"Me brute,” Rowan agreed.
"What alarmed Hawk?"
"Ghost."
"I am not familiar with the concept.” The coyote did not accept what the hawk had seen.
"Like this."
Rowan conjured her next mental image. It was a wolf, somewhat larger and shaggier than the coyote. “Get away from my tree, bitch!” he thought.
Peba picked up a curiously mixed reaction from Rowan. She had thought a term that could be used as either a female wolf or a bad word. She had used it both ways at once. She liked doing that, being unreformed.
The coyote backed away. “I did not feel you coming. What are you?"
"A werewolf.” And the wolf shifted into a brutish human man. “Get out, or tangle with me, you bad excuse for a dog!” The man grabbed for the coyote.
The coyote danced out of the way. “This is not possible. Animals do not exchange shapes."
"It is possible for a werewolf.” The wolf form reappeared. “Now I'll take a piece of you.” He snapped at the coyote, his huge jaws slavering. Peba helped boost the enormous surge of menace that accompanied the snap.
The coyote's nerve broke. She fled, with the werewolf bounding after her, growling.
"What do you think of haunts now?” the hawk's thought came from a distance.
"Something very strange here,” the coyote replied. “I don't think that werewolf was real, but I don't want its company."
"You both are timid,” the wildcat thought as she bounded past the retreating coyote. “I shall see what in going on."
"Me dull bearer,” Rowan thought as the wildcat came to the tree. “Me left behind."
"Think when thought to,” the wildcat responded curtly. She sniffed around the entrance to the burrow, then considered the tree. “What is this structure in the tree?"
"Me house,” the dull human responded. “Me not fit in burrow."
"This burrow went to a lot of trouble for you."
"Me good bearer."
"I see no haunts."
Then a panther sprang from behind the tree. He was twice the wildcat's size. “Get away from my tree, tabby cat!” he thought fiercely.
The wildcat was taken aback, but not intimidated. She was a scarred veteran of many violent encounters; Peba read that in her mind. “Where did you come from?"
"I am the ghost of this tree. I chomp anyone who molests it. Now get out of here before I chomp you.” The panther advanced on the wildcat, radiating menace.
"There are no panthers in this region,” the wildcat thought. “You can't be real.” Then she sprang at the panther—and right through him, for indeed, he wasn't real.
This was mischief. The panther had caught on, and would let the others know.
But Rowan was a quick thinker. “I am a ghost,” the panther agreed. “But I can still hurt you."
"How, when you can't touch me?"
"By taking over the body of the human,” the panther thought. “I am not physical, but she is."
"A stupid human?” the wildcat thought derisively.
The panther leaped at Rowan, and merged with her body. Then she thought with its tone of mind, which was of course easy for her to do, since she had been imagining it all along. “Now I have a body. It may be clumsy, but it will do."
"This is not possible,” the wildcat thought, but there was doubt in her mind. No human of this realm had ever thought in such a manner.
The possessed human lifted the staff and stepped menacingly toward the wildcat. “Now I will smash you, kitty cat!” Rowan thought, striking with the pole.
The wildcat readily avoided the blow, but her confidence was shaken. The panther did seem to have become physical, in its fashion, and it was remarkably aggressive.
"Bearer!” the wildcat thought urgently. “Retreat!"
"I have possession of this body, not you, you mangy feline,” the ghost thought. “You can't order me around!” And the body made a lunge with the pole.
The wildcat's nerve broke. She turned tail and fled.
Rowan leaned against the tree, keeping a tight rein on her mind. Peba know why: she had been bluffing, and now was weak with reaction. The point had not been to beat back the wildcat, though she might have done it with the staff, but to convince it that something supernatural was happening. That had finally worked, in part because no human bearer would have attacked a sapient animal. But if the wildcat had not been bluffed, the whole case could have been lost.
"Banish the panther,” Peba thought. “The civet is arriving, and it is canny."
