by Erin Hunter
“He can’t be dead. He was with me just this morning. This morning.”
“Your cubs, Valor?” he asked urgently.
She jerked her head back at the acacias. “They’re safe. With Gentle. Oh, Fearless, how can I protect them now? Their father is dead.”
“Our father died,” he reminded her gently. “We survived, Valor, and your cubs too will learn to be strong and fierce and honorable. Just like Mighty.”
“How could he be so stupid?” She sat suddenly back on her haunches. “This was always going to happen! I warned him! You warned him! Titan always wins!”
“Don’t be angry, Valor,” Fearless growled softly. “He had no choice. You know that. This was Titan’s doing, not Mighty’s.”
Valor’s head sagged again. “Yes. Titan. There’s no peace, no safety while Titan lives: not for any creature. Oh, Mightypride should have left Bravelands long ago, found a new home far from that mad savage. What will we do now?”
“This is your fault!” Glory snarled behind Fearless. “You led Titan here!”
Fearless twisted to face her, shocked. “No, Glory. Titan always planned to come here.”
“Looking for you! If you hadn’t arrived, Mighty would not be dead!”
Fearless stared at her, his throat constricting. He wanted to deny it, wanted to argue. But somewhere inside him, he had a dreadful suspicion that Glory spoke the truth.
“No.” Keen walked forward to stand between them, his brown eyes intent on the lioness. “It’s not true, Glory. Fearless came here to warn Mighty, and he was right. Titan isn’t looking only to kill Fearless. He came here to strengthen himself by taking out a powerful pride leader. He would have come for Mighty eventually, whatever happened.”
Glory glowered at him for a moment, but at last she gave a reluctant nod.
“I think it’s true, Glory,” said Valor hoarsely.
Keen glanced from one lioness to the other, then raised his head to take in all the lions of Mightypride, who were approaching one by one. Some limped; some paused to lick at wounds on their paws and flanks. One had lost an eye to a wolf’s claw, but his face was still grim with defiance.
“We need to hold together now,” declared Keen, his roar ringing across the plain. “If we scatter, if we fight among ourselves, Titan and his unnatural pride will pick us off one by one, like gazelles who flee the herd in panic. It’s more important than ever that we true lions stay as one.”
The one-eyed young lion gave a grunting roar of approval, and one by one the others joined him.
Valor, though, remained at Mighty’s side, her head still pressed against him. Fearless felt his heart lurch with pity.
“Oh, Valor,” he murmured, bending to nuzzle her head. “Mighty lived up to his name. You’ll be telling the story to his cubs for many seasons. He faced down Titan, and he beat him—however it ended. He fought for you, and for them, and for his pride, and he did it with honor.”
“Yes.” Valor’s voice was broken and muffled, and she didn’t look up at him. “But still, he is dead.”
A shiver of uncertainty rippled through Fearless’s gut, making his fur rise. Valor had told Glory that Keen was right, that Fearless wasn’t to blame. But there must be at least a small part of his sister that wondered: If Fearless hadn’t shown up, if he hadn’t sought out Mighty’s help, would the great lion still be alive?
“Valor,” he whispered, “I swear I’ll protect you and your cubs. Until you choose to leave for another pride, you’re my responsibility. I’ll keep you safe, I promise you.”
She gave a heavy sigh as she lifted her head at last. “Can you promise that, Fearless? Can you, truly? It’s Titan.”
He felt that shiver run through his fur again. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “But Valor, we have to move away from this place.”
“I won’t leave Mighty!” She spun to face him, her eyes fiery.
Keen trotted over, his expression anxious. “Valor, you know Fearless is right. And you must leave Mighty. He will return to the earth as he should, become a part of Bravelands. You must come away and bring his cubs to a place of safety.”
“Yes.” Another lion padded forward; Fearless saw it was Resolute. The older lion gave him a glance that Fearless couldn’t read. “And I believe we have a leader; the only lion who actually understands what is going on in Bravelands. It seems we are Fearlesspride now.”
“It seems so.” Keen shot Fearless a sideways look, and at last there was a spark of unmissable affection in it.
