Ratha’s Creature (The First Book of The Named) (3 page)

On the opposite side of the herd, she caught a glimpse of something moving in the fog. A low, slender form; not a herdbeast. Ratha bared her teeth and dashed around the outside of the flock. She stopped and sniffed. She knew that smell. She nosed the ground. The smell was fading in the dampness, but footprints were there. Her tail began to flick as she peered through the mist in all directions. Where had he gone?

A sudden shrill scream told her. Ratha plunged into the middle of the herd, sending animals scattering in every direction. The killer was there, dragging his thrashing prey through the grass. Ratha opened her jaws in a full-throated roar as she charged at him. The raider jerked his head up, pulling his teeth from the dappleback’s neck before Ratha barreled into him, knocking him sprawling.

She scrambled to her feet. She had barely time to see his hate-filled yellow eyes before he leaped at her.

Ratha flipped onto her back and pedaled furiously, raking her adversary’s belly with her hind claws. She felt her front paw strike his chin as he snapped at her flailing feet. He missed, but his head continued down and before she could knock him away, his teeth raked the skin over her breastbone. She seized his ear and felt her teeth meet through the skin. As he dragged her along, she twisted her head and tasted oily fur when she scored his cheek with her small fangs. He dived for her belly and got a mouthful of her claws. His rough tongue rasped her pads; his teeth sliced the top of her foot. One claw caught and then tore free.

He seized her ruff. Her head snapped back as he threw her to one side. Her chest burned and throbbed. Warm blood crawled like fleas through her fur. Ratha writhed and wriggled, but she only felt the teeth sink deeper into her ruff as he lifted her and threw her down again. One heavy paw crushed her ribs and a triumphant growl rumbled above her. The teeth loosened from her ruff and the paw turned her over. When everything stopped spinning, she saw two glittering eyes and fangs bared for a last strike at her throat.

In one motion, Ratha curled over and lunged. Her teeth clashed against his and she felt something break. She grabbed his lower jaw and bit hard until her cheek muscles ached. His saliva wet her whiskers and was sour in her mouth. Blood welled around her teeth, tasting rich and salty as bone marrow.

He screamed and shook her off.

Ratha rolled away, staggered to her feet, spitting blood. He was crouched opposite her. She felt her chest burning and her ribs heaved. If he caught her again, he would kill her. Why hadn’t she listened to Thakur?

He pounced. She jumped aside. He whirled, lunged, and again she dodged him, making her shaking legs obey her. An idea began to form in her mind as she sprang away from him again. Thakur had trained her to trick the herdbeasts. The three-horn stag had been as intent on killing her as this Un-Named enemy. The Un-Named, Meoran had said to all the cubs, were no smarter than herdbeasts. Could she use her training to trick this killer?

She watched him carefully as he gathered for another attack. She waited until he was almost on top of her and jumped straight up, coming down behind him. She spun around and watched him shake his head in confusion until he sniffed, looked back over his shoulder, whirled and pounced. Ratha saw him land on empty grass, a tail-length away from her. She grinned at him, her tongue lolling.

The Un-Named One snarled, showing a broken lower fang. Ratha waggled her whiskers at him from a safe distance. He rushed her again and she bounced away. She started to lead him in circles until she had him almost chasing his own tail. She danced around exuberantly, taunting him.

“Dung-eater! Scavenger!” she hissed as he staggered dizzily. He glared at her, his eyes burning. “Cub-catcher! Bone-chewer!” Ratha paused and caught her breath. “Poor stupid bone-chewer,” she hissed. “You can’t even understand what I’m saying, can you?” The Un-Named One stood panting as Ratha danced around him.
“Yarrr,
you couldn’t pounce on your mother’s tail,” she said, showing her teeth at him. “When Thakur gets back, he’ll chew your other ear off, you eater of mud-croakers and chewer of bones!”

“Clan cub, you have lots of words. Say them now before I tear out your throat.”

Ratha froze. Her eyes went wide.

“What are you staring at?” the other said.

“Y ... you.” she faltered. “I never thought. ...”

“That the clanless ones could speak?”

Ratha stared at him, her mouth open.

“ ‘Poor bone-chewer,’ ” he mimicked, “‘you can’t even understand what I’m saying, can you?’ ” Before she had time to answer, he leaped at her. She saw his paw coming and ducked, but she wasn’t quick enough. He clouted her on the side of the head, knocking her down into the wet grass. By the time she staggered to her feet and her vision cleared, he was dragging his prey toward the forest. She lurched after him, tripped over her paws and fell on her face.

