Ratha and Thistle-Chaser (The Third Book of the Named)

by Clare Bell

  Newt lifted her lame foreleg and slowly threaded her paw into the crevice. She gave Thakur an unreadable look. “For my Dreambiter,” she hissed.

  “For you,” he answered softly. Ratha lay, coat still streaming, eyes closed. He wondered if she could hear them.

  With grunts of effort, Newt wiggled her lame forepaw deep into the crack.

  “She’s close,” said Fessran, peering down from the top. “Just a little bit more, Thistle.”

  Thakur saw Newt’s lips draw back from her clamped teeth as she forced more of her leg in.

  “You’re touching now,” came Fessran’s voice from the top. “Spread your pad. Get your claws out.”

  Newt snarled and strained. She shot an agonized glance at Thakur. “Not strong enough. Claws won’t go far enough.”

  Thakur swallowed, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t her fault if her leg had not completely come back to normal. If it hadn’t, she would never have been able to get in this far. But will could overcome weakness, if she wanted to free Ratha badly enough.

  I can’t condemn her if she fails, he thought. But I won’t be able to keep away the doubt.

  Newt gave a grunt, then a startled gasp.

  “She’s got a clawhold,” Fessran said from the top. “Come up here and look.”

  Thakur bounded up beside the unconscious Ratha and peered down at Newt’s rust-colored forepaw, lit by a stray beam of sunlight. She had one claw hooked into the side of Ratha’s leathery pad. Thakur saw the tendons in Newt’s foot stand out as she strained to spread her forepaw and extend the claws. She got another claw into Ratha’s pad and then another.

  “Pull slowly,” Thakur called down to her. “Don’t jerk, or you’ll lose your hold.” He heard her panting shallowly and knew her leg was cramping. Then he saw her foot starting to inch back, Ratha’s paw moving with it. He suppressed his impulse to yowl at the sky. Instead he joined Fessran in trying to lick the salt water from Ratha’s coat and lie across her to provide what warmth they could.

  From his position atop the rock, he peeked down in the crack. Ratha’s foot had stuck at a cluster of mussel shells in the crevice. Newt wriggled and panted but couldn’t get past the obstacle. Slowly she unhooked her claws from Ratha’s foot and began to scrape and pry at the shellfish, breaking away one fragment at a time. It was an agonizing effort for the weakened forepaw, but Newt kept doggedly at her task. Thakur started to call down instructions then stopped. No. He trusted Newt to do everything that was needed. He and Fessran should concentrate on reviving Ratha, getting her ready to move should Newt’s efforts be effective.

  They lay one on each side of her, warming her, trying to wring the water from her fur. Fessran scanned the sea anxiously for any sign that another wave was about to break over them.

  Then Newt gave a yowl that was both triumph and pain as she snagged Ratha’s foot again and pulled it free. Carefully Thakur got his jaws around the bruised and cut limb, gently drawing it out of the crevice.

  “Thakur, another wave’s coming,” Fessran warned.

  He wormed himself under Ratha’s belly, heaved her up on his nape and shoulders, and half dragged, half carried her while yowling at Fessran to get Mishanti. He felt his load lighten slightly as Newt came up beside him and grabbed Ratha with her jaws. She was limping again, her leg drawn up and folded over in a fierce cramp. She grimaced with pain but said nothing as she helped Thakur carry Ratha away from the surging water.

  The two hauled her to the highest spot on the island and then, when the water receded, wrestled her across the wave-washed boulders connecting this outermost islet with the chain leading back to the jetty. Fessran helped them as much as she could while carrying the cub.

  Ratha, after being warmed and shaken around by her short journey on top of Thakur, began to show some signs of life. Thakur took her a short distance to a hollow that screened out the wind. He laid her down on a slab that slanted at an angle, allowing water to drain from her fur instead of puddling around her.

  Thakur and Newt began to lick her again, helped in their task by weak sunlight that grew stronger as the clouds parted. Her eyes remained closed, but her whiskers twitched and she whispered, “Thakur, I’m so numb I can’t feel anything in my legs. Is my forepaw... ”

  He answered her unspoken question by pushing her limp foreleg toward her nose. “You’ve still got all your paws, thanks to your daughter.”

