Hunters Unlucky Part 46

The youngest of the foals, surely not even a year old, piped up. "My dad says milk-fed cubs are delicious." Everyone looked at him, and he looked suddenly anxious. "But I wasn't supposed to tell."

The clique's apparent leader, probably a two-year-old, whirled on the cub, eyes bright. "Are you a milk-fed cub?" he wheedled, inching nearer.

The cub responded by bristling and giving a hiss that sounded more terrified than aggressive. Storm dropped from the ledge, scattering the clique. "I said leave it!" he barked.

They were already gone, racing into the boulders that jumbled the back of the cave. Storm turned to the cub. "Why are you still here?" he demanded.

The cub lowered its eyes and licked its lips. "I still can't find my mother."

And you never will. "Don't you have a father?" No, don't answer that. I don't want to know. "Any other relatives?"

The cub looked at the ground. Its voice came in a hesitant mumble. "We were low-ranking in our den. I don't think... I don't know if they would want me..."

"Well, try," said Storm impatiently. "There must be cats over there who would know how to help you. I don't. Now get out of here before some other ferryshaft decides that 'milk-fed cubs are delicious.' This is our side of the cave."

The cub looked at him, uncomprehending, and Storm realized that he couldn't possibly be a year old. Do creasia have cubs in spring? He can't be any older than that. Which meant that this cub had never been through a Volontaro before, never visited the Great Cave. He'd probably never seen a ferryshaft until last night.

Last night... The scene on the trail played over and over in Storm's head with cringe-inducing clarity. Had the creasia been male? Female? He had no idea. His memory of the voice was genderless. It wasn't his mother, Storm told himself stubbornly. She probably died when she fell the first time...or was injured and drowned in the mazes. But he kept seeing the creasia's desperate eyes, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Was it his imagination, or did the cub's eyes look the same?

No. This is not my fault. This is not my problem. Wasn't Valla orphaned in the last Volontaro? It must happen to creasia, too. Somehow, they deal with it.

The cub's timid voice broke into his thoughts. "You saved me."

No, that is not what happened. I should just tell him. Then he'll leave. "I-"

"Storm!"

Storm turned in exasperation. Kelsy had come trotting out of the tangle of boulders. "I thought I saw you come in last night."

Storm drew a deep breath. But if not for the stupid cub, you'd never have found me. "What do you want?"

Kelsy's eyes had s.h.i.+fted to the cub. He looked confused. "We're not supposed to hunt creasia in the Great Cave, although if you found it on our side..."

"I'm not hunting it," snapped Storm. "Just ignore it, please." Ignore it, and maybe it will go away.

To his relief, Kelsy did. "There's a meeting this morning. I was hoping you would come."

Storm felt cross and reckless. He opened his mouth to say no. Instead, he heard himself say, "Certainly. I have thought of some questions I would like to ask." Like how to get rid of cubs that I may have orphaned by accident.

Kelsy peered at him. "Was it difficult, getting across the bridge? It looked impa.s.sable."

"Oh, you know me," said Storm blithely. "I walk on air. Where is this conference of yours?"

Kelsy was silent a moment. Storm could tell that Kelsy did not like his tone. "You're not planning on attacking anyone, are you?"

"Not unless they attack me first."

"Are you bringing that cub to threaten it? Because I don't think that's a good idea."

"What cub?" said Storm.

Kelsy sighed. "This way."

Storm did not look back to see whether the cub was following. He decided that completely ignoring it would be the best tactic. I can't really ask anyone about it. The obvious solution was to snap its back with one shake. How could he admit that Vearil, ghost sp.a.w.n, doom of cats, could not bring himself to do this? I will do it if he keeps following me. But this conference will be near the boundary line, I expect, and that will give him a chance to see his side of the cave. He probably just doesn't know where to go.

The conference did, indeed, appear to be near the boundary line-not the current line, but the old one, directly under the large stone with the telshee character. Storm could read it now: Boundary. How convenient. We meet on what is now creasia territory, but it used to be neutral ground.

No one challenged them as they splashed through the little stream, stopping briefly to drink. The ground was uneven, with boulders strewn everywhere. Storm could see that they were headed towards the boundary stone, but he didn't see the animals underneath it until they were almost on top of them. Arcove was sitting at the base of the great outcropping of rock, looking out towards the swirling mist of rain at the cave's mouth. Roup lay beside him, and Halvery was pacing a few lengths away. Sharmel and Ariand sat a little further off towards the creasia side, chatting to each other. There were five other creasia that Storm did not recognize. Charder was there, along with Pathar, and four elder ferryshaft-two female and two male. Storm could not remember their names. They were all talking in low voices, but stopped abruptly when they saw Storm and Kelsy.

