Ratha barely heard Thakur’s warning cry before a fierce blow struck the side of her head, sending her reeling. Shongshar was suddenly on top of her, raking her sides with his claws. She writhed underneath him, heaving and bucking, trying to dodge the plunging teeth. A fang scored her side and she lashed up, dragging her claws across his cheek.
“I offered to let you go ... to find your lost cubs,” she gasped. She twisted underneath him, ignoring the rocks that bruised her back.
“What good would it do me to search for them now?” he hissed. “If they were as witless as you believed, they wouldn’t care who fathered them. And if they weren’t, they have been gone from me too long to know me.”
She understood then that hate had worked inside him too long for anything to turn it aside. The fierce glow of his eyes was the fire of madness. “No, Ratha,” he hissed, baring his fangs in front of her face. “All I want from you now is your death or mine.”
Again he strained his head back for a killing downslash. At the instant his throat lay exposed, Thakur struck. The momentum of the herding teacher’s attack thrust Shongshar aside from Ratha. She scrambled to her feet as Fessran and Bira leaped to Thakur’s aid.
Fessran made up for the handicap of her injury by the intensity of her rage. Shongshar was bleeding from many wounds by the time the three bore him down, but their combined strength could scarcely hold him.
“All right, Shongshar,” Ratha panted. “You have a choice. Either you leave clan ground now, or your life ends here.”
His only answer was a lunge at Ratha. Thakur cast her a look of despair that told her Shongshar had made his decision, and there was nothing the herding teacher could do about it.
“You are going to kill me,” Shongshar said, narrowing his eyes at Thakur. “That is a bitter thing, to have to kill one who was a friend. If you don’t, I will bury my teeth in her. Choose which one of us you will grieve for, herding teacher.”
Again he lunged for Ratha, nearly throwing off his captors. They seized him, throwing him back. Thakur opened his jaws for the killing bite.
“No,” Ratha said. “I brought him among us. I will take him to the dark trail.”
She felt the herding teacher tremble as he moved aside for her. He looked at her, his eyes dark with grief. “Be quick,” he said and stared away.
When it was done and Shongshar lay still, Ratha lifted her head with a deep weariness that seemed to fill her. She stared down at the blood oozing onto the silver fur, as the others backed away from the body.
“We will carry him into the meadow and place him beneath the tree where Bonechewer died,” she said softly. “He deserves at least that much.”
“Ratha!” The harshness in Thakur’s voice jerked her gaze from Shongshar. Fessran was looking up at the rim of the gorge, her tail starting to wag. Angry eyes glared down. The Named were all about them, descending the steep slope of the gorge on both sides. It was too late to run or to hide Shongshar’s body. Ratha knew she would either have to win the clan over or fight.
She felt Thakur edge against her, protecting Bira between himself and Fessran. The bitter smell of vengeance-hunger filled the stream as the Named crept down into the gorge.
“It’s a bad place for a fight,” Thakur growled softly.
“Stay together,” Fessran hissed. “To reach any of us, they’ll have to kill us all.”
Ratha narrowed her eyes at the pack. She sensed that the herders among them did not seem as vengeful as the Firekeepers; in fact the latter had to bully the herders into sullen complacency.
“There is the one who murdered our leader and teacher! Tear out her throat!” cried a Firekeeper and he clawed a herder, who flinched and growled, “Yes, tear out her throat!”
“Let her taste the same meat she gives to others!” cried someone else among the herders.
“Ptahh!” Ratha spat back. “You herders know the meat he gave you. He dragged away your beasts to glut himself and those who served him while leaving you nothing. Why do you howl for him?”
“He gave us power and strength,” roared one. “He gave us the dance in the cave,” howled another.
“The dance,” said Ratha. “And was that dance ever for herders? Were the ones who worked to feed the Firekeepers ever allowed to come before the cave-fire to feast and share in the celebration?”
The herders exchanged looks with each other, despite the Firekeepers’ prodding. “No,” muttered one. “They said our coats were too dirty and that we must watch from a distance and be grateful that the Red Tongue would even permit us in the cave.”
Other mutterings broke out, and Ratha could hear more complaints being spoken against Shongshar’s attitude toward those who tended the clan’s animals.
“I’m glad Shongshar’s dead,” roared someone else, and with a start Ratha recognized Cherfan’s voice. “I’m tired of crouching to those singe-whiskered fools and hearing that we herders aren’t worthy to approach the Red Tongue.”
Heads turned among the herders and more voices joined Cherfan’s until they broke from the rest of the clan and crowded around Ratha. Cherfan faced the Firekeepers and bellowed, “All right, now we’ll see how brave you are in a fair fight!”
But Ratha could see that the Firekeepers still held the advantage. Although there were more herders in the meadow, Cherfan had no way of summoning their help without forcing a confrontation. And whether the sides were matched or not did not matter to Ratha. This battle would cost the clan heavily in lives no matter who won.
“If she wins, she will forbid us to crouch before the fire creature or offer ourselves in the dance,” she heard one Firekeeper growl to another. Muttering spread among them and one yowled, “Attack now! She has killed the fire-creature in the cave. She will keep the Red Tongue from rising again.”
“No!” cried Ratha, turning to face him. “You are wrong!”
Even Thakur and Fessran stared at her in astonishment as she waved her tail for silence. “Hear me, Firekeepers,” she said. “I understand your wish to crouch and dance before the Red Tongue. I once thought that was wrong and should be stopped, but I know better now. I killed the cave-fire because it was being misused.” She paused, looking into their eyes. “Tell me yourselves. Was it right to look down upon the herders and take their beasts when your bellies were already bloated? Or to keep them from the cave unless they brought you meat?”
Several Firekeepers lowered their heads and stared down at their paws. “No,” Ratha continued. “Shongshar did wrong by making you believe that serving the fire-creature made you more deserving than the rest. He used your belief to make you do fierce and cruel things you would not have done. That is why he died.”
A Firekeeper raised his head. “Then you will allow us to honor the Red Tongue as well as use it to guard the herds?”
“Yes. I have said nothing against honoring the fire-creature itself. Listen. This is what I will do. We will enlarge one of the old fire-lairs to make an earth-cave in the meadow where the source-fire may be kept. There dry wood can be stored and the fire will be safe from rain. It will be guarded, but anyone, Firekeeper or herder, may enter for warmth, and they may crouch and lower their whiskers before the fire, if they wish.”
“I don’t think that’s enough,” growled another Firekeeper, glaring at Ratha. “Shongshar allowed only us to approach Red Tongue and crouch before it. The herders should tend their dapplebacks.”
Yowls and hisses rose from the herders and the fur on their napes began to lift. Ratha feared that she might not be able to avert a fight.
“Listen to me, both of you. I brought the Red Tongue to the clan for all to share. The Firekeepers were created so that their skills could benefit the rest of us. Herders, the Firekeepers need you as much as you need them. Neither of you can survive without the skill of the others. If you follow me, I will see that both herders and Firekeepers share the fire-creature in a way that is good for both.”