In the flickering light, Ratha could see the white scars on Fessran’s muzzle. There were more on the Firekeeper’s front pads. She bore a few scars herself and she knew that the Red Tongue’s lessons were taught harshly.
“Clan leader,” Fessran said and Ratha lifted her gaze from the Firekeeper’s scarred forepaws to her face. “I know you have given me as many as can be spared from the duties of herding to train as torchbearers. But the fires died in the rain tonight and they will continue to die if they are kept by those who treat them timidly. I can teach knowledge, but courage is something a cub is born with.”
“So you want more of the stronger cubs to train as Firekeepers.”
“Yes, and not just cubs. There are those who are grown who have the strength of will the Red Tongue demands,” said Fessran softly.
The tone of her voice made Ratha’s eyes narrow slightly, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Who among the Named would you choose?” she asked.
“Besides you and me, there are few. Thakur is one, but he has chosen not to serve the Red Tongue and I understand his reasons.” Fessran paused, and Ratha felt herself being studied. “I would choose the young orange-eyed one whose strength and bravery have shown me that he is well fit for the task. He proved himself a worthy opponent when he stood his ground in the dance-hunt. He has proved it again tonight by the bodies of two bristlemanes that lie in the meadow.”
Ratha paused. “He is not of the Named, Fessran.”
The Firekeeper’s amber eyes widened. “I thought you were going to accept him.”
“Not before I call a clan gathering. I want to hear from others before I decide.”
“Everyone knows who killed those bristlemanes,” said Fessran. “If you called us all together tomorrow, you’d have any agreement you need.”
And I haven’t forgotten that it was he who stopped a charging three-horn to save a clan cub’s life, Ratha thought, but she didn’t want to say anything that would encourage Fessran to press her further.
The Firekeeper eyed her. “You know that he has already begun to carry wood for us.”
“I don’t mind that; it keeps him busy. But I don’t want you to teach him anything more until I have made my decision. And tomorrow is too early to call another gathering,” she added pointedly.
“The mating season will be here soon,” said Fessran. “If you wait too long, I won’t be good for doing anything except waving my tail at him. And you won’t be in much better shape.”
Ratha had to grin at Fessran’s succinct appraisal of her own behavior during the period of heat. Her tension eased a little as she retorted, “He’s probably too young for courting, you randy queen! All the same, you’re right. I will make my decision soon.”
Fessran curled a paw up to her muzzle and began washing it. She halted, swiveled her ears forward and got up to feed more wood to the fire. Ratha turned her face outward into the cool of the night to catch the scents of whoever was approaching.
Thakur and Orange-Eyes padded under the oak and settled themselves wearily in the Red Tongue’s glow. “That mare must have led you a chase,” said Fessran as Thakur licked his paw and scrubbed at the mud on his face. “Cherfan could have gone after her. You both have done your work for tonight.”
“And you have too, Fessran,” Thakur said, with a brief glance at Orange-Eyes. Ratha detected a faint trace of anxiety in his smell and wondered if it were only the mare that had delayed him. “You dug me out of that pile of bristlemanes.”
“And Orange-Eyes!” Fessran burst out. “Ratha, you should have seen what he did to those belly-biters. They thought they had me, and I thought so too, but when he charged in and sank his teeth into that one ...”
Orange-Eyes shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Firekeeper, Thakur was with me ”
“Both of you have earned my praise and more,” Ratha answered. “When we cull a herdbeast tomorrow, you, Thakur, will eat after me and then Orange-Eyes will fill his belly. Fessran, you will follow.”
Thakur gave Fessran a questioning look.
“You’ve earned it, herding teacher,” she said. “And so has he.” She got up and stretched. “I suppose I have too.”
“Fessran, get some sleep. And Orange-Eyes,” Ratha said. “Thakur, please stay.”
After the Firekeeper and the silvercoat had gone, Thakur leaned toward Ratha and asked softly, “Will you tell me what troubles you?”
Ratha turned her head and stared at Thakur, wrinkling the fur on her brow.
“Fessran was asking you to accept Orange-Eyes and make him a Firekeeper, wasn’t she?”
In spite of herself, her jaw dropped. “How did you know? Your ears must be keener than I thought. Or I spoke louder than I meant to.”
“No, I didn’t hear you. I’ve been around Fessran long enough to know that when she wants something, she chases after it.”
“I told her that I haven’t decided. If he does stay with us, I don’t know whether he should be trained as a Firekeeper. It’s true, Fessran does need some more torchbearers.”
“And you are willing to give her what she wants?” said Thakur with surprise and more than a trace of annoyance. “I thought that if he stayed, he would be trained as a herder.”
Ratha fought the feeling of guilt that crept over her at the sound of disappointment in his voice. She felt drained by the bristlemane attack and knew she had not chosen her words as carefully as she should have. She hoped Thakur could sense her weariness and not press her further, but this time, his usual selflessness had been pushed aside by anger. He waited, a subdued glitter in his eyes.
Ratha looked at her toes, the ground, the fire; anything but the questioning green eyes. “Thakur, what else can I do?” she burst out at last. “Fessran says she must have torchbearers who have the strength of will to master the fire they guard. If the fires die, then we of the clan have no hope against the Un-Named or the bristlemanes.”
“Has Fessran persuaded you that Orange-Eyes alone would make such a difference?”
“He would teach; he would inspire others to try harder. If any torchbearer would make a difference, I agree with Fessran that he would be the one.”
“I have no doubt that he would,” said Thakur. “I also have no doubt that Fessran is thinking not only of him but of the cubs he might sire. Perhaps he might father a whole family of cubs strong and brave enough to guard the Red Tongue, if they have wit enough to remember which end of a torch to take in their jaws!”
Ratha couldn’t help ducking her head and drawing back her whiskers. She felt lost and uncertain. Where was the patient teacher and friend she thought she knew?
“Thakur, why are you so upset about this?”
Thakur took a long breath. “Before tonight, I would have said it was only because I feared his young would be witless. That is worry enough, but now I have seen something else. I find this hard to explain, but I have seen him looking at the fire and I don’t like what I see. Ratha, he is not one of the Named, even though he has enough light in his eyes for a whole litter of cubs.”
“I thought you liked him.” Ratha was puzzled.
“I can like him and still fear him.”
“Fear him! A half-grown cub!”
“One who can rip the nape out of a full-sized bristlemane?” Thakur said, spacing his words. “No, Orange-Eyes is not a cub. I have seen him looking at the fire, and I sense that in some way he may understand it better than we do.”
“Well, then, if he does, maybe he can help us find other ways to manage it.” She lifted her chin, trying to recapture her confidence.