The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Seventeen

Thistle had eventually fallen asleep by Quiet Hunter, and the others had wandered off to nap or groom. But Quiet Hunter lay awake, full of questions that would not go away, even when the song was well heard.

What was behind Thistle’s eyes? Sometimes it seemed the same as what lay behind the eyes of his own people. Sometimes it seemed so different.

What makes her give healing and comfort? Quiet Hunter wondered. True-of-voice and the song had no answers for this.

He wanted to give Thistle something in return. So much that it hurt like a bone chip in the belly.

Behind Thistle’s eyes lay something that cared for Quiet Hunter. Something more than her voice, the color of her fur, the way she moved, the depth of her gaze.

If she were killed and torn apart to find this thing, he thought, it would not be found.

Sweat came to his paw pads, and prickles woke beneath his fur at the thought that what was behind Thistle’s eyes might cease to be if she were killed.

These thoughts were all new, all disturbing. There were no words in the song for them. There never had been.

Thistle stirred and woke up. “Quiet Hunter?” she asked after a while. “Feel I have done something … bad to you.”

A surge of impatience kept Quiet Hunter silent.

I, I … What is this I? I’s and ifs and me’s. Meaningless!

It was all tangled up. Words, thoughts, everything. No sense was left. The only sense lay in the song.

Go back to it, Quiet Hunter scolded himself. Forget everything else.

“You … looking at me in … funny way. Why?” Thistle asked, but Quiet Hunter couldn’t answer.

Me. Looking… at… me, he thought. You looking at me. You is Quiet Hunter. Looking at is done with the eyes. Me—the mystery at the center.

And then, with a quiet shattering, the mystery fell away. It was Thistle. But not just Thistle. Me was what was looking out through her eyes. That was what Quiet Hunter wanted in her.

First, he sensed, he had to find it in himself.

He said the word softly. It was dry in his mouth. “Me.”

Thistle wanted to stop. This was not the right way for Quiet Hunter. The way of the song was the right way.

But once a hunt like this is begun, it cannot be abandoned, thought Quiet Hunter. He was looking out through his own eyes and speaking new words.

She said, “Your eyes are changing, Quiet Hunter.” Thistle sounded regretful, almost fearful. He knew what she was thinking.

I don’t want your eyes to change. Go back to where you were meant to be. With True-of-voice. With the song.

But even if you did not want Quiet Hunter’s eyes to change, Thistle, you caused it anyway. Just by being what you are, saying the words you say.

Quiet Hunter knew that his eyes had been opened. Even he could not close them again.