“I don’t care if you can speak,” she yelled after him, “you are still a scavenger and bone-chewer!” The only answer was the muffled sound of a body being dragged across soggy ground. Ratha tried to get up, but her paws wouldn’t stay underneath her. She sprawled miserably on her front. The dapplebacks were scattered all over the meadow, easy prey for other raiders. There was no way she could get them rounded up before Fessran and Thakur got back. She put her chin down on her front paws, wondering if Fessran was going to leave enough of her in one piece for Thakur to punish. 

CHAPTER THREE

Ratha woke shivering. The heavy moisture on her coat was soaking through to her skin. Droplets from her brow whiskers dripped onto her nose. She blinked and shook her head. Fearing that she had dozed away the rest of the night, she peered into the mist for signs of dawn or of Thakur’s return. She saw neither. The sky was still murky overhead and the half-moon a faint wash of light above the dark mass of the trees.

Ratha drew her front paws underneath her and pushed herself up. Pain lanced across her chest and into her forelegs. She felt one of the bite-wounds on her neck pull open as she bent her head down to lick her front. She coaxed her hindquarters up and stood, hanging her head. Everything ached, from her teeth to her tail. Neither Thakur nor Fessran had returned.

The wind blew past her ears with a hollow early-morning wail. It had no effect on the mist, which only grew thicker. Ratha could barely see the grass a tail-length ahead. She tried a step and winced as the motion jarred the pain from her jaws into her head, where it sat throbbing behind her eyes. Why hadn’t she listened to Thakur and climbed a tree when the raider came?

Ratha felt something wedged in her teeth, behind one upper fang. With her tongue, she worked it loose and felt it. A scrap of skin with slimy fur on one side and bitter-tasting wax on the other. A piece of the raider’s ear. She grimaced, spat the ear-scrap out and pawed it aside, feeling a certain grim pleasure.

She tried a few more limping steps, clamping her jaws together to keep her head from ringing. As she walked, the burning knot in her chest loosened, freeing her stride. She spotted something solid in the fog and broke into a shaky trot toward it, hoping it was one of her escaped dapplebacks. She drew her whiskers back in disgust when she realized that she’d been stalking the sunning rock. Well, at least she knew where she was. She hopped on top of the stone and sniffed, knowing that the moist, still air captured and held scent-trails. There. A faint trace, but growing stronger. She inhaled the musky odor of the little horses and climbed down off the sunning rock after them.

Ratha found the dappleback stallion and his mares huddled together, the mist swirling around their legs, their stiff manes and coats flecked with sweat and dew. The faint trace of moonlight made the dapplebacks’ eyes phosphorescent as they watched her. The stallion reared and whinnied, showing his short, pointed canine teeth. Carefully she cut in behind the herd and, as the horses retreated from her, guided them to the sunning rock. She circled the flock, driving the dapplebacks together into a tight bunch. Some of the stragglers returned to the herd, but Ratha knew from the individual scents missing from the herd-smell that many more of the animals were lost or slain.

Ratha stopped her nervous pacing. She stood still and listened, but she could only hear the dapplebacks shuffling behind her. The fog muffled all sounds except those close by. She could neither see nor hear anything from the other end of the meadow. Only smells reached her and they made her fur stand on end. The tang of sweat was acrid in her nose; the odor of blood rich and metallic. The strongest smell was fear, and it seemed to spread over the meadow mixed in with the mist, paralyzing everything it touched.

Another shadow, dim, then definite. A familiar smell, then a familiar figure.

“Ratha?” Thakur’s voice was cautious.

“Here, Thakur,” she answered.

Ratha touched noses with Thakur. He was panting; she felt his warm breath and wet whiskers on her face. “Yearling, this is much worse than I thought it would be. Meoran has badly underestimated the raiders this time.”

Ratha felt fear shoot through her like the pain in her chest. “Have we lost the herd?”

“No, by our teeth and claws we’ve held the raiders back, and if we can hold them until dawn, the fight will be over, for the Un-Named Ones do not attack by day.” Thakur paused and sniffed at her ruff. “You bleed, yearling.”

“I fought, Thakur. I know you told me to climb a tree, but when he killed one of Fessran’s dapplebacks, I ran at him.”

