“He’s worried about you,” persisted Roup.
“Arcove?” Charder was bewildered.
“You wouldn’t be out here alone if it weren’t for him.”
That was true enough, but the idea of Arcove openly allowing a ferryshaft to sit on his council was so ludicrous that Charder dismissed it at once. However, as time passed, he could not quite convince himself that Roup had been joking.
That spring, So-felt showed up. Charder was thunderstruck. However, after they got over some initial shyness, they talked for days. She had so many questions. Charder told her stories that he’d almost forgotten—about his herd before the war, his mates and foals—all dead now—about the plains beyond Leeshwood, about Coden and her mother, Lirsy, about feeding So-fet as a young foal and then distancing himself to protect her.
So-fet said that she could remember the sound of his voice—the only kind voice from her childhood. She spoke of her difficult first summer, the life she’d endured as a ru, how she’d given birth to Storm when she was hardly more than a foal herself. She’d taken a second mate because it seemed like the proper thing to do, only to discover that he was a bully who resented her first foal.
Near the end of that spring, she asked, “Why did you never take a mate after the war, Charder?”
“Because I thought Arcove might use mates and foals against me.” Because it hurt too much to lose them.
“Do you still think he would have?”
Charder considered. “I don’t know. I suppose I thought that I did not deserve a mate. I had to make hard decisions for the herd. I’m still not sure they were the right ones.”
“You deserve a mate,” said So-fet quietly.
Charder had peered at her—an elegant creature in her prime with deep red fur, flecked with just a bit of Coden’s gray around her eyes. Something surged in his chest, but he forced it down. “You could get a high-ranking mate,” said Charder quickly. “After what Storm and Sauny have done? Males would line up to sire your foals.”
So-fet licked his muzzle. Charder felt something warm in the pit of his stomach—feelings he’d thought were long dead. “I am probably too old to sire foals,” he continued weakly. “Furthermore, I am a rogue, despised by half of Lidian. You deserve someone young and strong—”
“I had two young, strong mates,” interrupted So-fet. “I had my fill of them. What makes you think I want a foal every spring? You led the ferryshaft herd for fifteen difficult years; you are not weak, and you are not as old as you seem to think.” After a moment, she added, “And I will always remember your voice as the kindest that ever spoke to me.”
Charder gave up after that. They were very happy for the rest of that summer and fall. It was clear by winter that she had not conceived, just as Charder had expected, but he told himself that she would have plenty of years to grow bored of him and find a mate of her own age. In the meantime, he was blissfully content. They remained on the southern plains, far from any ferryshaft herd.
However, Storm and Tollee found them. They had run all the way around the rim of the island that summer with Tollee’s yearling foal, Myla, together with Storm’s creasia cub, Teek. The youngsters were bubbling over with stories of what they’d seen and done. The group had proceeded to make their way back around the edge of the lake, where they encountered Charder and So-fet.
Storm did not seem to know what to make of his mother’s behavior, but both he and Tollee seemed exceedingly happy and willing to forgive past wrongs. Charder was near-certain that they would be having a foal next spring. Soon after their departure, a trickle of other ferryshaft began to appear—mostly older adults who’d known Charder before the war. They’d gone with Sedaron originally, but were dissatisfied. They missed the small herds that they remembered from their youth. And they missed their old herd leader.
Charder was surprised and touched. He ended up with about twenty animals—small enough to be friendly, but large enough to fend off curbs and help each other hunt in winter. It was a good little herd.
His friends brought news from across the island. More ferryshaft were wandering to more places than anyone could remember. The years of confinement in an unnaturally large herd on the northern plains seemed to have made everyone restless. Of the remaining herds, Sedaron still had the largest, but Kelsy was rumored to have the strongest with the largest number of young males. Sedaron had gone all the way to the far side of Groth with his herd and seemed to be trying to isolate them from the rest of the island.
Sauny and Valla had attracted a small, but dynamic herd with more females than males—an unusual situation. They were ranging all over the island and had spent the entire spring in Syriot, learning from telshees. Numerous other small herds had already splintered off—groups of five to thirty animals who had loose affiliations with one of the larger herds.
All of this sounded normal and healthy to Charder. He suspected things would settle down over the next five years and these various herds would choose more permanent territories. He found himself drawn back to his old haunts from before the war—hot springs near the foot of the cliffs south of Leeshwood, not far from the old caves where ferryshaft had kept their writing.
That winter was easier with friends to help with the hunting. Charder found that his hip did not pain him as much, or perhaps he simply did not notice it. Spring brought only two additions to their herd, as they had only two pregnant females. “What a world they will grow up in,” murmured So-fet. “No cliques. No rues. No rogans.”
