Tailchaser’s Song

CHAPTER 4

Fritti was finding it more dificult than he had expected to leave his porch box and food bowl. The anger and frustration of the night before seemed less moving in the thin sunshine of Spreading Light-he was, after all, a very young cat, not yet a full-grown hunter. He was not really sure exactly where to begin a search for his lost companion, either.

Nosing the tattered fabric of his sleeping box, fabric that was full of familiar smells, he wondered if it might not be better to wait another day before setting out. Surely a little hunting and a frolic or two with some of the other younglings would help to clear his mind. Of course. It seemed more sensible somehow…

"Tailchaser! I heard all about your leave-taking! How astonishing of you! I am quite taken aback." With a thump and skid, Thinbone leaped breathlessly onto the porch. He eyed Fritti with comical puzzlement. "Do you really mean to do it?"

At that moment-though all his spirit pulled against it-he heard himself say: "Of course, Thinbone. I must."

Once he had spoken these strange words, he instantly felt as though he were rolling downhill. How could he stop himself now? How could he not go? What would the others think? Mighty Tailchaser, strutting about in front of the Wall, telling all who passed by about his quest. Oh, to be older, he thought- and not so stupid!

Surprising himself, he leaned forward and licked his paw with a calmness calculated to impress his friend. Part of him was fervently hoping Thinbone would tell him not to go-maybe even come up with a good reason.

But Thinbone only grinned and said: "Harar! Fleetpaw and I are very jealous. We'll miss you while you're gone."

"I'll miss you all very much, also," said Fritti, then turned his head away suddenly, as if to bite at fleas. After a moment's silence he looked back around. His friend was watching him with a strange expression on his face.

Another moment's silence, then Thinbone continued: "Well, I suppose this is farewell, then. Fleetpaw and Beetleswat and all said to say an especial good luck from them. They would have come by, except there's a big game of Bob-Tag blowing up, and they have to hunt out some more Folk."

"Oh?" said Fritti miserably. "Bob-Tag? Well, I don't suppose I'll have much time for that sort of game for a while… never really liked it much, you know."

Thinbone grinned again. "I suppose you won't have the time, will you? What adventures you'll have!" Looking around, Thinbone scented the air. "Did little Pouncequick ever come by?"

"No," said Tailchaser. "Why?"

"Oh, he was asking when you were leaving, and where from. Seemed quite concerned, so I supposed he was going to try to catch you and say good-journey. He looks up to you quite a lot, I think. Well, I suppose he's going to miss you."

"Miss me?"

"Yes. Spreading Light has almost turned, and you wanted to leave before Smaller Shadows. Wasn't that right?"

"Oh yes. Certainly." Tailchaser's legs felt as if they were made of stone. What he really wanted to do was crawl back into his box. "I suppose it's time for me to be on my way…" he said with lame cheeriness.

"I'll walk you to the edge of the field," his friend replied.

As they walked-Thinbone bounding and chattering, Fritti plodding and scuffing-Tailchaser tried to remember and save each smell of his familiar grounds. He bade a silent and somewhat overblown goodbye to the shimmering field of grass, the tiny, nearly dry creek, and his favorite privet hedge. I shall probably never see these fields again! he thought, and: They'll all probably forget me in a season or less.

For a moment he felt very proud of himself for his bravery and sacrifice… but when they reached the end of the sea of waving grass, and he turned back and saw the faint shape of the M'an-porch where his box and bowl sat, he felt such a burning in his nose and eyes that he had to sit for a moment and paw at his face.

"Well…" Thinbone was suddenly a little awkward. "Good hunting and good dancing, friend Tailchaser. I shall think of you till you return."

"You are a good friend, Thinbone. Nre'fa-o."

"Nre'fa-o." And Thinbone was loping swiftly away.

Half a hundred steps into the Old Woods, and still in the comparatively sunny and airy outer reaches of the forest, Fritti already felt himself to be the loneliest cat in the world.

He did not know he was being followed.

As the sun rose to midday, Fritti continued into the forest depths. He had never been through it to the other side, but it seemed likely that a fleeing Hushpad would go that way-rather than closer to the dwellings of M'an.

Although the sun was high, his keen night vision stood him in good stead, since the trees grew thickly together in these parts. Passing through the thickets and undergrowth, he stared up in wonder at these trees of the inner forest, trunks curved and twisted, frozen into writhing shapes like the hlizza-whose bodies lashed on after they had been killed. Every now and then he stopped to test his claws on one that was unfamiliar to him: some had bark harder than M'an-ground, others were wet and spongy. Some of the larger ones he sprayed with his huntmark- more to reassert his own existence among these tangled branches and deep shadows than out of bravado.

