Hunters Unlucky

by Abigail Hilton

  Teek was awake now, looking at him. “Give them the blood of their prey…” murmured Storm. “I think Teek saw them practicing on a cub. It’s one of the reasons he followed me from the Great Cave. He grew up in Treace’s clutter, and bad things happened to orphaned cubs there.”

  “The snakes,” whispered Teek.

  Roup looked down at him. “Snakes?”

  “He has nightmares about a cub with snakes in its belly,” Storm explained. “I suppose they were vines.” He grimaced. “Would Treace’s cats really do that to a cub?”

  “Moro would,” said Roup. “I found one of their early tests with a pit and a vine trap. I thought they were just catching deer to feed their overpopulating dens.”

  Storm stood up suddenly. In the moonlight, he saw a ferryshaft dash out of the trees on the far shore, run along the bank, and splash into the water. At the same time, he heard a creasia rally cry from the same direction, frighteningly close. There was still one more cat paddling towards them, but Storm could see no others.

  Roup stood up, too, tail twitching. “Storm, get Teek up to the cave.”

  It was good advice, since Teek could not sprint as quickly as the adults. Teek kept glancing back all the way through the forest. “What about Roup?”

  “He’s coming,” said Storm.

  “So are Treace’s cats,” whispered Teek.

  “Roup will get here first.” Storm hoped that he was telling the truth as they stood in the cave, shivering, and waited. Creasia faces looked down from the opening at the top of the ramp. They’re expecting a fight, thought Storm. He wondered again how to shut the entrance. He had a nagging fear that he would not like the answer.

  Teek seemed to read his mind. “Will someone have to stay outside to close it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Storm.

  His hopes rose as a creasia came racing up the hill, but it was only the final swimmer. Storm heard another creasia rally cry, and it sounded so close that he thought the animal must be on the island. He was about to trot up the ramp to the entrance, when two shapes broke out of the trees at the bottom of the hill and darted up the slope. Charder nearly collapsed when he reached the cave. “I—am getting—too old—for this,” he gasped.

  “Oh, surely one is never too old to trap oneself on Kuwee Island,” panted Roup with more sarcasm than Storm thought necessary.

  “Charder,” said Storm, “how do we close it?”

  “By leaving someone outside to die, of course,” said Charder. He looked around at their serious faces, then caught his breath and laughed. “Joking. Go on up the ramp.”

  Roup looked as confused as Storm felt, but he backed onto the ramp. Storm and Teek followed him, and the creasia who had been watching from the top retreated out of sight. “Go on,” repeated Charder. He stepped onto the bottom of the ramp, then leaned over the side and nosed around beneath the edge. “Why do you think it’s on a chain?” he muttered. Then his teeth closed around the silver thread, and he pulled the Shable up over the side of the ramp.

  Nothing happened immediately, although, as Charder walked towards them, Storm felt a subtle shift in the stone underfoot. Behind Charder, in the moonlight, Storm saw the first of Treace’s cats emerging from the trees. Storm backed up quickly towards the dark opening. Charder came on, and as he did, the ramp began to lift from the ground. Without either their own weight or the weight of the Shable to hold it open, the “jaw” was closing.

  Clever. Storm thought, wistfully, that he would like to have known the humans. Then he turned and filed with the others into the dark fortress beneath Kuwee Island. The “jaw” clicked shut.

  * * * *

  Sauny felt euphoric. The wood around her was in bloody chaos, and she had caused it! Ferryshaft had turned on creasia and trampled them or ripped them to pieces. Even the lishties—and they were all lishties as far as Sauny was concerned, even the ones who looked like creasia—even they had fled or been trampled. In the midst of the madness, Kelsy had shouted by her ear, “We need to lead them!”

  Sauny had spat out a mouthful of cat fur. “Then do it!”

  But that was not so easy. The moment the herd had eliminated the immediate threat, they began plunging into the lake, swimming for the mainland. It was a bright night, but as soon as they got beneath the trees, it became difficult to see what was happening. Animals were shouting to each other, running this way and that. Sauny wondered whether any of the lowland curbs would be unwise enough to make an appearance. If so, she didn’t see them. She didn’t see any highland curbs, either.