Kelsy smiled madly, addressing himself to Arcove. "Well, you said you wanted to see him."

Arcove half stood. Everyone looked some shade of startled or horrified. Storm realized that this particular venue had not been Arcove's idea.

Storm shot a sidelong glance at Kelsy. Well, you've still got nerve.

Kelsy pretended not to see their expressions and continued addressing himself to Arcove. "He's not that easy to corner. If you don't want to see him, I'm sure he'll be happy to go away."

Arcove sat slowly back down, his eyes fixed on Storm-unreadable. "Stay," he said. The talking slowly resumed. Storm realized that the animals he did not know were weather experts like Pathar-a rare gift, allowing them to sense minute changes before others sensed them. They were discussing why the storm had come up so suddenly and why they'd failed to identify the danger until such a late stage.

Kelsy went forward to join the group. Storm did not, although he stayed near enough to catch snippets of the conversation. Arcove was saying nothing, just listening. Roup looked asleep, but Storm saw the slit of one golden eye open, watching.

"What I'd like to know," said Storm loudly, "is why this rock in the middle of the cave says 'Boundary,' but we ferryshaft are kept on the far side of the stream, in an area that is considerably smaller. Why, I wonder, is that?"

The group went dead quiet again. Storm wasn't sure which they found more shocking-his words or the revelation that he could read. "You stay over there because that's where we put you," snapped Halvery. Storm glanced at him. Halvery's hackles had risen, and his dark eyes looked dangerous.

Storm thought that it would be easy to bait him into a chase, but he wanted to say something more. He turned his full attention to Arcove. "My sister is alive; thank you for asking. She is learning all kinds of things in Syriot. Keesha is also well. He has not forgotten you. In fact, he seems to think of little else."

In the stillness, Storm could hear the wind keening among the rocks outside and the distant gurgle of the stream. Arcove's voice came at last, a murmur lower than the wind. "Are you warning me or threatening me?"

Storm matched his tone. "What do you think?"

"Because," said Arcove, as though Storm had not spoken, "I do not respond well to threats."

"Really? I was hoping you would."

Kelsy looked ready to eviscerate him. "Storm!" he hissed.

"I was thinking," continued Storm. "This cave makes good shelter, but it would be a terrible place to get trapped. That bridge could blow away at any moment. One day it will surely just crumble. There's no approach from the cliff. Trapped up here... After we had all finished fighting and eating each other, we'd die. Did our ancestors never think of that?"

Arcove had risen and paced slowly forward. Storm did not back away.

"I think they did," he continued. "I think there's another way into and out of the Great Cave-a tunnel somewhere among the rocks. But you'll never use it, will you? Not unless you're desperate. Because it goes through Syriot. Who wrote that word on the stone, I wonder? I think it was a telshee-maybe one of those enormous males, sleeping now in the Dreaming Sea."

Arcove was looking directly down at him. Storm stared into his implacable, green eyes. "How badly do you want to die, Storm?"

"You won't kill me," said Storm with confidence. "You keep your word, don't you? And besides, you're in a telshee cave, and you know it, and it scares you-at least, it should."

Halvery was growling, and now he shot forward.

"Don't," said Arcove and Halvery checked, almost on top of Storm.

Storm kept his eyes on Arcove. "When you're ready to talk to me like an equal, I'll be ready to listen. Maybe. If Syra-lay hasn't killed you by then."

He turned and forced himself to walk, without hurrying, away from the boundary stone.

Chapter 10. Follow.

Storm headed for the bridge. There might be flooding outside, but he could deal with it. He'd rather deal with it than with anything in here. He'd just crossed the stream that marked the current boundary and started up the rise towards the sandy portion of the cave, when a furious snarling and hissing broke out behind him.

Storm turned to see an older adult ferryshaft grabbing at, and narrowly missing, the cub. The tiny cat had instinctively flipped onto its back and flailed with all four clawed feet. It was a ridiculous defense, but it had the desired effect of making his antagonist withdraw for a moment. However, the ferryshaft was only deterred for an instant. He circled quickly, the cub on its back, flipping awkwardly this way and that to keep the predator in sight. The contest would be over in a matter of heartbeats.

All of the pent up energy of his showdown with Arcove came boiling to the surface and Storm gave a snarl that was more like a roar. "Leave-it-alone!"

The adult ferryshaft was so surprised that he sat down. He looked at Storm. A dozen other heads turned in their direction.

Storm came forward, seized the unresisting cub, and hurled it along his intended path towards the bridge. "That is mine! I am saving it for later! If anyone else touches it, I will rip out their guts and feed them to telshees. Do you understand?"

"I-I didn't know," began the adult.

"Do you understand?!" repeated Storm.

"Yes."

