by Erin Hunter
From the corner of his eye, he saw one of them move. On quick, delicate feet, it raced to the edge of the mud hole. And then to his horrified astonishment, it tripped lightly onto the mud and trotted across as easily as if it had been hard sand.
It sprang up onto Sky’s back and snatched Menace. The cub gave a yowling cry of terror.
The creature loped back to the bank, the cub gripped in its jaws, but Keen was in just the right position to intercept it. He shook off two skinny attackers, then plowed through a line of the rest and sprang on the one that held Menace. His jaws seized its scruff, and he shook it hard. With a yelp that was abruptly cut off, it fell to the earth, limp.
Menace tumbled away from its lolling jaws and scurried back to the edge of the mud hole. She mewled desperately. By now Ruthless had bowed the branch low enough for Sky to grab, and the young elephant had managed to curl her trunk around it; she was dragging herself painfully slowly from the sucking grip of the mud, her upper legs and belly now exposed. They were black and dripping with the sludge, but she was still grimly hauling on the thick branch, inching herself from the lethal mire.
With an explosive splash, the mud released her, and she stumbled forward. Menace ran to her, scrambling onto her shoulders as Fearless and Keen prowled back and forth, glaring defiance at the jackal-like creatures.
But the attackers seemed to know that their advantage was lost. They backed away, howling and wailing, into the darkness of the trees. One was slower than its comrades; it snarled angrily at the lions, its hackles bristling. Fearless made a lunge for it, but his jaws snapped on thin air as it vanished over the edge of the slope. He bounded up, following, but the last he saw of it was a flick of its thick tail as it vanished into a shadowy burrow.
Fearless stood in the sudden silence, panting for breath. Cicadas chirped and a night bird gave a lonely cry. The mud sloshed and settled. It was as if the creatures had never been here.
“Thank you, Fearless,” gasped Sky, as black mud slid and dripped from her hide. “And thanks to your friends, too. Thank you!”
Keen was glaring at the bank with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what those things were. But the one that had Menace isn’t quite dead.”
He padded to its limp form, and Fearless loped to his side. Both lions stared down at the misshapen creature, its long legs jutting and its neck twisted. From the corner of its mouth dripped foam mixed with blood. Its flanks heaved.
“What are you?” snarled Fearless.
Its head lay immobile but one eye was gazing up at him, glowing with a dull, scornful hate. “We, Lion? We are the dogs of darkness, the golden wolves, the eaters of spirit.” Its tongue caressed its teeth. “This goldwolf is Slash, Eater of Eighteen Hearts, and he sees you.”
“Don’t talk dung,” Fearless growled, repressing a shudder. “Where are you from?”
“We come from beyond.” It cackled a high laugh. “But here we are. Here we stay now, and Bravelands will be ours. We do not stop until we have it.”
Fearless stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending. “You’re mad.”
“And you . . .” It gazed at him hungrily, and its tongue flopped out to lick at its foaming jaws. “Your heart is plump and strong. Oh, how we might sink our fangs into its red oozing life. Ah, your spirit would taste fine and sharp and gooood.”
“Be quiet!” roared Keen.
“Haha. Haha, we do not be quiet! We are the golden wolves and we cannot be silenced!” It craned its head, twisting it impossibly, and howled into the night. “Brothers! Sisters! Come to me! Take my spirit, so I may run with the Pack forever! Let me be we for all time!”
Fearless started. Sure enough, the rest of the wolves were gathering once more, their shadows blacker than the night. They slunk between the trees and crept over the edge of the slope, their tongues lolling hungrily, their eyes alight.
“Let’s get out of here,” he growled.
His companions didn’t have to be told twice. The lions bounded together away from the mud hole and up the far bank, and Sky climbed as rapidly as she could, her feet digging into the soft earth. Pausing at the crest, Fearless looked back.
The injured wolf was out of sight, hidden by a seething crowd of his pack-mates. Shoulders hunched, they shook and tore, and as their heads jerked up, Fearless could see lumps of torn flesh in their jaws. The night was filled with the sounds of snapping bones and ripped meat and gnashing, chewing teeth.