  “I don’t think they’re going to listen to anyone!” Valla had to shout to be heard, even though she was right beside Sauny. Kelsy had been lost somewhere in the shadows up ahead.

  “But we’re running in the right direction,” said Sauny. “Back towards the northern plain—towards home.”

  “Do you think they’ll actually do what we want once they get there?” asked Valla.

  “I don’t know.” For the first time that evening, Sauny felt uncertain. “I guess we’ll find out when they stop.”

  Chapter 20. The Worst

  Storm woke in a shaft of sunlight. Some sleepy part of his brain informed him that this was odd. Near his ear, a small voice said, “Storm! Storm, wake up and look...”

  Storm opened his eyes. He was lying in a little cave with no ceiling, inside the bigger cave. In the confused dimness of last night, he’d sensed dozens, perhaps hundreds, of these. It’s like a beehive, he’d thought.

  In the morning light, that notion was reinforced. However, he could see better now, because sunlight fell in bright streams from tiny openings in the ceiling of the vast cavern. Everywhere, crumbling walls formed corridors that ran much straighter than the slot canyons to which Storm was accustomed. They formed little rooms, some with walls only as tall as a cub, and others with walls that even Arcove could not have looked over. A few had roofs, although many did not. Towards the back of the cave, these structures became more complex and rose like an anthill of rooms piled on top of each other, some with walls falling down, but most intact.

  Storm had settled in a little room partway up the mound of structures, and he had a good view from the entrance. It was clear to Storm that these structures had been created by living creatures in an organized effort. He could not imagine how.

  All of this would have been astonishing enough, but Teek was staring at something else—paintings like the one of the telshee at the entrance. Nearly every wall was covered in lines and images. Some seemed to be senseless. Others were clearly animals, trees, rivers, and plants.

  Teek was walking around the little room in which they’d slept, staring. “Storm, look! That’s an oory. And that…that’s a rabbit. Storm, is that a ghost plant? Storm, look!”

  “I see, I see.” Storm stretched luxuriously. The air in the cave was decidedly warmer than the outside air. He felt both comfortable and safe for the first time in days. Well, almost comfortable. He could tell that hunger was waiting to pounce on him the moment he began to move around.

  “What are they?” asked Teek. “Who made them?”

  “The telshees call them paintings,” said Storm. “I think the humans made them. Humans disappeared from Lidian hundreds…maybe thousands of years ago.”

  “I wish they were still here,” said Teek without taking his eyes off the paintings.

  Storm had had more time to think about that last night. An animal so clever could also be very cruel. He wondered if humans had ruled the island in their day, whether they had culled other species, whether they had gone to war.

  Teek finally tore his gaze from the wall. He looked at Storm almost guiltily. “I’m hungry,” he whispered. “But I know there’s nothing to eat.”

  Storm winced. He remembered Keesha’s story of watching Coden’s foal and other friends die of hunger and thirst in these caves. He remembered the pain in Keesha’s voice and in his humming. I hope I don’t learn how he felt.

  Storm hopped up onto the c
rumbling wall as though it had been a sheep trail. From here, he had a view of almost the entire cave. He could see into some of the little rooms farther down the slope where cats were resting. He saw mothers nursing cubs, clutters sleeping in heaps, cats grooming themselves and each other. Almost like a herd, he thought. They’re social animals…like ferryshaft. In so many ways, they’re like ferryshaft. He did not see Arcove or Roup.

  As Storm’s gaze shifted upward, he was surprised to catch a brighter rectangle of light. “The door is open!”

  “What?” Teek clambered up beside him.

  Storm squinted. He saw a few cats coming and going near the entrance, but nobody looked alarmed. “Let’s go down and find out what’s happening.”

  * * * *

  Arcove was dizzy by the time he woke that morning. The feeling was familiar now—vertigo and waves of nausea. Nevertheless, he got up and organized a party of the strongest fighters to go out and drive their enemies from the island. It was a critical move, as the cave was only a death trap without control of the rest of Kuwee.