Above, he could hear the songs of the different fla-fa'az that lived in the uttermost heights of the Old Woods. There was no other sound of life but the padding of his own near-silent paws.

Then, in a moment, even the birds were silent.

There was a single sharp rapping noise, and Tailchaser froze in his tracks. The sound echoed briefly, then faded, absorbed swiftly by the leafy clutter of the forest floor. Then, startlingly, came a rapid clatter of these noises-tok!-tok-tok! tok-tok!… tok-t-t-tok!-from high above him. The crescendo of knocks spread from tree to tree, passing from a point over his head to farther into the forest. Then silence fell again.

Apprehensively scenting the air, whiskers stiff, Fritti moved slowly forward, darting glances into the light-spotted reaches of the thick foliage above him.

He was cautiously stepping over a decomposing log when there was another sharp tok!-and a moment later he felt a stinging blow to the back of his head. He whirled, shooting his claws, but found nothing behind him.

Another sharp blow to his right foreleg spun him around again, and, turning, he felt a third harsh pain in his flank. Twirling about from side to side, unable to find the source of the painful blows, he was hit by a barrage of small, hard objects that struck him from above. Backing away-snarling in fear and discomfort-he met another fusillade, this one from behind.

Panicking, Fritti broke and ran, and immediately the loud rapping commenced again-from what seemed like all sides at once. The stinging missiles began to fly thick and fast. Trying to duck his head and protect his eyes as he scrambled away, he ran directly into the gnarled base of a live oak and tumbled to the loam, where he was immediately bombarded by the fiercest shower yet. As he cowered, he could see the missiles bouncing away-rocks and hard-shelled nuts. The pelting became too much for him once more. As if surrounded by stinging gnats, he crashed away into the undergrowth. When he tried to turn one way, a deluge of chestnuts and small stones would push him back-always in the same direction.

As he dove into the shelter of a bramble bush, he felt his paws come down astonishingly on unsolid air. Losing his balance, he toppled forward.

As he slid over the precipice-and caught a swift glimpse of a dry stream bed a fatal distance below-he twisted his body sharply, managing to catch the bramble bush and slow his headlong plunge. Grappling the prickling branches with all four legs now, and teeth and tail, he found himself dangling precariously over the drop-only the brambles between him and a long, long fall.

He hung for a moment, maddened with surprise and terror. Tok!… tok-tok-a-tok!-and another shower of nuts and stones hailed down on him. Fritti began to yowl piteously.

"Why are you-ow!-hurting me-ow!" he cried, and was rewarded with a hazelnut on his sensitive pink nose.

"I have done nothing to harm anyone here! Why are you hurt-ow!-hurting me?"

There was another swift series of knocks, followed by quiet. Then, from the trees above, came a shrill, cluttering voice.

"No harm it says-says!" The voice was high-pitched and angry. "Liar-liar-liar! You-you! Are killer! Coming here, here hunt and kill. Liar-cat-liar!"

Although it spoke in a fast-paced and excited way, Fritti could understand its Common Singing. He struggled for a better grip on the roots.

"Tell me what I have done!" he pleaded, hoping for time to regain the edge of safety just a paw-reach away. Angry chattering that he could not understand came from all the trees at once; then the rapping noise quieted the voices again.

"We are not stupid nut-droppers, no-no. Bad, so-bad cat, the people of the Rikchikchik not for you, for you to tease and fool, oh no no!"

The Rikchikchiki The squirrel-folk! Even hanging at clawtips from a bramble bush, Fritti felt a moment's wonder. It was known they would hiss and scold intruders, and even fight viciously when cornered-they were among the strongest and bravest of the Squeaker-folk. But band together to attack one of the Folk, one who had not even been stalking? It was incredible!

"Hear me, O Rikchikchik!" Fritti cried. His claws were beginning to feel the strain. "Hear me! I know your kind and mine are enemies, but that is honorable! We are as we are made. But I promise that I do not intend to molest you, or harm your nests. I am searching for a friend, and I will not eat or hunt here! I swear by the First!" He waited tensely for a reaction, but the trees were silent.

Then a large brown squirrel made his way down the trunk of an aspen-headfirst and slowly-and stopped not two jumps away from Tailchaser's precarious position. The Rikchikchik looked angry, its lips pulled back from long front teeth, but it was only one-quarter Fritti's size. He had to admire its bravery.

"Tails, teeth, lies. This is-is what cats is!" The squirrel still spoke angrily, but more slowly, and was easier to understand. "Can trust? No. Cat has got-got Mistress Whir. So-bad cats!"

"I haven't harmed anyone, I swear!" cried Fritti plaintively.

"Many tooth-and-claws attack nests! Even now, now, killing cat has caught my chiknek, my… mate. Caught! Spoiled seeds - unburied nuts! Terror, terror!"