Thakur sighed. “I have trained you too well. Your lair-mother is going to chew my ears for bringing you back wounded.”

“I chewed his ears, Thakur,” Ratha said fiercely. “He got the dappleback, but he left some skin between my teeth.”

“Huh,”
Thakur grunted, circling her and nosing her. He licked the bites on her throat, rasping away the fragile clots. He squeezed the wounds with his jaws, forcing the blood to run freely. Ratha squirmed and whimpered.

“Quiet, yearling. Do you want to get an abscess? You will if these heal too quickly. There. I’m finished.”

“Thakur,” Ratha said quickly. “I know who that raider is.”

He blinked and stared at her, an odd stare that made her feel uncomfortable.

“The one on the trail.”

“Yearling, that was—” Thakur began.

“No, he wasn’t a clan whelp! Would a clan-cub have killed one of Fessran’s dapplebacks? Thakur, I saw him and I fought with him.” Ratha paused, watching him carefully. “You asked me, on the trail, if he had spoken to me when I ran over him that time in the thicket, when I was a cub. It frightened me. I saw him again tonight and I think you are going to ask me the same thing again.”

“No! I wish you would forget what I said on the trail. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“But I’m not frightened any more. I want to know why! Why did you ask me if the Un-Named One spoke?”

“Ratha, I can’t ...” Thakur began. A muffled swish of grass interrupted him and Fessran limped out of the fog. She sniffed once and glared at Ratha.

“Ptah!
I fight raiders and she can’t even keep a mangy herd of dapplebacks together without losing half of them. Has it been so long since I trained you, cub?”

Ratha opened her mouth to retort, but a glance from Thakur stopped her.

“I’ll help you find the rest of them, Fessran, when I’ve taken Ratha back to Narir,” he said soothingly.

“If the Un-Named will let you through,” Fessran snarled. “They are thicker in the forest tonight than the fleas on Meoran’s belly.”

“Can you take care of the horses by yourself until I get back?”

“Yes. Take the cub and go, Thakur. She’ll be safer in Narir’s den.” Fessran limped away, leaving Thakur and Ratha alone.

“I fought raiders too!” Ratha hissed angrily. “Why didn’t you let me tell her?”

“There wasn’t time. Yearling, we’ve got to hurry. I don’t want you here if the raiders break through.”

“Do I have to go back to the den?” Ratha asked, padding shakily alongside him.

“Yearling, haven’t you had enough for tonight? You’re barely able to stand up and you think you’re ready for another scrap with the Un-Named? No, I think I’d better take you back.”

She yawned. “All right, Thakur. I am tired.”

They had not gone far when several forms emerged out of the mist and jogged toward them. Ratha’s heart jumped, then she recognized them as clan herdfolk.

“Thakur Torn-Claw,” said the first one.

“Srass of Salarfang Den,” Thakur answered. “How is the trail tonight?”

Srass lowered his head and Ratha saw his whiskers twitch. “The Un-Named grow bolder. They attacked another party of herders who were trying to join us. Our people made it through, but two were badly bitten.” The herder turned his eyes on Ratha. “I would not run this trail tonight, young one.”

“She would be safer in a den,” Thakur argued.

“Then dig one here in the meadow.” Srass shrugged as Thakur glared at him. “Do as you wish, Torn-Claw, but if you take the trail before dawn, neither of you will reach clan ground.”

“I thought the Un-Named only killed herdbeasts.” Ratha’s voice was thin.

“They kill anyone who is of the clan. They hate us.”

“Yarr,
Srass,” snarled one of the herder’s companions, an older male with scars and broken teeth. “You speak as if the Un-Named had wit enough to hate us. Has Meoran not said that those who are Un-Named and clanless are beasts no less so than the ones we herd?”

“Beasts can also hate,” Srass muttered, but his tail was low and Ratha smelt the sudden change in his scent. He was afraid. “All right, Tevran,” he said hastily, not looking at the other. “I am not questioning our leader’s words, so you need not listen so closely.”

“You had better stay in the meadow, Torn-Claw,” said Gare. “I hear the cub is a promising herder and the clan should not lose her.”

Thakur turned away, his whiskers quivering. Ratha cocked her head at him. “May you eat of the haunch and sleep in the driest den, clan herders,” she said politely to Srass and Tevran.

As Thakur passed her, she heard him growl under his breath, “May your tail be chewed off and all your fur fall our, Tevran.”