17
CHAPTER
Who wakes in the wilderness when night is
done
Fancying himself lord of all the land
May see what was not there at the set of sun
And tremblingly will come to understand
The peril that has passed him in the dark—
Tracks ... in the sand.
Fancying himself lord of all the land
May see what was not there at the set of sun
And tremblingly will come to understand
The peril that has passed him in the dark—
Tracks ... in the sand.
The light of day showed the Slenderleap Ford—a
narrow, arching natural rock bridge flung over the Hararscrape. The
opposite wall of the canyon was so far away that Slenderleap seemed
to dwindle into nothingness in midspan.
Pouncequick looked out across the formation
apprehensively.
“Well, I suppose we shall have to cross it, won’t
we, Tailchaser?”
Fritti nodded. “It’s either that or try to go down
into the Hararscrape and cross the Caterwaul at the bottom. I don’t
fancy that much.”
“It’s the only way open to us now,” Roofshadow said
quietly. “Squeakerbane said it’s leagues and leagues to the end of
the canyon. I doubt this will be the worst thing we see, anyway.
Shall we go?”
Tailchaser sized the fela up carefully.
I don’t think she’s as calm as she wants to put
about, he thought. My whiskers tell me she’s scared, too.
Maybe more than we are. But there are all kinds of bravery, I
suppose.
“Roofshadow’s right, Pounce,” he said aloud. “Let’s
get to it.”
Once past the giant oak, whose root clusters seemed
to anchor one side of the curving bridge, Fritti took the lead.
Pouncequick followed him and Roofshadow brought up the rear,
keeping a careful eye.
Slenderleap Ford was wider than it appeared from a
distance—wide enough that three cats could have walked abreast—and
at first the going was fairly easy. The wet weather and chill
temperatures had left patches of ice on the stone, though.
Tailchaser and his friends walked slowly and very carefully.
When they had moved a distance out onto the span,
the canyon walls fell away below them, and the growling and
pounding of the Caterwaul rose up to fill the air. The footing
became treacherous, and the noise of the river drowned out most
sounds. They journeyed over the canyon single-file and unspeaking,
like caterpillars on a slender branch.
Near the midpoint of the stone ford Fritti felt the
wind that blew down the canyon swirl roughly about him, tugging at
his fur. Sudden gusts forced him to take a few shaky steps.
He stopped, pivoting slowly back around to face his
companions. Pouncequick was a jump or two behind, and Roofshadow
trailed the kitten at a slight distance, a look of grim
concentration on her solemn gray face. As Tailchaser waited,
Pouncequick also stopped, peering down from the ford into the
Hararscrape.
“Tailchaser, Roofshadow!” he keened above the wind.
“I can see a flock of birds below us! Below us! We’re higher than
the fla-fa‘az themselves!” In his excitement Pouncequick leaned
even farther out to savor the sensation. Fritti’s heart raced with
fear, and felt as though it had grown to block off his air.
“Pounce! Get away from there!” he snarled.
Pouncequick, startled, jumped back from the edge and slipped,
skidding on the slick stone. Roofshadow, right behind the kitten
now, swiftly seized him by the scruff of the neck. Her bite, sure
and hard, drew a squeal of pain from Pouncequick, but she held her
grip until his questing paws found a solid hold once more. She then
gave Tailchaser a look that caused him to turn around without
saying a word and continue on across the span.
On the downward-sloping section Roofshadow herself
lost her footing for a moment in a heavy gust of wind, but managed
to crouch and hold until the danger was past.
At all times the Caterwaul bellowed and shouted up
at them: three tiny little creatures on a thin strand above the
mighty waters. When they at last reached the opposite side the trio
collapsed to the ground with trembling legs and lay for some time
before they could go forward.
The landscape on the far side of Slenderleap was
undistinguished and lonely. From the canyon’s rim a jumble of rocks
and hummocks of earth spotted with brush and clinging shrubbery
stretched before them. As they moved away from the tapering span
and the rushing of the Caterwaul subsided behind, the cold silence
of the land rose around them like a fog.
Except for birds, which from time to time passed
silently overhead, there were no signs of animal life. The breeze
that whispered past Tailchaser’s face and whiskers brought nothing
but chill air and faint mist-traces of the river.
Pouncequick also sniffed the wind curiously, then
turned to Fritti for confirmation of his senses. “I don’t smell any
other Folk, Tailchaser. I don’t sense much of anything.”
“I know, Pounce.” Tailchaser looked around. “It’s
not the most hospitable place I’ve ever seen.”
Roofshadow gave Fritti a significant stare and
said: “I am sure we will find life in Ratleaf Forest, if only in
the deeper places.” Fritti pondered the look.
I suppose she doesn’t want me to frighten
Pounce, he guessed.