"No, maybe it is better to set it back with my mind,” Rowan thought. “As the ghost, showing another power: it can make a dull human smart."
"But if she realizes that it is your real mind—"
"She shouldn't. There is no mind like mine in this realm, so it must be a ghost. I hope."
Peba hoped so too. The members of the other burrow were increasingly difficult to scare off, and all of them had to be scared, or all was lost.
The civet cat arrived. She was black with white stripes patterning her small body, and the end of her tail was bushy white.
"That's no cat!” Rowan thought, alarmed. “That's a skunk!"
"Yes, a variety of skunk,” Peba agreed. “Didn't you know?"
"Where I come from they aren't called cats."
"But Owl sent a mental picture."
"I guess I picked up on the name, and never actually looked at the picture. That's a lesson for me: look before I assume. Now I know why none of you want to tangle with a civet. I don't want to tangle with her either. She could raise an awful stink."
Meanwhile the skunk was surveying the situation. She was a handsome creature, and she did not smell bad. “A panther taking over the body of a human bearer?” she thought, picking up on what her burrow mate had thought. “I doubt it. Something else is going on here."
Peba felt the girl's nervousness about dealing with such a creature, and her determination to play it through. There was no ready alternative. “Not a panther, a ghost. I assume any form I choose, or I take over any body I choose. Maybe I'll take yours.” She stepped toward the skunk. It was sheer bluff.
The skunk was dubious, but careful. She retreated, not turning tail either to flee or to spray her awful stink. “You could be a rogue human pretending to be possessed by a ghost."
"Does any human have a mind like this?” Rowan opened her mind, with a blast of sheer power. It was similar to the experience of Peba and the others when they first shared minds with her, but this was a hostile presentation.
The skunk tried to doubt, but could not, because this was real. The human mind really was impossibly powerful. About to be swept away by its tempestuous strength, the skunk turned and ran away, not even trying to spray.
"Halt!” Rowan thought after her. “I want to eat your mind!"
But the skunk had had more than enough. She was getting as far away as possible.
Peba and Rowan relaxed again, both feeling weak from the encounter. Had the skunk not been successfully bluffed, Rowan could have gotten sprayed, and both she and the tree would have smelled awful for a long time. This scare-project was not turning out to be easy.
The fifth member of the invading burrow arrived. This was the rattlesnake. She was full grown, thick of body and cynical of mind. “There have been some odd things here,” she thought. “But I think nothing that a good shot of venom can't cure."
"Do not let her get within striking range!” Peba thought urgently. “If she coils, get away!"
Rowan held her staff firmly before her, ready to block the snake. She was afraid of rattlesnakes; her fear made her body feel weak. Peba sent reassurance, though he feared for her too. “Yes, very odd,” Rowan thought to the rattlesnake.
"What would a bearer know of it?"
"Remember to be stupid,” Peba thought warningly.
Roman checked herself; she had been about to forget. “Only what me see."
The snake remained wary. “What do you see
?"
"A dragon.” And around the tree came a huge serpentine creature with a ferocious head gleaming with teeth.
This did set the rattlesnake back. “What manner of snake are you?"
"A ghost snake,” he replied. “I breathe fire."
"Impossible. No snake associates with fire."
The dragon inhaled enormously, then blew out a fierce column of fire that missed to the side. That was deliberate, because the fire was illusionary; if it struck the rattlesnake, there would be no heat, and the bluff would be exposed.
The rattlesnake wriggled like a sidewinder, sideways, away from the flame. “This can't be!"
"You have much to learn about ghosts,” the dragon thought. “Now are you going to leave my tree alone, or will I have to scorch your tail?"
"A ghost, as you think it, has no substance,” the rattlesnake thought.
"So you can't bite me. But I can scorch you.” The dragon inhaled again, orienting his snout directly on the rattlesnake.