A reluctant murmur of growling agreement ran through the Mightypride lions, but Fearless shook his head and stood up, his muscles tensing.
“No, Resolute! No, Keen, I can’t. I haven’t earned it.”
“It’s not a question of earning it.” Glory shrugged. “These are not normal times. Everything has changed, for now at least. I agree with Resolute. I think we all do.”
Looking around at their weary, bloodied faces, Fearless nodded slowly. His heart thudded.
“All right,” he growled at last. “For now, we are Fearlesspride. But I promise you, I won’t remain your leader simply because you have no choice. If I am to keep the pride leadership, I will prove myself worthy of it.”
“Agreed,” said Resolute, with a nod.
“Agreed,” said Glory.
Keen licked Fearless’s cheekbone. “Yes. I’d expect no less from you, my old friend.”
At Mighty’s side, Valor rose to her paws. She gazed down mournfully for long moments, then slowly turned away from her dead mate.
“Fearlesspride,” she growled softly. “So that my Valorcubs might be safe, at least for now.”
As the rumble of approval spread and rose around the former Mightypride, Fearless nodded at Keen.
“Thank you, Keen. For your faith in me.”
Keen laughed softly. “That’s never wavered, Fearless. Even when I disapprove of your vendetta. And you’re right: we need to leave this place.”
Fearless glanced at the sky. Already the vultures were circling, broad black wings tilting to catch the air currents as they drifted lower. In the scrub a little way distant, jackals gave nervous, high-pitched yelps of impatience.
“It’s time, Valor.” Fearless nudged his sister gently.
Then, with a grunting bellow of summons, he turned and strode away from the spot where Mighty’s body lay. And the lions of Fearlesspride, one by one, fell in behind and followed him.
CHAPTER TEN
“It’s the oddest plan I’ve ever heard, Sky,” said Comet, flapping her ears.
“Is that quite true, Comet?” Boulder laughed. “Haven’t you spoken with my sister at all, these last few seasons?”
Comet shot him a sharp look; then she too gave a rumble of laughter. “You’re right, Boulder. It’s a long time since Sky planned anything normal or traditional. Very well, Sky. For you, we’ll pretend that the Great Parent is dead.”
Comet and Boulder stood apart from the herds, talking in soft voices with Sky and Rock. Some distance away, a vast mass of elephants lingered on the pale and dusty plain, males and females all intermingled. Calves played together, blowing at the dust and chasing rats and guinea fowl; the adults watched them with keen, amused gazes. A bull flapped his ears in warning at a buffalo herd that wandered too close, and for a few moments he and the chief buffalo glared indignantly at each other, before drifting apart with nods of respect.
Sky found that she was happy to be back with the herds, watching their daily routine and living it with them. When she and Rock had trudged back to rejoin the other elephants, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps her days of wandering alone were almost over? One day soon the male and female herds would separate and go their own ways, Sky was aware; but even that knowledge didn’t dismay her as it might once have done. She was betrothed to Rock, and they had renewed their vows to each other. They would always find each other again, as elephants did.
As if knowing her thoughts, Rock edged closer to
her and hooked his trunk over hers. “We came as soon as we could to share Thorn’s plan,” he told Boulder and Comet. “I think it’s a good one, even if nothing like it has ever been necessary before.”
“I’ll be so happy when life in Bravelands returns to normal.” Comet rolled her eyes.
“But it won’t until we defeat Titan,” said Sky firmly.
“I still don’t understand exactly what Thorn’s plan is,” said Boulder. “We pretend the Great Father is dead, we tell every creature we meet, we promise a new Great Parent will be along soon— but then what? What’s the point of this deception?”
“I wish I could tell you, brother,” murmured Sky, “but I made a promise to the Great Father. I know he can trust you, but we don’t know what other animals might overhear, and we mustn’t reveal the plan to Titan or his spies. Titan must go on thinking that everything is going his way, that his plans are succeeding. It’s the only way we’ll ever catch him off guard.”
“Titan may know now that Berry was not the Great Parent,” rumbled Rock softly. “If that’s the case, he must be made to believe that Thorn has fled, never to return.”
