by Clare Bell
In some ways Quiet Hunter is the real leader of this group, Ratha thought. True-of-voice may have the gift of the song, but Quiet Hunter has a way of inspiring trust.
When her shakiness retreated enough so that she could creep back to the cliff edge and peer over, she saw that the rescue was already underway.
One problem immediately became apparent. The cliff edge was not an overhang that would have allowed the rescuers to raise True-of-voice by just pulling up on freely dangling ropes. There was a backward slant to the rock face, and the edge itself had been worn and broken. The ropes could not be allowed to rub against the rocks as they passed over the edge, or the vines would fray and tear.
Thakur and Quiet Hunter solved the difficulty, with more cooperation from the hunters themselves. By lying on their backs, pushing the vine ropes up off the ground with their paws, they protected the lines against damage and allowed them to slide slowly but freely. Several of True-of-voice’s people even draped themselves over the edge, their companions hanging onto their forepaws, in order to use their powerful hind legs to cantilever the lines away from the cliff.
Soon True-of-voice was suspended by the vines that had been tied by treeling hands.
Ratha felt Thistle come alongside her, with Biaree still onboard.
“Treeling tied good knots,” Thistle said, giving her companion an affectionate nudge. “Nothing slipped.” She paused, then yowled at Thakur, who was helping Quiet Hunter. “Tell those fur-brained furballs not to bite down so hard. Will break the ropes!”
Ratha grinned to herself. Talk about leadership. She had a good idea who would probably be leading the clan when her fur did go gray and her muzzle turned white. Thistle’s even bossier than I am.
Slowly, carefully, True-of-voice was lifted, then lowered past the ledge where he’d been trapped. The teams of rope holders kept the lines securely anchored, yet allowed them to slip.
“Easier if we had treeling paws,” Thistle said, watching. “But using teeth works too. Wouldn’t want to be where True-of-voice is now, though. Had enough of hanging off rocks.”
Ratha narrowed her eyes, wondering if True-of-voice was alert enough to be aware of what was going on. She thought she had seen his eyes flutter open briefly. But he was either aware enough or unconscious enough not to struggle.
Just don’t die before we get you to the bottom. And don’t die then either.
As the vine-roped form descended, the hunters who had been moping at the foot of the cliff gathered and waited, their heads lifted, their eyes filled with wonder and hope.
And then came the moment when the ropes went slack because their burden had reached the ground. A weary team of rescuers, Named and hunters alike, turned to one another with relieved expressions. Below, at the foot of the cliff, the ones who had been keeping vigil now crowded in around their leader.
Thakur came to Ratha with Quiet Hunter. They crouched beside Ratha as Thakur said, “I’m going down there with him. Have you recovered enough to go with us?”
In answer, Ratha sprang to her feet. “We’d better hurry before they kill him with happiness. Thistle, you come, too. But watch your treeling.”
She saw a look of pleased surprise come over her daughter’s face.
Yes, I’m going to treat you as an equal now, so get used to it.
* * *
Once all the tumultuous greetings had died down, the hunters stood aside so that the Named and their healer could get to True-of-voice. At the bottom of the cliff,Ratha watched, wondering if all the effort had been for nothing or whether True-of-voice would survive.
Thakur worked devotedly over the hunting clan’s leader while others of the Named ran back and forth, gathering the herbs he asked for.
“He’s pretty battered, Ratha,” Thakur said when he paused briefly in his efforts, “but there are no severe wounds. What nearly killed him was lack of water.”
He spent the rest of the day and most of the night tending True-of-voice, while both the Named and the hunters kept a quiet but hopeful vigil.
Their patience was rewarded when a weary Thakur at last came to Ratha and said that True-of-voice would take several days to recover his strength, but he was out of danger. When Ratha had Quiet Hunter announce it to his people, there were yowls of joy.
Her gaze went to Thistle and Quiet Hunter, standing on each side of Thakur and helping to keep the herding teacher from falling over out of sheer exhaustion.
The two did not join in the outburst of celebration, but Ratha could tell by the looks they exchanged that they were the happiest of all.
* * *
Thistle is not the only one who can cross over between the two peoples. Quiet Hunter, who can swim in the bright and bubbling flow of the song, can also walk the trails of the Named.
The gift the Named have given to the hunters is the words that they have taught.
Understanding. Acceptance. Wisdom.
In both clans.
The song is heard.
* * *
There had never been such a meeting between the Named and outsiders before, Ratha thought. The same was true for the hunters, or so True-of-voice said. Ratha had received the information through Thistle and Quiet Hunter. She had not yet spoken directly to True-of-voice at any length, although she had exchanged brief words with him while he lay under Thakur’s care.
The meeting took place on the open grassy plain. Each of the two tribes sat in a semicircle around its leader. Both leaders had someone special at their sides. Beside Ratha sat Thistle, her eyes clear, her ears up, and a treeling perched on her shoulder. Across from Ratha was True-of-voice, the massive gray male who was more than just a leader to those who clustered about him. Beside True-of-voice sat Quiet Hunter.
The two who can cross over to the others’ trails. The messengers. The sinews that bind our tribes together.
Among the Named were those who had not been on the initial search for face-tails. Beside Thakur in the half circle of the Named sat Fessran and others who had been summoned to be present.
