by Erin Hunter
He looked back at his friends once more. Thorn was studying him curiously. “What’s brought this on?”
“Something Grub said.” Fearless told them what had happened at the Council meeting. “So if I do the Three Feats,” he said, climbing carefully over a branch, “no baboon could say I wasn’t a true member of the troop.”
Thorn gave a snort. “Don’t listen to Grub! He talks a lot of monkey dung. Of course you’re one of us.”
“You don’t need to prove anything,” agreed Mud. “Besides, the deadline for the First Feat has gone. I failed, remember? Even if you did get an egg, it wouldn’t count.”
Fearless picked up his paws, stepping around a crawling nest of termites. “It’ll still show Grub and the others, won’t it?”
Thorn laughed. “There’s no point arguing once you’ve got an idea in your head, is there?” He ruffled the fur between Fearless’s ears playfully. “It’ll be hard for you, though. You don’t have fingers like ours. How will you get hold of an egg?”
“I’ll find a way,” Fearless told them.
“I’m sure you will,” Mud said, “and we’ll help you. Hey, Thorn—this is a good place. Look at those logs. Let’s practice here.”
The two sprang down from Fearless’s back, and he watched them wrestle two big logs into place so that they were positioned across from each other, like the banks of a river. Thorn clambered onto the bigger log, squatting on his stocky haunches as he scratched his broad, gray-furred face thoughtfully. On the opposite log, Mud was gesturing excitedly with his skinny forelegs, pointing out ways to dodge the imaginary crocodiles between him and his friend.
“It’ll depend on the part of the river the Council chooses. See, if there are sandbanks, we should be able to swim to each one and take a break. Not for long, because the crocs won’t just stay in the water, but see what happens if we change direction a few times. . . .”
Fearless’s confidence waned a little. Mud’s so smart—and Thorn’s so clever with his paws. They hadn’t seemed hugely convinced by his plan. And even if he did manage to complete all the Three Feats, would Grub and the others still say he didn’t belong?
He shook himself. That kind of thinking wouldn’t help. And anyway, he had more pressing things to think about at the moment—keeping the troop safe.
Solemnly he began to pad along the boundary of Tall Trees, where the lush, cool greenness of tree and palm and fern ended in an expanse of savannah that shimmered gold in the heat. He sniffed and narrowed his eyes. When I’m a Highleaf warrior, he thought, this is how I’ll protect my troop. Take that, Titan! He swiped his paw at some rustling leaves, and saw a big furry spider scuttle away in panic. That showed you. . . .
Above him, starlings were jabbering in a thorn tree. He gave a grunting roar and slammed his paws against its trunk, sending the whole flock screeching skyward. You won’t ambush me from a tree, Titan! He was feeling much more confident now, and far happier. I’m good at this.
Following the boundary, Fearless checked each tree thoroughly. By the time he’d scared a snake back into its hole and scattered some lazy egrets in a panic of white wings, there was a swagger in his step.
He was so wrapped up in important defensive measures, he barely noticed the dimming of the sky. Only when Thorn hooted, “Fearless, where are you?” did he realize dusk was falling.
Surprised, he turned back to see his friends loping toward him. The sky above was a deeper, darker blue, and flat-topped acacia trees were silhouetted against a far orange horizon.
“Time to get back to camp, Fearless,” called Mud. “We’ve been looking for you!”
“I didn’t realize,” he told them. He glanced back at the deep golden glow that lay along the horizon. Something was moving between two solitary acacias; Fearless narrowed his eyes.
“Wait a moment. . . .”
The figure was a lion, its stride easy and relaxed; a lone adult male with a crooked tail, silhouetted against the sunset. Fearless didn’t often spot lions, now that he lived in Tall Trees, but whenever he did, a wistful feeling came over him. He watched the great beast as it padded unhurriedly over the line of the horizon many hundreds of paces away, and disappeared.
What would it be like, living like a real lion? Would I be going back to my pride now, like he is? Would I spend the night hunting, or leave it to the lionesses?
The savannah looked so open and inviting, stretching out to what seemed like infinity. The haze of twilight was deepening to dark blue as the horizon faded to bronze, and the vast web of stars had begun to twinkle into life. Behind Fearless, the forest lay dark and deep and damp, already echoing with the chirp and croak of insects and frogs. It was home, but it was not a place a lion could run forever, where he could leap and bound and stretch his muscles pursuing the herds.