  He saw her rib cage rise then fall in a huge sigh of relief.

  “Where’s Thistle-chaser?” she asked, her eyes still shut. Thakur’s gaze went to Newt, and he watched her ears flick nervously.

  “Here,” she answered, her voice thin with exhaustion and uncertainty.

  Ratha’s teeth chattered but she managed to say, “Lie down with me. I need you.”

  With another uncertain glance at Thakur, Newt arranged herself with her belly against Ratha’s back. Thakur saw her grimace as her lame foreleg cramped. “Here,” he said, taking her paw in his mouth and pulling it to ease the tight, knotted muscles. He massaged it gently with his tongue.

  “Well this is certainly a cozy group,” said Fessran as soon as she had dried Mishanti as well as she could. “I’m starting to feel left out.”

  “Well, join us,” said Thakur. “Ratha needs all the warmth she can get.”

  “After what I did, I’m not sure... ”

  “She doesn’t need apologies or arguments,” Thakur replied. “Just a warm pelt against her.”

  “Mine’s pretty damp, but I’ll do what I can.” Fessran shook herself off and fluffed her fur.

  Together they rubbed against Ratha and wrung as much water out of her fur as they could by pressing against her. The sunlight brightened, helping to dry her pelt, while the sheltering rocks kept the wind from blowing away the heat.

  Yet as Thakur worked alongside the others, he felt that there were many things yet to be resolved. As Ratha started to recover, Newt began inching away from her, as if she could only dare to touch Ratha when she was too sick or weak to really notice.

  And as Ratha became more like her old self in the warmth and dryness of the sun and those around her, she seemed ill at ease with Newt. She let her daughter gradually retreat without calling her back. Perhaps, Thakur thought, everything that had happened on the island was just a feverish dream to her, unsure, unreal. And perhaps to Newt the intimacy that crisis allowed was gone.

  He looked at Ratha and then at her daughter and felt angry. Both were strong, stubborn, and adamant about denying the tie that bound them together, yet both were clearly driven by it.

  He shook himself, bristled his whiskers, and said, “Ratha, Thistle-chaser, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

  Both stared at him as if he had gone mad.

  “What, by the Red Tongue’s ashes, are you talking about?” asked Fessran. “There’s no one else on this wave-washed rock but us.”

  He ignored the Firekeeper. Instead he went to Thistle-chaser, nudged her back toward Ratha. “This is your mother,” he said, looking into the sea-green eyes. “She birthed you, fed you, and desperately wanted to love you.”

  He turned next to Ratha, still lying on her side, looking up at him. “And this is your daughter. She came from your belly, suckled at your teats, and never had the chance to be what you wanted her to be.”

  Pausing, he surveyed both of them. “That is the simple truth between you. You may deny it at the top of your voices, but everything you have done shows that it is still at work.”

  There was a very long silence.

  Ratha lowered her muzzle, looking at the ground, then gave a sideways glance at Newt. “Thakur has the most sense of any of us, doesn’t he? Do you think he’s right?”

  “He is right,” said Newt softly, choosing her words carefully and slowly. “But want to know. Why you bite me bad when I was small?”

  Ratha closed her eyes, and for an instant Thakur thought she couldn’t answer the question.

  “I think the best answer to that
,” Ratha said, “is to have Fessran bring Mishanti over here.”

  When the Firekeeper had placed the cub between Ratha and Thistle-chaser, Ratha said, “Look at him. If there is light in his eyes, it is hard to see, isn’t it?” As the Firekeeper started to bristle, she added, “No, Fessran. I’m not making a judgment of him now. For one thing, I’m hardly in a condition to do that. I just want to show Thistle-chaser something she needs to know.” Ratha nudged Mishanti so that he faced Thistle-chaser.

  “That is what you looked like to me,” Ratha said. “I looked in your eyes and could not see what I wanted the most; the promise that you would grow up as one of the Named, be able to speak, think, and know what names mean.” She looked up at her daughter, half-angry, half-pleading. “Can you understand? I had seen the empty faces of the Un-Named and to think that you would be like them... I couldn’t bear it. I clawed Bonechewer. I bit you. I didn’t realize it would wound you so badly. I didn’t know.”