  As Arcove had expected, Treace did not waste much effort in trying to hold the surface of the island. His cats had doubtless slept uneasily in the open last night, expecting an attack from the cave at any moment. It was easier and safer for Treace’s cats to lay siege from the bank, where they could see enemies swimming over long before they arrived. Arcove’s creasia would eat up most of the food on the island within a few days, so it would be an easy waiting game.

  Nevertheless, Treace’s creasia put up a token struggle before they were driven off—a test, no doubt, to see how much of their opponent’s strength remained. Arcove killed two in spite of his spinning head. He knew he was behaving recklessly. There is one more thing to do…although dying in battle might be preferable.

  However, when the dust settled, he was hardly more than scratched. Time enough for dying later.

  On his way back to the cave, Arcove ran into Storm, poking cautiously around the entrance. “They’re off the island,” he said. “Hunt if you like. Halvery is setting up a perimeter patrol.”

  Storm squinted at him. Arcove wondered whether he was swaying. He felt like the floor was heaving up and down. Don’t you dare ask. Arcove turned quickly and made his way into the ruins. He went up, layer after layer, until he found a room near the very top. Diffuse light streamed in through chinks in the porous stone above. He curled up in the farthest corner and slipped into uneasy dreams.

  * * * *

  Valla woke on the plain north of the Igby. The sun had come out and melted the thin layer of snow. The sky was bright, and she felt like singing. Sauny was plucking at the grass nearby. Not far away, Kelsy, Remy, Itsa, and the foal, Teedo, were curled over and around each other, warm in spite of the frost. The ferryshaft rested or grazed. For the first time in sixteen years, they were not doing what cats had told them to do. And it feels good, thought Valla.

  But… “Sauny?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are we still going to find Storm…and Arcove’s creasia?”

  “Of course.”

  Valla sat up and joined her friend in the search for food. “If they reached Kuwee—” she began.

  “No if,” said Sauny.

  “Alright, when they reached Kuwee, Treace will have followed them.”

  “I know,” said Sauny. “He’ll lay siege on the bank. They’ll need us to break it.”

  Valla was relieved to hear that Sauny had thought this through. “It would be easier if we could coordinate an attack with the creasia on the island.”

  “I think they’ll see us,” said Sauny. “The entire ferryshaft herd attacking more than half of Leeshwood? That’ll be hard to miss. They’ll come out and join in.”

  It seemed reasonable.

  “How many ferryshaft do you think we’ve lost in the last few days?” asked Valla.

  Sauny stopped eating. She sighed. “I don’t know. I was thinking I should go around and take a count.”

  “Better start talking to them, too,” said Valla. “I don’t think this is going to be easy.”

  “Leave the talking to me,” said Sauny.

  At that moment, Valla heard snarling from the direction of the river. She peered out towards the edge of the herd and saw curbs—big curbs—trying to avoid several ferryshaft. “Get out of here!” she heard one of the ferryshaft shout. “We’re done running from you! Go!”

  “Eyal!” called Valla. She and Sauny ran towards the curbs.

  “It’s alright,” Sauny told the ferryshaft. “They’re highland curbs; they helped us. It’s alright.”

  When they reached the curbs, Valla searched for Eyal, but did not see him. The foremost was Eyal’s beta, a curb named Cohal. He looked considerably battered—one ear ripped so badly that there was barely anything left, bite wounds over his chest and shoulders. The rest of the pack looked no better. Sauny sniffed noses with him. “Thank you for what you did yesterday,” she said. “Our herd is free because of you.”

  The curb inclined his head. “We owed a debt,” he said. “It is paid.”

  Valla felt a chill. “Where is Eyal?”

  Cohal’s soulful, brown eyes met hers. “He died last night in the fighting. He said to tell Storm Ela-curb that this year, borrowed from death, was the best of his years.”

  Oh, Eyal. Valla glanced at Sauny, who’d gone very still.

  At last, Sauny said, “Will you howl for him?”

  “Of course,” said Cohal.

  “Would you…would you wait for Storm?” asked Sauny. “I think he would like to howl with you.”