He shuddered and bolted after the others.
Sky was shaking and wide-eyed as she trotted at their side. “Oh, Fearless. What is this new terror in Bravelands? It’s more important than ever to find the Great Parent—she has to be told! Or he has.”
“What do you plan to do?” Fearless panted as he loped. “You’ve searched long enough without a sign of the Parent.”
“I’ll return to the mountain.” Glancing back, Sky slowed her pace. “I need to talk to the vultures again. If anyone has an idea where to look, where to start, it’s them.”
“I’d come,” he growled, “but I have another urgent mission. Will you be all right?”
She nodded. “Of course, Fearless. I’ll have to be.”
“You don’t have to look after Menace as well as the cheetahs,” said Ruthless. “We’ll take my sister.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” put in Menace from Sky’s back. She glared down at her brother. “And how do I know I can trust a deserter? Hmm? I know what Mother would say—”
Before the startled Ruthless could make any retort, Keen cleared his throat. “You know, Ruthless, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Nor do I,” murmured Fearless. “Sky, your path has many dangers, but if we take Menace it’ll be easy for Titan to seize her.”
“Good!” snapped Menace.
Fearless ignored her. “I’m sorry, Ruthless, but I think the safest place for your sister right now is with Sky.” If Menace stayed with them and things actually turned out for the best, she would have to watch her father die, just as he and Keen had—and he wouldn’t wish that on any creature.
Ruthless looked agonized. He licked his jaws, but he nodded. “Will you do that, Sky? Can you keep Menace safe?”
Sky raised her trunk to touch the fluffy heads of the cheetahs. “I’ll do my best.” She smiled. “I think I can handle three cubs.”
“Then I wish you good luck,” said Fearless solemnly.
“And I you, Fearless.” She lowered her trunk to touch his head. “In our own way, we are all doing what we can to save Bravelands.”
CHAPTER 24
“Thorn, wake up. Wake up!”
The voice seemed to come from far above Thorn, as if he was submerged in a deep dark pool. And the pool was so very warm and welcoming, and no one was fighting him, or attacking Dawntrees, or calling him a traitor. Thorn grunted in protest and wriggled himself deeper into his nest of leaves.
“Thorn, please wake up. It’s important!”
Much against his will, Thorn blinked his eyes open. He was still groggy, but Mud shook his shoulder until he was at last awake and half alert.
“What is it, Mud?” Thorn growled irritably, and scratched at an itch on his neck.
“Listen,” hissed Mud, “it’s the stones. Thorn, you have to come. Something awful’s going to happen, the stones are telling me so.”
“Something awful is always happening,” grunted Thorn.
“This is different.” Mud crouched to gaze seriously into his eyes. “The Code is going to be broken. By a baboon.”
“Well.” Thorn got unsteadily to his paws. “Yes, Mud, that’s bad.” He shook the dregs of sleep from his fuzzy head. “But how? And when? We’d better tell Berry.”
“That’s just the problem.” Mud looked agonized. “She’s the one who’s going to break it!”
That brought Thorn finally, fully alert. “What?”
“It’s true. The stones are sure.”
“I can’t believe that.” Thorn forced his spinning head to think. H
ow could this be possible? Yes, Berry had been distant lately and a little cold, and he was still uncomfortable with the Crown Guard. . . . But Berry—break the Code? Never! “The stones are wrong,” he said firmly. “That’s not Berry, Mud. You know her!”
“Um.” Mud’s gaze shifted to the side, and he chewed his upper lip. “It’s possible, I suppose. I mean, I don’t want it to be true, Thorn. There could be any number of reasons they’re falling wrong. . . . They have been a bit unreliable lately.” He nodded, as if he was beginning to convince himself. “After all, they’ve been telling me that the Great Parent is close by, and that’s obviously not true.”
Thorn sucked in a breath. It was true, of course . . . so that must mean Mud was right about Berry. He rubbed his eyes, his head thumping. Berry, a Codebreaker. How could this be happening? When he lowered his paws he was shocked by Mud’s expression—his small face was twisted in an agony of self-doubt.