As they walked, Fritti became aware of a slight
feeling of irritation, something unsettling at the very rim of his
consciousness. He felt a faint buzzing, or humming—but it was as
thin and insubstantial as the noise of a brzz-hive a hundred
leagues away. But it was there—and very subtly, it was getting
stronger.
When they stopped to rest in the wind-damping
shelter of a standing stone, he asked his companions if they had
sensed it, too.
“Not yet,” said Roofshadow, “but I expected you
would first. It’s a good thing you can.”
“What do you mean?” asked Fritti, mystified.
“You heard Squeakerbane. You heard Fencewalker.
There’s something happening in these wilds, and that’s why we’re
here. Better that we sense it before it senses us.”
“What kind of something?” Pouncequick’s eyes were
bright and curious.
“I don’t know,” said Roofshadow, “but it is bad. It
is os in a way that I have not sensed before. I knew that when I
found the home of my Folk. If we are going to walk into its
territory—and here we are—then we should at least not deceive
ourselves on that account.”
As Roofshadow spoke, eyes clear and spine straight,
Fritti could not help wondering what she had been like before the
death of her tribe. She was a hunter, no doubt of that, but the
hard-edged look that she wore seemed to be more from sorrow than
other causes. Would she ever dance or laugh? It seemed odd to try
to picture it, but he had seen her play with little Pouncequick.
Maybe someday she would be happier. He hoped so.
They walked for a while into the evening, and when
Meerclar’s Eye was high above them, stopped to rest. The humming
that was not quite a sound seemed closer, more pervasive now, and
even Pouncequick and Roofshadow felt something—a current, just
below the surface. After hunting for some time without success the
three cats conceded victory to the desolate wilderness and curled
themselves up together in a furry pile to sleep.
Tailchaser wiggled his nose free from
Pouncequick’s hind leg and sniffed the air groggily. The Eye had
slipped below the horizon, and the dew of Final Dancing was wet on
his muzzle. Something had awakened him, but what?
Trying not to arouse his sleeping comrades, he
craned his head up from the knot of warm bodies like a hlizza
rising up on its coils.
The humming, the strange pulsing that he felt
bone-deep, had changed pitch. It was more vibrant somehow—not
closer, but sharper.
He felt a strong, piercing sensation. In the
darkness outside the circle of warmth something was watching them.
Tailchaser froze, holding his head motionless, aware even in his
fear that it was an uncomfortable position.
Suddenly, as if he had fallen into cold water, a
great wash of loneliness flowed over and through him—it was not his
own. Something, some being, was wearing this hideous isolation like
a skin—he could sense it as strongly as if the tortured creature
were right beside him. He remembered the cat of his dream, spinning
forever through the darkness, radiating cold despair. Was this the
same feeling?
Even as he thought of the catmint nightmare the
feeling was gone. The hum had become a low throb again, and the
wilderness around them was empty. Fritti could feel, although he
could not say how, that the watcher was gone. When he woke the
others they listened blearily to his excited story, but after some
time had passed it became obvious that whatever it had been would
not return that night. They returned to uneasy sleep.
After marching for a short time in the sunlight of
the following morning, they sighted the mound.
They were descending down a rocky plain into a
wide, shallow valley. It stretched away before them to the
foothills of a range of tall mountains, so far away they seemed
only dim shapes against the sky. The snow had begun to fall again,
and as it fluttered down to land and cling on their coats they
looked across the cracked, gray valley floor to the mushrooming
bulge in its center. The mound, low and massive, thrust up from the
cold ground like the shell of an enormous dun-colored beetle.
Coming over the low rim of the valley the travelers
felt the pulling sensation suddenly increase. Fritti shied back,
hackles raised, and Pouncequick and Roofshadow shook their heads as
if beset by an unpleasant noise.
“That’s it!” hissed Tailchaser, feeling panicky and
short of breath.
“It is,” Roofshadow agreed. “We have found the
source of many problems.”
Pouncequick had retreated several steps, and now
crouched, eyes wide and small body shivering. “It’s a nest,” he
said quietly. “It’s a nest, and the things in it will sting us and
sting us!” He began sniffling quietly. Roofshadow, walking a little
unsteadily herself, went to his side and nuzzled him comfortingly
behind the ear. She looked up from the kitten inquiringly.
“What do we do now, Tailchaser?” she asked.
Fritti shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t
have the slightest idea. I hadn’t ever expected... this. I’m ...
I’m frightened.” He looked down at the huge, silent mound and
shuddered.
“So am I, Tailchaser,” said Roofshadow, and the
tone of her voice drew his gaze. She met his eyes, and the shadow
of a smile passed across her face, the merest twitch of her
whiskers. Something else passed between them. Fritti, feeling
awkward, padded over to Pouncequick.
