by Erin Hunter
Loyal’s tawny shape loomed out of a patch of thorn scrub. “Fearless! You’ve been gone a long time.”
He halted, his tail twitching. “Hello, Loyal.” He was glad to see the older lion, but he couldn’t help sounding morose. “It’s been a long day.”
Loyal gave an apprehensive growl. “I’ve a feeling you have a lot to tell me, and not all of it good.”
“Not all of it was bad,” Fearless said, licking his jaws. “I saw my mother again.”
Loyal’s eyes widened. “You went to Titanpride? Even after I warned you?”
“Yes. I couldn’t help it.” Taking a deep breath, Fearless told his friend what had happened, from the moment he had seen the buffalo herd across the plain to the oath he had been forced to take to save his life. They walked side by side toward Loyal’s den in the rocky outcrop of the kopje, and the older lion did not interrupt once as Fearless went over the day’s events.
“So,” he concluded with a sigh, “I think I’m in big trouble now.”
If he’d expected sympathy from his friend, Fearless realized, he’d been hunting the wrong prey. “Trouble?” grunted Loyal. “That’s putting it kindly, you young fool!”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Fearless protested lamely.
“Obviously, but it happened anyway. Didn’t I tell you not to go near Titanpride?” Loyal gave a snarl of frustration. “But that’s not the worst of it. What were you thinking? You’ve sworn an oath you can’t possibly keep!”
“I didn’t have a choice—”
“Oaths are sacred!” roared Loyal, jumping up onto the first rock ridge to glare down at him. “There’s no way you can break it, or renege on it—you keep it or you die! Do you understand?”
Fearless halted to glower angrily up at him. “Of course I do! Titan would have killed my mother as well as me. I told you, I didn’t have a choice!”
For a moment there was a tense silence between the two lions. Loyal’s crooked tail lashed back and forth, and he curled his muzzle, clearly fighting the desire to insult Fearless some more. But at last he huffed out a frustrated sigh.
“Very well. Since there’s nothing to be done, you’ll just have to go through with this.” Turning his rump, he stalked toward the mouth of his den, and Fearless leaped up onto the rocks to follow him.
“I’ll think of something,” he told Loyal, trying to sound confident.
“You’d better,” grunted Loyal. “And of course, I’ll help you however I can. Idiot.”
His tone was almost fond, despite everything. Relieved, Fearless loped to his side. “I do have one advantage, Loyal. I’ve got something on my side that Titan will never understand.”
“Oh yes?” said Loyal dryly. “What’s that?”
Fearless grinned and licked his friend’s ear.
“Baboons!”
Tall Trees loomed before him in the dawn, like a giant beast sprawled over the plains. A ghostly mist lay around the forest’s edges, and the early gray light gleamed on the thick lichens and creepers that shielded the trees from prying eyes. Fearless couldn’t help thinking it already felt a lot less like home. For the first time, it looked not welcoming, but forbidding.
Fearless crouched in the untidy grass just out of scenting distance and waited. I used to be their defender, he thought, but if I sauntered in there now, it’s quite possible the troop would attack me.
One by one, the baboons were waking up. He heard rustling in the branches, the soft hoots of mothers, and the hungry squeals of their babies. Two sentries on the outskirts exchanged chittering conversation. He thought he could even make out Stinger’s distinctive grunting yawn as the big baboon woke and stretched.
As the sky paled, one or two shadows were visible, moving through the foliage on the edge of the forest. Bird Lowleaf bounded between date palm trunks, then vanished through a curtain of lichen.
Fearless rose up a little higher in the grass, peering hopefully into the lush green depths of the trees. Just when he thought he might give up hope, a familiar shape loped out of a fern thicket and took a few bounding paces across the grass.
Belly to the ground, Fearless slunk toward the baboon. “Thorn!” he rumbled.
Startled, the young baboon spun around, rising defensively onto his hind legs. But when he caught sight of Fearless, his bare-fanged snarl melted into a delighted grin.
