by Erin Hunter
“Valor, no!” Fearless’s eyes widened. “That’s far too dangerous. If something went wrong, we could lose you and your young ones.”
“It’s a danger, but not an unreasonable one. You remember what our mother used to say about hunting? With the greatest risk comes the greatest reward.” Valor looked fierce and determined. “I can protect my cubs, Fearless. It’s up to you and the others to make a trap the wolves can’t escape. Their attention will not be on my cubs for long, if you do this right.”
Fearless was ready to protest further. It seemed hazardous indeed, and yet he knew his sister so well: once Valor had decided on a course of action, there was no stopping her. Besides, what she said made sense; it was better than any plan he had devised to deal with the wolves.
“All right,” he growled. “How do you plan to attract them?”
Valor bent her head to lick her cubs. “I’ll take these little ones down to the river above the rapids to drink. Alone, so that the wolves expect an easy kill. But you will have an ambush waiting, and as soon as the wolves close in, you and Keen can swim across the river with the cubs. I’ll stay and help the others kill the wolves.” Her muzzle twisted with loathing.
“Those wolves can swim,” pointed out Keen, with a glance at Fearless. “They can swim very well.”
“The river is fast above the rapids,” said Valor with a shrug. “I don’t care whose spirits they’ve eaten, the wolves are scrawny creatures, built for sneaking and trickery. They can’t cope with that current—but you can, and you can help the cubs. The wolves can be swept downriver, or they can stay on the shore to be killed. Their choice.”
“I think it’ll work,” growled Resolute.
I hope you’re right, thought Fearless darkly. If Valor were to lose her cubs as well as Mighty, he had a dreadful feeling it might break her.
But he could not say that aloud. “All right. We’ll do it. There’s no escaping the golden wolves, so we’ll confront them. Let’s show them what lions are made of.”
Waiting in the trees above the rapids, Fearless watched Valor nudge the cubs gently toward the riverbank. She was right; the water was deep and fast here; its surface looked smooth and unthreatening, but the starlight illuminated a small broken branch that hurtled along in the current. Fearless followed its swift path until it vanished into the rapids, a few gazelle-chases downriver. The sound of the churning water reached his ears—a muted roar. Once in the rapids, skinny creatures of the wolves’ size would be smashed against the rocks or dragged underwater to drown. But there was enough distance between here and the rapids to give two strong grown lions a good chance of getting the cubs to the other side. They might drift some way downstream with the flow, but he and Keen would be able to reach the far bank long before they were swept into the more dangerous, rock-filled water.
He had to have courage, Fearless told himself—at least as much courage as his sister, who padded nonchalantly toward the crumbling bank. On a sloping crescent of gritty earth, Valor crouched by the water and dipped her head to lap at it, her ears barely twitching. As she gently encouraged the cubs to join her and drink, she looked like a calm, attentive mother without a care in the world.
Fearless did not feel nearly so relaxed. He glanced at the other lions who waited with him and Keen, upwind of Valor and her cubs. He was glad to see how determined his new pride looked, how alert and tense but still.
“Be ready,” he growled. “I think I smell wolf.”
Keen flicked an ear back and bared his fangs silently. Scrawny shadows were indeed moving between the trees, converging on that crescent of earth by the water’s edge.
Fearless looked back at the Valorcubs. They seemed to be enjoying the adventure of a nighttime drink. The bolder cub looked very confident as he pawed at the water, splashing and scattering droplets. The other cub had wandered a little away from his mother, to nose at long grasses and bulrushes that grew in a peaceful backwater.
Valor gave that cub a glance, but the side pool was utterly calm. She focused instead on the bold cub, tapping his head with a paw and then seizing his scruff gently to draw him back from the fast-flowing main river.
His brother was gaining in boldness too, thought Fearless, half watching him as he kept his attention on the shadowy wolves. The little lion was pouncing on some imagined prey in the rushes. Then, overwhelmed by the fun of his game, he made an enormous pounce and plunged bodily into the pool.
The water erupted. For a moment Fearless did not understand, and clearly neither did the awestruck cub. Something huge reared out of the pool, water cascading from a smooth back, massive jaws opening wide in the surprised fury of a wakened sleeper. It towered above the cub, which mewled in panic.
