"I suggest we should send a delegation to the Court of Harar. It is our duty to inform the Queen of Cats!" Entirely pleased with himself, Snifflick sat down as consternation and surprise whirled about him.
"To the Court of Harar?" breathed Mudtracker. "None of the Folk of Behind-Edge-Copse have been to the seat of the First for twenty generations!" There was more excited rumbling.
"Neither have the Folk from this side of the Woods," said Bristlejaw, "but I think Snifflick is right. We have heard these stories all night long, and no one has the slightest idea of what to do. This may be beyond us. I agree to a delegation."
The crowd quieted for a moment; then two of the assembly blurted out at the same instant: "Who will go?"
This started another uproar, and Earpoint had to shoot his claws and wave them around purposefully before things were quiet again. Snifflick spoke.
"Well, it will be quite a long and dangerous journey. I suppose that as I am Senior Elder my knowledge and wisdom will be needed. I will go."
Before anyone could react to this, there was a sudden snarl from the back of the gathering, and Twitchnose was striding forward. She was Snif flick's mate, had borne innumerable litters by him, and she was a taker of no nonsense. She marched straight to Snifflick, and stared him in the eye: "You aren't going anywhere, you old mouse-gummer. You think you're going to sail out into the wilderness and sing your horrible hunting songs all night while I sit here like a hedgehog?" she hissed. "Think you're going to find some slender young fela at the Court, do you? By the time you mount her with those tired old bones she'll be as old as I am, so what's the difference? You old villain!"
Trying to save Snifflick, Bristlejaw quickly said: "That's right, Snifflick!-I mean, you shouldn't go. The Folk here need your wisdom. No, a long journey of this kind calls for young cats, cats who can travel in the wintertime." He looked around, and as his eye passed over Fritti the young cat felt a moment of impossible excitement. Bristlejaw's gaze moved on, though, and settled on Earpoint. The weathered old torn rose under the eye of the Master Old-singer, and stood, waiting.
"Earpoint, you have seen many summers," said Bristlejaw, "but you are still strong, and wise in the ways of the Outer Forest. Will you lead the delegation?" Earpoint inclined his head in assent. Bristlejaw then turned to Jumptall, who leaped to his feet and stood, seeming to hold his breath.
"You go also, young hunter," spoke the lore-singer. "Be aware of what an honor there is in your choice, and behave accordingly." Jumptall nodded weakly and sat down.
Bristlejaw turned to Snifflick, who had been carrying on a near-silent thumping match with Twitchnose. "Old friend, will you pick one more emissary?" he asked.
Snifflick returned his attention to the Nose-meet once more, and looked cannily around the circle. The assembled Folk held their breath as one while he deliberated. Finally he beckoned to Streamhopper, a youthful hunter of three summers. Taiichaser felt a pang of disappointment, although he knew he was too young to have had a chance. As Snifflick and Bristlejaw instructed Streamhopper on his great responsibility, Fritti felt a curious frustration gnaw at his heart.
When the three delegates were assembled, Earpoint stood forward to receive the message that they would carry to the ancient Court of Harar. Snifflick rose again.
"None here has traveled where you must go," he began. "We have no sure knowledge to guide you, but the songs that tell of the Court are known to all.
"If you are able to discharge this duty, and reach the Queen of the Folk, tell her that the elders of the Meeting Wall-this side of Edge Copse, under the eaves of the Old Wood, on the fringe of her domain- pledge their fealty, and ask for her help and guidance in this matter. Tell her that this plague of disappearance has visited not just the kittenry and questing males, but-Harar curse it-the entire tribe. Tell her we are bewildered, and can find no wisdom in this matter. If she will send a message, you are charged to bring it back with you." He paused.
"Oh, yes. You are also hereby bound to help and aid your companions-up to, but not including, the failure of your charge…"
Here Snifflick halted again, and in a moment was once more the oldest cat of the Meeting Wall Folk.
He looked at the ground for a moment, and scrabbled his paw in the dirt.
"We all hope that Meerclar will watch over you, and keep you safe," he added. He did not look up. "You may tell your families, but we wish you to leave as soon as possible."
"May you find luck, dancing," Bristlejaw said, then, after a moment: "This Nose-meet is ended."
Almost all the Folk who were present rose and pushed forward-some to talk excitedly among themselves, others to get a last sniff or offer a last word to the three delegates.
Fritti Tailchaser was the only cat who did not stay for at least a moment with the brave delegation. He climbed away from the Wall buzzing with unfamiliar feelings.
At the lip of the hollow he stood scratching his claws through the rough bark of an elm tree, listening to the murmur of the crowding cats below.
Nobody at the Nose-meet cared about Hushpad, he thought. Nobody would remember her name when the delegates reached the Court. Stretchslow couldn't even remember it now! Hushpad didn't mean a jot more to any of them than the scruffiest old torn-yet he was supposed to wait patiently while Jumptall and the rest went parading off to the Court of the Queen, in the hope that she would solve the problem! Heavenly Viror, what nonsense!
Fritti growled, a noise that he had never made before, and ripped off another skein of bark. He turned and stared into the sky. Somewhere, he felt sure, Hushpad was staring up at the same Eye, and no one cared but him whether she was in danger or not. Well then!
Tailchaser felt hot determination as he stood on the hillside, head and tail arched. The orb of Meerclar hung above him like a shaming parent as he made an impassioned pledge:
"By the Tails of the Firstborn, I will find Hushpad, or my spirit will fly my dying body! One or the other!"
After a moment-when he realized what he had promised-Fritti began to shiver.
CHAPTER 4
And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
–William Wordsworth
Fritti was finding it more dificult than he had expected to leave his porch box and food bowl. The anger and frustration of the night before seemed less moving in the thin sunshine of Spreading Light-he was, after all, a very young cat, not yet a full-grown hunter. He was not really sure exactly where to begin a search for his lost companion, either.
Nosing the tattered fabric of his sleeping box, fabric that was full of familiar smells, he wondered if it might not be better to wait another day before setting out. Surely a little hunting and a frolic or two with some of the other younglings would help to clear his mind. Of course. It seemed more sensible somehow…
"Tailchaser! I heard all about your leave-taking! How astonishing of you! I am quite taken aback." With a thump and skid, Thinbone leaped breathlessly onto the porch. He eyed Fritti with comical puzzlement. "Do you really mean to do it?"
At that moment-though all his spirit pulled against it-he heard himself say: "Of course, Thinbone. I must."
Once he had spoken these strange words, he instantly felt as though he were rolling downhill. How could he stop himself now? How could he not go? What would the others think? Mighty Tailchaser, strutting about in front of the Wall, telling all who passed by about his quest. Oh, to be older, he thought- and not so stupid!