Storm came again, alone this time. He’d been in Leeshwood recently. Teek had returned there and was living in Roup’s clutter. This did not surprise Charder. He was surprised to learn that Storm, Tollee, and their newborn foal were living there as well, at least for the spring.
“You allowed your foal to be born in creasia territory?” asked Charder.
“Why not?” countered Storm. “It’s safe from lowland curbs. They take more foals than any other predator. Ely-ary and lishties have attacked ferryshaft this summer as well. We’re rogues; we don’t have a herd to protect us. Roup’s clutter is friendly.”
Charder thought for a moment. “What about the highland curbs?”
“Oh, they’re well. They had another litter of puppies this spring. I’m sure we’ll visit them, but underground is no place to raise a foal.”
Charder had to agree. Finally, he asked, “What does Arcove think of your foal in his wood?”
Storm grinned. “It made him a little uncomfortable.”
I can imagine.
“He asked about you,” continued Storm.
Charder cocked his head.
“Lyndi Ela-creasia has taken a place on the creasia council,” continued Storm.
“A female…?” began Charder.
“Shaw also comes sometimes,” continued Storm.
Charder blinked. “Shaw…?”
“Yes, I think Keesha insisted. They let me sit in a couple of times, but I don’t want a place on the creasia council.” Storm grinned. “I can’t be bothered to stay in one place all year.” He hesitated. “But it’s not bad—living in Leeshwood.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Charder thought about what Storm had said as he watched Arcove practice making words in beach sand. It was the easiest place to teach someone to read and write. The process had taken a little more than a day, but not much. Roup had watched for a while, but he’d fallen asleep near noon. Arcove had continued stubbornly. Once he grasped the basic concept, he was determined not to stop until he’d finished. By the time the sun was setting, he’d memorized the last of the symbols and was consistently using them correctly.
“I think you’ve got it,” said Charder. He was tired and he wasn’t even a night animal.
Arcove grunted. He returned to the rocks and flopped down beside Roup, who didn’t even stir. “You were right,” he said after a moment. “It’s not difficult.”
Charder lay down a few paces away and yawned. He thought for a moment
that Arcove had fallen asleep.
Then Arcove said, “So…your blood and Coden’s.”
Charder gave an uneasy laugh. “I didn’t think she’d get pregnant.”
“Do you have enough of a herd to protect the foal?”
“Yes.” Charder peered at him curiously. It was too dark to read his expressions. “Do you want me on your council, Arcove?”
Arcove was silent a moment. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of me telling you what to do.”
“Well, you did also threaten to kill me nearly every time we spoke,” observed Charder. I’ve certainly had enough of that.
Arcove shifted uncomfortably. He did not look at Charder.
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Charder.
Arcove spoke carefully. “Ferryshaft are behaving in ways they have never behaved before. They are having foals in my wood.”
Charder could not repress a snort of laughter.
Arcove looked exasperated. “You think it’s funny, but my clutters do not know what to make of this. They are on edge. Ferryshaft are wandering through the wood with increasing frequency, and I am afraid there will be an incident. Sauny and Valla have offered to foster another creasia orphan. Should I allow this? There have been rumors that Sedaron’s herd plans to raid in the spring and try to kill cubs. I am tempted to cross the island and subdue them. Will this destroy the new peace? Keesha has all kinds of ideas. I am not sure what to make of some of them. I am not sure how to handle his meddling.”
Arcove stopped to catch his breath. Charder could tell he was tired.
“Cats are not known to be fond of change,” Charder observed.
Arcove scowled at him.
“Do you want me on your council?” Charder repeated patiently.
“I would value your advice,” said Arcove. He hesitated. “But you have earned your rest.”
Charder smiled. “I meant what I said in the cave.”
Arcove studied his face for a moment. Then he seemed to relax. He gave Roup a nudge. “Wake up, my friend.”
Roup groaned. “Why do I feel like I’ve been awake all day?”
“Because you have.”
“Why am I awake again?”
Arcove rose, suddenly cheerful. “Because I have to go write telshee words on a ferryshaft wall. We will write the past. And then maybe we will write the future.”
The End
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed this story. I will probably write more stories about these characters (if I haven’t done so already). Check my website for details. If you liked this story, you might also enjoy “The Prophet of Panamindorah,” a young adult trilogy set in a completely different world, but still with plenty of talking cats.
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Abbie
About the Author
Abigail Hilton is a traveling nurse anesthetist who sometimes lives in Florida. Abbie has spent time in veterinary school and done graduate work in literature. She loves audio books and most of her work is available in audio, as well as paper and ebook. You can connect with Abbie on Facebook, Twitter, or her blog at abigailhilton.net. You can also send her email at [email protected].
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