The excited buzz that was running through both sides of the circle died down. As if it were a signal, both Thistle and Quiet Hunter rose, their gazes fixed on each other. Ratha knew that for these two, little else existed right now. The bond between her daughter and the shy son of the hunting group was far more than the mating of male and female. Thistle and Quiet Hunter shared experiences that none of their people had known. Each had had to break out of a familiar way of being and risk those things that they valued most. Now both were being rewarded.
As Thistle and Quiet Hunter came together and touched noses, Ratha felt that something new had been born—a feeling deeper than any that could be felt by members of either tribe alone. When she looked across to True-of-voice, she knew that he realized the same thing, for his gaze was also fixed on the young pair.
True-of-voice. I have wondered about him. I have hated him. Now I am about to know him.
Thistle and Quiet Hunter came first to Ratha, one flanking her on each side.
“I am still a little afraid,” Ratha said in a low voice to her daughter.
“Everyone here is also. That is where the bravery is,” Thistle answered. “You are brave enough, Ratha-mother.”
The daughter of the Named and the son of the hunters brushed close to Ratha on either side as they escorted her to the center point of the full circle made up by the two tribes. The pair then went to True-of-voice, took up positions to either side of him, and brought the leader forward.
Ratha watched him approach, her heart beating hard with a mixture of trepidation and hope. He and she were so different. His people and the Named were so alien to each other. How could it possibly work?
Yet, looking at Thistle and Quiet Hunter, she knew that it could. With enough wisdom . . . and bravery . . . on both sides.
She extended her head for the nose-touch, breathed in True-of-voice’s breath, and gave hers to be breathed in by him.
What is it like to walk in a d
ream with your people? To be center and soul to them? To be the wellspring of the song?
He’s probably asking himself what it is like to be me, how I can be leader to a bunch of stubborn characters who not only know their own names but think for themselves whether I want them to or not!
True-of-voice, I don’t think we are that different after all.
Finding her voice, Ratha said, “We of the Named are here to join your people in friendship. We have talents that we will share, abilities that we will teach, if your tribe wishes.”
“The value of those things has been shown,” answered True-of-voice. “The Named saved this life, this song, this people. Named gifts will be accepted with joy and things given in return.”
She listened as he proposed the kinds of exchanges that would help both tribes. The Named would be allowed to take face-tails and add them to their herds if they so wished. If they needed help, the hunters would provide it. In return, the hunters might wish to adopt Named herding skills and learn about some of the other herdbeasts, such as the three-horn deer and dapplebacked horses.
There was also interest in treelings. The continued presence of Biaree on Thistle’s shoulder, as she went among the members of the hunting tribe, had sparked curiosity. Ratha noticed that True-of-voice’s people went to great lengths to make sure that the treeling was never alarmed or threatened.
Biaree was now Thistle’s. Ratha had not intended it to happen, but somehow the bond that had formed between her daughter and the treeling during the rescue of True-of-voice was deeper and stronger than the one that Bira, Biaree’s original companion, had built.
Ratha glanced over at Bira. The little ruddy-coated Firekeeper looked proud, yet there was a sadness in her eyes. She had been with Biaree since the treeling’s birth, carefully training him in the skills that she and he both needed to carry out the duties demanded by the Red Tongue. And then, in only a few days, she had lost him to Thistle.
It was a measure of Bira’s clear-sightedness that she had been the one to suggest that the temporary arrangement be made permanent. Biaree could have come back to her, for he had kept his affection for his first companion. But what had been created between Thistle and the treeling had a seriousness and a depth that went beyond the usual treeling-Named bond. Perhaps having a life at stake had increased the two partners’ devotion to each other.
I will make sure that Bira gets the first choice of the next treeling litter. As Thistle said, everyone is showing bravery, and Bira is not the least.
As Ratha gazed at her daughter, she realized that the change inside Thistle was starting to change her outside.
She’s not so scruffy anymore. She’s filling out a bit. And when she grooms her coat, she’s really quite pretty.
The meeting was starting to wind down. True-of-voice was making one last suggestion, one he was sure that the Named would agree to.
Thistle and Quiet Hunter would be allowed to move freely from one tribe to the other, staying together and using their combined skills to aid the members of both tribes to understand one another. There would be disagreements, perhaps even open conflicts. That was inevitable between peoples as different as theirs. But with two who could walk both sets of trails, there would be a better chance that matters could be settled without fighting.
We are setting out on another journey—one I never thought we’d ever take. But it feels right.
It happened because of you, Thistle. I never knew that daughters could help their mothers grow up. You yourself may be a mother some day. You already are, in a sense. A mother to two tribes of quarreling cubs that are also learning.
You have more than I ever hoped. A place. A purpose. A treeling companion to comfort you. And another companion, if I am any judge of what Quiet Hunter wants. He will be a gentle, devoted mate, I think. He is what you need.
And there is also . . .
One who is still struggling to find the best ways. Not only for myself and the Named, but for others as well.
A clan leader, a Dreambiter, a Dreamhealer. Impatient, reckless, carrier of fire, bearer of cubs. Jumping into unknown abysses, scrambling up dangerous cliffs. Facing challenges—and the greatest one is you.
You have a new name for me now.
Ratha-mother.
