Read Online Ratha’s Creature (The First Book of The Named) by Clare Bell - Free Book Online
Authors: Clare Bell
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him her newly acquired skill, but Thakur hastily declined.
The sun stood at midpoint in the hazy sky and Thakur and Ratha were approaching another stand of gutted pines when they heard the sound of approaching feet.
Thakur lifted his muzzle and pricked his ears.
“Fessran?” he called.
“Ho, herder.” Fessran jogged around the far end of the smoking brush, keeping her distance from it.
“How far is the dan?” asked Ratha, coming alongside Thakur.
“Less than half a day’s run, if one could go straight through. Having to go around all the brush tangles and fallen trees makes the journey longer.” Fessran sat down and licked soot from her coat. “I’m surprised that you have come this far.”
“We went through,” Thakur said. “Ask Ratha.”
“You can crawl through, yes,” Fessran said doubtfully, “if you don’t mind the Red Tongue’s cubs licking at your coat.”
“I don’t worry about the Red Tongue’s cubs.” Ratha grinned. “Watch.”
Fessran came alongside Thakur and stood. Ratha trotted past them to the pile of downed trees, hopped up on a log and seized a branch with fire dancing at the tip. She bounced down with the twig in her mouth, threw it on the ground and kicked dirt on it. She grabbed the end and rubbed the glowing coals in the ash, which billowed up around her, making her sneeze. When the cloud settled, Ratha swaggered toward Fessran and Thakur, the burned stick still in her mouth. Fessran hunched her shoulders and retreated. Ratha stopped where she was.
“Come and sniff it, Fessran,” she coaxed. With a glance at Thakur, who hadn’t moved, Fessran approached Ratha, extended her neck and brushed the charcoaled bark with her whiskers. She grimaced at the smell and shied away as if she expected the fire-creature to revive and leap off the branch at her. Eyes fixed on the spot where the Red Tongue had been, Fessran crouched. Thakur nosed the branch.
“Yarr!” Fessran’s tail swept back and forth in the ash. “It is gone. You killed it!”
“I can only kill little ones,” Ratha said, still grinning around the branch end in her mouth.
“No one can do that,” Fessran said, straightening from her crouch, her belly smeared with ash. “Not even Meoran.”
Ratha strutted, her ruff and whiskers bristling. “Clan leader, ptah! Who is he compared to the slayer of the Red Tongue?”
“One who would rip you from throat to belly if he heard your words,” Thakur said, stopping her swagger with a penetrating look. Ratha wrinkled her nose at him, tossed the stick away and began scrambling across the fallen trees.
The three of them didn’t see the Red Tongue again until the sun had fallen halfway down the sky. Two saplings had fallen together, their sparse crowns interwoven. The Red Tongue crouched inside a nest of branches that sheltered it from the wind. Ratha stopped, shook the soot from between her pads and stared.
“That one isn’t in our way,” she heard Thakur say. “You don’t need to kill it.”
Ratha took a step forward. Thakur was right. She should go on and let the creature be. She lifted her muzzle and smelled. The odor was acrid, stinging her nose, burning her throat. The hated smell.
“Leave it, Ratha.”
She glanced at Thakur. He and Fessran were turning away. Another step toward the trees. Another. The fire’s rush and crackle filled her ears. The flames’ mocking dance drew her to the base of the trees and she stared up, awe and hatred mingling in a strange hunger.
She climbed onto one leaning tree, which shook and threatened to break under her weight. She balanced herself and crawled up the slender trunk, digging her claws into fire-brittled wood. She crept up until she reached the Red Tongue’s nest and began to snap away the dry twigs that guarded the flame. The creature seemed to shrink back as Ratha destroyed its nest. It withdrew to a single limb and clung there, as if daring her to reach in and pull it out. She shifted her weight and
The sun stood at midpoint in the hazy sky and Thakur and Ratha were approaching another stand of gutted pines when they heard the sound of approaching feet.
Thakur lifted his muzzle and pricked his ears.
“Fessran?” he called.
“Ho, herder.” Fessran jogged around the far end of the smoking brush, keeping her distance from it.
“How far is the dan?” asked Ratha, coming alongside Thakur.
“Less than half a day’s run, if one could go straight through. Having to go around all the brush tangles and fallen trees makes the journey longer.” Fessran sat down and licked soot from her coat. “I’m surprised that you have come this far.”
“We went through,” Thakur said. “Ask Ratha.”
“You can crawl through, yes,” Fessran said doubtfully, “if you don’t mind the Red Tongue’s cubs licking at your coat.”
“I don’t worry about the Red Tongue’s cubs.” Ratha grinned. “Watch.”
Fessran came alongside Thakur and stood. Ratha trotted past them to the pile of downed trees, hopped up on a log and seized a branch with fire dancing at the tip. She bounced down with the twig in her mouth, threw it on the ground and kicked dirt on it. She grabbed the end and rubbed the glowing coals in the ash, which billowed up around her, making her sneeze. When the cloud settled, Ratha swaggered toward Fessran and Thakur, the burned stick still in her mouth. Fessran hunched her shoulders and retreated. Ratha stopped where she was.
“Come and sniff it, Fessran,” she coaxed. With a glance at Thakur, who hadn’t moved, Fessran approached Ratha, extended her neck and brushed the charcoaled bark with her whiskers. She grimaced at the smell and shied away as if she expected the fire-creature to revive and leap off the branch at her. Eyes fixed on the spot where the Red Tongue had been, Fessran crouched. Thakur nosed the branch.
“Yarr!” Fessran’s tail swept back and forth in the ash. “It is gone. You killed it!”
“I can only kill little ones,” Ratha said, still grinning around the branch end in her mouth.
“No one can do that,” Fessran said, straightening from her crouch, her belly smeared with ash. “Not even Meoran.”
Ratha strutted, her ruff and whiskers bristling. “Clan leader, ptah! Who is he compared to the slayer of the Red Tongue?”
“One who would rip you from throat to belly if he heard your words,” Thakur said, stopping her swagger with a penetrating look. Ratha wrinkled her nose at him, tossed the stick away and began scrambling across the fallen trees.
The three of them didn’t see the Red Tongue again until the sun had fallen halfway down the sky. Two saplings had fallen together, their sparse crowns interwoven. The Red Tongue crouched inside a nest of branches that sheltered it from the wind. Ratha stopped, shook the soot from between her pads and stared.
“That one isn’t in our way,” she heard Thakur say. “You don’t need to kill it.”
Ratha took a step forward. Thakur was right. She should go on and let the creature be. She lifted her muzzle and smelled. The odor was acrid, stinging her nose, burning her throat. The hated smell.
“Leave it, Ratha.”
She glanced at Thakur. He and Fessran were turning away. Another step toward the trees. Another. The fire’s rush and crackle filled her ears. The flames’ mocking dance drew her to the base of the trees and she stared up, awe and hatred mingling in a strange hunger.
She climbed onto one leaning tree, which shook and threatened to break under her weight. She balanced herself and crawled up the slender trunk, digging her claws into fire-brittled wood. She crept up until she reached the Red Tongue’s nest and began to snap away the dry twigs that guarded the flame. The creature seemed to shrink back as Ratha destroyed its nest. It withdrew to a single limb and clung there, as if daring her to reach in and pull it out. She shifted her weight and
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