Tailchaser’s Song

"We talk-talk sun next, so-strange cat," said Pop. "Now, you make sleep, yes?"

But Tailchaser had already slipped across the border into the dream-fields.

That night a darkness alive with searching shapes swirled harmlessly past, leaving Fritti's sleeping place undiscovered and safe.

In the depths of dream, Tailchaser stood on the edge of a vast plain of water, tempest-stirred, but silent. The broad shiny surface stretched as far as he could see, and the shapes of fla-fa'az wheeled and dove in the gray sky.

When he finally awoke, the short winter day was already half over. By the end of Smaller Shadows he found himself once more facing Lord Pop, who, with his court, had returned to Tailchaser's hollow tree. In his imperious stutter the squirrel-lord indicated that they had waited a long while for their cat-guest to rise, and had eventually given up and gone out to forage.

Tailchaser, feeling infinitely better for the long sleep, was only now discovering how many different parts of his body ached and throbbed. He was also ravenously hungry. The Rikchikchik may have sensed this, for even Pop showed more restraint than he had the previous day. For his part, Tailchaser fervently wished that he could slip off and do some hunting, but in view of the precarious alliance with the Rikchikchik, his natural prey, he decided it would be better to wait until he could creep off unobtrusively. So, stomach grumbling, he sat and listened patiently to Lord Pop's long summation of the morning's activities.

"So… now-now is the time for true-talk, yes?" chirped the portly squirrel-lord. "Why here, so-sudden cat? Why talk bad place?"

Fritti tried his best to explain the occurrences that had brought him finally to Ratleaf Forest. It was necessarily a long tale, and took a good part of the fading afternoon. When he told of his rescue of Mistress Whir and his subsequent audience with Lord Snap, the listeners responded with shrill noises of approval. The Rikchikchik were then nervously fascinated as he described the swarming cat metropolis of Firsthome. When he finally told of Vastnir, and his awful internment, several of the young females became quite dizzy, and had to be fa

Lord Pop listened in grim quiet, interrupting only for clarification of certain points about the mound and its denizens.

"… And then I found you… or you found me, rather," finished Tailchaser. Lord Pop nodded his head. "What I don't really understand," added Fritti, "is why you are all still here. I thought everyone had left Radeaf." He looked inquiringly at the squirrel leader.

"Mam Rikchikchik leave. Many gone-gone," replied the lord. "But Pop no leave. Can't-can't. Nest to tribe since Root-in-Ground. Few-small stay, too. Live or die."

Fritti nodded understandingly, and for a moment the unusual gathering was silent. A brief and surprising foretaste of mortality, borne on the chill breeze, touched Fritti. He remembered his need.

"I have a favor to ask of you, Lord Pop," he said.

"Ask."

"I have a message to get to Firsthome-to the lords of my Folk. It must get there soon. I could not travel quickly enough myself. I am still very weak."

"Rikchikchik will do," said Lord Pop without hesitation. "We take word-word. Send Master Plink. Plink so-fast, like nut-fall." A young Rikchikchik sat up on his haunches, visibly swelling with importance.

"He looks very capable," said Tailchaser approvingly. "But he should not go alone. The message is important, and it is a long, dangerous journey to Rootwood. Also…" Tailchaser tried to speak as delicately as he could. "Also, the cats of Firsthome are not as acquainted as I am with the bravery and goodness of the Rikchikchik. They are liable to… have a misunderstanding. To send a large party would be preferable."

As the import of Tailchaser's words sank in Master Plink was seen to deflate, and two or three of the younger females threatened to become faint again. Lord Pop, however, took it in stride.

"Marvelous Acorn! No worry, cat-friend. Many Rikchikchik go soon. Plink will be small lord!" He chittered briefly at the young male, who looked somewhat reassured.

Fritti gave them the message to be carried, repeating it several times until Plink and the other young bucks had memorized it.

"… And remember," he said seriously, "if Prince Fencewalker isn't there, it must be given to Queen Sunback herself!" The assemblage made little whistling noises of awe, and Pop signaled an end to the conclave.

Frkti's hunting was not tremendously profitable. He caught enough bugs and grubs to take the edge off his hunger, and before bedding down was even persuaded by the now-comradely Master Plink to try a chestnut. Even with the Rikchikchik's help at removing the nut meat from its confounding shell, he did not find it a very satisfying experience; though he thanked Plink effusively, he secretly decided he would not make a very good squirrel.

Winter vented its fury on Ratleaf Forest. Flurrying snowstorms and gale winds drove Lord Pop's small retinue back into their nests. The messengers had left with a great deal of ceremony, and with their departure Tailchaser sank into lethargy. His one pressing need fulfilled, Firsthome now to be alerted, he found himself succumbing finally to the effects of his harrowing time underground. Contact with the Rikchikchik became less frequent. Fritti spent more and more time hunkered down in his tree-stump nest, sheltering and recuperating. Hunting was sparse so he conserved his energy, spending long stretches of time in slumber, the waking hours brief and barely distinguishable from the sleeping. Curled in his lightning-blasted tree, tail curved protectively over his nose, he let his mind wander over the things he had done and seen. As if they were present with him, he summoned up his friends from Meeting Wall: Thinbohe, Fleetpaw, the aloof Stretchslow and kind Bristlejaw. How they would marvel!

Sometimes he thought of Hushpad, the grace of her walk and the soft contours of her neck and head. He would pretend that he had found her and taken her back home: that she listened in awe and respect as he described his adventures. "For me?" she would say. "All of that to find me?" Then the wind would whistle down the stump and ruffle his fur. and once more he would be back in Ratleaf. He would think of those he had left behind, left to awful destinies in the mound.

I suppose that is why I was Named Tailchaser, he thought sourly to himself. All I have done is follow the closest thing-led on, like a kitten chasing its tail, moving in circles until it exhausts itself.

One day, nearly half an Eye since he had been found by the Rikchikchik, Fritti was walking back to his nest after a long afternoon of unsuccessful hunting. Not all the life of Ratleaf had been driven out, but most of the creatures that remained were hidden for the long, cold winter. Tailchaser was feeling empty and purposeless. He stopped to drag his claws down the bark of a standing pine tree, relieving a little frustration and sending a shower of powdery snow down from the branches above. He felt a sudden revelation.

His time in Ratleaf was over. The vast, empty forest, snowbound and silent, was a way station-a neutral area. Like the half-sleep between dreaming and waking, it was a place not to remain, but to gather energy to move one direction or the other.

That moment, as he stood with back arched and whiskers washed by the cold air, he remembered the words of one of the Elders at his Naming: "He desires his tail name before he has even received his face name." They had laughed, but now he realized there was truth there. He had set out, not just to find Hushpad, but to gain something. He had been led, true, but he had chosen to follow. Now, he must turn one way or the other. He could return the way he had come, leaving it to Fencewalker and the others to succeed or fail… or he could complete his journey. Not that he, with his own small paws, could make any large difference, but he could finish his journey. His friends were trapped, helpless-he could not save them, perhaps, but they had come with him, and they all belonged together.