Hippo! Fearless’s heart leaped to his throat, and he tensed to spring. But the wolves—they can’t spot that I’m here—
How the cub was not instantly trampled by the hippo, Fearless would never know. The tiny lion vanished under the hippo’s stamping feet, then somehow popped up, squealing and trembling. The cub’s first instinct was to run toward his mother, who had spun around at the water’s edge—but the cub reached his brother first, and the two of them huddled together on the very edge of the bank, clearly too terrified to make another move. And all the time, the shadowy wolves prowled closer and closer, their circle tightening.
Valor darted frantically from side to side, trying to reach her cubs, but the hippo was roaring and stamping, swinging its massive head this way and that, and there was no way she could get through without being crushed. The hippo lunged first at her, then at the cubs; they flinched back, almost tumbling over each other, and the hippo’s jaws swept above their heads.
Then, with a soft rushing sound, the muddy bank gave way. One cub gave a single terrified squeal; both vanished with the crumbling earth into the swirling current of the river.
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the dank river, green shadows lurked. Broad-trunked trees grew thickly on the sandy soil, draped in moss and crusted in lichen. The water was still, undisturbed by a single ripple. It was an eerie place, thought Thorn, and full of dangers.
“This is a bad idea,” muttered Nut, as if echoing his thoughts.
“Spider’s got all kinds of friends,” put in Spider, chewing his lip. “But never a crocodile-friend. Not neighborly, crocodiles are. On the whole.”
“At all,” Nut corrected him. “They can’t be trusted, Thorn. You know that.”
“Even if that were true,” pointed out Thorn, “I still need them. Without the crocodiles, my plan can’t work. Mud, your stones said I have to bring all the animals of Bravelands together if I want to defeat Titan. That has to include the crocodiles, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” Mud nodded, but he looked unhappy.
“Besides,” said Thorn, “I solved the crocodiles’ problem when they were in conflict with the hippos. That counts for something, and they trust me now. I’ve earned their help.”
“It’s not the crocs who have to do the trusting,” said Nut darkly.
“Crocodiles can be trusted, maybe,” mused Spider. “When they’re not hungry.” He frowned and tilted his head. “But they’re hungry all the time.”
“I know what the stones told me,” said Mud, biting nervously on his lip, “but Thorn, please be careful. Remember that the crocodiles ate the last true Great Parent!”
Thorn didn’t reply; of course he knew that. The murder of Great Mother had horrified all of Bravelands, but it had been the rhinos who drove the old elephant into the water, at Stinger’s behest. The crocs had never recognized the Great Parent’s authority, and they had only been doing what crocodiles do. He, Thorn, had a different relationship with them altogether.
At least, that was what he kept telling himself. “Wait here, you three.”
“If you insist,” muttered Nut with a twist of his muzzle. He bounded a short way back, to a sandy ridge of higher ground, and sat down firmly. “Though it breaks my heart not to chat to a crocodile.”
As Mud and Spider loped to join Nut, Thorn swallowed hard. Then he padded down onto the riverbank and stopped at the edge of the water.
At once, the eerily calm surface shivered, and ripples formed, heading straight toward him. Two eyes rose out of the water, yellow and slitted, contemplating him with hungry curiosity; then the croc revealed its long head and jaws, rimmed with savage teeth. A second surfaced beside it, then a third. The first crocodile lurched out of the water on stubby legs, tilting its head to stare at him.
If they lunged now, he wouldn’t have a chance. Thorn’s mouth was dry, and his heart thundered. What was I thinking?
Quite suddenly, his heartbeat slowed. A sense of serenity flooded over him as he stared into the eyes of the huge crocodile. Thank you, Great Spirit, he thought; it had given him the courage and calmness he needed.
The huge croc opened his jaws and hissed out a bone-dry, humorless laugh. “Fool of a baboon! Why have you come here?”
“I have come here,” said Thorn steadily, “to speak with Rip.”