“It’s all right, little friend,” he said, sniffing
Pouncequick’s nose. The small cat smelled of terror, his body
trembling, his bushy tail curled up between his legs. “It’s all
right, Pounce, we won’t let anything happen to you.” Fritti was not
even listening to his own words—he was staring off again, across
the valley.
“Well, whatever we will do, now we must
move,” Roofshadow pointed out. “The winds are rising again, and we
are completely exposed. And not only to the weather.”
Fritti realized that she was right. They were as
naked and unprotected in this spot as a bug on a flat rock. He
nodded in agreement, and they coaxed their young comrade to his
paws.
“Come on, now, Pounce, let’s find a better place to
lie up for a while, and then we’ll have a bit of a think.”
Roofshadow, too, moved to reassure the youngling.
“We will not go any closer, Pouncequick ... not now. I don’t want
to spend the Hours of Darkness very close to that os-mound
in any case.” The youngling, persuaded into movement, walked
quietly between them as they began a long march around the outside
rim of the valley.
Along the valley edge, circling the mound like
small planets orbiting a gray, dead sun, the companions paced
quietly and kept close together. As the sun rose into the sky,
bringing a sickly light to the valley, stands of trees became
visible over the far rim of the great bowl. A vast sea of woodlands
reached into the distance.
“That must be Ratleaf,” Roofshadow said. Tailchaser
was startled at how loud her voice sounded after their long
silence. “It looks to be quite a long walk,” she continued, “but it
will certainly provide shelter.”
“Certainly,” agreed Fritti. “Do you see it, Pounce?
Think of it! Trees to scratch, Squeakers to hunt—everything!”
Pouncequick gave him a weak grin, and murmured:
“Thank you, Tailchaser. I will be all right.” They continued
on.
Toward the end of Smaller Shadows a clutch of
large, dark birds flew overhead. One of their number peeled off
from the others and swooped down to circle over the cats. He had a
bright eye, and feathers of glossy black. He hovered lazily for a
few moments quite close above their heads; then, uttering a shrill
cry of derision, he soared up to meet his fellows. Croaking, they
disappeared from sight.
By the dwindling away of Stretching Sun they had
come near enough to Ratleaf Forest to distinguish the spires of
individual trees protruding above the edge of the valley. With the
night fast approaching, the sensation of malevolence coming from
the shadowy hump on the valley floor seemed to increase.
Tailchaser felt the throbbing deep inside himself,
and only by repeating the First-walkers’ prayer over and over
mindlessly was he able to stifle his urge to bolt and run until he
would fall down exhausted. “Tangaloor, fire-bright,” he muttered to
himself, “flame-foot, farthest walker ...” Pouncequick and
Roofshadow did not seem to be feeling it quite as strongly as he,
but they looked strained and worn. The forest was now completely
visible, stretching for leagues beyond the bowl-shaped valley. It
looked very warm and inviting.
When the sun finally began to set, limning the tips
of the trees with golden light, they quickened their pace, pressing
their bodies to still greater efforts. As the sun dipped below the
farthest horizon of the forest, only its red corona left pressed
against the sky, a bitterly cold wind sprang up; it bit at their
noses and flattened their fur.
Tailchaser, with Pouncequick and Roofshadow
struggling gamely behind him, increased his speed. The buzzing
sensation was mounting; he felt quite ill. A vast, formless panic
seemed to snap at their heels. One after another, the trio broke
into a run.
Up the steep outer slope of the valley wall they
galloped, topping it at last to look down on the edge of Ratleaf.
Heedless now of anything but the gathering oppressiveness behind
them they tumbled down the short rise and dashed across the rocky
flat, to vanish at last under the eaves of the forest.
Ratleaf Forest slumbered... or seemed to. A murky,
stagnant calm hung in the air. As Tailchaser and his companions
slunk wearily through the trees the forest’s silence weighed as
heavily on them as their own fatigue.
Once into the woods, Fritti and Pouncequick were
quite ready to collapse where they stood, but Roofshadow pointed
out the importance of finding a site that was better protected
against cold and discovery. Although the mound was now out of
sight, it had not disappeared from their memories: with groans of
weariness they acceded to the fela’s suggestion and continued
deeper into the forest.
Picking their way across the damp loam, past moss
and mushrooms, the cats found themselves imitating the silence of
their surroundings. Heads down, moving slowly, they stopped
frequently to wrinkle their noses at the unfamiliar scents of
Ratleaf. Moisture pervaded everything, earth and bark sodden and
dripping—the whole forest smelled of tree roots in still water deep
underground. The air was steaming-breath cold.
It took the travelers until the end of Unfolding
Dark to find shelter: a windbreak provided by a standing granite
boulder and the roots of a toppled tree. They promptly fell down to
sleep. Nothing disturbed them, but when they woke near the middle
of Deepest Quiet—sore and hungry—they did not feel particularly
rested.