  Thistle-chaser bent her head and thoughtfully licked the collar of rough fur that hid her scar. Then she gave Ratha a searching look. “Am I what you... are afraid of?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Ratha admitted.

  “Am I what you wanted?”

  “I’m not sure about that either,” Ratha confessed. She looked away. “You lived so long without me, do you really care what I think?”

  Newt looked as if she were struggling to put the right words together. At last she said, “I did not live without you. We both made Dreambiter.”

  Ratha’s jaw trembled. “There is no way I can take back what I did. And I know you can’t pretend it didn’t happen. That trail is not an easy one.”

  “You do one thing for me,” Newt said. “Help me let Dreambiter go.”

  “How?” Ratha’s gaze went to Thakur. He could see the lostness in her eyes.

  He answered, “The Dreambiter is everything in you that she dreads and fears.”

  “But I am not just that,” Ratha said, pleading. “Thakur, tell her. I’m not.”

  “You will have to show her yourself. By not judging, not pushing, and learning patience.”

  Ratha looked away from him toward Newt. Nervously licking the tip of her nose, she gave a soft come-here purr. Newt crouched then crept to her, putting her head beneath Ratha’s chin. Slowly, tentatively, Thakur saw Ratha lick the top of Newt’s head. She gave a startled grimace. Obviously the sea had not rinsed away all of the sea-beast tang from Newt’s fur. But she did not let the rhythm of her licking falter. She sent a defiant glance toward Thakur.

  Then Newt withdrew her head and settled nearby, laying her head on her forepaws.

  “I think this gives us a lesson about judging cubs,” Thakur observed. “If we could be so wrong about Thistle-chaser, what about others? The thing we call the light in our eyes is more than just that. I think it shows itself in many ways and we must learn to see it in whatever form it takes.”

  He saw Newt twitch her tail impatiently. “What about him?” she said, pointing her nose at Mishanti.

  “Well, I guess we should let him grow a little more; give him the chance that we didn’t give you,” Ratha answered.

  “No,” Newt said abruptly, startling everyone. She rushed on, her anger making her strangely eloquent. “It won’t work. He is like I was. Different. None of you will have the patience to teach him. You will always be thinking that he should be this or should be that. Even if you try not to, you will. And someone will get impatient and bite him.”

  Fessran narrowed her eyes at Newt. “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Let me take Mishanti, teach him what I know.”

  The Firekeeper grumbled to herself, but Thakur heard Ratha say, “She’s right. We would get impatient with him. Even you, Fessran.”

  “I’m not sure that she’s the best... ” Fessran started.

  “Well, she may not be, but we certainly didn’t do any better,” Ratha argued. Then she turned to Newt. “I’d like you to come into the clan and help Fessran with Mishanti.”

  Thakur saw Fessran sit up, startled. “You mean you’re not going to throw me out? Even after what I did?”

  “No, singe-whiskers.” Ratha grinned at her. “Who else can I depend on to tell me when I’m running the wrong trail? Thakur often knows, but his voice is sometimes too soft. Fessran’s yowl I can’t help but hear. Even if I do disagree.”

  “You may not have been entirely wrong,” Fessran said softly, looking at Mishanti, who was frisking about with his tail. “He hasn’t shown any ability to speak.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t need to.” The interruption was Newt’s. “I didn’t. Not for long time. Perhaps he the same way.”

  “But words are important to us in the clan,” Ratha said. “And they are important to you now. I thought you wanted to come into the clan. There is no reason why we can’t accept you.”

  Newt gathered herself together. “I don’t want your clan. My seamares give me what I need. I want to be with you,” she said, turning to her mother, “but as... friend, not leader.”

  Ratha’s whiskers sagged a little. Thakur imagined that she thought Newt would be eager to end her long isolation and be welcomed back among the Named. But Newt’s adversity had fostered a sense of independence that could not be given up easily.

  “Let me take Mishanti,” she said, looking at Ratha and Fessran. “Let me teach him to live with seamares. Let me keep my own ground and my own way and make my own choice to be with the Named or not. That is what I ask.”

