by Erin Hunter
“But how will they survive,” whinnied Bristlefriend, “if the best animals lead them for half a day before their hearts are eaten?”
“That’s why I have a proposal for you.” Sky took a deep breath, waiting until all the zebras had quieted and turned to watch her expectantly. “I volunteer to be your leader. For now. I will take the risk; let Titan come for me.”
Silverfriend’s ears pricked forward; he looked more cheerful than he had since Sky had first laid eyes on him. “Well,” he said, glancing at the herd, “she is an elephant.”
The zebras exchanged doubtful looks.
“That’s true,” said a mare.
“Yes, Flickfriend!” snapped another. “An elephant! She’s big and she’s strong, but she’s not a zebra! How can we be led by a not-a-zebra?”
“Just for now,” Sky reminded them quickly.
“Mind you, Titan eats elephant hearts as well as—ow!” A young colt glared at the neighbor who had kicked him, but he shut up.
“I think it’s not a bad idea,” said Flickfriend the mare.
“Same here,” put in another.
“I think it’s a great idea.” Silverfriend’s whinny was a little too eager, and some of the mares gave him disdainful looks.
“So we’re all agreed,” announced Bristlefriend. “The elephant can be our leader until Titan’s defeated.”
Rock took a sharp inward breath. He looked as if he might say something and opened his mouth, but Sky gave him a tiny shake of her head. “Rock, I want to do this.”
Sighing in resignation, he nodded. “Very well, Sky. You can still surprise me.” He smiled. “But we should all be aware—there are wolves watching us.”
Sky gasped, “Where?” The nearest zebras whinnied in alarm and pawed the ground.
“Don’t look right at them.” Rock lowered his voice. “But that escarpment just beyond the river? They’re skulking behind that cluster of bigger boulders. Spying on us.”
“Are they indeed?” Glancing airily around, as if she were simply fanning her ears to cool them, Sky caught a glimpse of shadows in the shimmering air by the escarpment. “Then let’s give them some news to take back to Titan, shall we?”
The zebras looked at one another again. “If that’s all part of your strange elephant plan.” Bristlefriend shrugged, and the herd nodded.
Sky lifted her trunk and made a loud, ringing declaration.
“Be at the Great Gathering, my zebra friends,” she cried. “At the watering hole a new Great Parent will come forward to lead us. He or she will do what Thorn could not, and deal with Titan Wolfpride once and for all! Let us all trust in the Great Spirit!”
The zebras whinnied with excitement, pawing the earth into a rising dust cloud, rearing up, and flailing their forefeet. Bristlefriend arched his neck and bucked with delight.
“A new Great Parent,” he neighed. “We will come, Sky Strider!”
“To the watering hole!” whinnied Silverfriend.
Yes, thought Sky, to the Great Gathering. The skulking wolves were already moving, she noticed from the corner of her eye: sinuous shapes bounded up the escarpment and vanished into the haze. They would take the news back to Titan, and Titan would make his next move.
And Great Father Thorn’s plan would be in motion. . . .
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The dusty earth was hot under Fearless’s paws, the grass dry and brittle. Even though the landscape wobbled in the heat haze, he was aware of slinking golden shadows at the edge of his vision. The wolves had followed as he led his own lions and the former Mightypride in search of new territory.
So long as they kept their distance, the wolves could be ignored. And Fearless had stationed scouts at the flanks of their traveling group, so he would have plenty of warning if the wolves launched an attack, or if Titan showed up again. So far, though, the wolves had shown no signs of coming closer. They were keeping an eye on Fearlesspride, that was all, and no doubt reporting their movements back to Titan.
A sick feeling of anger churned in Fearless’s gut, but the wolf-spies had to be put to the back of his mind for now. It was his growing pride that mattered, and their search for a safe home. Barely any of the lions had spoken since they had set off from Mighty’s old territory; the mood of the whole pride was dark, the newcomers still grieving and angry over their leader’s death.
Fearless knew exactly how they felt—after all, he’d long ago seen his own father, Gallant, murdered by Titan, with an equally vicious and sneaky trick.
