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.
Yet, the longer she watched, the more she felt a growing uneasiness about the cubs. They played much as the litterlings in the nursery did: they stalked, pounced and wrestled; but there was something strangely lacking. Their movements were quick and their eyes keen; they seemed to notice everything that moved. But once the object, such as a swaying flower or their father’s tail, had been attacked and subdued, it held no further interest unless it moved again.
The litterlings in the nursery also were attracted by things that moved, but after the first clumsy pounce, the cub’s expression would change from the excitement of the hunter to the intent curiosity of one who hungered to understand its world. The litterlings’ eyes always held questions, even if their tongues were not yet ready to ask them.
Being careful not to disturb the three, Ratha edged closer so she could see more clearly. Shongshar’s eyes were glowing with affection and happiness as he tumbled the cubs about with his big paws. Their eyes were alive with momentary excitement, but there was nothing more. Trying to fight the chill creeping over her, Ratha stared hard until her own eyes ached, but she could see nothing. No questions, no hunger ... no light. As much as she desperately wished to deny it, she knew Bira’s instincts had been right.
She felt as though she were looking at cubs who had been stricken with sickness and were soon to die. The sight of them suddenly made her belly churn as it did when she smelled rotten meat; she hated herself for her feeling. Now she knew why Bira couldn’t nurse them. If she had forced the young mother to care for these cubs, she would certainly have killed them and then run from the clan in shame and despair.
“Clan leader!” Shongshar had caught sight of her. Ratha gathered her feelings together and put them away. She forced herself to approach him.
“I see that they’re thriving on Fessran’s milk,” she said, unable to think of anything else.
“I’m grateful to her for nursing them.” Shongshar stopped and looked troubled. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with Bira. How could she leave such fine cubs as these? Look how quick and strong they are.”
Ratha knew she didn’t have to answer him. As clan leader, she didn’t have to answer anyone if she didn’t want to. She could just mumble something vague and walk away. She looked up into his eyes. The happiness had gone, replaced by the shadow of the same pain she had seen in Bira’s. Inwardly she hesitated, knowing that what she must say next would only add to his hurt.
“Shongshar, do you remember the promise you made to me the night you were given your name?”
His ears twitched as if he wanted to lay them back and hiss at her. “Yes,” he said harshly. His eyes widened, becoming frightened, almost pleading. “Clan leader, isn’t it too soon to tell? I’m sure my cubs will have the light in their eyes when they are older. You can’t judge them now. Please, give them some time. I know what Bira thinks, and she’s wrong; I know she is.”
Ratha wanted to turn away from him, but she forced herself to stay where she was and show no expression. “Do you regret that promise to me?” she asked him.
“No. There was no other choice. If I hadn’t come to you, I would have died,” he said simply. “But I thought it would be easy to give up my cubs. I never knew how I would feel about them.”
Thakur knew, she thought. That was the reason he was worried.
“I won’t judge them now,” she said, looking directly at him. “You are right; it is not yet time. But the time will come when I must judge them and you must accept my decision.”
His tail drooped and he looked at the ground. “I understand, clan leader.”
He said no more and went back to playing with the cubs, but his movements seemed slower and less spirited. Ratha found it easier not to watch as she went away.
The following day, Ratha visited the nursery. The weather seemed to share her stormy mood. Spring had retreated back into winter, with gusty winds that blew her fur backward and stole the warmth from her coat. Despite the weather, the mothers had brought their cubs out; two females were looking after a large collection of active youngsters.
Most of the cubs had mastered the skill of walking and were now attempting to run. The nursery enclosure was full of spotted bodies hurtling from one side to the other. Ratha watched their antics until she heard someone coming toward her from the opposite direction. It was Fessran, carrying one of Bira’s cubs in her mouth. She had a meaningful look in her eyes that said she was not just bringing the cub out to play. Ratha had almost been expecting something like this. Although Fessran had continued to care for Bira’s cubs, she missed her own and the strain of worrying about two litters, in addition to her duties as Firekeeper leader, was making her curt and short-tempered.
Behind Fessran, Ratha saw Shongshar with the other. “Drani,” Ratha heard Fessran say to one of the two other females who were there, “you have so many litterlings that a few more shouldn’t trouble you. I’ll make sure Bira takes her turn here since these are hers.”
Fessran backed out, allowing Shongshar to slither through the narrow cleft between the rocks and deposit the second cub. Drani hissed at the unexpected entry of a male and Shongshar hastily retreated, tailfirst.
“If you see Bira,” said Fessran irritably, “tell her she can feed her own wretched cubs. I want mine back.” Then she was gone.
Ratha settled down to watch Bira’s youngsters as they made their first attempts to enter the group. Unexpectedly, Shongshar hopped up beside her. Drani looked at him and growled.
“Oh, stop it. He isn’t going to hurt them,” Ratha snapped.
Shongshar sent Ratha a grateful look as he found a seat on the boulder. The wind teased his silver fur and spread the hairs of his tail against the rock. He leaned down, picked up his little female cub by the scruff and began washing her. When he was finished, he put the litterling back in the nursery.
Another cub pattered up to her and tried to touch noses. She shook herself and walked away. The other youngster followed, trying to sniff her tail. With a silent snarl and laid-back ears, she jumped on him and seized his ear. With a squeal, the other cub backed away dragging her with him.