“Well, Rip is not here.” The croc lashed his broad tail. “Rip is upriver, basking. I am Rend, and I am in charge here, and I feel the pangs of hunger in my belly.”
Drawing what strength he could from the knowledge that the Great Spirit was within him, Thorn straightened and stared back into those vicious yellow eyes.
“You do not believe in the Great Parent or the Great Spirit. I respect your belief, Rend, or your lack of it.” Thorn kept his gaze fixed firmly on those of the Sandtongue-speaker. “But the crocodiles could benefit greatly if you changed that. The Great Spirit is strong, and it makes all of Bravelands’ creatures stronger when we work together. You know a new threat endangers all of us.”
“Hmph,” snorted Rend. “The heart-eating lion?”
“Titan, yes.” Thorn drew a breath. “With your help, Rend, I can defeat this new menace.”
Swinging his long head, Rend glanced from side to side at his comrades. “But many of us crocodiles admire Titan,” he rasped. “Indeed, we often have cause to be grateful to him. Titan leaves us many a corpse, almost intact.”
“Maybe so,” Thorn said through gritted fangs, “but I know that Titan has killed crocodiles, too.”
Rend gave a violent lash of his knobbly tail. “Titan consumed the heart of a small and weak crocodile. Those are the ones we don’t miss.”
He and Rip, thought Thorn anxiously, had had an understanding; but Rend seemed to be a different proposition altogether. Besides, he was all too aware of the other crocs, who had shifted themselves into a semicircle around him, their jaws eagerly parted. None looked as if they were listening to a word he said. Thorn’s fur lifted.
There was something in one croc’s jaws, and Thorn peered harder. Was it prey? One small foot and a long tail hung down between her teeth. A lizard perhaps? As Thorn watched, though, the half-eaten thing moved, a small head emerged at the edge of the crocodile’s mouth, and a huge eye blinked curiously at him.
Of course. The mother croc wasn’t eating her tiny baby, just carrying it. These massive, fearsome creatures did have a caring side; perhaps he should try appealing to their better natures?
Thorn pointed at the baby. “Would this little one have been born, had I not intervened in the fight between you and the hippos? They would have destroyed all your eggs.”
The mother croc’s eyes slid sideways, to give her neighbor a thoughtful look. But Rend was not to be placated.
“You hypocrite,” he spat, “Great Father! You never bothered yourself with Sandtongue-speakers before. As I recall, Rip had to beg for your assistance with the hippos, and crocodiles should never beg! Yet when you are in need? It’s only then that you come to us—when you’re looking for favors.”
Thorn took a breath. Rend looked genuinely angry, his yellow eyes flashing, and Thorn knew he must choose his words with caution. Besides, wasn’t what Rend said true?
“Yes,” he said at last, “you’re right. The Great Parents have not done enough to benefit the Sandtongue-speakers. There has always been an uneasy relationship between us.” Thorn decided not to mention that it wasn’t surprising, given that the crocodiles had actually killed the last Great Parent. “There has always been . . . too much distrust.”
“Distrust?” Rend snorted. “You simply ignored us, you Great Parents. We weren’t convenient, and we aren’t humble enough for you.”
There’s nothing humble about the buffalo or leopards I talk to all the time, thought Thorn, but again he left the words unspoken. “I want to change all that, Rend. I believe that long ago, there was a better relationship between the Great Parents and the Sandtongue-speakers. Why else would the Great Spirit have given me the ability to understand your language? We were always meant to work together. And you are unique, and special,” he flattered them, “but in some ways you are like the other animals of Bravelands. You want to raise your young in peace. Don’t we all share that goal?” The crocodiles stared at him in silence. The mother croc let her baby wriggle around in her mouth, and its tail flopped out from the opposite row of teeth.
“While Titan lives, your offspring are at risk, just as ours are,” Thorn said, watching the eyes of the mother. “Please help me put an end to that threat.”
“Grab, don’t look at him like that!” Rend loped on his stubby legs to the mother croc, and she twisted her head aside to protect her baby. “He does not have your infants’ interests at heart, and his words are empty. If we help, he will toss us aside and ignore us as the Great Parents always have. We crocodiles can protect our own!”