He swallowed hard. He’d had his own pride once, a place where he truly belonged. The old guilt crept into his belly. Maybe I should have stayed to fight Titan. I should have tried to protect my family, even if it was hopeless. But I fled.
“Fearless, come on!” called Thorn impatiently. “If you don’t hurry up, we’ll be eating twigs tonight.”
Fearless turned from the open savannah. It was useless gnawing over his regrets. The baboons are my friends, and I care about them. That’s what I do. I keep them safe.
All the same, as he padded back to his friends and paused to let them climb on his back, he couldn’t help a last, longing stare toward the sunset where the lion had vanished.
Fearless stood up on his hind legs, clawing in frustration at the bark of a kigelia tree. He peered up through its branches and its long, dangling fruit, some even larger than Mud, and stared longingly at the eagle’s nest in the topmost branches. It’s not that far. It’s not. I can do this.
“What are you waiting for?” Nut slapped the ground impatiently with his big foreleg. “You’re wasting your time, though. The Council will never let this count as a Feat.”
Thorn frowned. “Why were you so keen to find him an eagle’s nest, then?”
“Oh, it isn’t a waste of our time,” sneered Nut. “We’re going to enjoy watching him make an idiot of himself.” The small cluster of cronies around Nut yammered in agreement. “The eagle will come back soon,” barked one. “Get on with it, Fearless!”
“Fearless, ha!” Scornfully, Nut peeled back his lips from his fangs. “What a ridiculous name, when you think about it. You can’t even get up the nerve to climb a tree!”
His gang hooted with laughter. “That’s right, Nut. You’re right!”
“Maybe your name should be Big Talk,” Nut went on, warming to his theme. “Because you say you’re Fearless, but you’re all Big Talk!”
This was almost too much for some of his gang. They shrieked hysterically, bouncing up and down, jaws gaping wide with hilarity. Only Mud and Thorn stayed quiet, glowering at Nut’s accomplices.
At last Mud scratched his head and furrowed his brow. “I think it’s odd the eagle’s been gone for so long,” he muttered. “Birds need to sit on their eggs to keep them warm, or they won’t hatch. Why isn’t it here?” He narrowed his eyes, scowling deeply as he watched the nest. “And anyway, surely all the flesh-eating birds around here will have realized by now that we’re after their eggs?”
“You’re such a know-it-all,” mocked Nut, baring his teeth at Mud. “Pity that didn’t help you get an egg of your own.”
Thorn gave an angry growl. “You only got your egg by cheating and stealing,” he reminded Nut sharply. “You’ve got nothing to be so proud about.”
Nut made a rude face. His gang sniggered, but the rest of the young baboons fell silent as Fearless dug his claws into the tree. He began to haul himself up, pushing with his strong hindquarters, dragging himself with his forepaws.
He gritted his jaws. Thorn says the secret is not to look down. . . .
Higher and higher he climbed, until he was in the fork of the first branches. He paused, panting. He was bigger and heavier than any of
the baboons, but the tree was thick and sturdy. He was sure it would take his weight.
“Watch so the fruits don’t fall and hit your great thick head!” yelled Nut.
Fearless heard Thorn screech and snap angrily at Nut: “Let him get on with it.” But he didn’t look down. Tensing his muscles, narrowing his eyes, he began to clamber up through the branches. There was one just above him that looked strong; he sprang for it, clutching with his claws, and hauled himself up. He lay along it, getting his breath back, feeling it sag a little under his weight.
Now the branches above him didn’t look quite so big and thick. They were getting downright spindly.
Keep going, Fearless! Clenching his jaws, he balanced himself, wincing as a memory surfaced. Not so long ago I was desperate to get down from an eagle’s nest! And now I’m desperate to climb up to one. . . .
He scrambled onto the next branch quite easily, but it bounced wildly and sagged beneath him. With a growling yelp, he felt himself slip around it, though his claws were dug deep. He clung to its underside, panting with fear.
“Just above you, Fearless!” cried Thorn from below. “There’s a stronger branch. You can do it.”
