Tailchaser’s Song

A strange, pale shape appeared in the entrance of their prison cave. Pouncequick's immediate relief- this was obviously not the Claws-was quickly replaced by a disturbing chill-a strange feeling, like putting one's nose into a nest of scurrying white termites. Eatbugs, in fitful sleep at the other end of the tiny grotto, pitched and quivered as the shape advanced into the chamber. Pouncequick strained to focus on the intruder.

What was wrong with its fur?

The creature had none. Cat-shaped, it was as hairless as a newborn kitten. At first, wildly, Pouncequick thought it must be some kind of monstrous infant- its eyes were sealed shut, as were the eyes of the Folk when they emerged from the womb. The thing turned toward Pouncequick, huge nostrils dilating. Then, in a high, whispering voice, it spoke.

"Ahhhhhhh. The little newcomer… how nicccce of you to join usssssss." Its speech was sibilant, like the voice of a hlizza. As it drew nearer Pouncequick could see that it had no eyes at all, just folds of skin below the brow. He pushed himself farther away, arching his back.

"Wh-what do y-you want with us?" quavered the kitten.

"Ohhh… it knowsss the Higher Sssinging…?" The thing gave a sinister giggle which turned to a yawn showing a mouthful of long, thin teeth, like ivory pine needles. "Well, little sssurface-Sssqueaker"- it gri

"H-H-H-Hissblood?" said Pouncequick, hiccoughing with fright.

"One of the great lordsss of the Toothguard, yesss. A very great power in the mound. Hisssblood yearnss to know what makess you and your companionsss ssso awfully interesting to Chief Ssscratchnail. You sssee, little worm-friend, Master Hisssblood and your Clawguard friend are, shall we ssay, friendly rivalsss." Again the eyeless Toothguard revealed that thicket of gleaming teeth, and moved toward the terrified kitten, his furless skin bagging and wrinkling as he slouched closer.

"Nipslither!!" boomed a voice. "I expected your mole-nuzzling master would send you!"

The Toothguard leaped back, startled, large nostrils flaring. "Ssscratchnail!" he hissed. The Clawguard captain had come silently down the entranceway, and now blocked the only exit from the small cavern.

"Doesn't your master think I know better than to trust those witless minions of mine? Ha!" Scratchnail barked a hoarse laugh.

"Don't try to hinder me, you oaf!" whispered Nipslither. "I ssshall make you pay for it if you do." His tone brought the fur up on Pouncequick's back, but Scratchnail only emitted a rasp of disgust and lowered his head as the Toothguard began a slow, circling movement. Without warning Nipslither leaped forward, fangs bared, to be met by the rearing Clawguard. There was a great outrush of breath as they came together.

Crouched against the cold stone, Pouncequick watched wide-eyed as the two figures writhed and spat on the floor of the tiny cavern. In the darkness he could only glimpse the combat as it boiled from wall to wall-here a gleam of wicked teeth, there the spotted underbelly of Scratchnail, bared for a moment. The creatures' two tails-one black, the other naked and coiling-twined about each other like maddened serpents.

There was a brief flurry of thumping noises, a yowl of pain, and then Scratchnail was lunging down to catch Nipslither in his heavy jaws, to grasp the hairless beast's throat. The Clawguard chieftain's mighty neck muscle jumped and pulsed-a short, cracking sound-and Scratchnail's enemy sagged. The black beast dropped the body of the Toothguard. It lay, kicking feebly for a moment, then was still.

Scratchnail turned to the cowering Pouncequick. The Clawguard's body was sleek with blood, but he seemed to give it no more notice than rainwater.

"You don't know how lucky you are, little sun-rat!" he grated. "Hissblood would bring you to a world of sorrow. Now, you and the old dirt-fur"-he indicated Eatbugs, who had slept through everything- "you just do what you're told. I'll be back to check on you." Scratchnail disappeared up the entranceway without a backward glance at Pouncequick or Eatbugs or the broken, eyeless thing on the cavern floor.

Many Hours later, Bitefast came to take Pouncequick out to dig. Bitefast's face was swollen: Scratchnail's punishment for laxity. Eatbugs could not be roused from sleep, and the limping Claw, in a foul temper, bit the old cat on his matted ear hard enough to draw blood. Eatbugs still did not wake, although the shallow rise and fall of his chest showed that he still lived. Irked by this failure-and perhaps fearful of more punishment-Bitefast treated little Pouncequick in brutal fashion as he forced him out to labor.

Pounce was assigned to a slave work gang, and spent long periods of hot, breathless time scrabbling at dirt tu

What seemed like days went by; Pouncequick's world narrowed to a repetitive nightmare of digging, followed by solitude in the tiny cave at the end of the work period. Eatbugs remained in a stupor, not rising either to eat or pass me'mre, and showing only occasional movement. Their Clawguard captors decided that he had given up his will to survive, and left him undisturbed in the small rock chamber when Pounce was harried forth to the excavations.

One day, while being led by Longtooth through the massive cavern that stood behind the Greater Gate of Vastnir, Pouncequick thought he saw Tailchaser.

The cat who appeared to be his friend was with a large press gang of slave Folk, and appeared bound for one of the outer tu

When he was returned to his jail that night, Pounce-quick began to seriously consider the fact that he might never see Tailchaser again. He had alreadv lost Roofshadow. He saw no way that he could ever escape from the mound.

Up until that moment he had hoped, deep in his mind, that the whole experience was a bad dream, a phantom. But finally, Pouncequick realized, his eyes were open. He knew now where he was. He knew he would remain there until his death.

There was something curiously liberating about this knowledge. In a way, it was as if somewhere, deep inside, a part of him had been set free to run beneath the sky-leaving only his body behind.

For the first time since being taken by the Claw-guard, he slept peacefully.

In the shadow of the trees at the edge of Ratleaf Forest, with the sun of Smaller Shadows dim and remote in the winter sky, Roofshadow looked out across the dim valley at the squat shape of the mound.

Although she was now well enough to travel-the twinge in her hind leg almost gone-she had felt impelled to come for one last look down on the agent of her unhappiness.

Vastnir crouched like a living thing, waiting for its proper moment to rise up and strike. She felt its pulse working in her stomach, nauseating her. Roofshadow wanted nothing more than to turn, now, and go. Somewhere, she knew, there were forests untainted by this blight-clean, deep forests. If the sickness spread, well, there were places it would not reach in her lifetime.

All through the dark afternoon, Roofshadow looked down upon the hated mound. When darkness came she found a hiding place and slept.

At first light she was staring down at Vastnir again. Thinking.