Pains were shooting up Tailchaser's legs, and he was finding it hard to think. He extended a paw carefully to the cliff's edge, to relieve the pressure on his hind legs. A stone from a tree above struck the questing paw - he almost lost his grip as he pulled the injured foot back. A shrill chorus of squirrel voices in the foliage above called out for blood.

He tried to concentrate on what the brown squirrel was saying.

"Do you mean that a cat has your mate right now? Nearby?"

"Bones of birds! Horror, woe! Poor Mistress Whir. Caught, caught she is!"

Fritti seized at the opportunity. "Listen to me! Please, throw no rocks down, I am at your mercy. I will try to save your mate, if you only let me get up from this place! You don't have to trust me. Go back into your trees, and if I try to escape, or harm you, you can drop boulders on me, pumpkins, anything! It's your only chance to save her!"

Tail erect and trembling, the large brown squirrel fixed him with a bright eye. For a moment all was frozen in the tableau: the stone-still squirrel and the small orange cat, grimacing in pain and hanging from a bush above a steep fall. Then the Rikchikchik spoke.

"You go. Save chiknek and you free-free. Word of Master Fizz. Sacred Oak-promise. Follow, we lead you, lead you."

With a leap and scrabble, Master Fizz was gone into the leafy branches above. Tailchaser carefully pulled himself up to where he could get a better grip, then got his back paws up against the bramble roots for leverage and jumped to safety. He was weaker than he thought. His muscles trembled as he clambered up onto solid earth, and he lay for a moment panting. The Rikchikchik made excited noises among the leaves. He got painfully to his feet, and their chirruping voices led him forward,

On the outskirts of a grove of black oaks the Rikchikchik came to a halt. Tailchaser could see what had happened.

One of the old trees had fallen over long ago, forming a huge arch. He could hear the frightened crying of a squirrel from beneath it, and smell the scent of one of the Folk. The sheltering oak shielded the cat so that it could finish its game in peace without being disturbed by the stones and nuts of the vengeful Rikchikchik.

Fritti crept slowly and cautiously around the mop of dead roots that extended from one end of the fallen tree. However he was going to persuade the other cat to give up its rightful hunt-prey, he would have to begin with deference and care. So as not to startle, he called, "Good dancing, hunt-brother," as he walked under the arching trunk. He stopped short.

Mistress Whir, her eyes bulging with panic, lay pinned beneath the paw of a large, sand-colored torn. The hunter raised his head inquiringly as Fritti approached. It was Stretchslow.

"Well! Young Tailchaser." Stretchslow did not rise or move his paw from the terrified squirrel, but gave a nod of greeting that was not unfriendly. "Isn't this a surprise! I was expecting you through this area eventually, but waiting is so boring." He started to yawn, then caught himself. "Well, now that you've arrived, would you like to share my catch with me? She's a nice fat one, as you can see. Had quite a bit of fight in her, too-at first. Stimulates the appetite."

Things were happening too fast for Fritti. "You were waiting… for me?" he asked. "I don't understand."

Stretchslow sneezed humorously at Fritti's bewilderment. "I expect you don't. Well, plenty of time for all that after a toothsome bit of Rikchikchik. Sure you're not hungry?" Stretchslow raised his paw to deal the squirrel a killing blow.

"Stop!!" Fritti cried.

Stretchslow was now the one to look surprised. He squinted at Tailchaser with keen interest-as if Fritti had grown a second tail.

"What's wrong, youngling?" inquired the older male. "Is this some strange sort of poison squirrel?"

"Yes… no… oh, Stretchslow, could you let her go?" asked Fritti weakly.

"Let her go?" The hunter was genuinely astonished. "Heavenly Viror, why?"

"I promised the other squirrels that I would rescue her." Fritti felt as if he were turning to dust under the curious stare of the other cat, dust that would blow away in the next strong breeze. After a moment's careful scrutiny of Fritti, Stretchslow gave an immense huff of laughter and rolled onto his back, waggling his paws in the air. The she-squirrel did not move, but lay still, breathing shallowly, her eyes glazed.

Stretchslow rolled to his stomach and gave Fritti an affectionate thump with a large forepaw. "Oh, Tailchewer," he wheezed, "I knew I was right! Going on quests! Saving squirrel maidens! Whoof! What a song yours will be!" Stretchslow shook his head from side to side with merriment, then turned his attention back to the huddled Rikchikchik. Fritti's nose burned. He did not know if he was being praised or mocked-or both.

"Very well, then," Stretchslow said to Mistress Whir. "You heard Master Tailchaser. He has interceded for your life. Go now, before I change my mind." The squirrel lay still. Fritti began to move forward- afraid Stretchslow had inadvertently broken her back-when she suddenly bolted between them, sending chips of bark flying, and disappeared from beneath the oak-tree arch.

