"Maybe he'd give you to the Toothguard, eh? Wouldn't that be unpleasant!" Longtooth shivered and looked away from his chief. Gingerly, he approached the old cat and sniffed him, then picked him up with his mouth.
"Very good," said Scratchnail, motioning to Bitefast, who had watched the events without moving. "Let's go. The Fire-eye will be open soon. We'll have to make double-time to the Western Mouth."
Fritti and his young friend were harried forward, always in. a straight line, with no slackening of pace allowed. The steady rain had thickened, soaking their fur and turning the forest paths into slippery bog.
When it seemed as though things could be no worse for the prisoners, the rain began to turn to hail. Tailchaser, feeling the stinging pelt of the ice-stones, remembered the Rikchikchik and their attack from the treetops. This attack was unceasing, though, and his bodv was already cold and battered. When he and Pouncequick tried to change their route slightly, to gain more protection from the trees overhead, Scratchnail and his bullies pushed them back onto the path. The beast-cats themselves were not bothered by the hailstones-or did not seem to be-and seemed to be hurrying toward some important rendezvous. Fritti and Pounce, silent and beaten, kept their heads low and kept moving. The first traces of dawn were beginning to blue the edges of the Vez'an sky, and the Clawguard had grown agitated.
Abruptly, at an unintelligible command from Scratchnail, Longtooth bounded forward and vanished into a clump of bracken. Everyone else waited for a moment in the eerie silence of Ratleaf. Then Bitefast's reptilian head reappeared and bobbed once. Scratchnaii gave a low growl of approval.
"Now, you miserable Squeakers, into the bushes you go!"
Longtooth, still carrying the silent form of Eatbugs, followed Bitefast into the tangle of brush. After a moment's hesitation-in which he weighed the chances of making a break for freedom, and realized that he would never outrun Scratchnail-Tailchaser followed the Clawguard. Pouncequick, eyes still inwardly fixed, padded after.
I suppose they're going to kill us here, Fritti thought.
Tailchaser felt suddenly resigned to death-almost grateful to be able to give up the struggle.
With the Clawguard chief bringing up the rear, they ducked and twisted their way through the clinging tendrils. Eyes half closed to protect them from looming thorns, Tailchaser almost tumbled headlong into the hole that appeared before him.
The hole was wide and dark, the tunnel quickly bending out of sight into the earth. Pouncequick peered around Tailchaser's shoulder at the tunnel mouth, eyes wide with silent terror. His mouth worked for a moment, but only a weak mew emerged.
Scratchnail pushed through the last of the branches. "Well," he said, "climb in, you surface-creepers, or I shall have to help you." His distorted form bulked closer, eyes glowing. Fritti felt torn. Perhaps it would be better to die in the open than to be killed like a gopher down a short hole. But as he looked at Scratchnail, some of his hatred came back, and he wanted to live a little longer. Why should the huge Clawguard have to get them into a tunnel to kill them? Maybe the things that the chief had said to Longtooth were true. There was always some hope of escape if they were kept alive.
Well, he decided, I suppose I have no other choice.
As he was stepping gingerly down into the dark hole, he looked back at Pouncequick. The kitten was so full of fear that he was pushing back from the tunnel entrance, preparing to bolt. Tailchaser was alarmed. Scratchnail, impatience traced across his brutish face, was about to do something. As Fritti hesitated, unsure of what to do, the chieftain shot his blood-red claws. Shocked into action, Fritti leaped forward, ducking a startled swipe from Scratchnail's talons, and pushed the balking Pouncequick toward the hole. The terrified kitten began to whimper and splayed his legs in resistance, digging his claws into the wet ground.
"It's all right, Pounce, you'll be all right," Tailchaser heard himself saying. "Trust me-I won't let them hurt you. Come on, we've got to go." He hated himself for forcing the frightened youngling into that dark, awful burrow. Butting and tugging with his teeth, he managed to pry Pouncequick's grip loose, and they descended into darkness.
CHAPTER 19
While, like a ghastly rapid river Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh-but smile no more.
–Edgar Allan Poe
The walls and floor of the tunnel were damp. Sickly-white roots, and bits of other things about which Fritti did not care to guess, hung down from the earthen ceiling. As they moved away from the entrance the light gradually dimmed, and it would have disappeared completely but for a faint phosphorescence of the soil that lined the burrow. They journeyed downward in faint, ghostly light, like the spirits of cats traveling in the void between stars.
Pouncequick, once underground, resumed his plodding and nearly lifeless mode. The clay beneath their paws stuck and crumbled between their pads. The silence was complete.
After some time they caught up with the other two Clawguard, Longtooth still carrying his soiled burden. So they continued: Fritti and Pouncequick, hemmed fore and hind by red claws, above and below by damp, solid earth.
It was impossible for Fritti to gauge the passing of time. The group, captors and captives, walked and walked, but the featureless soil never changed; the dim, nauseating glow of the tunnel earth neither waxed nor waned. On and on into the depths they passed, with no sound but their own breathing and an occasional incomprehensible exchange between the Clawguard. Tailchaser felt as if he had been in this dark hole forever. He began to slide in and out of a kind of dream. He thought of the Old Woods, the look of sunbeams slanting down to illuminate the forest floor… of running through the wonderfully fragrant, ticklish grasses with Hushpad-chasing and being chased, collapsing at last to nap in the summer warmth.
The cold, unexpected wriggling of an escaping worm beneath his paw jolted him back to darkness, and the tunnel. He could hear the harsh rasp of Scratchnail's breath. He wondered if he would ever see sunlight again.
At length Fritti's hunger overcame his reverie completely, and he began to pay more attention to the worms that squirmed through the moist earth of the burrow. After several attempts he caught one, and, with some difficulty managed to down it as he walked. It felt dreadful not to be able to stop pacing while he ate, but he feared the consequences of slowing down. Although it was a tricky business, he felt a little better for having had the morsel, and he caught another as soon as he could and ate that, too. He tried to pass the next one to Pounce, but the kitten paid no attention. After several fruitless attempts to force the wiggling mouthful on him, Fritti gave up and ate it himself.
The tunnel began to slope upward. After a short while the procession came to a small underground cavern, no more than a couple of jumps across, but high-roofed. Inside this cavern the air flowed a bit more freely, and when Scratchnail brought them to a halt Fritti was more than happy just to sit and breathe for a moment, and to rest his sore legs and paws. Wearily, he began to groom the worst of the mud and stones from between his pads, then turned his tongue to the wound on his shoulder. The blood had dried and the fur was matted stiff. It hurt when he cleaned it. Pouncequick sat motionlessly beside him, as if paralyzed; when Fritti turned and began to groom him, he submitted without a sound.
Scratchnail and the other two had been conversing in low tones at the far end of the cavern. Longtooth approached the two companions and dropped the unconscious form of Eatbugs beside them. Then, at a nod from Scratchnail, he turned and slipped away up the tunnel at the far entrance to the cave. Bitefast and the chief stretched their long, corded bodies on the floor of the earthen chamber and stared at their prisoners. Fritti-deciding that the best procedure was to ignore them as much as possible-continued to clean the dirt from Pouncequick's fur and tend to the young cat's many cuts and abrasions. Eatbugs groaned once and stirred, but did not awaken.