  This seemed to please the curbs. “We will wait for Storm,” they agreed.

  “We came to tell you something else,” said Cohal. “The dead things—the lishties—are coming. The new four-legged ones are not so fast, but they are coming.”

  Sauny recoiled. “Those dead cats?”

  “Those and others,” said Cohal. “Every animal that fell in the fighting. This is strange to us. Lishty bites normally kill any animal other than a telshee. But the bites of these creasia lishties seem to infect four-legged animals, even those who are freshly dead.”

  “Now we really need to find out how many we lost,” muttered Valla.

  * * * *

  Arcove woke, disoriented, near noon. Someone was licking his ears and shoulders. The pleasure of being groomed created a strange counter-point to the pain in his belly and joints. Finally, he opened his eyes, “Roup?” He tried to lift his head. It felt much heavier than he remembered.

  Roup came around in front of him. Arcove saw that he’d brought a dead rabbit. “Have you eaten since this started?” Roup asked. “Truly?”

  “Yes.” I threw up afterward, but I did eat.

  “You look gaunt.”

  I feel gaunt. “The cubs will weaken the quickest without food,” said Arcove. “I can wait.”

  “You mean, ‘Don’t waste food on me, because I’m dying,’” said Roup.

  Arcove said nothing.

  “What happened?” whispered Roup. Frustration and despair played tug-of-war with his voice. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “I think that curb trap may have been poisoned,” offered Arcove.

  Roup snorted. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I don’t have much practice,” Arcove admitted.

  Roup waited a moment, but Arcove said nothing. Finally, Roup spoke, his voice thick. “So that’s it, then? Everything we’ve been through, and now you’ve decided you’re going to die, and you won’t even tell me why?”

  I can’t, thought Arcove, and that’s the worst part. Would it help if I said so? Probably not.

  Chapter 21. A Shadow on the Past

  Arcove drifted in and out of delirium. He thought that Teek came to see him. The cub wasn’t really looking for Arcove. He was looking at the ancient human paintings, following their lines around the ruins. The wall of the room where Arcove was sleeping contained a large image. Arcove hadn’t paid any attention to it.
Paintings were not creasia things.

  However, as the cub walked back and forth in front of it, Arcove did look. The image included telshees and ferryshaft with odd, spindly beasts on their backs. He thought he saw curbs at their feet and ely-ary overhead.

  “Where are we?” asked Teek. He sounded distressed. “I can’t find us. I can’t find us!”

  Arcove thought that he might be dreaming. However, when the cub did not disappear, he scanned the wall and finally found the outline of trees and bushes in a bottom corner. A pair of eyes glared out from the forest. He saw the suggestion of claws and teeth. “There,” he muttered.

  Teek stared. “Is that supposed to be us?” He scanned the image again. “Why are we all alone?”

  “Figure that out,” muttered Arcove, “and you’ll understand everything you need to know about ferryshaft and creasia.”

  He shut his eyes again, but he thought he heard scratching—like a stone over stone. Scratch, scratch, scratch…

  When Arcove opened his eyes again, Teek was gone. He told himself that the despair he felt was an effect of the peculiar torture that Keesha had inflicted on him. I had a plan. It was a good plan. It will work. Stick to it.

  Keesha came in the afternoon. When Arcove tried to stand, he staggered gracelessly sideways and fell over. I can’t feel my feet. His body felt three times heavier than normal.

  Keesha regarded him coldly from the entrance to the room. Arcove caught sight of Storm, looking anxiously in behind him. “Well,” growled Keesha. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

  Not yet. “I want to talk to you alone,” said Arcove.

  “Are you really so afraid that anyone will hear you beg?” asked Keesha. “I certainly listened to enough begging in these caves, although mostly, it was for water. You have no right to take refuge here.”

  “Alone,” repeated Arcove.

  Storm’s head disappeared from the entrance. Arcove hoped no one else was outside. Keesha glided into the room, most of his body trailing out the door. Arcove tried to get away from him and then gave up. Keesha didn’t try to touch him, though. His great head hung over Arcove like a shark hovering over a smaller fish. “Well…?”