"I wish I had the leisure to hear your story of how you came to be making promises to squirrels, but there are things I still must do before the Eye appears."

They were walking together beneath the giant trees-Fritti moving quickly to keep up with Stretch-slow.

"However, I need to have more important talk with you. I was sure you would decide to leave on your own, but I miscalculated how soon you would set out. So, I have been searching for you since the beginning of Smaller Shadows."

"Stretchslow, I am afraid I do not understand you at all. Not in the least, and I beg your pardon. What could you possibly have to say to a silly youngling like me? And how did you know I would come searching for Hushpad alone? And how did you know which direction I'd choose?" Fritti was gasping faintly as he struggled to maintain the older cat's pace.

"Many questions, little hunter. Not all can be answered now. Suffice it to say that I do not learn all I know at the Meeting Wall. I have wandered far in my day, and sniffed many, many things. I do admit that nowadays I derive a great deal of pleasure from sun-soaking-certainly I do not hunt as far afield as I once did. But, still, I have my ways.

"As to your other questions," he continued, "well, even a M'an-fed eunuch could have smelled your every intention, little quester. I have known since before Nose-meet-since before you knew yourself- that you would be striking out after litde Marshbat."

"Hushpad," puffed Fritti. "Her name is Hushpad."

"Of course, Hushpad. I know," said Stretchslow with impatience-and perhaps a touch of fondness. "It is my way," he added simply.

Stretchslow stopped suddenly, and Tailchaser fumbled to a halt beside him. Fixing Fritti with his great green eyes, the hunter said: "There are strange things afoot, and not just in the Old Woods. The Rikchikchik and the Folk making bargains is not the strangest. I cannot sense what is happening with certainty, but my whiskers tell me bewildering stories. You have a part to play, Tailchaser."

"How could I…" Fritti began to protest, but Stretchslow silenced him with a paw gesture.

"I have no more time, I fear. Smell the wind."

Fritti inhaled. Indeed, the breeze did carry a strange smell of cold and damp earth, but his senses could make nothing of it.

"You must learn to trust your feelings, Tailchaser," said Stretchslow. "You have some natural gifts there that may aid you where your lack of experience leads you into trouble. Remember, use the senses that Meerclar gave you. And be patient."

Stretchslow sniffed the air again, but Fritti could no longer smell anything unusual. The older cat then rubbed his nose on Tailchaser's flank.

"Keep your left shoulder to the setting sun when you leave the forest," he said. "That should put you in a profitable direction. Do not hesitate to speak my name as recommendation on your journey. In some fields I am well remembered. Now, I must leave."

Stretchslow trotted forward a few paces. Fritti, overwhelmed by events, sat watching him go.

The big cat turned around. "Have you had your Initiation to the Hunt, Tailchaser?"

"Umm…" Disconcerted, Fritti needed a moment to assemble his thoughts. "Umm, no. The ceremony would have been the Meeting after Eye-next."

Stretchslow shook his head and loped back to him. "There is not time, nor proper surroundings, for the Hunt-singing," he said, "but I shall do the best I can." In a daze, Fritti watched as Stretchslow settled back on his powerful haunches and closed his eyes. Then, in a voice much sweeter than expected, he sang.

"Allmother, the hunt-gifts We praise now, We praise now.

Keep us in your Eye; Our true-tails You compass us.

The sun is but fleeting, The Eye is of Always…

Allmother, listen us We pray you, We pray you.

Claw, Tooth, and Bone Is our pledge to your light."

Stretchslow sat with his eyes tight shut for a moment, then opened them and sprang to his feet again. No trace of the slowspeaking, slow-moving cat that Fritti had known seemed left but the cool gleam in his eyes. He appeared charged with purpose and energy; as he approached, Tailchaser involuntarily shrank back.

Stretchslow, however, only reached out and touched his paw to Fritti's forehead. "Welcome, hunter," he said, then turned and sprinted away-pausing briefly at the edge of a facing thicket to call: "May you find luck dancing, young Tailchaser." With that, Stretch-slow vanished into the undergrowth.

Fritti Tailchaser sank to the ground in amazement. Had all this really happened? He had been gone less than a day from his home, and yet it seemed forever. Everything was so astonishing!

He brought his hind foot up and began to scratch behind his ear-an outlet for the conflicting blur of emotions. As he scratched wildly, eyes half closed, he sensed movement all around. He leaped to his feet, alarmed.

The surrounding trees were full of flicker-tailed squirrels.

One of the larger ones-not the squirrel he had spoken with earlier-had shinnied down an elm trunk to his own eye level, and it clung there and looked at him.

"You-you, cat-thing," it said. "Now come along-come. Now you talk-talk. Time you talk with Lord Snap."