“So.” Sky looked from Boulder to Comet and back again. “Will you trust me?”
Comet gave a sigh. “Sky Strider, you’ve always walked your own path. I know that, and of course I trust you. Your wildest ideas, young one, always seem to make sense in the end.”
“Thank you, Comet.” Sky dipped her head and butted her trunk gratefully against Comet’s.
“And of course I’ll go along with it,” said Boulder gruffly. “If I can’t trust my own crazy sister, who can I trust?”
Sky gave a rumble of laughter. “Thank you, brother.”
“But really, I think the best option is the most straightforward one,” Boulder added. “If Titan comes to the Great Gathering, we simply stampede and trample him to lion-meat for the birds.”
“That sounds good in theory,” pointed out Rock, “but Titan’s too clever for such a ploy. He’d escape somehow, and then he’d be on to us. No, Sky thinks that Thorn’s plan has the greatest chance of success.”
“All right, then,” sighed Comet, shaking her ears. “Boulder and I will tell the elephants that the Great Father is gone. We’ll make sure it spreads far and wide, with every creature we meet as we travel. And of course, we’ll lead our own herds to the Great Gathering when the time comes.”
Boulder nodded. “But I promise you one thing, Sky. If this plan of Thorn’s fails—whatever it is—I’ll stand ready to take care of Titan. He has to be stopped now, and sometimes the plainest ways are the best.”
“I appreciate it,” Sky told the two elephants softly, “and so does the Great Father. The Great Spirit go with you on your travels.”
As the two leaders turned and trudged back toward their herds, Sky watched them with yearning. One day soon, she promised herself. Soon she would walk with her family again, for good.
Now, though, she had to turn away with Rock and begin the journey back to the Great Father. Together they strode away across the plain toward the thin line of dark forest in the distance.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Comet and Boulder,” remarked Rock, when the herds behind them were nothing but a smear of shimmering gray against the horizon, “but do you really think the Great Father’s plan can work? It’s very ambitious. I know Thorn is considered clever even among the baboons, but . . .” His voice trailed off uneasily.
“Don’t worry,” Sky told him firmly, touching his shoulder with her trunk. “The plan isn’t just Thorn’s, remember. The Great Spirit itself is working through him. And if the plan is the Great Spirit’s—how can it possibly fail?”
The way seemed longer than it had when they had made the outward journey; the savannah they traveled across was featureless, dotted only with the occasional flat-topped acacia, and in the shimmering heat it was hard to judge how far they’d come and how far they still had to go. Sky’s throat was dry, and she was glad of the still green waters of the river that wound lazily across the flatlands. On its muddy banks scrubby trees grew, and the two elephants halted to browse on the branches, snapping and chewing. Herds of grass-eaters shimmered in the middle distance, grazing in the glare of the high sun.
“Look at those zebras.” Rock raised his head and shook his ears in amusement. “They’ve got more energy than I do in this heat.”
Sky followed his gaze. The small zebra herd was not grazing; the animals stood in an alert circle, ears twitching and tails flicking, watching two stallions fight. The combat looked fierce and unforgiving, thought Sky: both males reared up, striking at each other with brutal determination. One swung around, lashing out with his hind hooves and catching his unwary opponent in the throat. The other staggered, backed off for a moment with flanks heaving, then flung himself back into battle. He seized the first zebra’s withers in his jaws, biting and shaking. With a scream of pain and fury, his opponent shook him off and gave him a ringing blow on the side of the head.
“They’re both big stallions,” said Sky. She ambled closer, curious, and Rock followed. “This could go on for a while.”
“What are they fighting about?” Rock asked a lanky mare as the elephants drew close to the herd.
She flicked her tail, not taking her eyes off the battle. “Leadership of the herd, obviously,” she told him distractedly.
“They’re well matched,” observed Sky. “So who do you think will win?”
“Can’t say.” The mare sounded impatient. “Always hard to judge. Silverfriend is younger and fitter, but Bristlefriend has more experience.”