Valor had witnessed that, too; and now she had seen Titan kill her beloved mate. Fearless glanced back at his sister, concerned. She trudged a little way behind, her paws pacing more by instinct than with intent. Her two tiny cubs scampered beside her, doing their best to keep up; she murmured encouragement to them, keeping their spirits up, but her own eyes seemed dull. She was still weak from birthing and nursing, Fearless realized, and now she had lost her mate and protector. But I will never abandon her. I’ll keep that promise.
The cubs were too young to truly understand, thought Fearless, and for that he was glad. They might not have clear memories of their father in the future, but at least they would not carry such a weight of grief through their lives as he and Valor had.
“Where are we heading, Fearless?” Keen trotted to his side, his ears twitching with alertness. “I don’t like the way those wolves are tracking us, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do while they keep their distance. If they know where we go, how can any place be safe?”
“I have an idea,” Fearless told him. Halting, he lifted his head and nodded at an outcrop of rocky ground in the distance. “Loyal’s old cave, in that kopje, will be the best place to hide the cubs and protect them. Yes, the wolves will see us go there—but it’s on a high spot, it’s easy to defend, and there’s only one entrance. I’m sure we can keep enemies at bay.”
“Not bad, for a temporary measure,” said Keen. “All right. But it won’t be secure forever.”
“Titan won’t live forever,” growled Fearless. “I promise you that.”
As the pride approached the kopje and began to scramble up the rocks toward the cavern entrance, Fearless halted, sniffing the air and scanning the savannah. The wolves were still there, sinister shapes in the grass, but they too had halted and made no move to come closer now. There were herds moving on the border of a distant forest, starlings wheeled in the sky, and a lizard scuttled away from the lions’ paws, but Fearless could make out no immediate threats. There was certainly no sign of Titan.
Fearless bounded up the rocks to the small plateau in front of Loyal’s old cave, and he waited there until Valor had shepherded her cubs into the cool and secure darkness within. Other lionesses and their cubs followed her, but the younger lionesses and adult males clustered around Fearless, their gazes expectant.
He swallowed, trying to look as if he was absolutely certain what he was doing. “Resolute, Glory, Noble—post guards on the plain, around the kopje. We can’t allow any intruders to get through to the cubs. And a patrol would be good, farther out on the grassland. Those wolves know what we’re up to; let’s give them the same close attention that they give us.”
“Very well, Fearless.” Resolute nodded.
“Keen, stay with me close to the cave,” said Fearless. “We can keep an eye on the lionesses and the cubs. We—”
As a flock of egrets cried above him in the blue arc of the sky, he glanced up. Their flight seemed unusually purposeful, and there was an urgency and excitement to their calls that even he, a Grasstongue-speaker, could recognize.
That must be the summons for Thorn’s Great Gathering. “Look, Keen: the Great Father has summoned the herds. Those are herald birds.”
“Are they?” Keen looked to the sky skeptically; the egrets were already dwindling to dots over the far hills. “What’s that got to do with us?”
“I need to be there,” murmured Fearless. “Something important is happening.”
; “Important or not,” put in Resolute, “it has nothing to do with lions.”
“I agree,” said Glory. “Your place is with your pride, Fearless.”
“Especially at a time like this,” added Noble, who seemed to be making an effort not to gape at Fearless as if he was mad.
“They’re all quite right,” Keen told Fearless firmly. “You can’t go dashing off to some Great Parent business right now. You’ve gathered your pride—you need to protect it.”
Reluctantly, Fearless nodded. “All right. I know. I just wish I could be there.”
“I don’t see why.” Resolute shrugged. “This Great Parent of yours seems even more pointless than he was before. What happened to the last four? All dead, as I recall, in gruesome circumstances.”
“The elephant was killed by crocodiles,” said Glory, “and the rhino was chased over a ridge.”
“The first baboon was torn to pieces by crocs as well,” added Noble.
“He was not a true Parent,” snapped Fearless.
