face-tail meat in their stomachs. Even so, he and Thistle ran far. He could see the strain on her leg, but if he faltered or slowed, they would be overtaken and slain before either Ratha, Khushi, or Bira could catch up and drive the attackers off.
Thistle was limping badly by the time Thakur lost the pursuers. He collapsed together with her in the high grass. The dread that had been making her shudder, even as she ran, now seized her entirely. She went rigid, her eyes blank and glassy.
The spasm tossed her about and then released her, letting her crumple into an exhausted heap of fur. He could not even ask her what had happened, much less tell Khushi, Ratha, and Bira when they galloped up.
“Did the others attack you?” Khushi asked. “I heard Thistle yowl.”
Before answering, Thakur nudged Ratha over to lie down by her daughter. When Thistle came out of the unconsciousness that followed her seizures, she needed warmth and comfort. Only when Ratha and Bira were curled about the sleeping Thistle did Thakur say anything about what had happened. Khushi sat to one side, his ears up, his eyes wide.
“It was her cry that started the attack. Before she screamed, I thought everything was going well,” Thakur said.
“Then why did she ... ?” Bira asked softly.
“Something happened ... inside, I think,” Thakur replied. “Bira, maybe what you said is true. I may be asking far too much of her.”
Ratha licked Thistle’s ruff. “That thing she dreams about. That’s what frightened her. But why did it happen just then?”
“I don’t know,” Thakur admitted.
“What will you do now?”
“Wait until she recovers and try again.”
Ratha fell silent. He watched the expression in her eyes as she stared down at her gifted, troubled daughter.
* * *
Thistle had dived very deep in the sea and now she felt herself drifting up. The water was opaque, as if mud had been stirred into it. High above shone a red-orange glow. Not the sun. Another source of illumination. She felt herself rising, turning slowly, moving closer toward the fierce light.
Then, with an odd, sideways motion, as if someone had stuffed her abruptly back into her body, she was in herself again, feeling the warmth of someone beside her, smelling the mingled scents of Thakur and Khushi, Ratha and Bira. Someone else had been lying beside her before she woke. She thought it might have been her mother, but now it was Thakur.
The red light came from a fire-nest that Bira had built and was tending. She saw the Firekeeper move around the flame, feeding it dry wood. The treeling on Bira’s back helped, doing with its small hands what the Firekeeper could not accomplish with paws and teeth. On the other side of the flame crouched her mother, fawn coat turned orange by the light, green eyes turning to gold.
Thakur was beside Thistle now and she was glad. He was the one she wanted with her when she came up from those strange sea depths.
He seemed to sense that she had come back, for his voice was low and warm in her ears.
“Thistle?”
She lifted her head, swiveling her ears. Her vision swam and she let her chin drop onto her paws. “Still dizzy,” she mumbled, closing her eyes against the firelight. He moved to her other side, blocking out the fire, letting her stare into the cool, soothing velvet of the night. Her mother and Bira were on the far side of the fire. That was good. She wanted them away. What she needed to say now, she could say only to Thakur.
“What made you scream?” he asked softly.
“Wasn’t the other clan-cats. Not their fault.”
“Could you hear this song they were talking about?”
“Not sure. So faint and far away. Had to go inside. To a scary place. It was there.” She faltered, starting to tremble. Thakur knew what “it” was.
“Did your fear of the hunters bring your fit on?” he asked.
“No. Felt strange even before we started. The thing ... It started prowling.... I didn’t tell you.”
“Why
Thistle was limping badly by the time Thakur lost the pursuers. He collapsed together with her in the high grass. The dread that had been making her shudder, even as she ran, now seized her entirely. She went rigid, her eyes blank and glassy.
The spasm tossed her about and then released her, letting her crumple into an exhausted heap of fur. He could not even ask her what had happened, much less tell Khushi, Ratha, and Bira when they galloped up.
“Did the others attack you?” Khushi asked. “I heard Thistle yowl.”
Before answering, Thakur nudged Ratha over to lie down by her daughter. When Thistle came out of the unconsciousness that followed her seizures, she needed warmth and comfort. Only when Ratha and Bira were curled about the sleeping Thistle did Thakur say anything about what had happened. Khushi sat to one side, his ears up, his eyes wide.
“It was her cry that started the attack. Before she screamed, I thought everything was going well,” Thakur said.
“Then why did she ... ?” Bira asked softly.
“Something happened ... inside, I think,” Thakur replied. “Bira, maybe what you said is true. I may be asking far too much of her.”
Ratha licked Thistle’s ruff. “That thing she dreams about. That’s what frightened her. But why did it happen just then?”
“I don’t know,” Thakur admitted.
“What will you do now?”
“Wait until she recovers and try again.”
Ratha fell silent. He watched the expression in her eyes as she stared down at her gifted, troubled daughter.
* * *
Thistle had dived very deep in the sea and now she felt herself drifting up. The water was opaque, as if mud had been stirred into it. High above shone a red-orange glow. Not the sun. Another source of illumination. She felt herself rising, turning slowly, moving closer toward the fierce light.
Then, with an odd, sideways motion, as if someone had stuffed her abruptly back into her body, she was in herself again, feeling the warmth of someone beside her, smelling the mingled scents of Thakur and Khushi, Ratha and Bira. Someone else had been lying beside her before she woke. She thought it might have been her mother, but now it was Thakur.
The red light came from a fire-nest that Bira had built and was tending. She saw the Firekeeper move around the flame, feeding it dry wood. The treeling on Bira’s back helped, doing with its small hands what the Firekeeper could not accomplish with paws and teeth. On the other side of the flame crouched her mother, fawn coat turned orange by the light, green eyes turning to gold.
Thakur was beside Thistle now and she was glad. He was the one she wanted with her when she came up from those strange sea depths.
He seemed to sense that she had come back, for his voice was low and warm in her ears.
“Thistle?”
She lifted her head, swiveling her ears. Her vision swam and she let her chin drop onto her paws. “Still dizzy,” she mumbled, closing her eyes against the firelight. He moved to her other side, blocking out the fire, letting her stare into the cool, soothing velvet of the night. Her mother and Bira were on the far side of the fire. That was good. She wanted them away. What she needed to say now, she could say only to Thakur.
“What made you scream?” he asked softly.
“Wasn’t the other clan-cats. Not their fault.”
“Could you hear this song they were talking about?”
“Not sure. So faint and far away. Had to go inside. To a scary place. It was there.” She faltered, starting to tremble. Thakur knew what “it” was.
“Did your fear of the hunters bring your fit on?” he asked.
“No. Felt strange even before we started. The thing ... It started prowling.... I didn’t tell you.”
“Why
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