Thorn straightened and set his jaw. I can’t let this go on. Time to tell the truth.
“Mud,” he said quietly. “Could you do something for me? Could you fetch Nut and Spider? I want to talk to you all. Please?”
Looking startled and a little concerned, Mud nodded. He turned and scampered from the clearing.
Thorn closed his eyes. It felt like a terrible betrayal of trust, but he had to know: he had to find out for sure what Berry was thinking. If she was considering breaking the Code, it was only because she’d been deceived somehow, or . . . or she wasn’t thinking straight. She’d regret it, he knew. For her own sake, he had to stop her.
Searching for her presence with his mind, Thorn locked onto her swiftly. So easy. Because I know her so well. He knew her, and he couldn’t believe—
He blinked. He was inside her head, looking out through her eyes.
She was perched on the Crown Stone, and Viper and Creeper stood before her, their faces full of urgency.
“Berry, you know we’re speaking the truth. It’s hard, but decisions like this are hard.”
“Viper’s right,” said Creeper. “Tendril can’t be trusted. She’ll always be a snake in the branches.”
“We have to deal with her,” Viper went on. “Think of all the baboons she has killed already. Your own mother!”
“It’s a dreadful decision.” It felt for a moment as though Thorn was speaking himself, but he knew they were Berry’s words. “But Tendril’s presence in the troop cannot be tolerated.”
“We agree,” said Creeper.
“Nor can she simply be driven out. She’d be even more dangerous if she was out of our sight and our control.” Berry shook her head. “It’s a hard thing, to break the Code. That’s all.”
“No baboon likes to contemplate such things,” said Viper soothingly. “But sometimes, for the good of the troop . . .”
“Yes,” said Berry. “And in truth, you don’t have to persuade me.” She gave a great sigh. “It pains me to say it, but do what you must. Just . . . make sure there are no traces of the body.”
Gasping, Thorn jerked himself free of Berry’s mind. He stood alone in the glade once more. His whole body felt hot and panicky, and he had to part his jaws and pant for breath.
“Oh, Berry,” he murmured, horrified. Had that been real? No, of course it was real: he knew his powers by now.
“What happened?” Mud had already returned to the glade; behind him, Nut and Spider eyed Thorn nervously as Mud loped hesitantly closer. “Thorn, what’s wrong?”
“Thorn-friend looks as if he’s seen a shrew eat a leopard,” observed Spider, curious.
Nut tilted his head and frowned. “Do you need help?”
Thorn drew his paws down across his face. “I . . . I haven’t got time to explain. . . . You’ll see. I need to go and talk to Berry. Right now.” He took a sharp breath. Would Creeper and Viper still be at Berry’s side? “Mud, Nut, Spider—will you come with me? Because—yes, Nut. I think I might need some backup.”
“Of course we will,” said Nut, shrugging. “We’re your friends.”
Mud and Spider nodded in agreement.
“Thank you.” Thorn clenched his paws and set his teeth. This was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was no putting it off.
He led the way with a heavy heart to the Crown Stone clearing. At least Viper and Creeper were nowhere in sight. Berry sat alone on the Crown Stone, her face creased in worried contemplation.
“Let me talk to her,” he murmured.
Exchanging glances, Mud, Nut, and Spider held back at the edge of the clearing, their eyes wide with curiosity.
Thorn crept forward, his heart beating hard. “Berry,” he said softly, and she glanced up. “Berry, is something the matter?”
She sighed. “Thorn. It’s good to see you.” Glancing over his shoulder at the other three, she lowered her voice. “I’m finding being Crownleaf harder than I expected. That’s all.”
Thorn bit his lip. “I’m always here for you if you need me. You know that, right?”
“Are you?” Berry straightened suddenly. She gazed at him with piercing brown eyes and raised her voice. “Are you really, Thorn? Because it hasn’t felt that way lately.”
A pang of hurt stung his heart. “Berry! How can you say that?”
“You’ve been so distant, Thorn.” Her stare was accusing. “You’ve been drifting ever further from me since my father was killed.”
Thorn gaped at her. “I’m the one who’s been distant?”
