Tailchaser’s Song

Tailchaser turned, and without looking back started away toward the downs. After a moment Pouncequick followed.

Long after the First-walkers were out of sight, they still traveled in silence.

The first few days on the downs passed calmly enough. The passage of every Hour or so brought them to the top of a rounded hill, with visibility in all directions. Marking their position from the sun, they had no trouble keeping to their route.

The matted grasses cushioned the tired pads of the two cats, and the green, hilly slopes of Gentlerun were populated in abundance by all ma

Days were becoming colder, though. Autumn was rounding the bend-with winter waiting patiently ahead-and Fritti and Pouncequick could feel the change in the weather as a quiet urging. When they caught themselves lagging, or felt lured by a new sight or smell, the chill down deep in their bones would reach out and give a small, icy squeeze, and send them hurrying back to their path.

Fritti was sad to see Pouncequick's good spirits dampened by the hard traveling. Tailchaser, too, was melancholy, but his responsibility to the brave little cat gave some purpose to the bleaker Hours of the journey.

One gray afternoon the cats were hunting for their midday meal across the broad, green side of a hill. A small scrub growth of forest crowned the hummock, and from below it had seemed a likely place to search for game.

Nosing around the fringes of the copse, the two cats flushed a young rabbit from the undergrowth. As it bolted across the curving sward they leaped in pursuit, splitting off to either side of the fleeing Praere to box its escape.

The rabbit froze in place so suddenly that the surprised hunters also halted, and at that moment a shadow passed over their heads. The Praere, immobile but for twitching nose, panic in its staring eyes, disappeared in a rush of brown feathers that dropped from above.

The hawk barely touched ground as it stooped to the rabbit, grasping it with horny talons, breaking its back. Beating its wings heavily for a moment, the Meskra rose, dangling the limp body. Then, catching the wind, it vaulted upward, leaving the two cats gaping after. Neither bird nor prey had made a sound. The hill was suddenly bare and empty in the weak sunlight.

After a moment Pouncequick turned to Fritti. His teeth were bared in fright. "Oh, Tailchaser," he whimpered, "I want to go home."

Fritti could think of no response, and led Pounce-quick down the hill in silence.

Later that afternoon, when Pouncequick finally fell asleep, Fritti sat and watched the clouds creeping across the low sky.

Eight days had passed on the downs since the pair had left the eaves of the Old Woods; Meerclar's Eye had waxed full and begun its closing. From the tops of the higher hills they could now see a dull shine in the distance, snaking a tarnished course through the hummocks of the far country.

Fritti was pleased to see it. He was fairly sure that it was the Tailwend River, and Quiverclaw had said that it would mark the halfway point of their journey to the Court.

They marched onward with a little more enthusiasm, but at first the gap did not seem to lessen very rapidly; the Tailwend remained just a shimmer on the horizon. The downs had begun to slope toward the river basin, though, and the patches of trees that dotted the surrounding countryside were more widely separated.

On their thirteenth night out of the forest they could finally hear the muted sound of the river across the meadowlands. It was a soothing noise-from this distance very much like that of the creek that ran past Meeting Wall after the spring thaws. Before sleep that night the pair played a game of Stalk-and-Spring, and Fritti laughed for the first time since they had parted company with the First-walkers.

They came down the shallow basin to the river's edge on the morning of the fifteenth day on Gentle-run Downs. The mist hung on the grass, and the sky smelled of rain to come. Approaching Tailwend, which was high on its banks, was like coming down off the plateau into a world of water and cool air.

The rushing, gurgling river had a vitality and energy completely unlike the shy, hidebound forest streams of their home. The Tailwend splashed and laughed, carrying river willows and grass stems along in a rush, only to send them spi

Fritti and Pouncequick played x»n the banks until the sun rose into the sky above their heads and shone through the mist to chip glimmers off the hurrying water. They took turns swiping at sticks that floated in close to the river's edge-darting their paws out, daring each other after twigs farther from shore. It was only when Pouncequick, in a moment of riotous abandon, came close to falling in-caught at the last moment by the nape of the neck-that Fritti began to turn his mind to the problem of crossing the wide, energetic Tailwend.

They walked farther upstream, tracing the coves and inlets, and the water sounds became harsher and more percussive. Around a bend in the river's course they discovered the reason. Here the Tailwend narrowed slightly and lunged past a group of rocks that stood upright in the foaming water like broken teeth. As they drew closer, the top of one of the rocks moved slightly, then turned to look at them with wide eyes.

It was Eatbugs, perched like an owl in midstream.

The Tailwend rushed and hissed past the mad cat. He stared at the two companions for a moment, then rose to his feet, fur starting out spiky-stiff all over his body. Without a word he teetered in place for a moment, then bounded out to another stone farther into the river. He was looking for the next safe spot to jump to when Fritti called out to him above the roaring of the rapids.

"Eatbugs! Is that really you? It's Tailchaser and Pouncequick! Do you remember us?"

Eatbugs turned to gaze imperturbably back at them.

"Please come back! Eatbugs!" Fritti raised his voice. "Please cross back over!"

Eatbugs hesitated for a moment, then leaped back to the stone he had left. As the two friends watched, he laboriously made his way back across the river, finally hopping off the last stone onto the grassy bank. Regarding them warily for a moment, Eatbugs crouched at river's edge.

Finally, recognition seemed to dawn. He appeared to speak, but Fritti could not hear him above the din of the Tailwend, and signaled that the old cat should follow them up the bank.

Some distance from the river, they stopped.

"It's good to see you again, Eatbugs!" Pouncequick said cheerily. He seemed to have forgotten any fear he had once felt in the presence of the odd, muddy cat.

With a pleased but worried look on his face, Eatbugs walked around the pair, scenting their presence.

"Wurra-wurra-wurra," he said finally, "it's the tail-waggers, the shinky-shanky ones themselves!" He cocked his head inquisitively. "What brings you little lubbers tip-tipping down to the riverside? Dost come to moisten thy noses? Ah… the real wonder is, how did you escape the burning questions of the demon-cats? Did you grow wings and fly away? It wouldna be the first time," he added cryptically.

"What demon-cats?" asked Pouncequick. "We met only the First-walkers, and they were very kind to us."

"Ach! Ratspatter!" Eatbugs growled and spat. "They start out nice, true enough, but soon they want things, want things-always pressuring a body."

Fritti did not take Eatbugs' rambling too seriously. "Well now," he said, "now that we're all here, should we walk together for a while? Once across the river, we're going to be traveling the Sunsnest Plains. We'd admire your company."