by Erin Hunter
“What did he say?” asked Mud, as Spider peered curiously at the river.
“He’s on our side, at least,” said Thorn. “Rip wants to help; he just has to convince his bask. But I think he can do it—he’s a charismatic and powerful leader, Mud. I have hope for this plan!”
“I still don’t like working with crocs,” said Mud with a shiver, “but if you trust them, Thorn, then I do too.”
“What’s that commotion?” asked Spider suddenly. He tilted his head and frowned upriver.
“Lions?” said Nut doubtfully. “I think I hear lions. . . .”
“Yes.” Thorn bounded to the edge of the bank and peered hard. “I hear roaring. What’s going on?”
“It’s not Titan, is it?” asked Mud anxiously.
“No, it isn’t.” Thorn sucked in a breath. Surely he must be mistaken, but . . . that sounded like Fearless’s voice . . . ? Yes, he was sure of it. And though Thorn could not make out the words, his friend sounded terrified.
Thorn did not hesitate. Rising up on his hind paws, he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, scanning the riverbanks, searching for the familiar lion. He pinpointed Fearless quickly and dived into his head without a second thought.
Thorn blinked. He felt strange: powerful and muscular and huge. Until this moment, he hadn’t truly realized just how much Fearless had grown: he was in the body of a fully grown lion.
But there was helpless terror in his heart.
He bolted downstream, his mane blowing back with his speed. He bounded over tree roots and fallen branches, hardly caring where he put his paws. All the while, he scanned the river’s surface, desperate and afraid. And suddenly he could see something in middle of the river—no, two somethings, unreachable, bobbing helplessly in the fast current. Small heads—
Lion cubs! And however fast he ran, he could not keep up with the current of the stream. The cubs drew farther and farther away. They had survived the tumble through the rapids—perhaps because they were so small and sturdy and resilient—but they would not survive the wolves: the golden wolves, whose shapes flickered through the trees and scrub far ahead, lithe and quick and deadly.
Two of the wolves emerged from the riverbank scrub and flung themselves into the water, jaws eagerly parted. But they were caught in the midstream current and swept past the cubs, whining and yelping. Other wolves stayed on dry land, racing ahead.
They must not reach the Valorcubs!
Thorn’s heart thrashed with terror as he made the leap from Fearless’s head to the closest cub. He plunged into the little lion’s mind, and it was worse than the cold grip of the river: such uncomprehending terror and panic. He was bruised and battered from the rapids, and all he wanted was his mother. Mother! Mother, help me!
There was nothing Thorn could do here to help. He cast around frantically with his mind and found one of the wolves, the one who led the pack. He made the leap and found himself immersed in hungry bloodthirst, and a rising, heart-pounding excitement. We will have them, we will have them! Soon!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was nothing Fearless could do. He felt like a helpless cub again himself as he watched the two little lions swirl in the current. He willed them to catch hold of something—anything—that would save them, but whenever a branch swirled by or they were swept past a jutting boulder, they would snatch for it, only to lose their grip straightaway. They simply did not have the strength in their small paws to save themselves.
My sister can’t lose her cubs, too. She can’t!
“More wolves!” Keen’s roar of warning came from behind him, but Fearless didn’t glance back. He saw immediately where the danger lay. Three wolves had padded out onto the trunk of a fallen tree, downstream, and they waited there, shoulders hunched in expectation. They grinned, licking their drooling jaws. The rushing water crashed into the tree, mounting up in a constant foaming wave, as the cubs were swept closer.
Fearless’s heart lurched. It would be the work of a moment for the waiting wolves to snatch the cubs from the water. He pounded faster, his paws raising clouds of dust.
And then, miraculously, one of the little lions snatched at a tangle of sodden branches in the stream and kept his grip. His foreleg stretched and stretched, but his claws dug desperately into the mass of floating wood. He hauled himself, dripping and shaking, onto the raft of branches.
The brave cub hadn’t abandoned his sibling, though. As the second cub drifted close, mewling in terror, he managed to lunge down and grab one paw with his tiny teeth and claws. There was turmoil for a moment, as the cub who was still in the water flailed and splashed and squealed. But with a massive tug, his brother pulled him onto the branches beside him.
