join and give him that name. Let the clan have a new Shongshar!”
Again there was an uproar. Ratha noticed that the silvercoat was saying the name to himself; trying it to see how it fit. Fessran, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting, swaggered over to Thakur. For an instant he didn’t seem to know she was there, then he jerked his head around and faced her.
The Firekeeper’s intent wasn’t malicious as Shoman’s had been. She did have a tendency to poke fun at those who took themselves too seriously. Ratha herself had received a few sharp digs from the claws of Fessran’s wit.
“Herder, you spoke against the Un-Named One at the start of this meeting,” Fessran said, still looking amused. “Why are you quiet now?” The sudden misery on his face made the Firekeeper lose her grin. Her brows drew together and she said something to Thakur in a softer tone that Ratha couldn’t hear.
She caught Thakur’s reply as he got to his feet.
“No, Fessran. The clan needs to hear this.” He surveyed the group, looking into the eyes of all who were assembled... except those of the newcomer. “I wish to cast no doubt on the truth of Fessran’s words. I only remind you that there are many trails to one place and each one shows us different sights. Fessran has taken you along one trail; I must show another.” Thakur paused. “First I must tell you that the one who sits beside me is worthy to bear the dead cub’s name. He saved a yearling from death on a herdbeast’s horns. Ratha can tell you that story better than I.”
“If you mean to support him,” Fessran interrupted, her eyes wide, “why did you want to leave him out of the meeting?”
“I have other words besides those of praise,” Thakur snapped back. “Firekeeper leader, like everyone else here, I try to make things easy for myself. What I have to say would be easier if he weren’t listening to it.”
Ratha caught the silvercoat peering at Thakur with complete bewilderment in his orange eyes. One ear was cocked forward, the other back, as though he didn’t know whether to be jubilant or outraged. Other clan members exchanged puzzled looks. Shoman looked completely taken aback and Ratha didn’t blame him.
“We have made many mistakes about the clanless ones,” said Thakur. “We thought them all witless and we found a few were not. We thought them too scattered and incapable of a major attack on the clan. We were wrong. Now we think we know enough about them to accept them into the clan. I warn you that we may be wrong again.” Thakur took a breath. “Ratha, you said there have been many changes. That is so, but not all things can or should change. The old law that forbade Named from mingling with Un-Named had a reason for being. It kept the light in the cubs’ eyes. If we forget it now, we risk losing what we have struggled to be.”
He looked up at Ratha as he spoke, and she felt her old memory rise and wash over her like a river flood. The faces of her own cubs, with their blank animal eyes ...
The seasons had covered that pain slowly; the days falling on it like leaves to the forest floor. Now it was back again and the pain as fresh as ever. Thakur’s face seemed to change in her vision; his green eyes turning amber with a hint of bitter yellow; his scarred muzzle turning to one that was unblemished except for a broken left lower fang. Even his odor changed, becoming stronger and wilder: the scent of one who had lived alone and hunted for himself until he had taken her as his mate.
She thrust the memory away and saw the face that was really before her. Why does Thakur have to look and smell so much like his dead brother?
A sense of shame rose up as Bonechewer’s memory receded. She had been so caught up in Fessran’s idea that she had nearly forgotten the harsh lesson the past had taught her. Now she wanted to bury her head between her paws and cry aloud.
Thakur spoke again and she focused once more on his voice. “I think it is better for the Un-Named One and for ourselves that we not accept him and that he leave clan ground.” For the first time since he had returned to the group, he looked the silvercoat in the face. His whiskers started to droop. “I am sorry. I wish we had thought about it sooner.”
From her perch, Ratha studied the Un-Named One. The firelight played over him, making him seem to move abruptly, even though he stayed still and gazed at the clan with unreadable eyes.
Below her, arguments flew back and forth. Anger and disappointment showed on some faces, puzzlement on others. Fessran looked especially disgruntled and Ratha guessed she would not easily forgive Thakur if he destroyed her vision of a replacement for the dead Shongshar.
She caught fragments of conversations.
“... we can let him eat from the kill, but forbid him to mate ...”
“... our flock is getting too large. Another herder would be helpful ...”
“... the way those female Firekeepers look at him? They won’t be thinking of anything else once the heat has come on them ...”
Eyes turned to her for answers, but she had none. Either choice might wreck the clan. She felt paralyzed, lost, and wished she were running free in the night, with only herself to think about. Then, out of the confusion and despair came the beginnings of an idea. It wasn’t an easy one, but something told her it might work.
She jumped up and lashed her tail for silence. “I have listened to all who would speak. Now hear what I say. Fessran, you are right about our need. And Thakur, you speak wisely of the dangers. I also heard someone say we might accept the Un-Named One if he were forbidden to mate. That won’t work; no one thinks of that sort of thing when the time comes.