“He didn’t hurt you badly, did he?” Thakur asked, wrinkling the fur on his brow. She sat up stiffly. “She”—Ratha paused—“nearly choked me to death. The next time you lose your treeling, the clan may need another leader.”
Thakur eyed Aree with astonishment. “You’re right. He’s a she and soon there will be more of them.”
“If Aree’s cubs prove to be as clever as she is, then we’ve solved Fessran’s problem, haven’t we?” Ratha grinned at Thakur.
“If I can train all her young ones. I don’t know how I’m going to teach herding and cope with a whole treeling family at the same time,” he added with mild dismay.
“When the time comes, I’ll help you,” Ratha offered. Then she explained how she had found the treeling, and how the creature had stayed in the tree until she hissed and clicked her teeth. “I don’t know why Aree was so afraid of me. She used to enjoy grooming my fur,” she said, puzzled.
Thakur had been nosing the treeling and licking her coat. He paused, went back over a spot he had licked before and carefully spread the treeling’s fur with his tongue and teeth.
“Look,” he said, his voice indistinct. Ratha peered at Aree’s back. On the treeling’s skin she saw two bright pink lines side by side. They were half-healed claw marks.
“Now we know that she didn’t just run off on her own,” Ratha said at last. “Someone chased her.”
“And nearly caught her,” Thakur added, his voice grim. Aree shook herself and smoothed her fur. “You were too fast for Shongshar, weren’t you, little tree-climber?”
“So you think it was Shongshar,” she said in a low voice.
“Yes. There is no one else who had as good a reason for getting rid of Aree. He’s convinced that the only way to master the Red Tongue is by strength and fierceness. My Aree proved that there is another way. If the Firekeepers listen to me, they will no longer believe Fessran and Shongshar. Fessran might be willing to change, but not Shongshar.”
“What about Bundi’s accident?” Ratha asked.
Thakur’s eyes narrowed. “That is harder to explain. Shongshar and Bundi were like lair-brothers. Even now, I find it difficult to believe that he could deliberately hurt Bundi.”
“I found his pawprints at the edge of the firebed,” Ratha told him.
“That doesn’t prove anything. Shongshar could have been there earlier, helping to light the fire. No. I think it was Nyang who pushed Bundi.”
“Fessran’s son?” Ratha was startled by this suggestion, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “Yes. Nyang would do anything to please Shongshar. I have seen how that cub looks at him.”
“Yes, but we don’t have any evidence,” Thakur reminded her.
“You know me too well, herding teacher,” Ratha said, somewhat ruefully. “Until I can prove to myself that Shongshar and Nyang are guilty, I can’t punish them. If they are, they have covered their tracks well.”
“And you may not be able to unbury those tracks. I think we should look ahead on this trail, not back,” said Thakur. “Now that Aree has returned, we can continue training her with the fire.”
Ratha felt a slight twinge of uncertainty. “Do you think that’s really a good idea? I mean ...” She faltered as he stared at her in surprise. “We aren’t sure what happened to Bundi, are we? It might have been the fire-creature itself that burned him.”
“Don’t tell me that you’ve been listening to that dappleback dung! It may be fit for frightening litterlings, but you have more sense.”
She hesitated, thinking about her dream. “I know, but sometimes I’m not sure. What happened to Bundi scared me.”
“It frightened others too. If Fessran had posted a Firekeeper to guard the herders’ fire before Bundi’s accident, the yowls would have set her fur on end. Now no one complains.”
“They’re glad,” said Ratha. “That also frightens me a little. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Help me work with the treelings,” Thakur suggested. “We can continue teaching Aree, and after her little ones are born, we can train them too.”
“Then Fessran won’t worry about having only one tree-ling,” said Ratha excitedly. “She may even decide to help us.”
“Maybe later, but for now we should keep this as secret as we can,” Thakur cautioned.
“Bring Aree to my den this evening, then. I’ll have a fire there. If we keep the Red Tongue small, it won’t be able to hurt her.”
“I will. I have to get back to my pupils now,” he added, glancing over to where several cubs stood watching him with their tails raised in curiosity.
Ratha stayed hidden long enough to be sure that Thakur could manage both Aree and the rambunctious cubs. When she was satisfied that he was in no danger of losing the creature again, she slipped away.
She decided to go and inspect the ground near Thakur’s den for any traces of footprints. The old ashes from the last fire Bira had built for him were still there and the site had been left alone. She might find some faint prints she had overlooked before.
On her way along the path that wound through scattered trees, she heard far-off splintering sounds and cracks. Soon a Firekeeper came hurrying along the trail, with kindling in his mouth. The sounds of breaking wood continued and another Firekeeper followed with a jagged piece of a dead log that he could barely get his jaws around.
Ratha looked after him with mild curiosity. Her interest became stronger when a third wood-carrier followed. As he disappeared, she heard the footsteps of yet another. Bira appeared with a mouthful of fragrant pine twigs. As she approached she ducked her head respectfully to Ratha, which made her drop several sticks. When she tried to retrieve them, she only lost more. She attempted to snag them with her claws and push them into her mouth with her pads, but finally she lost patience and unloaded the whole mouthfuL “I shouldn’t try to carry so many at once,” she said, spitting out pieces of gray bark, “but Fessran wanted us to hurry.”
“Where are you taking it?” asked Ratha. She gathered up some of the scattered twigs and placed them beside Bira’s pile of sticks.
“Oh, the wood isn’t for a gathering fire,” Bira said quickly. “Fessran’s found a cave beside the waterfall and we’re putting wood in there so it will stay dry during the rainy season.”
Ratha helped Bira get all the twigs secured between her teeth and the young Firekeeper trotted away with a grateful wave of her tail.
Ratha stared up the path, thinking. Fessran hadn’t told her about a cave for storing wood. It sounded sensible enough, although there was no need to hurry; the rainy season wouldn’t start for a long time. I think I’ll just follow Bira up there and look around.
She took the same trail she had taken that morning and soon passed the place where she had found Aree. She saw that her pugmarks had been wiped away under the feet of the Firekeepers who had passed this way. A stray pine twig told her that Bira hadn’t managed to hold onto all her load.
She wondered how long they had been doing this and whether they had stopped when she took the path earlier. She had noticed that the trail beside the creek looked a little more worn than usual, and there were more smells about.
The creek trail ran between great trees whose charred rough bark spoke of the Red Tongue’s passing. Farther on, the path wound around outcroppings of coarse-grained stone that had weathered and crumbled to form a white gravel that crunched beneath her pads. The grade became steep, and by the time she reached the huge granite slab that lay at the base of the waterfall, she was panting slightly.