“Fearless!” Thorn bounded to him on all fours, then flung his long arms around his neck. “It’s good to see you!”
Fearless nuzzled his friend, his heart warm with delight. “And you! I’ve missed you.”
Thorn gave him another tight hug and then drew back, narrowing his eyes to study him thoughtfully. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but—”
“You guessed it,” said Fearless gloomily. “I’m in trouble.”
“Already?” Thorn gave him a mischievous nudge. “Tell me all about it, then.”
Fearless did. The story sounded even more stupid on its second telling, and he felt himself grow hot with shame as he reached the moment when Titan had scarred his throat. “But I scratched him back,” he added hastily. “It’s a ritual, that’s all.”
Thorn frowned, parting Fearless’s fur with his clever fingers to examine the scratch. “It’s not deep,” he confirmed. “But it must have nipped your tail to just let him do it. I’m glad you did the same to him.”
“Oh, Thorn,” said Fearless desperately, “I had to make the deal, but I don’t know how I’m going to keep my side of it. How am I going to persuade those cheetahs to give me the cub?”
Thorn scratched his chin pensively. He plucked a tick off his chest and ate it.
“There might be a way . . .” he said at last.
Fearless perked up, feeling hope kindle inside him at last. “You have an idea? I knew you would, Thorn. I knew it!”
Thorn shook his head slowly. “Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “But you said the cheetahs took the cub because Titan stole their prey, right?”
Fearless nodded swiftly.
“Well,” Thorn went on, “I know a place where there is lots of prey just waiting to be eaten. It’s a secret place, but if we offer to swap that secret for Titan’s cub, the cheetahs just might go for it.”
“That . . . that sounds really promising.” Fearless licked his jaws. “It’s a good idea, Thorn. Worth a try. But how will we even find the cheetahs to offer them the deal?”
“That’s where we’re going to need help.” Thorn placed a paw on his friend’s neck. “But there’s help nearby at this time of year. If we want to meet with the cheetahs, there’s someone we can ask to arrange it.”
Fearless sucked in a breath of realization. “The Great Mother.”
“The Great Mother,” Thorn confirmed with a nod. “If any creature can help us, she can.”
CHAPTER 18
The eerie mist that had lain over the watering hole had dissipated, and the morning sun sparkled on its gently rippling surface. Beside Sky, a family of warthogs trotted down to the edge of the water, squealing and grunting with pleasure as they dipped their tusked snouts to drink. Moon was pestering them, blowing dust at their rumps and tweaking their stubby tails, but although Sky was supposed to be minding him, she could hardly focus on anything but Great Mother. A cold feeling of dread filled her body. I don’t want to be here! None of us should be!
A vulture glided and flapped down to land before the matriarch, hopping forward to place a spindly leg bone in front of her huge feet. There was a small heap of bones by now; Great Mother was picking each one up, caressing it with the sensitive tip of her trunk, murmuring to herself as she studied and considered each death. As she laid one fractured bone aside and picked up the next, the vulture launched itself skyward with a beat of its great wings, making room for the next to soar down with its offering.
What will Great Mother see in the bones? wondered Sky.
I hope it’s something to make her want to leave the watering hole.
Moon, clearly bored of making a nuisance of himself with the warthogs, trotted to Sky’s side and tapped her flank with his trunk. “Sky, what is Great Mother doing?”
“Examining these bones,” explained Sky. “The vultures bring them from carcasses of the dead, if they think the death might have broken the Code.”
Moon snorted as if he found that hard to believe. “How would they know?”
“They can taste it,” Sky told him. “I don’t know how, but it’s always been that way. So they bring a bone to Great Mother, and she reads it to find out what happened.”
“And then what does she do?” persisted Moon. “Does she go and punish the animal that killed it?”
Sky shook her head, blowing a little impatiently. I want to watch Great Mother, but he’s so full of questions! “Of course not, Moon. But it lets Great Mother see what has been happening all over Bravelands. And she tries to settle quarrels and bring justice if she can.”
“Oh,” said Moon. He swung his trunk, looking a little bored. “Well, I’m going to play again.”
