Tailchaser’s Song

His attention was diverted by Pouncequick, who was a

Dragging Pouncequick away by the scruff of the neck, Fritti mumbled an apology to the nettled badger. The beast grunted scornfully at him as he retreated, then waddled off, striped sides huffing.

A lecture failed to dampen Pouncequick much. Soon they were off again, heading toward the outer edge of the Old Woods.

Waking from his midday nap, Tailchaser felt eyes upon him. Across the clearing stood the strange cat they had seen at the jutting rock. Before Fritti could untangle himself from the snoring Pouncequick the cat was gone, leaving no trace. It seemed to Fritti that the odd creature had been about to speak to them-there had been a strange yearning in its eyes.

That evening, as they were crossing a stand of aspens, the cat again appeared before them. This time it did not run away, but stood gnawing its lower lip nervously as they approached.

Seen up close, the cat was a fantastic sight. Its original color was long since hidden under the dirt and mud that caked its fur and twined the hair into swirls and tangles. Sticks and leaves, bits of tree lichen and evergreen needles, all ma

"Who are you, hunt-brother?" asked Fritti cautiously. "Do you seek us?" Pouncequick hung close by Tailchaser's side.

"Who… who… who… the Ruhu…" the stranger intoned solemnly, then fell to chewing his lip again. His voice was deep and male.

"What is your name?" Fritti tried again.

"Ixum squixura… hollow and hellioned… how so?" The strange cat looked vaguely into Fritti's eyes. "Eatbugs is me, I am… I ran, so I am… so you see…"

"He's mad, Tailchaser!" squeaked Pouncequick nervously. "He has the dripping-mouth sickness, I'm sure of it!"

Fritti signaled him to hush. "You are called Eatbugs? That is your name?"

"The same, the same. Grass-gobbler and stone-chewer… isky pisky squiddlum squee… oh! No!" Eatbugs whirled around, as if something were creeping up behind him. "Aroint thee!" he cried at the empty air. "No more of your dandly dancing out of earshot, you hugger-mugger hiss-mouse!" He turned back toward the cats with a wild look in his eyes, but as they stared, a change seemed to come over him. The crazed look was replaced by one of embarrassment.

"Ah, old Eatbugs gets confused sometimes, he does," he said, and scuffed the ground with his grimy paw. "He don't mean no harm, though-never would, you see…"

Pouncequick hissed with alarm. "He is mad-did you see him? We must go!"

Tailchaser was also a little nervous, but something about the old cat touched him. "What can we do for you, Eatbugs?" he asked. Pouncequick stared at him as though he, too, had gone quite mad.

"There you are," the stranger said. "There you be. Old Eatbugs were just lonesome for some talk. It's a big world-but precious few there are to speak with." The old cat scratched distractedly at his ear and dislodged a small seed pod, which fell to the ground. Eatbugs bent and sniffed it eagerly, then a moment later swiped at it angrily with his paw and sent it rolling away.

"That's your world, now isn't it? That's your world," he mumbled, then seemed to remember the others. "Your pardon, young masters," he said. "I do wander a bit, betimes. Might I walk with you a ways? I do know some stories, and a game or two. I was a hunter when the world was a pup, and I catch a fair bit of game still!" He looked hopefully at Fritti.

Tailchaser did not really want another companion, but he felt sorry for this scruffy old torn.

Ignoring Pouncequick's frantic "no" signals, he said: "Certainly. We would be honored to have you accompany us for a while, Eatbugs."

The mud-splattered old cat leaped up and cut a caper in the air so ridiculous that even Pouncequick had to laugh.

"Piglets and pawprints!" cried Eatbugs, then paused and looked quickly around. He leaned toward his companions. "Let's be off!" he added, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. 

Eatbugs was not a bad traveling companion. His occasional fits did not prove dangerous in any way, and after a while even Pouncequick accepted him without too much trepidation. He kept up a constant stream of songs and strange poetry all through the evening. When Fritti-wanting a little peace-finally asked him to quiet down a bit, he became silent as mud.

When they stopped to rest at Final Dancing, Eatbugs was still not speaking.

Fritti felt badly about how the old cat had taken his admonishment-he had not wanted to silence him completely. He walked over to the stranger, who was lying on the ground with his eyes in that odd, unfixed gaze.

"You told us that you knew some stories, Eatbugs. Why don't you give us one? We'd enjoy it."

Eatbugs did not immediately respond. When he raised his head to look at Tailchaser, his eyes were filled with a great and terrible sadness. At first Fritti thought that he had been the cause, but a moment's observation showed that the old cat wasn't seeing him at all.

The look suddenly passed from Eatbugs' begrimed mask, and his eyes focused on Tailchaser. A weak smile came to his mouth.

"Ah, what, lad, what?"

"A story. You said that you would tell us a story, Eatbugs."

"Yes, I did. And I know plenty-ramblers and tumblers and bottom-droppers. What do you want to hear about?"

"One about Firefoot. His adventures!" said Pounce-quick eagerly.

"Oh…" said Eatbugs, shaking his muddy head. "I'm afraid I don't know any good ones, kitling… not about Firefoot. What else?"

"Wellll…" Pouncequick pondered, disappointed. "What about Growlers? Big, mean Growlers-and brave cats! How about that?"

"By the Sniffling Snail, I do happen to know a good one about the Growlers! Shall I sing it for you?"

"Oh, please do!" said Pouncequick, wiggling in his fur. He had missed stories.

"All right," said Eatbugs. And he did.

"Long ago, when cats were cats, and rats and mice sang 'mumbledy-peg, mumbledy-peg' in the brush at night, the Growlers and the Folk lived in peace. The last of the devil-hounds had died out, and their more peaceable descendants hunted alongside our ancestorous ancestors.

"There was a prince-O, such a prince-named Redlegs, who had suffered great unhappiness in the Court where his mother, Queen Cloudleaper, ruled. He went whispering and dancing into the wilderness to hugger-mugger with the rocks and trees, and to have Adventures-"

"Just like Firefoot!" squeaked Pouncequick.

"Hush!" hissed Fritti.

"Well," continued Eatbugs, "one day, when the sun was high in the sky and hurt his eyes, Redlegs came upon two giant piles of bones lying on either side of his path at the mouth of the valley. He knew that he was at the gates of Barbarbar, the City of the Dogs. Growlers and Folk had no quarrel at this time, and Redlegs was anyway a prince of his people, so he entered into the valley.

"Around him he did spy every ma

"Finally, a huge and majestic mastiff appeared, barking commands; the Growlers jumped and gyrated in their efforts to please him, but at last nothing further could be done to join the pillars at the apex. Every leg-sprightly pup of the dog city was sent up to fill the last small gap-which was but one bonelength wide-but none could climb to the top of the curving pillars…"