“But you thought the next baboon was. And now he’s run away too.” Resolute huffed in derision. “What your Great Spirit was thinking, picking baboons, I have no idea. But leave them to it, Fearless. The Spirit, if it exists, clearly has no power at all.”
Fearless bit down his angry urge to roar the truth: Thorn isn’t a coward! He’s one of the strongest Great Parents there has ever been, and he’s our best hope!
But that secret had to be kept safe, and there was no point arguing with his pride. Besides, in these circumstances their advice was sound. Fearless knew it, but he couldn’t help a wrench of longing to join his friend Thorn, to help him in his mission to destroy Titan.
Thorn was clever, thought Fearless, but he would have to be far more than clever to outwit the powerful Titan. Only a sunset ago he’d believed Thorn dead; he didn’t know if he could bear to go through that grief yet again, for real this time. And Thorn might be the Great Parent, but what the lions said was true: he was a baboon. A vulnerable baboon.
What are you planning, Thorn? I have a duty to my pride, but I want so much to help.
Fearless closed his eyes and begged with all the urgency he could muster. Please, Great Spirit. Please keep my old friend safe. . . .
Dusk fell swiftly, a violet haze that deepened to darkest blue, and the coolness was a soothing relief after the heat and flies of the day. From his position on the kopje, Fearless listened to the chirp of crickets and watched the distant horizon swallow up the last traces of the sun. Stars began to glitter and twinkle above him, and the eyes of night hunters glowed as they emerged from their daytime burrows: an aardwolf, a pair of civets, a bat-eared fox.
Even with his night vision, Fearless could no longer make out the distant silhouettes of the lions on patrol. Jumping down the rocks of the kopje, he set off across the plain to find them. It would be a lonely night, he knew, and the pride’s numbers were stretched thin over the expanse of grassland. He had to check with them, if only to keep up morale, to let the sentries know they were not alone in the Bravelands night.
His paws silent on the grass, he slunk across the plain to find Noble. The young lion twisted as he approached, his muzzle peeled back from his fangs, but when he recognized his new leader he dipped his head.
“All’s quiet here, Fearless. A few hyenas crossed the small river, but they didn’t look threatening.”
“Thanks, Noble—you’re doing good work.” Fearless butted his head, then left the young lion staring out into the night, his whiskers still quivering with alertness.
Glory was next on his round, and she too looked wide awake and wary, her tail curled around her haunches, its tip twitching. She gave Fearless a nod, confirming that all was well.
“Thank you, Glory,” he whispered. “Who’s next in line?”
“Patient’s on the other side of that small gully,” murmured Glory. “In among the thornbushes. She’s a clever scout. You won’t see her till you’re almost on top of her.”
Fearless padded cautiously down the shallow rocky slope, then bounded up the other side. There was a good distance between each lion; checking each one might take all night, but it was worth it. He paused at the rim of the gully, ears pricked for any sound of Patient.
He could not hear so much as her breathing. Frowning, he pushed through scrub that caught and tugged at his fur.
“Patient?” he murmured.
He stopped. Lowering his head, he snuffed the ground. The smell of lioness was strong, and the grass was flattened and still warm. But there was no sign of Patient. Hairs rose on the nape of his neck.
“Patient,” he growled again, a little more loudly.
The scent led him to a crushed patch of grass, and he narrowed his eyes. The sandy soil looked churned here, trampled in a confusion of prints, and there were dark smears and clumps of fur stuck to the thornbushes. Fearless’s hide crawled as he lowered his muzzle to the black streaks on the pale earth.
Blood.
The odor was so strong, it took him a moment to catch the other scent in his flared nostrils.
Wolves!
Fearless stiffened, a low snarl rumbling from his throat. Broken twigs and scuffed pawprints led him through the darkness to a slight dip in the plain, half hidden by more scrub.
And there lay Patient in the starlight, her muzzle still curled in a terrifying snarl of fury. Her throat was torn, her tail was broken, and her ribs had been smashed open. She died bravely.