Sky peered, fascinated. Both zebras were catching their breath, circling each other, gazes locked in determination. With a sudden burst of energy, the younger one galloped forward, teeth bared in a scream of challenge. Bristlefriend dodged the attack. He twisted again, and this time the kick he aimed with his hind hooves caught Silverfriend right on the cheekbone. The young zebra staggered, then halted in a daze, swaying. Bristlefriend whirled and slammed his front hooves against his shoulder, and Silverfriend collapsed onto his side, flanks heaving. His whinnying groan of defeat told Sky the fight was over.
Panting, snorting, Bristlefriend backed away from the prone stallion. “You yield, friend?”
“I yield,” gasped Silverfriend.
“Good.” Bristlefriend nodded, tossing his stiff mane. “Hail, my herd leader!”
“Wait,” whispered Sky to Rock, startled. “What?”
A chorus of neighs rose up from the watching herd. “Hail, herd leader Silverfriend!”
“We follow you, Silverfriend!”
“Lead us on to sweet grass.”
As Bristlefriend trotted triumphantly back to the herd, Silverfriend scrambled painfully to his feet. The younger zebra’s head and tail drooped; he looked utterly miserable at his new status.
Sky exchanged a bewildered look with Rock. “I don’t understand. What just happened?”
Rock shook his ears slowly. “No idea. This is weird.”
The short-tempered mare turned to give them both a withering look. “Don’t you know? The herds have a new tradition. Bristlefriend and Silverfriend were fighting not to be leader.”
“But . . . surely the strongest should lead?” Sky blinked in confusion.
“Of course not,” snapped the mare, and the zebras around her nodded in agreement. “If you’re a leader, the spirit-eating lion will come for your heart. Don’t you know that? Hmph!”
Without another word, she trotted away with her friends to congratulate Bristlefriend and pay respects to the exhausted and dejected Silverfriend. Sky turned to Rock, her mind and heart in turmoil; this was all so wrong.
“Titan’s behavior is causing chaos,” she told Rock. “Everything is upside down and the wrong way around. This can’t go on!”
“I agree,” rumbled Rock, his brow furrowed in anxiety. “The strongest must lead, or the herds will dwindle and diminish. And that in turn affects ev
ery creature.”
“Titan is the opposite of the Great Spirit,” declared Sky. “He destroys the balance of life and brings meaningless death wherever he goes.”
“All the more reason to bring these animals to the Great Gathering,” Rock told her. “If you can convince them, Sky.” He sighed. “When creatures have lost their way this badly, I wonder if they listen to wisdom or advice anymore?”
“I know what to do.” Flapping her ears grimly, Sky marched forward to the center of the herd. Zebras backed off hurriedly as she made her way through the crowd to the doleful-looking Silverfriend. Bristlefriend stood at his side, rubbing his withers consolingly with his teeth.
“Sorry I bit so hard,” he was saying. “You fought well, Silverfriend. Bad luck, really.”
“No need to apologize,” grunted Silverfriend. “The best zebra won.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” trumpeted Sky in exasperation as she came to a halt. “The best zebra should be leading your herd, not fighting to stay in the background.”
Bristlefriend glared at her sulkily. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand far too well!” Sky drew a deep breath; there was no point being angry with the zebras. This was not their doing. “Listen to me, my friends. Silverfriend does not want this leadership, any more than Bristlefriend did. How well can he possibly lead you?”
“That’s not what’s important anymore,” snapped another mare. “It’s all very well for an elephant to judge. You’re enormous! It’s a lot harder for a pack of wolves to take you down. Nobody wants to volunteer to have their heart ripped out and eaten!”
Sky dipped her head in acknowledgment of what was a perfectly fair point. Then she blinked around at the truculent zebra herd. “But you must see, all of you, that this new strategy of yours can’t end well.”
“It’s how it has to be,” pointed out Silverfriend. “There are other considerations. I accept my fate.”
The other zebras nodded and murmured in admiration.
“Well, you shouldn’t,” Sky told him sharply. “None of us should. Titan will destroy all of Bravelands with his unnatural brutality! How will the herds thrive and prosper if the best animals do not lead them?”
