Tailchaser’s Song

"But, Tailchaser," Pouncequick pointed out, "game has been awfully scarce lately, and we haven't had much to eat. Really, I expect you're just not quite yourself. Who but a couple of madcats would be out and about in this weather?"

It was a ca

That night, in the most secret part of Final Dancing, Fritti sat bolt upright in their sleeping spot.

"Pounce!" he hissed. "There's something out there! There is! Can't you feel it?"

Pouncequick obviously could: he, too, was now awake and trembling. They both strained their eyes into the surrounding darkness, but could find nothing except the void of night. A creeping, tingling cold was in their whiskers, though, and from somewhere close by the moisture-soaked air carried a scent of blood and old bones.

They passed the rest of the night like the Squeakers they hunted-starting at every sound-but at last the sensations diminished, then were gone. Even in the thin light of morning they did not feel like sleeping. They were on their way without stopping to hunt for breakfast.

The rains increased that day, the skies dark and swollen, and from time to time a wind blew up from the North and sent the water sheeting into their faces as they trudged forward. The feeling of being watched had not departed, and had now spread from Fritti to Pouncequick. So it was that when they finally did run down a small, bedraggled Squeaker in the late evening, they ate hurriedly and standing up, despite their great hunger and weariness.

The last mouthfuls of stringy meat were just passing their lips when from the swirling, rainy darkness beyond them there came a horrible wailing cry that turned them into immobile stone where they stood, stopping their hearts for a moment in midbeat. Another cry-no less terrifying, but a little farther away- choked up from the other side at the two cats.

Hemmed in! The sickening idea came to them both simultaneously. An odd, chuffing sound came from the site of the first howl, and then something crashed toward them through the tall grasses.

Breaking suddenly from his frozen stupor, Fritti turned and butted Pouncequick with his head, so hard that the little cat almost tumbled over.

"Run, Pounce, fast as you can!" Fritti squeaked, trying to keep his voice down. Pouncequick recovered his balance, and the two bolted forward like snakes from beneath an overturned rock. From the other side now, they could hear the rustling and snapping of brush. They ran as fast as they were able, ears tight to their heads, tails straight out behind them. There were sounds of pursuit.

"Oh, oh, it's the same ones, the red claws, oh!" moaned Pouncequick.

"For the love of Whitewind, save your breath and run!" gasped Tailchaser. Behind them a sputtering, echoing cry was raised into the storm winds.

On and on they pelted, rain and darkness surrounding them, wind blowing against them. Fortunately the ground was level, and there were no trees or rocks-they could not have seen their way even if they had found the presence of mind to look. They were tiring rapidly.

Finally, when it seemed as if they had been ru

At that moment a huge shape stepped from a clump of weeds before them.

"Now we have you!" it said. With squeals of despair the two cats tottered and fell at the feet of the great, dark creature.

Fritti's spirit struggled back to perception. He was tired, and sick to his stomach. It seemed as though the world was bouncing up and down around him. Confused, he wondered where he was and what had happened.

Then he remembered the chase, and the giant, looming shape.

Fritti tried to twist himself onto his feet, but found himself held fast. There was a sharp grip on the back of his neck, and he could feel nothing beneath his paws. Dizzily, he opened his eyes and peered about.

At his side Pouncequick was being nape-carried, dangling unconscious from the jaws of the biggest cat Tailchaser had ever seen. The monstrous gray-green-and-black-striped torn turned an impersonal stare at Fritti. Pouncequick's captor was pacing beside him, but Fritti's feet were touching nothing but air…

Tailchaser slowly turned his head around. He could not see the face of his warder, but he could see the tree-limb-thick legs of the cat measuring out the ground. Fritti was bobbing and swaying in the grip of this beast, as helpless as a three-day-old kitten.

With a rush of panic he threw back his head, wriggling, and then the light faded again.

Some time later, Tailchaser reawakened, but he made no more attempts to break free.

Finally the seemingly tireless beasts stopped. Fritti was dumped unceremoniously to the ground, and beside him he heard the sound of Pouncequick being dropped like a dead Squeaker. A voice spoke, using the Common Singing, and Tailchaser screwed his eyes tightly shut.

"Surely this can't be what we were searching for?" the voice said, displeasure evident in its inflection. Curiosity lost out to fear: Fritti did not open his eyes, but remained crumpled face-down in the grass.

The cat that had carried him was the next speaker.

"They disappeared, like, sir," it said, slowly and deeply. "One moment they was there, and the next- they wasn't. Right strange."

"Strange-I'm with you, there. And more than a mite disturbing," said the first voice thoughtfully. "Where did these two whelps come from?"

"Ran right into us, they did, sir. Shrieked like snagged squirrels and fell down flat. We thought we should bring them in. Been ru

There was a moment's pause. Tailchaser felt recovered enough to lift an eyelid fractionally. Beside the vast, fuzzy shapes standing over Pounce and him, there was a smaller shape. Smaller, but still considerably bigger than Fritti himself. He shuddered.

"Did you spot anything interesting before they disappeared, Nightcatcher?" the smaller shape asked Pouncequick's guard. Fritti heard no reply, but some kind of response must have been made, for the smaller blur spoke again.

"I know. I was only hoping. Tails and Nails! Too many questions, not enough answers." The speaker sat quietly for a moment as the two big cats patiently waited, then rose and walked to Pouncequick and sniffed him.

"Just a kitten!" it said. "Odd place for an apprenticeship." It turned toward Fritti, who immediately squeezed his eyes shut and went limp down to his last tailbone. The voice came next to his face-it took all his courage not to bolt and run.

"And this one hardly seems a hunter himself. P'raps they've lost their mother?" The speaker leaned closer and sniffed Fritti's ear, then howled so suddenly and loudly that Tailchaser rolled head over heels from the shock: "I am Prince Fencewalker, and I order you to wake up and be questioned!"

Tailchaser-panting, ears ringing, claws sunk into the earth for something to hang on to-swayed in place and shook his head.

Fencewalker? he thought. Where have I heard that name?

He opened his eyes to find a large, shaggy cat staring at him curiously. The cat's pelt was as red-golden as autumn leaves. The Prince, for so he was, wore an expression of pleasure, his tongue poking out from between his front teeth. He appeared very gratified by Tailchaser's response.

Fencewalker turned to the large brindle that had carried Fritti, and now wore a lopsided grin. "Nothing like authority," the Prince said. "Right, Dayhunter?"