Tailchaser’s Song

Luck had been completely absent. Even a moth had eluded his pouncing attack, to fly spiraling up into darkness.

If I can't catch something soon, he worried, I shall have to go back and eat from the bowl that the Big Ones put out for me. Harar! What kind of hunter am I?

A faint wisp of scent brought Tailchaser to an abrupt halt. Absolutely motionless, all senses straining, he crouched and sniffed. It was a Squeaker- downwind, and very close.

He moved as delicately as a shadow, carefully picking his way through the undergrowth, then froze again. There!

A jump and a half before him sat the mre'az he had scented. It squatted, unaware of Tailchaser, and pushed seeds into its cheek-nose twitching nervously, eyes rapidly blinking.

Fritti lowered himself to the ground, his upraised tail lashing back and forth behind him. Hunkered, he drew himself up on his hind legs and poised for the strike-unmoving, muscles tensed. He leaped.

He had misjudged the distance. As he landed short, paws flailing, the Squeaker had just enough time to give a chirp of terror and then drop-floop!-into its hole.

Standing over the escape route, Fritti bit his own foot with embarrassment.

As Tailchaser licked the last scraps from the bowl, Thinbone bounded onto the porch. Thinbone was a wild tabby, gray-and-yellow patchwork, who lived in a culvert across the field. He was a little older than Fritti, and made much of it.

"Nre'fa-o, Tailchaser." Thinbone leaned over and sharpened his claws lazily on a wooden pillar. "Looks like you're being fed well tonight. Tell me, do the Big Ones make you do tricks for your supper? I've often wondered how it worked, you understand." Fritti pretended to ignore him, and began cleaning his whiskers.

"I notice," Thinbone continued, "that the Growlers seem to have some sort of arrangement: they carry things for the Big Ones, and leap around a great deal, and bark all night for their di

"Be quiet, Thinbone." Fritti snarled, then gave a sneeze of laughter and leaped on his friend. They wrestled for a moment, then broke apart, batting at each other with their paws. Finally, tired out, they sat for a moment reordering their fur.

When they had rested, Thinbone sprang away from the porch and bounded into the darkness. Fritti put one last patch along his flank straight, then followed him.

The Hour of Deepest Quiet was just starting, and Meerclar's Eye was high in the sky above, remote and unblinking.

The wind shivered the leaves on the trees as Tailchaser and Thinbone made their way across fields and over fences-pausing to listen to night sounds, then galloping across wet, glimmering lawns. As they came under the eaves of the Old Woods that flanked the dwellings of the Big Ones, they could smell the fresh scents of others of their kind.

Over the top of the rise and past a stand of massive oak trees lay the entrance to the canyon. Tailchaser thought happily to himself of the songs and stories that would be shared by the crumbling Meeting Wall. He thought also of Hushpad, whose slim gray form and arching, slender tail had been on his mind almost constantly of late. It was fine to be alive and of the Folk on Meeting Night.

Meerclar's Eye cast a mother-of-pearl light on the clearing. Twenty-five or thirty cats were assembled at the base of the Wall-rubbing against each other in greeting, sniffing the nose of a new acquaintance. There was much mock fighting among the younger Folk.

Tailchaser and Thinbone were greeted by a gang of young hunters who stood casually about on the edge of the throng.

"Great you're here!" cried Fleetpaw, a young fellow with thick black-and-white fur. "We're just about to have a game of Hop-in-the-Air-until the elders arrive, that is."

Thinbone jogged over to join, but Fritti lowered his head politely and moved toward the crowd to look for Hushpad. He could not locate her scent as he slid through the milling group of cats.

A pair of young felas, barely out of kittenhood, wrinkled their noses at him flirtatiously, then ran away, sneezing merriment. Ignoring them, he bowed his head respectfully as he passed Stretchslow. The older male, who lay majestically prone at the base of the Wall, dignified him with a lazy blink of his huge green eyes and a desultory ear-wiggle.

Still no Hushpad, thought Fritti. Where can she be? Nobody missed a Meeting Night if he could help it. Meetings were only on those nights when the Eye was completely open and at its brightest.

Perhaps she will come later, he thought. Or perhaps even now she was walking with Jumptall or Leaf-rustle-extending her tail languidly for them to admire…

The thought made him angry. He turned and cuffed a juvenile torn who had been prancing and capering at his heels. It was young Pouncequick, who gave him such a look of dismay that Fritti immediately felt sorry he had done it-the rambunctious kitten was often a nuisance, but well-meaning.

"I'm sorry, Pouncequick," he said, "I didn't know it was you. I thought it was old Stretchslow, and I was going to teach him a lesson."

"Really?" gasped the young one. "You would have done that to him?" Fritti regretted his joke. Stretchslow would not find it very fu

"Well, anyway," he said, "it was a mistake, and I apologize."

Pouncequick was charmed at being treated as an adult. "I certainly will accept your apology, Tailchaser." he said gravely. "It was an understandable mistake."

Fritti snorted. Giving the young cat a playful bite on the flank, he continued on his way.

Halfway through Deepest Quiet the Meeting was well under way, and Hushpad had still not made an appearance. While one of the Elders regaled the assembled multitude-now swollen to almost sixty- Tailchaser sought Thinbone, who was sitting with Fleetpaw and the others. The Elder was describing a large and potentially dangerous Growler who was ru

"Thinbone!" he hissed. "Will you come over and talk to me for a moment?" Thinbone yawned and stretched before ambling over to Fritti's tree-root perch.

"What is it, then?" he inquired amiably. "Is it time for my barking lessons?"

"Please, Thinbone, no games. I can't find Hushpad anywhere. Do you know where she is?"

Thinbone considered Tailchaser as the Elder droned on. "So," he said. "I thought you seemed a little preoccupied. All this over a fela?"

"We were doing the Dance of Acceptance last night!" said Fritti, stung. "We didn't have a chance to finish before the sun came up. We were going to finish tonight. I know she was going to accept me! What could have made her miss the Meeting?"

Thinbone lowered his ears in mock terror. "An interrupted Dance of Acceptance! Skydancer's Whiskers! I think I see your fur falling out already! And your tail is going limp!"

Fritti shook his head impatiently. "I know you think it's fu

Thinbone looked at him for a moment, blinking his eyes and scratching behind his right ear.

"All right, Tailchaser," he said, simply. "What can I do?"

"Well, I suppose there's not much we can do tonight, but if I can't find her tomorrow could you perhaps come out and have a look around with me?"

"I suppose so," replied Thinbone, "but I think that a little patience will probably-ouch!"

Fleetpaw had come up from below and butted his flat head against Thinbone's haunches.

"Come now!" Fleetpaw cried. "What is all this deep discussion? Bristlejaw's going to tell a story, and here you sit like two fat eunuchs!"