Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named) (9 page)

 
“Aree!”

“Well, all right. Since that’s the only word you know, I’ll call you Aree.”

A little later the same day, Thakur was passing under a curtain of leaves when the treeling jumped from his back into the branches. By the time Thakur realized that Aree was gone, he had climbed beyond sight. The tree was too slight for Thakur to climb any farther than to the first crotch and there he perched, looking anxiously up into the branches and yowling helplessly, hoping Aree would come back.

Soon there was a rustle and Aree plopped down on him, making him lose his balance and topple out of the tree. A wild swing of his tail enabled him to land on his feet with the tree-ling still attached. When he peered back over his shoulder, he noticed that Aree was carrying something smooth and round. He had seen similar objects hanging on some trees, but since he never ate any part of a tree, he never paid attention to these things unless he stepped on one that was rotten.

Aree was fascinated. The treeling turned his prize over in his paws, looking at it and smelling it. The little creature had to stretch his jaws wide before he was able to bite into the skin, but once he did, he began munching away as if he had never tasted anything so delicious in his short life.

The fruit the treeling picked was overripe and the syrupy juice dribbled onto Thakur’s back. It ran down his side and matted his fur, making him itch. Irritated, he nudged Aree aside and cleaned his coat, but as fast as he licked himself, the treeling dribbled more juice on him.

The taste of the stuff was sweet and the only sweet flavor Thakur knew was the taste of spoiled meat. That was enough to make him stop licking. He tried to ignore the smears on his coat, but as the afternoon passed, the sun warmed his back, turning the dribbles into sticky patches and dry, crusty spots. Once Aree had discovered this new treat, he sought more and couldn’t be persuaded to dismount while eating. Thakur’s back and neck fur were soon stiff with dried dribbles and his skin itched unbearably.

There were a few flies still left from summer and they all began to swarm around him. The treeling, unconcerned, continued to stuff himself. Unable to stand the torment any longer, Thakur finally dislodged Aree by threatening to roll over on him. While the treeling sulked, he licked his back and sides, digging out sticky mats of hair in which entrapped flies buzzed angrily.

Sometimes the treeling picked more than he could eat and became fussy, taking one bite and throwing the rest away. Thakur often retrieved the discards, licking the juice from them. The first time he tried to eat one, he gagged on the pulpy texture. Once he had grown used to that, he tried to crack the pit as he would a bone. He found no marrow inside, only evil-tasting seeds. He spat everything out and opened his mouth wide, drooling saliva on the ground. He ran for the stream, almost leaving Aree behind, and lapped until the bitter taste was gone.

Thakur also discovered an interesting property of this new food. Many of the fruits still hanging had begun to ferment; eating those made his tongue tingle. Afterwards he felt warm and happy, often chasing his tail and bouncing around like a cub. Eating too many made him clumsy, and he couldn’t keep his paws from sliding out from under him. His head also ached a little. The treeling chirped happily and wobbled on his back.

The treeling once became so drunk that he fell out of a tree. A clump of ferns cushioned his landing, but he couldn’t ride without toppling off. Thakur had to carry Aree back to the den in his mouth. Thakur suffered also from the treeling’s overindulgence, for he had been eating Aree’s leavings. He was stricken with a severe digestive upset that made him forget the mild pain in his head. The two spent the rest of the day in the makeshift den, sleeping much of the time and ill-tempered when they were awake. As he lay groaning, Thakur swore he would never touch his tongue to the cursed stuff again.

Aree recovered first, but the illness laid Thakur low for several days. During that time Aree stayed with him, gently grooming his fur or snuggling against him, making soft reassuring sounds. At last his stomach started to behave itself again and he was able to stagger out of the den, shaky and thin.

He knew he needed meat and he would have to return to the clan for it. He guessed the mating season was almost over, judging by how long he’d been away. Of course now he must worry about what to do with his treeling, but at least he’d have some time to think about it on the trail.

