Tailchaser’s Song

From the other side of the treetops a new round of raps answered.

On a branch perpendicular to Tailchaser's, separated from his by several jumps of empty air, a slow and dignified procession was moving-dignified by squirrel standards, although perhaps a little brisk and hoppy in comparison to the sinuous grace of the Folk. Fritti thought he recognized Master Fizz and Mistress Whir near the front of the procession, which contained several pawfuls of Rikchikchik.

Leading the strange parade was a large squirrel with grayshot fur and an exultantly bushy tail. The old squirrel's eyes were as black as obsidian, and they studied Tailchaser intently as the line of tree-dwellers stopped and crouched.

After eyeing the cat imperiously for a moment, the old one turned to Mistress Whir.

"This cat-cat-folk who saved?"

Mistress Whir looked demurely across at Fritti, who clung gamely to his branch. "Is most yes cat, Lord Snap," she shyly affirmed.

Tailchaser could not help but notice how the Rikchikchik had protected their leader from him, an untrustworthy cat. Out at the end of this wand-thin limb he had no leverage by which to spring; even if he could manage to, the distance separating his and Lord Snap's branches was too great. Not that he had the urge to spring at anyone at this particular instant- still, he admired the Rikchikchik's cleverness.

"You, cat," said Lord Snap sharply.

"Yes, sir?" answered Fritti. What did this old fellow want, anyway?

"Cat-folk, Rikchikchik not friends. You help Mistress Whir. Why you do, so-strange cat?"

Fritti had not quite puzzled it out yet himself. "I'm not sure, Lord Snap," he answered.

"Could have sheltered with chiknek-stealer under log, under log!" broke in Master Fizz suddenly. "Didn't," he added significantly. Lord Snap lowered his head and gnawed meditatively on a twig, then looked at Fritti again.

"Always hunt, fight-fight with cat-folk. Moon-last four cat climb great tree. Steal chiklek… steal younglings. Steal many. Who cats?"

"I don't know, Lord Snap. I entered the forest only today. Did you say four cats? All together?"

"Four so-bad cats." Snap affirmed. "One each leg Rikchikchik have. Four."

"I do not know, my lord, but it is unusual for my Folk to hunt in such large numbers," said Tailchaser thoughtfully.

Snap deliberated for a moment. "You good-cat. Keep-keep promise. Sacred Oak binds. First time Rikchikchik owe cat-folk favor since Root-in-Ground. T-t-t-teach you thing-you need-need help, Rikchikchik give. Yes?" Fritti nodded, surprised. "Good-cat have troubles, sing: 'Mrikkarrikarek-Snap,' get help. Sing!"

Fritti tried: "Mreowarriksnap." Lord Snap repeated the phrase, and Fritti tried again, troubled by the difficult squirrelish sounds. Over and over he repeated it, tasting the odd chattering feel. All the Rikchikchik leaned forward, encouraging him, showing him how to make the noises.

If Stretchslow saw this he'd really have a laugh, thought Fritti.

Finally he approximated it closely enough to satisfy the old squirrel-lord.

"In my so-so-nice forest, you use for help. Also sing for certain in trees of brother, Lord Pop. Further… Snap-knows-not."

The old squirrel leaned forward and fixed Tail-chaser with his gleaming eyes. "Other thing. You hunt Rikchikchik, no help. Promise gone-gone. Rule of Leaf and Bough. Agree, good-cat?" Snap looked at him cu

Fritti was taken by surprise. "I… I suppose so. Yes, I promise." A gasp of pleasure went up from the attending squirrels, and Lord Snap beamed with delight, showing his worn incisors.

"Good, most-good." He chuckled. "Is bargain-bargain." The Rikchikchik chief gestured with his tail to the squirrel who had brought Tailchaser. "Master Click, take cat-folk down tree."

"Yes, Lord Snap," said Click. Fritti-sensing the end of his interview-began to inch backward along the narrow tree limb. The squirrels chattered brightly behind him. He thought he heard Whir and Fizz bid him good-journey.

As he descended behind the brisk and efficient Click, Tailchaser reflected with chagrin on the bargain he had just struck with the Rikchikchik.

All I have to do is meet the King of the Birds and the King of the Field Mice, he thought sourly, and I'll most likely starve to death.

The waning moments of Stretching Sun had turned the sky above the great forest into flame. The glow of the setting sun reached through the tangled branches and speckled the leafy ground at Tailchaser's feet. On the eve of his journey's first night he padded on, deeper and deeper into the ancient secrecy of the Old Woods.

He was hungry. He had not eaten since Final Dancing of the previous day.

Suddenly, as if it had been swallowed up by the Venris Hound, the light disappeared. In the half-moment it took his eyes to adjust, Fritti was blinded.

He paused, and as his night vision compensated for the sudden darkness, Tailchaser shook his head and shivered. To live always in darkness! Harar! How could the hole-dwellers and burrow-sleepers stand it? He thanked the Allmother for having brought him into the fields as one of the Folk, who enjoyed all their senses.

Continuing on his way with the effortless stealth native to his race, Tailchaser noted the nighttime life of the great woods in its first flowering. His whiskers received the faint heat-pulses of small creatures cautiously emerging to test the evening. All their movements were tentative, though-cautious and hesitant. Fritti himself was a factor most of them were already aware of. The small animal that charged headlong from its huddling place at first dark did not usually live long enough to pass its foolishness along to offspring.

Thinking of food now, Fritti moved with control, each step coming down on packed ground that would betray no sound. He wanted to find a place where the air currents moved in more favorable ways, or did not move at all: he was going to effect a trap. He had walked hungry for too long, and did not want to wait for a chance kill.

Besides, Grassnestle, his mother, had taught him hunting lore, after all. He was not going to be forced into digging up Squeaker-nests for newborns on his first night out!

He would make a clean kill.

Night birds wheeled and soared above. He could feel the presence of the Ruhue in silent overflight. They were not hunting, he guessed: the Ruhue preferred to search and swoop over flat ground. More likely they were leaving nests in the nearby forest.

Just as well, he thought. The nearness of an owl would freeze the forest creatures and make it that much harder to find di

Other night-rising fla-fa'az whistled and piped in the trees, up in the farthest reaches where the Folk were too heavy to travel. Fritti dismissed them without a second thought.

Hopping down into a dry, rock-strewn gully, Tailchaser got a sudden and surprising whiff of cat-scent. He turned, muscles tensed, and the smell was gone. In a moment it was back again, and he breathed it long enough to note some familiarity in the odor. Then, oddly, it disappeared once more.

Fritti stood perplexed by this bewildering phenomenon, hackles raised and nose twitching. The scent had not changed in intensity from movement or wind failure-it had simply vanished.

When the scent returned to him he recognized it. No wonder it had seemed to have a familiar tang to it-it was his own scent.

His nose wrinkled delicately as he sampled the air, confirming his suspicions. He had walked into a night-eddy: a slow, barely detectable whirlwind. The rocks in the dry creek bed, heated by the sun during the day, were warming the air above them. Contacting the cool night air descending, trapped and rerouted by the waffs of the gully, the resultant swirl of air made lazy circles… carrying his own scent back to him. If he had not paused for a moment, he would not have been in place long enough for it to circle around!