Hunters Unlucky Part 31

They watched for a little while longer and then padded away. Roup was paying attention to everything-ears twitching at every sound, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning the ground. Lyndi was watching, too, but mostly for other cats, who might attack them for this unannounced intrusion.

They encountered another den sooner than Lyndi would have expected. Once again, a number of cubs were playing around the entrance. Roup sucked in his breath sharply when he saw them. He hunkered down as though he definitely did not want to be seen, peering from around a tree. "Is that what I think it is?"

Lyndi squinted. The cubs were playing with something-long and reddish. At first, she thought it was a small animal, but as she watched them toss it into the air, she saw the shape more plainly. "A...ferryshaft tail?" It was much too long to be a fox tail.

"That's what it looks like," muttered Roup.

Lyndi frowned. This was not the raiding season, and even during raids, she'd never known creasia to take trophies back to their dens. It had been done in wartime, of course, but now... What pride could anyone take in the possession of a ferryshaft tail?

They pa.s.sed three more dens, and still Roup made no move to speak to anyone. Lyndi was sure they would have been apprehended by now if not for the time of day. Perfectly chosen, Roup. Many of the creasia were dozing off. They would have full bellies from a night's hunting. Still, someone is bound to cross our scent-trail eventually, and I don't think they'll be pleased.

Roup broke into her thoughts. "Did you see those tracks back there?"

"Sir?"

"Curb tracks," said Roup. "Lyndi, please pay attention. I brought you for your eyes and nose."

You brought me because Arcove wouldn't let you go alone. "Sorry, sir. I'm too busy watching for cats coming to kill us."

Roup gave a low chuckle. "You think they'd dare? Well, maybe you're right. Things here are more complicated than I expected." He stopped suddenly, and Lyndi jumped, her nerves strung taut.

Roup muttered something under his breath. Following his gaze, Lyndi saw a deer hanging at least two lengths in the air. She blinked. A thick tendril of vine looped around the deer's neck and upper body. Its hindquarters were quivering. As they watched, the animal thrashed a few times. It was choking, but not quickly.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Lyndi spun around, head down, already preparing to meet an attack. Three creasia stood behind them. She recognized the one in front, and this did not ease her nerves. Moro. He was Treace's brother and his beta-a cat almost as black as Arcove, but with pink nose leather and strangely pale eyes. He did not often leave the clutter's territory, but there were disconcerting rumors about him.

Roup turned smoothly and without surprise. "Good morning, Moro. Are you having problems with curbs of late?"

Moro smiled. The two creasia with him had fanned out. Three against two isn't such bad odds, thought Lyndi, but she did not like that smile.

"I don't know about curbs," drawled Moro, "but we certainly seem to be having problems with trespa.s.sers."

Roup refused to be baited. "We've been looking for Treace. There have been complaints about game management over the summer. However..." Roup jerked his head at the struggling deer. "If curbs have been setting these traps in your wood, I can see why it's happening. I've heard that lowland curbs are becoming populous on the southern plains, so it makes sense that they're coming into your territory."

Lyndi watched Moro. Roup is giving you a graceful way out. Say it's the curbs and that you'll look into it. It doesn't have to be your fault...even if it is.

Moro c.o.c.ked his head. He didn't say anything. The two cats with him had circled Roup and Lyndi completely. They're not even going to pretend to have a conversation, thought Lyndi.

Roup had apparently come to the same conclusion, because his ears flattened, and he growled. "Think about what you're doing, Moro. Think about what it will cost."

One of the two subordinates leapt at Roup. Roup dodged the charge easily, catching the other cat with a slap across the face. However, as Roup came down, the earth opened beneath him, and he vanished.

Lyndi was so startled and horrified that she missed the other subordinate cat, who charged her, knocked her off her feet, and pinned her with his teeth around her throat. He was savvy enough to pin her cross-wise, so that she could not slash his belly with her back claws. For a moment, Lyndi panicked, struggling as he cut off her air. Black spots flashed across her vision. Some logical part of her brain told her, He hasn't ripped your throat out. This is a threat, not a death grip. She went limp.

An instant later, the other cat's grip slackened, and she was able to get a breath. Her vision cleared. Lyndi craned her neck upward, disoriented and desperate. What happened to Roup?

Half upside down, she saw Moro and the other cat, standing on the edge of a partially covered hole. Suddenly, Lyndi understood. They dug a pit and covered it with slender sticks and leaves. A trap. She had never heard of creasia doing such a thing, though she grasped the concept immediately. Are they doing it all over the wood? No wonder they're catching pregnant does!