Chapter Seven

Thakur felt the treeling dig his paws deeper into his fur and crouch low on his back. He peered through the gray drizzle that sifted between the trees and looked toward the meadow where the herd grazed. Smoke billowed above the grass and he saw the amber flicker of fire. The treeling shook himself and fluffed his fur. Thakur could feel how uneasy Aree was by the way he shivered and clung. A gust of wind blew the smoke toward them. The herding teacher had almost forgotten how smoke stung his nose. He sneezed and glanced at Aree as the treeling drew back his whiskers and rubbed his muzzle with the back of his paw.

Thakur circled along the edge of the meadow and approached upwind of the guard-fire, allowing his scent to drift ahead of him to announce his presence to the young Firekeeper. The yearling might be nervous, and a mistaken attack could frighten Aree away. Soon Thakur could see the ring of guard flames that surrounded the clan’s animals.

He jogged toward a point midway between the closest outlying guard-fires. A Firekeeper came out to meet him. At the sight of Thakur, the youngster’s tail went up and a look of relief came over his face. Thakur guessed that he was anxious for the clan adults to return from mating and take over their duties once again.

“Welcome back, herding teacher!” the Firekeeper called. He stopped, stared and cocked his head. Thakur knew the yearling had seen something odd about him, but he wasn’t about to stop to answer questions. He quickened his pace.

As he crossed the meadow, he glanced toward the oak where several clan members had taken shelter from the misty rain. Among them he saw the gleam of a silver pelt. He hadn’t thought of Shongshar in a while. Having Aree as a companion had distracted him from his old doubts, but now they came back in a rush. Shongshar’s head lifted and he trotted out to meet Thakur.

Thakur felt ashamed of his worries. Shongshar had already proven himself a worthy and valued member of the group, the herding teacher reminded himself. It seemed that only he, Thakur, continued to doubt him. And that doubt was not based on Shongshar’s character but on the things he couldn’t control, such as the length of his fangs, the manner of his bite and the uncertainty of his parentage. Was it really fair to hold such things against him?

As Shongshar approached, Thakur could see that he had grown heavier; the powerful muscling in his shoulders and neck was even more evident. Now he was almost full-grown, and there was an air of maturity and a new sense of assurance about him. When the silvercoat drew closer, Thakur could see why. Shongshar’s muzzle was marked with claw scratches. The herding teacher had seen those marks on other young males after the mating season. The older males had enough experience to jump away before the female could claw them, but younger ones often caught their partner’s sudden change of mood too late to prevent a strike across the face.

For many of the young males, this was a badge of maturity and they wore their wounds proudly, as Shongshar did now. He slowed from a jog into an easy walk, his tail swinging. Again Thakur felt Aree tense as Shongshar’s scent reached them. The silvercoat, however, seemed to know the need to keep his distance.

“Herding teacher, if you’re hungry, there is a fresh kill,” said Shongshar at last, after eyeing the treeling. “You are among the first to return, and the yearlings have left plenty.”

His words reminded Thakur that his stomach hadn’t been filled with fresh meat in many days. He was seized by a strong hunger that cramped his belly and made him weak.

“Over here, herding teacher.” Shongshar led the way under the oak. At the sight of the kill, Thakur forgot everything else and ate until the pangs in his stomach had eased. When he felt sated, he scrubbed his muzzle and washed behind his ears, bumping the treeling with his forepaw.

He yawned, feeling the satisfying weight of a full belly. “Ah, that is so much better!” he said, stretching out and not minding the damp grass.

Shongshar ate a few bites and then washed himself as Thakur had done, stopping now and then to study the tree-ling. “What does it eat?” he asked.

“Bugs. And those soft things that hang on trees.”

Shongshar wrinkled his nose. “Oh.” He sat up, his nose in the air and then listened attentively. “I think some of the others are coming.”

Unwillingly, Thakur got up. All he wanted was to lie down and digest his dinner, but he had to do something with Aree before the other clanfolk arrived.