There were still no signs of any creatures bigger
than insects. After a period of fruitless search the cats were
forced to settle for a supper of grubs and beetles.
Although they were all feeling poorly, Tailchaser
felt especially on edge and upset. The throbbing of the mound,
despite its having decreased noticeably when they passed into
Ratleaf, still dug at him. Also, unlike his two friends, he had not
shared Fencewalker’s squirrel and had now gone two full days
without any type of meal he would call satisfactory.
As he swallowed his last grub, he snapped: “Well,
here we are, and no mistake about it. I have brought us right to
the brink, no question. I hope you are both pleased about following
me while I made a complete M‘an of myself! Perhaps you’d
like to follow me into the mound so we can all be hideously
slaughtered.” He swatted an oak boll with his paw and watched it
carom away.
“Don’t say such things, Tailchaser,” said
Pouncequick. “That’s not true, any of it.”
“It is true, Pounce,” said Fritti bitterly. “The
great hunter Tailchaser has come to the limit of his quest.”
“The only thing you have said that is true,
Tailchaser,” said. Roofshadow with surprising vehemence, “is that
we have found what we were looking for. That is something that
Fencewalker, Squeakerbane and the others cannot say. We have found
the source of the terror.”
“Apparently Thane Brushstalker found it, too—and
you heard what happened to him! Meerclar protect us!” Tailchaser
was a little mollified, though. He looked up from his sulk to face
his comrades. “All right. The question still remains. What do we
do?”
Pouncequick looked at the two elder cats, then said
quietly, as if ashamed: “I think we should go back to the Prince
and tell him. He’ll know what to do.”
Fritti was about to object when Roofshadow cut in:
“Pouncequick’s right. We felt the os in that place. We three are
too few and too small. To think that it is our place alone to deal
with this is an arrogance surpassing Ninebirds‘.” The fela shook
her head, green eyes thoughtful. “If we bring others here they
cannot fail to discover what we have. Perhaps then the weight of
the Court of Harar will be put to some use.” She stood, another
shadow in the dark forest. “Come, let’s return to the tree roots
until the sun is out. I am certainly not going anywhere
tonight.”
Tailchaser stared at the gray fela, admiring her.
“As usual, you speak with quite a bit more reason than I
have been using. You too, Pounce.” He smiled at his young friend.
“Harar! I’m glad that you two didn’t let me go off by my stupid
self.”
In the Hour before dawn Fritti was unable to
sleep. Roofshadow and Pouncequick tossed fitfully and muttered, but
Tailchaser lay between them and stared up into the dark treetops,
nerves as taut as a bent branch. From time to time he would drift
off into a brief, dreamy near-sleep, only to find himself suddenly
wide awake again, feeling trapped and exposed, his heart
pounding.
The night wore on. The forest remained as still as
stone.
Tailchaser was wandering along the dream threshold
when he heard a noise. He lay listening distractedly for a moment
as it grew louder; suddenly he realized that something was charging
rapidly toward them through the underbrush. He leaped onto his
paws, jarring his friends into groggy wakefulness.
“Something’s coming!” he hissed, fur bristling. The
din increased. Time seemed to slow, each moment expanding into a
smothering eternity. A shape burst out of the undergrowth only a
few jumps away.
Spiky and tattered, eyes starting from its head,
the apparition crashed out into the open. Highlighted by the Eye
beaming down through the trees, it seemed to take forever to reach
the companions. Tailchaser, rigid with panic, felt as though he
were under deep water.
The bizarre figure skidded to a halt. The Eye-light
was full in its face for a moment—full in the face of
Eatbugs.
Before Fritti, shocked and startled, could move or
say a word, Eatbugs threw back his head and howled like the
bitterest winter storm.
“Run! Run!” cried the mad cat. “They’re coming!
RUN!”
Pouncequick and Roofshadow were bolt upright now.
As if to emphasize Eatbugs’ cry, a terrible choking scream welled
up from the darkness of the woods beyond. With a bound, Eatbugs was
past Tailchaser and his companions and gone. Another horrible moan
split the air. With unconscious noises of terror, the trio was
after him, running headlong into the forest, away from the hideous
sound.
Tailchaser felt as if he were in an awful dream—the
flickering of Eye-light and darkness nearly blinding him, Eatbugs
barely visible before him, rocks and roots rising up around him.
The forest seemed to rush past. He could hear Pouncequick and the
fela laboring along beside him. On and on they ran, no thought of
stealth or hiding, only escape, escape!
Now Pouncequick alone was at his side—gasping,
driving himself along on his short kitten-legs in an ecstasy of
terror. Fritti was pulling away from him. Without thinking,
Tailchaser slowed down, turned to urge him on. There was a cracking
sound from overhead, and something sprang down from the trees.
Tailchaser felt sharp claws gouging him, raking his back; then he
was crushed to the ground and his ka fled into complete
darkness.