Moro was talking into the pit, which gave Lyndi hope that Roup was alive. A moment later, Roup shot out onto the half-caved covering of the pit, but it gave way beneath him, and he dropped again. Next instant, he tried to clamber over the far side of the hole, but the edges were crumbly, and Moro's subordinate knocked him back.

"I suppose we are having trouble with curbs," Moro was saying, "and these new traps of theirs. How unfortunate that you fell into one. I suppose it must have caved in and buried you alive. Oh, if only we had found you in time!"

"Perhaps, he died of thirst," offered the subordinate who kept thwarting Roup's attempts to jump out. "Trapped here for days."

The cat pinning Lyndi spoke up. "Do you think they both fell in? Perhaps he killed and ate her before he expired." Lyndi forced her fear down. I will not die without a fight. She rallied herself for a final effort, but then she heard another voice.

"Moro... What is this about?"

Lyndi craned her neck again and saw Treace pace into view.

Moro did not look at all guilty or concerned. "We have trespa.s.sers," he said.

"So I heard," said Treace in a speculative voice. "Though it would be a shame if this misunderstanding resulted in the death of Arcove's..."-he allowed the briefest of insulting pauses-"beta."

Moro gave an exaggerated expression of surprise. "Oh! Is that who it is? He might have said so. Let him out, Pons."

The cat above Lyndi let her up as well. She was fairly choking on rage. As though anyone in Leeshwood could fail to recognize Roup!

Roup scrambled out of the hole a moment later. It was apparently just deep enough that he could not gracefully clear the edge, and he struggled for a moment before getting his back legs over the lip. He was dirty and bristling, but when he spoke to Treace, his voice was even. "How many of these have you set in the wood, Treace?"

Treace c.o.c.ked his head. A tiny smile curled the edge of his mouth. "You never lose your temper, do you, Roup?"

You'd like to see that, thought Lyndi.

Roup repeated himself, "How many?"

"The curbs set them," said Treace. "As you say, we have a problem."

So you overheard the whole thing, thought Lyndi. Did you just want to frighten us? Or were you trying to decide whether to let Moro kill us?

Roup shook himself, sending twigs and dirt flying. The other cats stepped back from the spray-all except Lyndi, who came to stand beside him.

Treace appeared annoyed at the dirt on his coat. Before he could say anything, Roup spoke again, "Stop setting them. You're catching female deer. We eat fawns in the spring and summer, bucks in the fall and winter. We do not eat does unless we are desperate. This is the oldest rule of game management."

Treace inclined his head. "Duly noted. May I ask who was complaining?"

"No, you may not," said Roup, and for the first time irritation crept into his voice. "I trust Arcove will not have to address this problem himself?"

"Of course not," said Treace.

"One other thing: why are your cubs playing with ferryshaft tails?"

This seemed to catch Treace by surprise, which Lyndi was sure Roup intended. The briefest flicker of a glance pa.s.sed between Treace and Moro.

Roup waited.

Moro spoke up. "Ferryshaft wander into the wood from time to time. You can't really expect us to spare them."

"Wander into the wood?" repeated Roup.

Lyndi shared his skepticism. To reach Treace's territory, a ferryshaft would have to "wander" all the way through Halvery's or Sharmel's. While a desperate ferryshaft might forage on the edge of the wood, this degree of penetration sounded extremely unlikely. Nevertheless, she wished Roup would stop talking. We already know they have no respect for tradition. Let's leave...and not return without the entire clutter.

"Yes," said Treace, "I had heard that a few had wandered in. They grow bold of late...what with that foal that Arcove took so long to deal with." Before Roup could say anything, he continued, "But I'm sure they'll soon settle down, now that the problem has been resolved."

Roup looked hard at Treace. "I'm sure they will...and I'm sure we'll hear no more complaints about deer." He turned and walked away, back towards the edge of Halvery's territory. Lyndi was shaking just a little, but she followed him with her head held high, tail up. You won't see us run, you arrogant sheep t.u.r.ds.

But as soon as they were out of sight, Roup picked up his pace.

"Sir," began Lyndi.

"Not now," said Roup. His voice was low. "We need to get out of here."

"I was going to say that they didn't offer us an escort out of their territory. Doesn't that seem odd?" Unless they're going to try to kill us again.

"Find water," said Roup.

"Excuse me?"

"Water!" he snapped, and she knew then that he was anxious. "They can't dig pits in water."

It didn't take them long to locate a stream, they walked in it all the way to the lake, which they reached near midday. Lyndi had to keep shaking her head to stay alert. Roup went all the way out into the lake, where they paddled along until near evening. Lyndi thought several times that she saw cats moving along the bank, just out of sight amid the trees.