  Thakur turned to the two, who were staring at each other with disgruntled looks.

  “I hate to mention this,” said Fessran, pointing toward the cub with her nose. The wound over his ribs had stopped bleeding and was crusted with dried blood. “You were the one who ripped up his side. Can I trust you?”

  Newt looked down at her paws. “He is hurt. I was hurt. We both share that.”

  “I know, but is it... ” Fessran began.

  “This is part of letting the Dreambiter go,” Newt answered.

  “I think I understand what she means,” Ratha said softly to Fessran. “I think she’s right. It is the best way, though not the easiest.” She addressed Newt again. “Since we have enough grazing and water for the herdbeasts to breed well, we can concentrate on the three-horns and dapplebacks, while you and Mishanti herd the seamares. Is that what you want?”

  “Knock down the pen and let your seamares out,” Newt said. “They can’t live behind thorns and sticks. They need the beaches.”

  “She’s right, Ratha,” Thakur added. “The beasts aren’t eating, and they’ll soon get sick.”

  He could see that she disliked the idea of abandoning the pen after all the effort that had gone into making it. “Perhaps the seamares aren’t the best animals for our purposes, and trying to pen them was a mistake,” Ratha admitted. “We have what we need to survive. Yes, I will let them go, and you can live among them with Mishanti. I haven’t been able to give you much, but at least I can give you that. Is it enough?”

  “Yes.” Newt bent down and touched noses with Ratha. “I am glad that my Dreambiter has become my mother,” Thakur heard her hiss softly. She turned to Thakur. “Will you help me give the gift of words to Mishanti when the time comes?”

  He felt himself grinning. “If you’ll teach me to swim.”

  “Thistle, what about me?” Fessran asked, sounding forlorn. “I’d like to see him sometimes.”

  “You love Mishanti,” Thistle-chaser said, facing the Firekeeper. “I turn to you if I feeling mad with him. Is enough?”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Fessran promised.

  “Well, now that we’ve got all this sorted out,” Thakur put in, “perhaps we should think about finding our way back before the tide comes in again. Ratha, can you walk?”

  He watched her get shakily to her feet. She took a few steps, winced, and drew up her battered forepaw. “I’ll limp, but I’ll get there.”

  Newt came alongside her. “Use
your hind legs more and bring them under you. Then you can take bigger steps.”

  Thakur saw Ratha give Newt an exasperated look, but she took the offered advice.

  “Well, you can’t deny she knows what she’s talking about,” he observed.

  “Now you’ve got two of us,” Ratha retorted, hobbling beside her daughter.

  “Not for long. You’ve just got a sprain, and Newt’s leg needs only a rest and a little more strengthening.” He led the way, looking back as Ratha and Newt followed.

  “If I see that wretched fish, I’ll bite his tail off,” Fessran growled through her mouthful of Mishanti’s scruff fur. Then she padded after, starting the long up and down scramble and swim that would bring them back to the jetty.

  The four made their way across the islands and at last regained the jetty by the time twilight was starting to fall. Above, clouds were gathering, and startled seamares honked at the bedraggled party, as Thakur, Ratha, Newt, and Fessran climbed along the spine of rock that led back to the beach. Ratha found herself lagging behind the others, even though they tried to slow down to her tired pace.

  Newt did not want to return with them to the forested area where the Named had settled. Instead, she asked Fessran for Mishanti, and when the Firekeeper reluctantly let him down, she picked him up by the scruff and padded away with him.

  “That poor cub is going to be so confused by all of this,” Fessran said.

  “Stop worrying. She said you can visit him,” Thakur answered.

  The sky had been clouding over again. Ratha looked up as a heavy raindrop splashed down on her nose. Billowing gray clouds stretched across the sea and were rolling inland. Another raindrop struck her back. Soon the rain pattered down all around Ratha and her two companions as they crossed the beach, climbed the bluff, and made their way back to the forested pool beneath the cliff.

  While Ratha soothed her bruised and aching foreleg in the pool, Thakur went off to collect Aree and Ratharee from the trees where they had been placed for safekeeping. Fessran yawned then climbed up to a slate-colored ledge, where she curled up out of the rain and fell asleep.