“What’s wrong, Big Talk?” yelled Nut. “Given up already?”
Fearless gave a deep, angry growl, and hauled himself back on top of the branch. He could see the one Thorn meant; he grabbed it with the claws of one forepaw and lurched clumsily onto it. Before he could think any harder, he reached for the next, and then the next.
He wasn’t held up by a single branch now—they were too thin to hold him. He was sprawled across a mesh of three or four skinny ones that seemed barely more than thick twigs. Fearless gulped. The boughs creaked and groaned.
“Fearless!” barked Thorn. “Come down! Forget the egg, the branches are going to snap!”
“No,” he gasped, though he wasn’t sure if Thorn could even hear him. “I’m nearly there!”
The sun was shining full on his back now, and the edge of the messy nest was only a paw stretch away. He was at the top! Fearless brightened, feeling his courage return. Taking a deep lungful of air, he scrambled across the treetop and lurched onto the side of the nest, squashing the rim of cracking twigs. He flattened himself on his belly, afraid the nest would topple right off the tree with him still clinging to it.
Blinking, he stared in horror. There were no eggs. The nest was empty, and now he could see it was dilapidated, with a hole in the base. The twigs were broken and falling away, and the lining of leaves was dry and crispy and brown.
“It’s abandoned!” he roared in dismay.
The sound of cackles below sent birds scattering in alarm from the trees around him. The gang screeched and hooted, and Nut himself was hopping on the spot, slapping the ground and yelping with helpless laughter.
“Nut!” Thorn roared angrily. “That was mean and stupid!”
“You tricked me!” yelled Fearless, jumping to his paws.
“Fearless, no—stay still!”
Mud’s shout of warning came too late. The broken nest collapsed around him; both it and Fearless tumbled down through the tree, cracking branches and dislodging long, heavy fruits that plummeted to the ground.
The crashing, thumping descent seemed to last forever. Fearless snatched desperately at branches, but none of them would hold his falling weight. Every time he clawed for a hold, the boughs splintered and collapsed. And there’s no Stinger to catch me this time. I’m going to die, I’m going to— He slammed through the last branches and hit the ground hard.
It knocked the breath from his chest, and for a moment Fearless thought he really was dead; but Nut and his cronies were still screeching with helpless laughter. Even Nut wouldn’t laugh if I was dead . . . I think. Fearless scrambled awkwardly to his paws and shook leaves and twigs from his coat. He was scratched and battered, but he was alive.
And he was furious.
“Nut!” he roared.
“You idiot, Nut!” barked Thorn. “Fearless could have been killed!”
“So what?” Nut sneered, in between gasps of amusement. “He shouldn’t be pretending he can do the Three Feats. This’ll teach him a lesson—he’s no baboon!”
“That doesn’t matter!” cried Mud angrily. “He’s part of Brightforest Troop!”
“Hardly,” scoffed Nut. “He can’t even climb a tree without falling off it!”
Their squabble intensified, accusations and insults flying faster and louder, but Fearless was suddenly distracted. He frowned. There was an odd smell on the air, one that shouldn’t be there. Falling quiet, he tilted his head and twitched his tail. He opened his jaws to taste the faint breeze, trying to ignore the screeching of the quarreling baboons.
“Thorn,” he said, “something’s coming.”
“What’s your problem, Nut?” Thorn was yelling. “You’ve always been a stupid bully and—”
“Thorn. There’s a strange scent.” Fearless lashed his tail faster. “I don’t like it.”
“—And all you do is cause trouble, and—”
“Thorn!”
Thorn finally swung his head toward Fearless, a quizzical, annoyed look on his face. But just at that moment, something huge leaped from the spiky undergrowth. It was bigger even than Fearless, with a long, sloping back, and greasy fur spotted in yellow and brown. Its jaws hung open, dripping saliva and displaying savage fangs. Its breath was rank and hot, and its wild black eyes glinted with ravenous greed.
“Hyena!” screeched Thorn. “Run!”
Fearless stiffened in shock, his hackles springing erect. The baboons bolted in several directions, and the chaos momentarily confused the hyena. It snapped wildly, trying to pounce on one baboon and then another.