The rattlesnake fled. She disappeared into the brush, but they were able to follow her mind. She had not realized that Rowan's logic was not valid; if the ghost could not be touched, neither could it touch or burn. Another bluff had been successful.
But there was one more to go. This was the tortoise, the slowest member of the group, but also the least likely one to spook. A ghost would probably not scare her.
"We'll have to think of something else,” Rowan thought. “What would keep a tortoise out of a burrow?
"A flood,” Peba thought. “The same thing that would keep out other animals."
"But this burrow is too well drained. That tunnel to the portal goes really deep, but there was never any water. She'd just go down in it, and soon know the water wasn't real."
"Yes, tortoises are practical,” Peba agreed. “As long as they have room to fit, and air to breathe, they are satisfied."
"Air,” she thought. “How about bad air?"
"The air here is good."
"But it could seem bad in the burrow. Like poison gas. Suffocating. She wouldn't like that."
"But if she can still breathe—"
"Like this.” She concentrated.
The air around Peba became close, and it smelled bad. He tried to take a breath, but it felt like bitter water. “I'm drowning!"
The air freshened immediately. “You only felt as if you were drowning,” she thought. “And you know it's not real. Would it work on a tortoise who didn't know?"
"Yes!” Peba gasped. He had not liked the bad air at all.
"I'll tell her it's bad, and maybe she won't believe me, but when she goes into the burrow I'll make it feel like that, and she'll have enough belief to be scared."
"This is more likely to work than a ghost panther or dragon,” Peba agreed. “Down under ground, it is easier to believe in bad air."
"That's what I figure."
They waited, and in due course the tortoise arrived. She was larger than Gopher, with a heavier shell, and her mind was far more experienced. She was tougher than any of the predators. She had been mistress of her burrow for many years, and knew the secrets of a number of animals. She did not believe in harpies, dragons, werewolves, ghosts, or possession. She intended to take over this burrow, and that was all there was to it. Her burrow mates would be less timid when they saw that she had occupied it.
"Hello, Tortoise,” Rowan thought as the female came near the tree.
The tortoise ignored her. Uppity bearers could be retrained as convenient. She headed directly for the burrow entrance.
"Air there bad,” Rowan thought, emulating stupid. “Poison. Choke. Die."
The tortoise did not deign to respond. She entered the burrow and headed down into its depths.
Rowan imagined a faint bad odor, as of a distant whiff of dead animal. She increased this to a worse odor, as of a nearby rotting carcass. Then she imagined mustard gas filling the burrow, making anything within it choke and gasp for breath. It was rising from below, from the region of the portal, a sickly stench. It intensified into nausea, becoming almost liquid. It was impossible to survive in this putrid fog. Any creature who remained here long would suffocate. In fact the tunnel was starting to spin around dizzyingly, suggesting a mind that was fading. What an awful way to die!
The tortoise emerged from the burrow. She moved rapidly (for a tortoise) away. Her mind was revolted; that was the worst smelling burrow she had encountered.
Peba shared a joyful feeling with Rowan. They had bluffed out the last invader.
Soon the burrow mates returned, having tuned in on the proceedings from a distance. They were quite pleased. Rowan had done it; she had driven away the enemy burrow.
After that they relaxed. Peba was quite worn, emotionally, and preferred to remain right where he was, curled up in the treehouse, while Rowan worked to perfect her roof and the details of the interior. She used extra sections of cloth to bind dry grass and make pillows she could rest against, because her body lacked the bony surface an armadillo had. Then she used the howdah to take Cottontail to the grazing field. Peba went too, and dug for bugs, finding some good ones. Owl, Indigo, and Gopher slept in the burrow. It was a wonderful, easygoing time.
But next morning that changed. This time Cottontail, who had spent the night on one of Rowan's soft pillows, was the first to tune in to the threat. “The female burrow is coming back!” he thought to everyone.
They all came awake. How could this happen? They had driven off every member of that hostile burrow. The predators should be looking far away for their new residence.