The ramshackle island was buffeted by the current, but it didn’t float downstream. Fearless realized it must be caught on a root or a rock underwater. But how long could it stay there in this torrent? The two cubs were only a couple of leaps away from the slavering wolves on the log—and both little ones looked very unsteady on their paws.
“Hold on!” Fearless roared. “Keep as still as you can!”
A great yipping and howling rose from the excited wolves on the dead tree. One of them slammed both his forepaws in frustration against the wet bark; his neighbor, unable to contain herself, made a sudden leap toward the island of branches.
She fell well short. In less than a moment, the current had caught her and she was whirled downstream, vanishing under the surface with a snuffed-out yelp.
But her companions were not dissuaded. A second, male wolf tried to make the jump to the cubs. This one hooked his front claws into the tangled twigs. The river yanked at him, but he held on, grinning, his tongue lolling as foam splashed up into his face.
The wolf wasn’t letting go, Fearless realized, and at any moment he could pull himself up onto the island and take the cubs. Fearless could bear it no longer. He sprang with all his might, plunging into the river in a shower of white spray.
The current was even worse than he had expected. It snatched at him, trying to drag him away from the cubs. Flailing his legs as hard as he could, gritting his fangs, and closing his nostrils against the spray, Fearless struggled toward the cubs and their sanctuary island.
The wolf was still hanging on by its claws, and bit by bit it was heaving itself up onto the island. Fearless gasped, then coughed, as water filled his mouth. He tried to shake himself and forged on, battling the strength of the current.
Through half-blinded eyes, he saw the third wolf make its leap from the log: this cunning brute had thought it through. It sprang for the wolf that clutched the edge of the branches, landed square on his back, and used him as a launching point to leap to the island. The wolf in the water lost his grip and hurtled downriver, howling.
But the one who had used him as a stepping-stone was safely on the island of branches. He stalked forward, grinning at the two cowering Valorcubs.
It’s over. A tide of despair swamped Fearless, and his legs faltered. He was so close, but still too far away. He watched the wolf pad delicately forward, flaring its nostrils, enjoying the moment. “Ah, little ones. I take your hearts for our master, Titan!”
One cub shrank back, quivering, but the other stood foursquare, opening its jaws to give a squeaky roar of defiance. The wolf smacked him idly with a paw, rolled him onto his back, and watched him squirm.
The less-bold cub could clearly take it no more. He bounded forward to defend his brother, but the wolf simply swiped him onto his flank and pinned him with his other paw. The wolf looked from cub to cub, licking his lips.
Fearless didn’t want to watch. But he had to. For Valor, I have to. I tried, Valor!
A shadow, vast and broad, darkened the sky above the wolf, which turned for a moment from its prey. Fearless saw it was an eagle. Its square wingtips flared, and it dived toward the wolf, raking its huge talons into the pale golden flank.
Shocked, the wolf howled and dodged. But the island was not a good place to try
a fast maneuver. He stumbled and toppled sideways into the river. It swallowed him instantly.
Fearless’s heartbeat hammered in his throat. Would the cubs escape the wolf, only to be taken by an eagle? Despair gripped him as two more eagles swooped down toward the island, each one seizing a cub’s scruff in its talons, before carrying aloft. Another wave of water foamed over Fearless’s face, making him splutter and falter. Heart heavy with grief, Fearless let the current twist him around, carrying him backward downstream. His eyes searched the sky for the eagles, but to his astonishment he saw they weren’t carrying the cubs away. Instead, they flew right toward the shore, where a panting Valor stood there, her flanks heaving, her face riven with terror and shock.
The eagles spread their wings and landed, depositing the cubs gently in front of her.
Fearless sucked in a breath and began to kick and paddle again. He did not understand, but Valor had fallen on her cubs, licking and licking them till they tumbled over. The eagles flapped into nearby trees and perched there, gazing down dispassionately. With a surge of energy, Fearless fought the current, battling to steer himself back to shore.