“You’re keeping something from me, I know you are! I’m your mate. What can be so terrible that you’d hide it from me?”
Thorn swallowed hard. “Berry. You need to call off the Crown Guard. You can’t do what you’re planning.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, then flashed toward Thorn’s companions. “You three. Leave us!”
“No!” Thorn flung out a paw, and they froze, exchanging apprehensive looks. “I want them to stay, Berry. They’re my friends, and I want them to hear this too. Please.”
“Hear what?” A cold light came into Berry’s eyes. “What I’m planning? And what exactly is that, Thorn?”
He sucked in a breath. “Killing Tendril. You can’t do it.” He heard the three baboons behind him gasp in unison. “You know this is wrong, Berry!”
“How did you—what—” Berry’s face grew tense, her eyes hard, but he noticed that she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. She’s ashamed, he thought. But she was angry too. Her glare flickered to Nut, Mud, and Spider. “Thorn, have you been spying on me? How dare you!”
“That’s not the point!” blurted Thorn. “The Berry I know—the Berry I love—she’d never consent to a murder in her name!”
Her disbelieving stare became fiery with rage. “I had to! That’s something you can’t understand, Thorn—taking responsibility! I can’t think only for myself—I have to think for the troop, as well. For all of you other baboons! You don’t know what that’s like!”
“I—”
“Don’t you get it? The Great Spirit has left Bravelands forever. The animals who live here—we must adapt, find new ways of living. We haven’t got a choice.”
Heat flared within Thorn. “What, by following your father’s example? By making your own Strongbranches?”
There was a moment of awful silence. Nut, Mud, and Spider didn’t seem to dare breathe. Berry stared at Thorn, unblinking.
When she spoke again, her voice was low and cold. “Leading a troop is tough,” she growled. “Tendril is malevolent to her bones. She killed my mother. She wanted to slaughter our infants in their nests! How can I spare her and risk her harming us again?”
“You mustn’t listen to Viper and Creeper.” He stretched out a paw, but she didn’t take it. “They don’t understand, they don’t realize how terrible this choice would be—how there’s no coming back from it.”
“Viper and Creeper?” For a moment Berry stared at him, then slowly shook her head. “Do you understand nothing, Thorn? This has nothing to do with them. I listen to couns
el, as any leader should. But the decision is mine!”
Thorn’s heart plummeted in his rib cage. He felt sick, and for a moment his throat could not form words.
“But . . . the Code . . .”
“I have to make hard choices,” she said curtly. “Maybe some of them are wrong, who knows? Certainly not you, Thorn. You and I may love each other, but you are not their Crownleaf: I am. You may not sit in judgment on me. And you may not tell me what to do.”
It was too much. Thorn’s claws bore into his palms. “You think I know nothing about responsibility? You think I don’t understand duty? I am the new Great Father!”
She actually, physically reeled back, her paw shooting out to steady her crouch.
Mud cried out in astonishment and clapped his paws over his mouth. Nut gave an incoherent yelp and stared at Thorn in awed shock. Spider simply blinked and furrowed his brow, in his perplexed way.
Berry recovered first. She opened her jaws, then closed them again. At last her eyes narrowed.
“Thorn, how could you? The Great Parent is not a thing to mock!”
“I’m serious!” he said angrily. “You wanted to know where I was after the battle with Tendril? That’s where. The vultures took me to their mountain, tried to persuade me to assume my duties. And I refused. Because I didn’t want it, I didn’t think I was fit for it.”
“Thorn,” whispered Mud, “you are.” But then he seemed to run out of anything to say. He went back to gazing at Thorn, his eyes huge.
“But now I think I’m beginning to understand,” Thorn went on, his eyes locked on Berry’s. “Maybe there’s a reason I was chosen. Maybe it’s for moments like this. Maybe it’s just so I can save you.”
“I don’t believe you!” growled Berry, her jaws tight.
“Then I can’t convince you,” Thorn said, more quietly. “But you could ask the vultures, if you understood Skytongue—which I do. They acclaimed me Great Father after the battle. Does that explain why I’ve been so distant? Do you understand now? I couldn’t tell you! I wanted to, but I couldn’t!”