They were both drooping with exhaustion when they finally pulled themselves from the water. Lyndi thought that the scent and scratch marks of Halvery's clutter had never looked so attractive. Roup began calling as soon as they emerged from the lake-long, loud yowls that cats customarily used to announce their presence. They were soon answered.

Roup turned to Lyndi before any of Halvery's clutter arrived. "Don't speak to anyone about what just happened. Let me tell this story...or not tell it."

"Yes, sir." She hesitated. "Why do you think they're doing it? Just lazy? They don't want to hunt properly?"

Roup hesitated. "I think..." he said slowly. "I think we're being misdirected."

At that moment, several members of Halvery's clutter arrived. "I need to speak to Halvery," Roup told them. "And then we need a place to sleep for a while."

Lyndi looked back towards the lake as they started away. She could have sworn that she saw the flash of a pink nose and pale eyes amid the evening shadows.

Chapter 7. Brothers.

Storm thought at first that Keesha might curl up and go back to sleep while he told his story. The enormous telshee closed his eyes and hummed and didn't seem to be paying attention, but Storm could tell by his breathing that he was awake. When Storm got to the part about Ariand's chase, Keesha gave a little snort that might have been a laugh. For the first time, he interrupted.

"You told them your name was Vearil?"

"Yes," said Storm. "It upset them more than I expected."

Keesha grunted. "Arcove won the war at the full of the hunter's moon. They always called him lucky."

"I didn't know," said Storm. "I guess I got pretty lucky that time. Shaw saved me from Ariand, although I didn't know to thank her."

Keesha glanced at Shaw with a frown.

"He trapped himself in one of our tunnels," said Shaw. "I heard about it. The least I could do was come and let him out."

"The very least," agreed Storm. "I thought you were trying to kill me."

Keesha opened his mouth, but Shaw interrupted. "I did speak to you about him, but you don't listen lately, Keesha. Storm, keep talking."

So, he did. He told them about Treace and Sharmel and Halvery. Keesha had his eyes open now. He laughed aloud when Storm got to the part about Halvery and the river. "I heard that Coden shortened Halvery's tail for him the last time they fought," said Keesha. "I do hope it's a source of discomfort."

When Storm got to the part about Roup and their strange conversation, Keesha grew very still. Storm could tell that he had the telshee's full attention. "Roup is an odd cat," said Storm. "I don't think he really wanted to kill me."

"I'm sure he didn't," said Keesha. "But he's ultimately Arcove's creature, so don't trust his mercy too far."

Storm looked at Keesha curiously. "Why is Roup so different from the others? Do you know?"

Shaw snorted. "Oh, we know." She glanced at Keesha. "Are you going to tell him?"

Keesha looked between them. Storm realized suddenly that Keesha had stopped humming. His eyes looked bright, alert...and angry. Keesha turned to Shaw with a low growl. "Do you think I don't see what you're doing?"

"I am seeking your counsel for a ferryshaft who badly needs it," said Shaw calmly. "Storm's enemies are our enemies."

"You are trying to make me wake!" snarled Keesha, and his voice reverberated off the water of the Dreaming Sea. He rose up, bristling. "You could tell him all of this yourself! Tell him our histories back to the dawn of days! Tell him every secret you know and go start a war! Just leave me out of it!"

"It was your war!" shouted Shaw, matching his height, long neck swaying. "This is your story, Syra-lay, not mine!"

Keesha dropped down a little. There was something sharp and brittle about his eyes. Pain, thought Storm. Grief.

"They were your friends," said Shaw more quietly. Her voice grew pleading. "And you were my friend, and I miss you, Keesha."

Keesha looked away. His mane settled. There was a moment of silence, during which he seemed to compose himself. Finally, he raised his head and looked at Storm. "Roup was raised by ferryshaft."

Storm blinked. "How-?"

"I will tell you the story as Coden told it to me," said Keesha. "At that time, there were several herds, both north and south of Leeshwood. Ferryshaft controlled the creasia by killing cubs every spring. Adult creasia are difficult to deal with, as you well know. They killed ferryshaft at every opportunity, but they were neither numerous, nor organized, so the ferryshaft kept them in check. Creasia do not read or write. They do not often parlay with other species or form alliances. From a telshee's point of view, they have barely learned to talk.

"Apparently, during one of these spring raids, a ferryshaft elder got the bright idea of learning more about the creasia by studying one of their cubs. So he spared one and brought it back. He chose the cub at random because it had an interesting color of fur."