The wolves were gone, and Fearless knew already what he would find when he rolled her onto her back with trembling forepaws. There was a gaping void in her chest where her heart had been torn out and taken.
His horror was swiftly overtaken by a sudden terror: the wolves had broken the protective circle of lions. With a roar of fury and frustration, Fearless twisted and sprinted back the way he had come. There was no more need to be silent; he gave deep, grunting roars of summons as he ran, calling desperately to the other patrol lions.
“Noble! Glory! Bright! Sly! Back to the kopje. Harmony! Resolute!”
He could hear their pounding paws on the hard earth behind him, and more of his pride converging from the outer perimeter, but he couldn’t spare a glance back. He bolted on, his heart pounding, until he was in sight of the kopje. It was outlined in starlight, and he could make out lanky silhouettes of wolves swarming up its ridges and outcrops.
With another roar of anger, Fearless put on a burst of speed—but almost immediately his forepaws went from under him. The ground fell away, and he almost hurtled head over heels. Catching his balance at the last moment, he staggered and skidded to a halt.
Fresh earth had been dug up and turned over. Something had been burrowing here.
As he stared, a sound drifted from within the kopje: the terrified squeal of a cub.
The others had caught him up now, and together the lions raced up the boulders and outcrops of the kopje. Fearless reached the small plateau first, just as a lion burst out of the cave mouth.
“Keen!” he bellowed in fear.
A limp wolf dangled from Keen’s jaws. He flung it aside and panted for breath. “They’re in the cavern, Fearless!”
Behind Keen, Valor bolted from the cave’s entrance, one cub in her jaws and one stumbling and mewling in terror at her feet. Another lioness raced out behind her, a cub gripped in her jaws.
Reaching Fearless, Valor lowered her cub quickly to the ground. “The wolves dug through to the rear of the cave,” she snarled. Glancing back, she saw a third lioness bound out with her cub. “But we saw them at the last moment—they didn’t get any of the cubs. Honor was last out, but the wolves are behind us!”
“More fool them,” growled Fearless, as a slender golden shape streaked out of the cave, its jaws wide with slavering excitement.
Catching sight of the lions, the wolf gave a yelp of fear and tried to double back. Valor herself slammed a paw onto its back, then snatched its neck in her jaws and flung its corpse against the rocks.
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Fearless bounded to the cave mouth, but no more wolves emerged. They must have retreated down their sneakily dug tunnel as soon as they realized the patrollers had returned. Fearless slammed a paw into the earth.
“We can’t stay here,” he snarled.
“What are we going to do?” Honor looked furious and scared, her flanks heaving. She licked her cub’s head gently.
“First thing we should do is leave this place,” growled Resolute.
“We can make plans as we go,” said Keen, licking the blood of a wolf from his jaws. “Let’s get moving.”
The lions made their way in file through the darkness of the savannah night. At their head, Fearless felt all his senses buzz. Who could tell when the wolves would choose to strike again?
“Listen, Fearless.” Valor trotted up to walk at his side. “These wolves will always be one step ahead. We need to turn the tables on them.”
“And how would we do that?” Fearless glowered ahead into the darkness; some small creature blinked its glowing eyes in fear and fled from him.
“They’re doing this for Titan, brother. Aren’t they? Not for themselves.” Valor gave a thoughtful grunt. “There can’t be much value in the heart of a small cub—not for those brutes, anyway. Titan sent them after us out of spite and malice, and all it got for them was a couple of dead pack-mates.”
“True,” murmured Keen, at Fearless’s rear.
“We have to convince the wolves that doing Titan’s dirty work isn’t worth the cost to them,” said Valor grimly. “We need to be on the attack. We need to kill a lot of them, not just a few as we defend ourselves. We need to set an ambush and hunt them down.”
“It’s a good idea, Valor,” said Fearless, “but those wolves are nothing if not smart. How are we going to trick them into an ambush?”
For a moment Valor was silent. At last Fearless paused his stride and glanced back at her, expectantly.
“With bait,” she growled, gazing into his eyes. “And the cubs and I will serve as the perfect temptation.”