“Try not to go near those warthogs!” warned Sky. “They looked a bit annoyed before—”
As she nodded at them, she realized that they were staring the other way, grunting and huffing. “Who’s that coming?” one warthog rumbled.
“Let’s see,” another said, shouldering her friend out of the way. “So very curious,” squealed a third. “Move, move. I want to look.”
Warthogs, thought Sky. Always so nosy! But she couldn’t help following their gazes to the beaten track below a red rock ridge. Something was coming toward the watering hole, an odd-shaped creature silhouetted in the morning sun. Sky narrowed her eyes, taking a breath, and peered closer. Then she went still, her blood chilling inside her.
It wasn’t one animal; it was two. A baboon walked beside a young lion, its head close to the big cat’s shoulder. The lion’s fur was pale gold, catching the sun’s light so that he almost shimmered.
The baboon isn’t riding the lion, Sky told herself as panic rose in her throat. It’s walking on all fours and its face isn’t evil.
“Great Mother!” she squealed in alarm, trotting up to the old elephant. Rain was with the matriarch now, telling her in a soft, unconcerned voice about the new arrivals; next to them, Comet and Twilight listened with mild interest.
“. . . lion and a baboon, Great Mother. They arrived together. . . .” Rain paused, and the four grown ones turned curiously as Sky stumbled up to them.
“What is it, Sky?” Great Mother flapped her ears forward.
“Those animals—the ones I saw, the ones from my vision. They’re back!”
“I know,” said Great Mother gently. “Rain was just explaining. They don’t look dangerous, my dear.”
“But, Great Mother—”
The old elephant caressed Sky’s head with her trunk. “I understand you’re worried, Sky—but if they are the creatures from your vision, it will help me greatly to talk to them. I may be able to interpret what your dream meant.”
“No, Great Mother,” begged Sky. “They’re dangerous! Make them go away!”
Comet and Twilight exchanged glances with Rain; some of the other grown ones were gathering around, too, murmuring in concern. “Sky might have a point, Great Mother,” said Twilight. “Lions do not believe in the Great Spirit. So what is this one doing here? Surely he can’t have come to see you.”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Great Mother told them firmly. “But a single lion cannot hurt me, so please, cease your worrying.” She turned to face the newcomers as they padded hesitantly up to the elephant herd.
For a moment there was a heavy silence; the lion and the baboon looked at each other with trepidation. Maybe Great Mother is right, Sky tried to reassure herself. A lion wouldn’t dare try anything with so many elephants around. Great Mother took a step forward, her huge foot stirring up white dust.
“Come,” she called to the odd pair. “You wish to talk to me?”
The baboon’s eyes widened in awe as he moved forward; his tail twitched and he blinked slowly, dipping his head as if overwhelmed. The lion, Sky noticed, seemed much more sure of himself: he strutted forward, so confident and proud it was almost possible to imagine a golden mane swathing his neck.
As they came closer, though, she couldn’t help noticing that his forelegs were trembling.
This makes no sense! thought Sky, her brain aching with confusion. They don’t look threatening at all. How can these be the creatures from my vision?
The lion cleared his throat, a little pompously. “I am Fearless,” he declared, “once of Gallantpride, and now Cub of the Stars.”
Great Mother inclined her head graciously. “A lion has never asked for my advice before,” she rumbled, with gentle amusement. “It makes a pleasant change.”
The young lion looked slightly embarrassed, but he cleared his throat and went on. “And this is Thorn Middleleaf of Brightforest Troop.” As the baboon bowed, looking terrified, the lion licked his jaws, seeming much less confident. “We know, Great Mother, that we should wait for the day of the Great Gathering. But we . . . we need your help now.”
“It’s a matter of . . . urgency,” stammered the young baboon.
Great Mother studied them both, then nodded. “Tell me, what is it that concerns you?”
“There’s a group of cheetahs on the plain,” said the lion. He twitched his tail. “They have stolen the cub of Titan, the head of Titanpride.”