Owl did a flyby, tuning in, and got the answer: they had had a burrow meeting, compared notes, considered, and caught on that they had been fooled. So they were coming again, this time all together. They would arrive before noon. It was, as Rowan thought of it, crisis time.
Meanwhile, the home burrow had its own meeting. “They know they were fooled,” Owl reported. “But they don't know exactly how they were fooled. They want to find out, so they can't be stopped like that again. They are predators; they don't like feeling like victims."
"Neither do we,” Cottontail thought. Every twinge of his leg reminded him of his status as victim.
"So have we lost after all?” Gopher asked.
"We can't stand against them now, any better than we could before,” Peba thought. “Our only hope lay in deceiving them. We will not be able to do that again."
"I'm not so sure,” Rowan thought. “The easiest person to fool is the one who thinks he knows all the answers. Maybe we just have to find a better way to fool them."
The others were blank; they did not know of another way. Peba struggled to think of one, but could not. “We lack your power of mind,” he thought. “You must think of it, if you can."
"Well, let's see,” Rowan thought. “They know we're doing something, but they don't realize that it's coming from my mind. Maybe that will be enough."
Peba still didn't see how. “They know that what scared them off before were illusions. They must want to find the source of those illusions. The moment you do something, they'll know."
"Not necessarily. I'm a dumb human, remember; no one ever heard of imagination in one of those, let alone sapience. I read this story once, about weird things happening, and it turned out to be a big tree doing it. It took forever for them to figure that out, because no one believed a tree could have a mind. Just as the folk of this realm don't believe a human could have a mind. Why don't we pretend it's the tree doing it, maybe because it likes us, and will haunt them forever if they stay near it?"
That began to make sense. Rowan had her tree house; the tree might tolerate her because it liked her and the burrow. Maybe they protected it from bugs that wanted to bore into its bark. If they told the other burrow it was the tree, then the others would know that they couldn't get rid of it, because the tree could not be moved.
"But we must not tell them that,” Rowan cautioned.
Peba was surprised. “But this
is what we want them to believe. We must tell them."
"No. We must try not to tell them. Then they will believe."
The others looked at her. Why was she thinking such obvious nonsense?"
"Boys, you'll have to trust me on this one. I've been fooled often, and learned how it's done. This is the way to do it."
"We find this hard to believe,” Gopher thought.
"I'll explain.” She did, and slowly it made sense. None of them would ever have thought of it themselves, but they had not had Rowan's experience with deception. They did have to trust her.
They worked out the details, as they had before, and were ready for the other burrow. Peba was not at all sure this would work, for the human reasoning was contrary to common sense, but he was ready to play his part. They all were, for the future of their burrow depended on it.
This time the predator burrow arrived in style, using their own bearer for their tortoise. It was a big human man with a supremely dull look on his face, using a howdah. The hawk perched on his shoulder, and the coyote, wildcat, skunk, and rattlesnake kept pace with him.
The assembled mates of the local burrow stood around the tree, awaiting the visitors. This would be a double burrow meeting, to forge an agreement. They had no choice; to flee would be to yield their territory. But it seemed likely that they would have to yield it anyway.
The bearer sat on the ground, but the tortoise did not dismount. The others settled around the bearer. They were a formidable looking group, and knew it; they gazed at the members of the other burrow with hardly-veiled contempt. “We know you fooled us,” the tortoise thought. “Now we shall discover how."
"We do not care to inform you,” Gopher replied. But there was some hesitancy in his mind; he was evidently daunted by the immediate presence of the predator group. The coyote and wildcat were looking at Cottontail and licking their chops. This was a formal meeting; no hunting was allowed. But they seemed to be on the verge of violating the truce. It was a deliberate show, but effective.
Peba, now on the ground beside the tree, let slip a nervous thought. “It's the tree."
"Close your mind!” Gopher snapped, too late.
"What is this about the tree?” the tortoise demanded.
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