Everyone in earshot understood. They were all staring. Storm whirled away, conscious that a crowd was forming, and stalked towards the bridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cub pick itself up and fall in behind him. This part of the cave was crowded, but the ferryshaft made way for him. Storm avoided their faces. He didn't want to recognize anyone. As he started onto the bridge in the misty rain, he heard the rumble of talking begin.

Oh, I have given them something for this evening. What will they say about me? Vearil, the bad luck omen. Vearil, who leaves the herd for a season and only returns out of the heart of the worst Volontaro in a generation. Vearil, who attends creasia conferences and returns with a cub for an evening snack.

Storm almost giggled. He was starting to feel shaky. There were a lot of ferryshaft at that conference. Someone will repeat what I said to Arcove. What will they think of that?

Storm shook himself. They'll think what they think. They'll say what they say. What did Kelsy tell me last year? That I'd be a legend?

He'd already crossed the bridge and gotten halfway down the trail, when he came out of his thoughts enough to remember the cub. Storm looked back. It was still following, although it had lost some ground. It already looked winded and was beginning to pant.

Euphoria vanished. Am I going to eat it?

The cub reached him and flopped down at his feet. Storm heard himself say, "What's your name?"

"Teek," he panted. "My mother-said-it wasn't-proper-to name-"

I don't want to hear about your mother. "Do you know how to hunt, Teek?"

The cub looked at him in surprise. "I- I ate a mouse once," he ventured. "But Mother killed it."

Storm was horrified. "You mean you're not even-" Of course. Of course he isn't. He may not live no matter what I do. It was almost a relief.

Teek leaned against his leg. Storm pulled away. "You could still go back to the cave," he said. "You don't look like you can keep up with me."

"I can," said Teek. "They won't want me back in the cave. I know they won't. And I'm afraid of the black cat."

Storm looked at him curiously. "The black cat... Arcove?"

"No, not him. The other one." Teek s.h.i.+vered. "He likes to hurt rogue cubs."

Storm was lost. "What's his name?"

"I don't remember." Teek was trembling-whether from fear or exhaustion, Storm couldn't tell.

Send him back. Send him back while he still has the strength to reach his own kind. "I have to go now," said Storm. "You should go find your mother's friends. I'm sure she had some."

"She didn't."

Storm stepped away from him and continued at an even trot down the path. He'll never keep up. All I have to do is behave normally, and he'll go away.

The trail ahead looked suddenly familiar. The Volontaro had washed away the dark stains, the scratches in the crumbling stone, the grisly matted blood and meat... But Storm recognized the spot anyway, as though a ghost looked on and screamed, "Look! Look!"

Storm moved a little faster.

Much later, after an exhausting day of struggling through mud and water over slick rock, Storm settled down in a cave to sleep. Nothing stirred in the twilight outside-not even birds or small animals. Storm wondered where the lowland curbs went in such a maelstrom. He wondered whether the highland curbs were alright.

The boulder mazes he'd traversed bore little resemblance to those he remembered. Storm had found his way by following the cliffs, by recognizing a canyon here, the outline of a rock there, but in between was chaos. He tried several times to find his way to the top of the cliffs, but on each occasion, he returned to the bottom after only a brief effort. Too many trails had washed away, and the cliff face was unstable. Now and then, he heard the distant, but still frightening, sound of a rockslide.

Give it a few days to settle. Then I can start learning my way again. He felt certain that the boulder mazes would also be more recognizable and more pa.s.sable in a few days. There's a reason why the herd stays in the Great Cave for a bit longer. Parts of the mazes were still flooded. Sediment and lose rock had buried other sections. Time and again, he had to backtrack because slot canyons were blocked or the low places were too flooded or unstable.

Storm had thought that one determined day's journey would see him back to Eyal's den, but he was forced to admit that it would take two, possibly three. In the twilight, he lay gnawing on a freshly dead fish he'd found in one of the pools, listening to the whistle of the wind.

Storm had not seen the creasia cub since morning, and he tried not to think about him. He got discouraged and went back to the Great Cave. As he should. Encouraging him would have been cruel.

You're a fine one to talk of cruelty, said another voice in his head, but Storm ignored it. He should have fallen asleep easily after such a long day, but he didn't. The moon rose. Every time Storm began to drift off, the wind seemed to morph into voices, muttering just beyond his comprehension. At last, exhausted, he slept.

Storm dreamed of wind and blood and desperate eyes illuminated by lightning. The wind whispered, "You killed me when I'd done you no harm, and you left my cub to die alone. You killed a friendless mother...and her little one...and we will be here each time you close your eyes...Vearil."

Storm twitched awake. He was panting. He saw silhouettes outside and realized that it was almost dawn. Storm struggled to his feet. "Teek!"