“Ptahh!” Ratha spat, disgusted with herself. “You know better than that. If anyone has her own ideas about things, Fessran does.” Yet, as she thought about the Firekeeper leader, she felt uneasy. Fessran had been a staunch friend and her only ally when she had first taken the Red Tongue before the clan. She had rewarded her by giving her the keeping of this new and awesome creature. It was an honor, but it was also a burden, and Ratha had hesitated before she placed it on her friend.
Often Ratha had watched a fly land on the fresh meat of a kill, knowing that one small insect could lay enough eggs to fill the carcass with maggots and taint the meat. Last night she had admitted to herself that the Red Tongue had its own taint, and she was beginning to think that even the stubborn herder who had been made Firekeeper leader was not immune to it.
As she lay there with her thoughts, she heard a rustle in the grass. She pulled her feet underneath her, crouched and faced out in the direction of the sound. Soon she saw Thakur trotting toward the sunning rock with his treeling on his back. He didn’t look up and he kept his steady pace, as if he meant to pass by on his way to the meadow’s far side.
As he drew near, he swung away from his path and made a small detour that took him near the buried ashes of the bonfire. Again, Ratha could tell that he meant only to glance at the site and trot on, but suddenly he stopped, sniffed and wrinkled his nose. He paced across the ash-flecked soil until he smelled her mark, where she had watered the buried ashes. He grimaced and looked up at the sunning rock.
She felt uncomfortable at having given in to that earlier impulse. Now she had told Thakur, in a way that no words could, how she felt about the Firekeepers’ gathering.
“So you were there and you didn’t like it either,” he said at last.
Either? Ratha narrowed her eyes at him. She flicked her tail, indicating that he should jump up beside her. When he was there and settled, she said, “I see I wasn’t the only one who hid and watched.”
“I didn’t think a herder would be welcome in that group, and I was right,” Thakur answered. “You, clan leader?”
“I might have been welcomed, but my presence would have made Fessran think again about frightening those cubs the way she did.”
She could see that Thakur’s next words were chosen carefully. In a quiet voice, he said, “You can forbid another gathering like that.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Forbid it? Just because Fessran built the fire too large and scared some of the cubs? They were too young for such a thing anyway.”
“Ratha, I know you well enough to tell how you feel about something. Your words may not tell me, but your mark on those buried ashes does.”
“Arr,” she said, feeling foolish. “I was in a bad mood when I did that.”
“And Fessran had nothing to do with your bad mood?”
“All right,” Ratha snapped. “She did. But let me tell you this: I may not like how she does things, but what she does works. She told me to make Shongshar a Firekeeper and she was right. We are no longer losing guard-fires because the Firekeepers are too timid. The herdbeasts are safer than they have ever been. That is what is important to me. Fessran has done well and I am not going to interfere with her, so you can dig a hole and bury that idea.”
She thought Thakur would lose patience with her, but he only twitched his ears back and then let them come forward again. His eyes held suppressed excitement, as if he had something to tell her but hadn’t found the opportunity until now. “Suppose I were to show you another way to master the Red Tongue, a way that doesn’t require that cubs have their whiskers singed in order to prove themselves.”
She looked at Thakur as he sat there with the treeling on his back. Aree added his gaze to Thakur’s and the combination of the two stares made her feel uncomfortable.
“You haven’t found such a way ... or have you?”
“Just follow me, clan leader,” he said and jumped down from the sunning rock.
Ratha didn’t catch up with him until he was halfway to the farthest guard-fire. She heard him mutter, “Good. Bira hasn’t given up on me yet,” and he sprinted ahead, leaving her behind once again.
By the time she arrived, he was speaking with Bira. The young Firekeeper gave a start when she saw Ratha and looked back at Thakur as if asking for reassurance.
“You can go,” he said. “Don’t worry. It’s all right.”
Ratha watched the yawning Firekeeper trot away, her tail swinging. She noticed that Bira had left Thakur plenty of wood, although the guard-fire was starting to burn low. The wood was in two piles: a large one, carelessly stacked, and a small one that looked like kindling laid for a new fire.
“She shouldn’t leave without kicking dirt on the guard-fire and burying the ashes,” Ratha said, with a disapproving glance after Bira.
“She knows her duty. I asked her to leave the fire for me. She does that for me every morning. Fessran doesn’t know,” he added.
“Hmph,” Ratha growled. “You should have asked her.”
Thakur ignored her. “All right, Aree,” he said to his tree-ling, “let’s show Ratha what you’ve been learning.”
She heard several clicking sounds and had no idea where they had come from until she saw Thakur’s jaw move slightly. Aree hopped down from the herding teacher’s shoulder and bounded over to the large woodpile. He selected a slender branch that he could hold in one paw and returned to Thakur.
He gave Ratha a grin. She glowered back at him, unimpressed. “All right. He can get wood. That will save the Firekeepers some work.”
Thakur clicked his teeth again and gave a soft hiss. Aree held up the branch and curled his ringed tail as if asking a question. The herding teacher snapped his jaws together again and Aree, to Ratha’s horror and amazement, scampered directly toward the fire.
Her legs acted as fast as her mind did. She was halfway to the treeling when she was suddenly flattened by someone pouncing on top of her. Only the knowledge that it was Thakur kept her from flipping onto her back and raking his belly, and even so she was tempted.
She tried to get up again, but he held her down. He was looking not at her, but at the treeling. “Go on, Aree. It’s all right. She didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“What are you trying to do? Make Aree jump into the Red Tongue?” she hissed.
“No. Watch,” said Thakur’s voice in her ear. When she stayed still, he got off her and stood alongside.
Aree approached the fire carefully and laid the stick among the coals. When the branch caught, the treeling pulled it out and held it up with the Red Tongue blossoming at the end. Gripping the branch with both paws, Aree shuffled over to Thakur and placed it between his open jaws. Gently Thakur closed his mouth, being careful of the little fingers near his teeth.
Ratha watched in amazement. It was not so much the act itself that drew her attention but the ease with which Aree performed it. It was evident to her at once that the treeling’s paws were much better suited to this task than the clumsy jowls of even the bravest Firekeeper.
Thakur growled deep in his throat and opened his jaws. Aree took the lighted brand and placed it back in the fire. Ratha began to get up.
“Wait. He’s not finished yet,” said Thakur. Again he clicked his teeth and again Aree scampered away to the woodpile. This time the treeling came bounding back on all fours, his ringed tail wound around another stick. He looked up and cocked his head at Thakur with solemn black eyes on each side of his banded muzzle.