His claws raked against thick river mud, and he scrabbled for better purchase. There was a tumble of boulders against the bank, and he dragged himself up them and out of the water. Shaking his fur violently, water scattering from his mane, he stood for a moment, catching his breath, calming his heart. Then he sprinted back up the shore to where Valor stood over her cubs.
Keen loped to his side. “There are still wolves around,” he panted. “But look. The eagles are helping us!”
As he and Keen stared, Fearless was aware of the rest of his pride running to join them, but he couldn’t spare them a glance. He was riveted by the spectacle of the eagles, who harried and drove the remaining wolves, clawing at them with their talons, screeching violently.
A few tried to snap and fight back, but it was hopeless. One by one, they fell back, tumbling over the edge and into the river. Fearless watched, speechless with astonishment, as the last golden wolf gave a yelp, staggered, and was swallowed up in the rushing water.
At once, the noise of screeching and whistling and hooting was silenced. The birds rose up into the higher air.
“What the—” said Resolute, but he fell silent, his jaws hanging open.
“I never saw anything like that,” whispered Noble in awe.
“What just happened?” Glory swung her head, gazing at her pride-mates. “The birds saved the cubs! They came from nowhere. . . .”
“I can explain!” called a voice from the far bank.
Fearless spun around with a surge of joy. Thorn stood on the far bank, grinning with delight. The baboon eyed the river, bit his lip, then began to leap. Light and sure-footed, he found submerged rocks and tussocks, pausing only for an instant on each before making his next jump. He reached the floating island of branches, then sprang onto the tree where the wolves had waited and bounded to join the lions.
Fearless loped to meet him, dipping his head to receive a hug from his old friend. But before he could speak, Valor had padded to their side.
“You did this?” she asked the baboon. “You!”
Thorn nodded, a little shyly. “It’s the birds. They understand me. And they’re helpful sorts—”
“But this is amazing,” said Keen, staring at Thorn in disbelief.
Fearless licked Keen’s face. “So do you believe in the Great Father now, old friend?”
“Do I!” exclaimed Keen.
“And the rest of you?” said Fearless.
Behind Keen the remainder of the pride growled with uncertainty, as if they still couldn’t quite comprehend what they had seen, or what they were hearing.
But Valor stepped in front of Thorn and dipped her head low. “Thank you, Great Father. Thank you.”
For a moment Thorn looked embarrassed, scratching at his muzzle and glancing from side to side. “It was my pleasure, Valor. Really it was. You’re Fearless’s sister.”
“All the same, you did not have to help.” She raised her head and gazed solemnly into his eyes. “I will never forget this kindness, Great Father Thorn.”
Some of the other lions dropped their heads too, though half a dozen remained haughty and erect. Clearly, the idea of being submissive in front of a baboon was too much for them.
“Pride-mates!” roared Fearless. “Follow the lead of my sister and Keen! There is no shame in giving thanks to the Great Spirit.”
“But . . .” began Noble, licking his muzzle nervously.
“Did you not witness Thorn’s powers?” snapped Valor. “Did you not see him bend the birds to his will?”
“Actually,” muttered Thorn, “I just asked them nicely if they wouldn’t mind . . .”
“Not helpful,” said Fearless, under his breath. “Lions respect strength.”
“Oh, right,” said Thorn. “How about this?”
With that, he jumped up, landing neatly on Fearless’s back. Raising both arms above his head, he hooted loudly. “Come, my flocks! Show these unbelievers the power of the Great Spirit! Let them see the power of Bravelands!”
For a moment, nothing happened. The assembled lions fidgeted, scraping at the ground with their paws. But then the eagles returned.
Not just eagles . . . Fearless realized.
The sky was filled suddenly with birds: egrets, hawks, blue starlings, bee-eaters and weaver birds, a hornbill, and a marabou stork. Lions snarled and roared with unease as the birds flew in a great cloud as if they shared a single mind. Thorn lowered his arms with a sudden thrashing gesture, and the swarm wheeled and dived in unison, swooping low enough over the heads of the pride that some ducked away in fear. After a single pass, they separated again into their own flocks and flew away.