“Ah. This thing they have done is wrong,” murmured Great Mother, swinging her trunk slowly back and forth. She tilted her head at the young lion. “But why do you come to me for help, Cub of the Stars?”
He glanced at his baboon friend, looking suddenly rather overwhelmed. “We . . .”
Thorn Middleleaf coughed politely, but kept his eyes averted. “We have . . . something we can offer the cheetahs. In the cub’s place.”
“We’d like to strike a bargain with them,” added the lion. “But, you see—we need to find the cheetahs. Before we can—well—make the offer. Great Mother, would you ask them to meet with us?”
The old elephant gazed at him. “It is a noble thing, young Fearless, for a Gallantpride lion to help Titan. I know what happened to Gallant.”
There was a long moment of heavy stillness. The lion swallowed and stared at Great Mother with new respect. “I am Gallant’s son,” he told her hoarsely.
“I see,” murmured Great Mother—rather as if, Sky decided, she had known it already.
Under the matriarch’s steady gaze, the Cub of the Stars let his head drop. “I’m not doing this to help Titan,” he admitted. “If I don’t return the cub to his pride, Titan will kill my mother. She’s blind, you see, and she can’t hunt. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Sky felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for the Cub of the Stars. His poor mother. How awful to be a blind lion.
“And I’m here,” babbled the baboon into the silence, “because I’m Fearless’s friend.”
With a thoughtful nod to the odd pair, Great Mother turned away from them, then beckoned Sky with a flick of her trunk. Sky trotted after her in surprise.
When she was a little way from the lion, the baboon and the other elephants, Great Mother stopped and lowered her head to Sky. “What do you make of them, my dear?” she murmured.
Awkwardly, Sky stirred the dust with her feet. “They’re . . . not what I expected, Great Mother. They don’t seem scary. Not at all.” She swallowed hard. “The ones in my vision were so different—vicious and terrifying. Thorn Middleleaf and the Cub of the Stars don’t seem like that at all. But I can’t help thinking—”
“Go on, Sky.” Great Mother touched Sky’s ear with her trunk.
“I still think what I saw is important,” blurted Sky. “When I look at them, when I think about my vision, it feels . . . heavy. A weight inside me. And my gut tingles. It means something. Am I being silly?”
“No,” s
aid Great Mother sternly. “Not at all, my dear. Every vision means something, and every vision is important; sometimes we simply have to work harder to interpret it. We will work out what yours means, young one. And you and I will do that together.”
“Oh, thank you.” Sky felt quite weak with relief. “Thank you, Great Mother.”
“Now,” rumbled the old matriarch, “I need to give the lion and the baboon their answer. What do you think? Should I help them?”
Remembering the lion’s agonized words, Sky nodded. “Yes, I think you should.”
“Then we are of one mind.” Great Mother’s eyes twinkled as she turned and led Sky back to the meeting place.
The lion and the baboon stiffened, exchanging a glance; they then dipped their heads in respect. Great Mother lifted her trunk and gestured at a tree on the plain, beyond the rocky ridge. “The Lightning Tree: do you see it?”
They both raised their heads and looked. “The one split into three?” asked the baboon eagerly.
“That’s it. I will ask the cheetahs to meet you there at dusk.”
“Thank you, Great Mother! That’s . . . I’m grateful, and . . .” The baboon shot a slightly anxious look at his friend; the lion frowned and nodded. Both still seemed a little on edge, their paws and tails twitching.
Great Mother watched them thoughtfully. “And I shall be there too, to make sure all goes well. Does that satisfy you?”
They both nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you, Great Mother!” hooted Thorn Middleleaf.
“Yes. Thank you!” The young lion lowered his forequarters in a bow. “We won’t disturb you any longer, Great Mother. We’re so grateful for your help.”
The two animals backed off a couple of paces before turning to leave. As they did, Thorn Middleleaf caught sight of the pile of bones the vultures had brought, and he gave it a curious second glance. Sky saw his eyes narrow; he furrowed his brow.
