"Before we bid you good-journey, friend Tailchaser, I will offer you a word or so of advice," said the Thane. "The Court may not be all that you expect. I hope you understand.
"We First-walkers believe it is unnatural, and against the will of our Lord Tangaloor Firefoot, for the Folk to live always in such close proximity to one another. Also, in recent times the place has begun to stink of M'an."
"You mean that there are Big Ones living near?" asked Fritti, surprised.
"No, of course not, only that the taint of our once-servants has spread even to the Seat of Harar. But I suppose it is not fair to prejudice you. We First-walkers are a solitary lot, and many at the Queen's Seat find us extreme. You will have to be a hunter, and make your own course." The black chieftain looked down at the dirt.
Hangbelly spoke up. "The young Prince Fence-walker is not a bad sort, though. If you have need of a friend, he's a good 'un to have. A bit boisterous, but an honest enough cat."
Quiverclaw looked up and grinned, sharp teeth atwinkle. "Come, we have burdened you with enough words to keep a scatter of gray-muzzles pondering for seasons. We must finish our leave-taking."
The three walked over to join the others. Pounce-quick squirmed out from beneath Scuffledig and trotted over to Fritti's side. Quiverclaw waved his paw in benediction.
"Tailchaser and Pouncequick, brave young hunters and friends of our old comrade Stretchslow, we wish you good journeying. Know that you are among the very few outsiders ever permitted to walk with the First-walkers." Fritti and Pouncequick lowered their heads.
"I will tell you a prayer we speak. If you are in danger, and speak it, any of the First-walkers who may hear will aid you. If there are none about, well, it is no bad idea to call on the name of our Lord the Adventurer-whatever the situation. These are the words:
Tangaloor, fire-bright
Flame-foot, farthest walker
Your hunter speaks
In need he walks
In need, but never in fear.
"Can you remember that? Good!" There was a moment's uncomfortable pause. "Good dancing to you both," Quiverclaw added.
Fritti bowed his head. "Farewell, Thane, and First-walkers. Your kindness is all the more valuable, being unlooked-for. May you also have good journeying and good dancing."
Tailchaser turned, and without looking back started away toward the downs. After a moment Pouncequick followed.
Long after the First-walkers were out of sight, they still traveled in silence.
The first few days on the downs passed calmly enough. The passage of every Hour or so brought them to the top of a rounded hill, with visibility in all directions. Marking their position from the sun, they had no trouble keeping to their route.
The matted grasses cushioned the tired pads of the two cats, and the green, hilly slopes of Gentlerun were populated in abundance by all manner of edible things and creatures. The downs pulsed to a quieter, more reflective measure than the forest, and even the hunted seemed to accept their status with quiet fatalism. It was not unpleasant, passing across that gently curving country.
Days were becoming colder, though. Autumn was rounding the bend-with winter waiting patiently ahead-and Fritti and Pouncequick could feel the change in the weather as a quiet urging. When they caught themselves lagging, or felt lured by a new sight or smell, the chill down deep in their bones would reach out and give a small, icy squeeze, and send them hurrying back to their path.
Fritti was sad to see Pouncequick's good spirits dampened by the hard traveling. Tailchaser, too, was melancholy, but his responsibility to the brave little cat gave some purpose to the bleaker Hours of the journey.
One gray afternoon the cats were hunting for their midday meal across the broad, green side of a hill. A small scrub growth of forest crowned the hummock, and from below it had seemed a likely place to search for game.
Nosing around the fringes of the copse, the two cats flushed a young rabbit from the undergrowth. As it bolted across the curving sward they leaped in pursuit, splitting off to either side of the fleeing Praere to box its escape.
The rabbit froze in place so suddenly that the surprised hunters also halted, and at that moment a shadow passed over their heads. The Praere, immobile but for twitching nose, panic in its staring eyes, disappeared in a rush of brown feathers that dropped from above.
The hawk barely touched ground as it stooped to the rabbit, grasping it with horny talons, breaking its back. Beating its wings heavily for a moment, the Meskra rose, dangling the limp body. Then, catching the wind, it vaulted upward, leaving the two cats gaping after. Neither bird nor prey had made a sound. The hill was suddenly bare and empty in the weak sunlight.
After a moment Pouncequick turned to Fritti. His teeth were bared in fright. "Oh, Tailchaser," he whimpered, "I want to go home."
Fritti could think of no response, and led Pounce-quick down the hill in silence.
Later that afternoon, when Pouncequick finally fell asleep, Fritti sat and watched the clouds creeping across the low sky.
Eight days had passed on the downs since the pair had left the eaves of the Old Woods; Meerclar's Eye had waxed full and begun its closing. From the tops of the higher hills they could now see a dull shine in the distance, snaking a tarnished course through the hummocks of the far country.
Fritti was pleased to see it. He was fairly sure that it was the Tailwend River, and Quiverclaw had said that it would mark the halfway point of their journey to the Court.
They marched onward with a little more enthusiasm, but at first the gap did not seem to lessen very rapidly; the Tailwend remained just a shimmer on the horizon. The downs had begun to slope toward the river basin, though, and the patches of trees that dotted the surrounding countryside were more widely separated.
On their thirteenth night out of the forest they could finally hear the muted sound of the river across the meadowlands. It was a soothing noise-from this distance very much like that of the creek that ran past Meeting Wall after the spring thaws. Before sleep that night the pair played a game of Stalk-and-Spring, and Fritti laughed for the first time since they had parted company with the First-walkers.
They came down the shallow basin to the river's edge on the morning of the fifteenth day on Gentle-run Downs. The mist hung on the grass, and the sky smelled of rain to come. Approaching Tailwend, which was high on its banks, was like coming down off the plateau into a world of water and cool air.
The rushing, gurgling river had a vitality and energy completely unlike the shy, hidebound forest streams of their home. The Tailwend splashed and laughed, carrying river willows and grass stems along in a rush, only to send them spinning off into quiet eddies along the bank where they would float lazily. Then the river would cat-and-mouse them back into the current and carry them out of sight.
Fritti and Pouncequick played x»n the banks until the sun rose into the sky above their heads and shone through the mist to chip glimmers off the hurrying water. They took turns swiping at sticks that floated in close to the river's edge-darting their paws out, daring each other after twigs farther from shore. It was only when Pouncequick, in a moment of riotous abandon, came close to falling in-caught at the last moment by the nape of the neck-that Fritti began to turn his mind to the problem of crossing the wide, energetic Tailwend.
They walked farther upstream, tracing the coves and inlets, and the water sounds became harsher and more percussive. Around a bend in the river's course they discovered the reason. Here the Tailwend narrowed slightly and lunged past a group of rocks that stood upright in the foaming water like broken teeth. As they drew closer, the top of one of the rocks moved slightly, then turned to look at them with wide eyes.
It was Eatbugs, perched like an owl in midstream.