Grab eyed Rend for a moment, then dipped her head beneath the water.
Not only had his mission failed, but Thorn knew he was in real danger. The slitted yellow eyes of the crocodiles looked downright hostile now. He began to edge backward. Perhaps it was time to cut his losses and get out of here—
“Great Father Thorn?” A deep, rasping bellow interrupted the tense standoff.
Thorn felt a rush of relief as a familiar crocodile lurched from the river, shunted Rend aside, and loped up the shore. “Greetings, Rip!”
“What are you doing here?” growled the big croc. Water streamed from his thick leathery scales. “Never thought I’d lay eyes on you again.”
“Just what I was saying,” muttered Rend behind him.
“I’ve come to request your help,” said Thorn quickly and politely. “Your assistance in dealing with Titan Wolfpride.”
“Dealing with? Kill him, I hope you mean,” rasped Rip. “That brute causes too much damage, however much carrion he leaves behind him.”
“I agree,” said Thorn, puffing out a sigh of relief. “So what do you say, Rip?”
The huge crocodile narrowed his eyes and lifted his enormous head to stare at the three baboons on the sandbank beyond Thorn. “Those are your friends? I’ll escort you back to them.”
There were rebellious grunts from the other crocs as Rip pounded heavily up the shore at Thorn’s side. Nut, Mud, and Spider watched the odd pair approach, their eyes wide and nervous. Thorn was glad to see that they held their ground, though Mud swallowed hard and shuddered.
Rip halted at the foot of the low sandbank, and Thorn bounded up to join his friends. Rip glared up at all four of them; Thorn found it impossible to read his expression.
“Congratulations on not getting eaten, Thorn,” said Nut dryly.
“Is that one going to eat us, though?” asked Spider. “He’s mighty big.”
“I don’t think so.” Thorn turned back warily to Rip. “Well, Rip? What do you say to an alliance?”
“That depends,” said Rip. “Tell me your whole plan, Great Father.”
Thorn took a deep breath. “The crocodiles are rulers of the Bravelands rivers,” he began tactfully. “No creature can withstand you in your own territory—not even the mighty Titan. If we can lure him close enough to the water—perhaps even into it—I know that you and your bask could make short work of him. That would give yo
u a fitting revenge, Rip—and prove to the other animals of Bravelands that you deserve their gratitude as well as their respect.”
Rip’s yellow eyes narrowed. “But what would lure Titan into our waters? Hmm?”
“I have a feeling he’ll go voluntarily,” said Thorn. “In fact it’s not just a feeling; I’m sure that’s what he plans. The Great Parent has always entered the water to accept the leadership of Bravelands. How could a tyrant like Titan resist that symbolic act? We just have to make sure you and your comrades are waiting for him. I don’t care how many spirits he has consumed; he cannot stand against your kind.”
Rip nodded thoughtfully. The other three baboons had retreated farther back on the sandbank, but they watched Thorn and Rip’s conversation with wide, uncomprehending eyes. The other crocodiles watched too, their eyes and heads just visible, and the jagged ridges of their tails. Their attention was riveted on Thorn and their leader.
“Titan can certainly take down one crocodile, or even two,” rasped Rip. “You know, one of the crocs he killed was my own son, Tear.”
“I’m sorry,” murmured Thorn, dipping his head.
“I have many sons and daughters,” growled Rip, “but Tear was the strongest and finest.”
“That fits with Titan’s ways,” observed Thorn. “He takes the most powerful spirits and targets leaders.”
“If he could take down Tear, no crocodile is safe.” Rip’s eyes narrowed. “But you are right, Baboon: even Titan cannot stand against a whole bask of us. I will carry your proposal to them, and to other crocodiles farther upstream, beyond the Muddy River Rapids. It is possible for us to take down Titan, but I need agreement from all my comrades. I will state your case as well as I can, believe me.” His jaws parted wider to show his savage teeth. “I want vengeance for Tear.”
The huge crocodile turned, with a sweep of his enormous tail, and slid silently back into the water. When he and his bask had submerged, leaving barely a ripple, Mud, Nut, and Spider padded cautiously down the sandbank toward Thorn.