But Mud was closest to it. Fixing on Mud, the hyena flung itself in pursuit. Eyes white-rimmed with terror, Mud scampered toward a tree—but the hyena was closing, looming over him, jaws wide for the kill. Fearless sucked in a shocked breath, his ears flattening and his muscles coiling.
He saw Thorn dart into the hyena’s path, snatching his scrawny friend in the nick of time and yanking him into a hollow behind a thornbush. The hyena’s jaws snapped shut on empty air, but it turned on both baboons with a snarl.
It’ll kill them both!
The heat of fury rushed through Fearless’s veins. Bunching his shoulders, he opened his jaws wide in a screaming roar of challenge, slaver flying from his bared fangs. Then he sprang at the hyena, forelegs stretched out and claws extended to slash and tear.
It spun on its haunches, astonished. Fearless landed on its back, clawing and snarling; as it gave a shriek of pain, he sank his jaws instinctively into the side of its neck.
Beneath him the creature wriggled and writhed, its wild struggles yanking at his fangs; the stench of its fear and shock filled Fearless’s nostrils, and the hyena’s hoarse, screeching yelps were all he could hear. It had tremendous strength, but Fearless was too enraged to let go easily. It kicked and fought and yelped, and at last it flung Fearless off and shot into the trees, still hollering.
Panting, Fearless stood for a moment, staring after it, chest heaving. A sense of exhilaration filled him to bursting. Opening his bloody jaws wide, he gave a great roar of triumph.
One by one, the baboons were creeping out from the undergrowth and swinging down from the trees where they had sought refuge. They were blinking, gaping; some looked awestruck, some unnerved, and some positively terrified. Only Thorn and Mud bounded up to him, whooping with delight.
“You were great, Fearless!” cried Thorn.
“Seeing off a hyena is a lot better than stealing an egg,” hooted Mud with a grin of satisfaction.
“Hmph.” Nut was creeping out from the hollow of a rotten log, picking bits of wood and bark out of his fur. “You’re all overreacting. It was only a hyena. It wasn’t that scary.”
“You looked scared enough,” mocked Thorn, contemptuously eyeing Nut’s messy fur.
“I thought it was a young, strong
one,” snapped Nut. “It must have been old and sick if Big Talk there could beat it.”
But for once, Fearless didn’t care about Nut’s malicious tongue. I know I saved them all. And from their faces, Nut’s cronies know it too!
It made him feel good, better than he had in a long time.
The baboons clustered around him, bouncing with excitement and hooting their approval as they all made their way back to Tall Trees. Fearless picked up his paws, strutting proudly. He raised his head high, imagining his neck was already swathed in a flowing, golden mane.
The troop gathered to watch as the young baboons paraded into the glade around their new hero, Thorn and Mud riding on his back. As they jumped down and scampered off to share the story, Fearless caught sight of Bark Crownleaf. Their imposing leader sat on a fallen branch, studying him thoughtfully.
“Fearless,” she called gently. “Come to me for a moment.”
He trotted over to her, still warm with pride and pleasure. “What is it, Crownleaf?”
“Sit with me, Cub of the Stars.” She laid a paw against his shoulder. “I was high in the fever tree when the hyena attacked. I saw what happened.”
Fearless dropped his gaze, a little embarrassed at such attention from the Crownleaf herself. “It was nothing,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I didn’t really think about it.”
“No, you did it instinctively. You knew what had to be done. And I’m very grateful to you. You saved Mud’s life, and Thorn’s, and probably more.” Bark smiled at him.
Fearless’s chest swelled. “I’m just glad I could help,” he grunted. Hurriedly he added, “I was trying to get an egg to show everyone I could do the Three Feats. . . . I didn’t manage, but maybe chasing off the hyena could count instead?”
She was gazing at him, her expression kind, and Fearless found he was holding his breath. His heart beat painfully. There was something about the look in Bark’s eyes. . . .
“What you did,” she said at last, “the way your instincts told you to attack and save your friends? That shows just how much of a lion you are, Fearless.” She patted him gently. “What it tells me is that the Three Feats aren’t for you. It’s not that I don’t think you could do it,” she added, as he opened his jaws to protest. “It’s just that . . . Fearless, you’re a lion. A hunter. You shouldn’t be seeking a permanent place with Brightforest Troop. You need to live with lions and lead a lion’s life.”