They got there much sooner than he expected. He had only reached the path that led to the dens when a whole group of long-absent clan members spilled out of the underbrush and greeted him with enthusiastic rubs and nuzzles. With a terrified squeal, Aree dived underneath him and clung to the long fur on his belly. Everyone retreated in surprise and Thakur was able to sort them all out. He saw Shoman, Cherfan and Fessran on one side of him, Ratha and Bira on the other. They looked tired and thin, but happy. They also looked and smelled hungry.

Their voices tumbled together in his ears.

“Is that a tree-creature, Thakur?”

“Where did you get it?”

“Are you going to eat it?”

“I’ve never had one of those before. Can I have a taste?”

“It smells good. Come on, aren’t you going to share?”

Thakur looked frantically for a way out of the ring of hungry friends. He could feel Aree trembling and pulling his belly fur so hard that it hurt. They all crowded around him again, except for the clan leader, who stood back watching, with an annoying look of amusement on her face.

“Ratha!” Thakur bellowed, trying to guard Aree from inquisitive muzzles and paws.

She waded in among the group, butting, shoving and dealing out cuffs to those who didn’t get out of her way. “All right, leave Thakur alone, you greedy bunch. I smell a kill over by the oak; the yearlings are welcoming us back.”

Cherfan lifted his head and tail. His eyes brightened and he galloped away, followed by Shoman, Fessran and Bira.

“Leave enough for me!” Ratha roared after them before she turned back to Thakur.

Aree had stopped shaking, but he still clung tightly to Thakur’s underside. Ratha paced around the herding teacher, trying to peek under his belly at the treeling. He could hear her stomach growl, and he wasn’t sure whether her interest was just curiosity.

“Are you really going to keep this creature?” she asked at last.

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Well, I don’t know. No one in the clan has ever kept one. I’m not sure why anyone would want to. Are you waiting for it to grow fatter so it will make more of a mouthful?”

“The meat is over there,” Thakur said icily, flicking his whiskers in the direction of the old oak. “If you can’t think of anything except your belly, go and eat.”

Ratha reassured him that she wouldn’t eat his treeling but there was still a spark of mischief in her eyes. She admitted one could keep a creature for reasons other than eating it. After all, she had tamed and kept the Red Tongue.

“I don’t think this treeling is quite the same as the creature I brought to the clan,” she said critically as Aree grew bold enough to leave his refuge under Thakur’s belly and clamber up onto his back. With a suspicious look at her, the treeling began grooming himself again; once he had finished, he started to part Thakur’s fur, sifting through his pelt.

Ratha grimaced. “Yarr! He’s putting his paws into your coat. Doesn’t that feel terrible?”

“At first it did, but now I don’t mind,” Thakur answered. Ratha sat down and scratched herself briefly.

“What’s he doing?” She stared harder at the treeling.

“Aree is eating my ticks. He’s cleaned me off pretty well and I don’t have many fleas either. You probably have more than I do now.”

“I probably do. When the fleabane plant dies in the winter, we scratch until spring.” Ratha added the action to the word. When she stood up again, Thakur bumped up against her and tried to nudge the treeling onto her back.

“Oh no.” She sidled away. “I don’t want that thing pawing through my fur.”

“Are you afraid of a treeling after you’ve tamed the Red Tongue?” Thakur lolled his tongue at her.

“Of course not!” Ratha’s whiskers bristled.

“You want to get rid of all those itchy fleas, don’t you?”

“I don’t think he will climb on me,” Ratha said, but Thakur could see her resistance was weakening.

“He will if you don’t try to eat him.”

Still looking doubtful, Ratha edged against Thakur. He nosed the reluctant treeling off his back. Aree hissed at him and gave his whiskers a pull before he scrambled onto her and began to groom her ruff. Aree buried his muzzle in her pelt and bit at something. Alarmed, Thakur tried to take the treeling off, unsure whether he was trying to bite Ratha or something in her fur.