“Does anyone doubt now?” asked Fearless of his startled pride.
“We hail the Great Father,” roared Resolute suddenly.
“All hail!” added Noble.
“Yes!” The other lions joined in, scraping their claws into the ground, throwing back their heads. “The Great Father Baboon!”
Thorn hopped down beside Fearless. His lips were stretched wide with a smile of pride.
“It wasn’t too much?” whispered the baboon as the lions roared their approval.
“Just right,” replied Fearless.
As the cheers died, Valor began to fuss over her cubs, licking the moisture from their sodden fur. The bolder cub shook his head, making a face, as her tongue lashed between his ears yet again, but he submitted. The other cub butted close against his mother’s leg, begging for his share of his mother’s attention, and she turned once more to him. Both Valorcubs were bruised and scratched from their wild ride through the rapids, but otherwise they seemed unharmed.
When the two little ones were thoroughly dry—or rather, wet and spike-furred from her licking instead—Valor lifted her head. She nodded at Thorn and at Fearless, and then turned to the pride.
“I am ready to name my cubs,” she declared.
The Valorcubs gasped in excitement, clambering over each other as they tried to reach her legs. “Momma! Really? Names?”
“Yes, names.” She laughed softly, nuzzling their heads. “You’ve earned them already, Valorcubs.” She gave a coughing grunt to clear her throat and raised her voice to speak clearly.
“This older cub, who stood up so bravely to the wolf on the island: I name him Gallant.”
“Gallant!” echoed the cub, gamboling in delight.
“His brother, who came to his side when the wolf took him: I name him Loyal.”
As the lions of the pride roared their approval, Fearless remained silent. His heart was too full to say anything. Valor had honored not only their shared father, but she had also paid tribute to Loyal, Fearless’s blood parent.
“Thank you, Valor,” he muttered. “You’ve chosen well. The names are perfect.”
She licked his ear. “I wanted to thank our fathers for giving us life and teaching
us to survive Bravelands. But how can we repay Thorn the baboon?” She lifted her head to gaze into his eyes. “Great Father, I don’t think it’s possible. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for the lives of my cubs.”
“Well, there is something.” Thorn fidgeted on Fearless’s back and cleared his throat.
“Just say it, and it’s yours,” urged Keen.
“Will you come to the Great Gathering tomorrow? Will Fearlesspride represent the lions of Bravelands?”
It was astonishing that he was able to ask it, thought Fearless, and it was a brave request. But the lions did not even hesitate. They chorused their grunting agreement.
“We will be there.”
“Fearlesspride will be at the Great Gathering.”
“For you, Thorn. For what you did today.”
Thorn trembled, his paws clutching tightly on Fearless’s mane. “This means more than you can imagine,” he said hoarsely. His voice rose. “If the lions are with me, I have a better chance than ever of defeating Titan. I already have the crocodiles as allies, and with Fearlesspride too, our hopes are high. Let me tell you my plan. . . .”
The crocodiles. Fearless couldn’t help the stiffening of his muscles, the lifting of his hackles. Thorn was clever and brave, but as he listened to his old friend outline his plan to the lions, Fearless felt a deep foreboding. Titan wasn’t just a hard lion to beat—as a cunning trickster himself, he was just as hard to fool.
It didn’t matter, thought Fearless. If anything goes wrong with Thorn’s plan, I’ll be there. And this time, I won’t fail. I’ll put an end to Titan at long last.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The blue-grayness of the dawn savannah became a pale misty gold; beyond the mountains to the east, the violet sky was streaked with amber. Light began to find the forests, turning them from vague lilac outlines to a sprawl of gilded green. The gray plain turned to yellow and ocher as sunbeams spilled over the horizon, and the watering hole, burnished silver, reflected the high streaks of cloud in the sky.
Sky stood in the long shadow of a gangly acacia, her heart thumping with nerves. The elephant herds milled a short distance away, their ears flapping with nervous anticipation. Only the calves, and Nimble and Lively at her feet, seemed to be simply enjoying the sunrise.