* * *
Ratha woke, not knowing what had disturbed her. She lay still, peering through half-closed eyes, her chin on the ground, trying not to sneeze despite the flaky ash that stung and teased her nose. A slight tremor in the ground beneath her chin told her someone was coming.
Thakur? Fessran? The intruder moved downwind of her and she could catch no scent.
She heard two sets of footsteps; one in counterpoint to the other. Two pairs of eyes glinted, green stars in the dark. She saw two forms; one hung back; the other approached. Firelight painted the newcomer’s coat with dancing shadows as it crept out of the night into the Red Tongue’s circle. The intruder raised a wary head, squinting into the flame, and Ratha saw that it was Fessran.
She crouched, limbs tensed, muscles bunched, her belly fur brushing the ground. She took a few quick steps and stopped, her flanks quivering. Ratha watched her pupils dwindle to points as she looked past the flame.
“You are still strong, wretched creature,” Ratha heard her hiss. “Did you kill the one who tamed you and eat her to gain your strength?”
Ratha sat up. Fessran’s head turned sharply, her neck fur bristling in spikes. “Ratha?”
“Here, Fessran. Behind the Red Tongue.”
“So the thing hasn’t eaten you even though it is stronger than before. You told me it was dying.”
“It was.” Ratha skirted the fire, came to Fessran, extended her neck to touch noses, but there was no answering nudge. Ratha drew her head back, wary of the other’s raised hackles and narrowed eyes. “It needed to eat,” she said, feeling awkward, yet slightly proud. “I found what it wanted. I fed it and kept it alive.”
“Ptah! Thakur and I have journeyed here for nothing. Keep your creature. Feed it and play with it all night if you want. My summer coat isn’t thick enough for this wind. I go.”
“Fessran.” Ratha pawed her flank.
Fessran said, her ears back, “I have run far in the cold this night. You begged me to return. You told me the Red Tongue would be dead by then. Ptah!”
Ratha retreated as Fessran spat. The two eyed each other. Fessran lowered her head and turned away. “Are you cold now?” Ratha asked.
“Yarr?” Fessran halted and looked back.
“You are cross because you were cold,” Ratha said patiently. “Are you cold now?”
“What a question! How can I not be with the wind blowing through….”
Ratha waited. Fessran stopped, blinked and fluffed her fur. “Your creature warms us,” she said in surprise. “I remember now; when we ran from the Red Tongue, I felt its hot breath on me and I ran faster.”
“There is no need to run from it now. My creature is only bad when it grows too large. I know how to keep it small,” Ratha said, a touch of pride in her voice. Fessran’s hackles smoothed, but she gave no indication of staying. She padded out past the rim of the firelit circle and melded with the darkness until only her eyes and teeth showed. Ratha followed to the brown-shadowed edge and shook herself as a sharp gust tore through her thin summer coat. She heard Fessran shiver.
“Come back to me and my creature,” Ratha called. She waited, then turned around in disgust and walked back to her Red Tongue. Something made her look into the dark. The eyes hadn’t gone. They still stared out at her.
Ratha ignored them. She flopped down, her belly to the fire, spreading her pads and feeling the heat flow around them. She heard hesitant footsteps behind her and began to grin.
“Be a good cub, my little Red Tongue,” she said softly to the dancing flame. “She may soon be your friend if she sees no reason to fear you.”
The footsteps grew quicker then and stopped. There was the soft brush of a tail being curled across feet. Ratha rolled her head back. Fessran sat behind her as if she were a wall protecting Fessran from the Red Tongue’s capricious play.
“You like it, don’t you?” Ratha said.
Fessran’s whiskers twitched. Her expression was still guarded, but her eyes, as she stared at the flame, were full of wonder rather than fear.
Ratha lifted her chin for a nuzzle and this time received an answering touch.
“Was I such a foolish cub to keep the creature alive?”
Fessran’s face softened. “Perhaps not, Ratha.”
Ratha yawned, arched her back and stretched until her toes and tail quivered. “Thakur told me once that the clanfolk thought old Baire was foolish when he tried to tame three-horns and add them to our herds,” she said.
“Those who spoke so had reason to be afraid,” Fessran answered. “I saw many herders die on those horns. We learned much and now we can keep the creatures, but we lost many clan folk.”
“Three-horns are good for the clan,” Ratha argued. “Baire wasn’t foolish to herd them. Maybe I’m not foolish to herd the Red Tongue. I already know much about it, and I can teach. Clan folk won’t have to die to learn.”
“May it be so, Ratha,” Fessran said cautiously. “You speak of Thakur. I have left him waiting in the cold.” She got up, shaking ash from her hindquarters.
“Call him here to warm himself beside my creature,” Ratha said.
“I’ll try, but don’t forget that he fears the Red Tongue.”
Fessran turned her back to the fire and called into the darkness where Thakur was still waiting.
Ratha saw him slink to the edge of the light where orange turned to brown and shadows grew long and wavering. There he crouched and would come no further despite Fessran’s coaxing. He wrinkled his brows and squinted away from the fire with frightened, watery eyes.
“Herd-brother, Ratha’s creature won’t harm us. Come and lie down with me. The Red Tongue makes the night as warm as your den.”
“My fur is warm enough,” Thakur growled. “The Red Tongue’s light bites my eyes. I would rather see by starlight.” He fluffed his fur against the wind. “The herdbeasts fear this thing and their fear is wise. Not to fear it is foolish.” He looked at Ratha.
“I know about it. I don’t have to fear it.” She flattened her ears.
“I know about it too.” Thakur’s lips drew back and his fangs gleamed as he spoke. “Have you forgotten how it ate the forest? Have you forgotten the dappleback I dragged away? Fessran, that was your little stallion I tried to save. I dragged the beast away from the Red Tongue, but like the snake’s tongue it struck.” He huddled, trembling, terror shimmering with the firelight in his eyes. “The Red Tongue licked at the stallion until the skin was black and falling off. It licked until the entrails burst and the bones showed white beneath. Aayowrr!”
Ratha glared at Thakur, hating him for making her remember the time when the thing she now called her creature had run wild, destroying the forests. The ashy stubble she stood on was reminder enough. She grew angrier as her own fear, the fear she had subdued to tame the Red Tongue, now rose again.
“Meoran must think you drowned in the river crossing since you haven’t yet returned to clan ground. If you don’t return soon, he’ll find a young male to take your place as herder.”
“Don’t taunt her, Thakur,” Fessran warned as Ratha felt her nape start to bristle.
“I don’t care what Meoran thinks!” Ratha snarled. Her belly churned as she remembered the clan leader’s cold eyes and scornful voice. Meoran thought her a weakling, unfit for the task of clan herder. Despite her words to Thakur, the thought stabbed into her, driving as deep as fangs into her flesh.
She quivered, wishing she could blaze out like the Red Tongue, to engulf Thakur, Meoran and all those who doubted her, to burn until nothing was left.