Read Online Ratha’s Creature (The First Book of The Named) by Clare Bell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clare Bell
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ash from her coat.
“You don’t want to fight me,” Ratha said as Fessran sidestepped around her. The other female glared at her one more time and lowered her head. “The Named do not bare fangs against the Named,” she said harshly, “and I do not bare fangs against one I trained. Very well. The creature is yours. Keep it or kill it as you wish.”
There was the sound of feet padding away. Fessran turned her head. “Thakur has gone,” she said and took a step after him.
“Are you going with him?” Ratha asked. Her anger was gone. A hollow, empty feeling crept into her belly as she watched Fessran turn, her eyes following Thakur’s pawprints in the ash.
“I should. He is my herd-brother. You don’t need either one of us. You have your creature.”
Ratha felt herself start to tremble. “Fessran ...”
The other female stood, her tail twitching, something shifting around in the depths of her eyes. Ratha’s tongue felt numb and heavy in her mouth.
“Find Thakur, then,” she said. “Tell him I didn’t mean to frighten him. After you have found him, come back to me.”
“I doubt he will come back here, Ratha.”
“Then send him on ahead and come back by yourself.” Ratha tried to keep her voice steady, but she knew her eyes were pleading. Fessran stared beyond her to the fire. Ratha followed her gaze and said, “The creature is dying. It does not matter whether I kill it or not; when you return it will be dead.”
Fessran snorted. “You were ready to fight me to protect a creature already dying? You make no sense, Ratha.”
Ratha opened her mouth to speak, found no words and hung her head. She didn’t know why she had tried to protect the Red Tongue; why her sudden anger had made her threaten Fessran and scorn Thakur.
Ratha saw Fessran’s eyes soften. “Wait here while I track Thakur. I will return for you then.” She padded away, leaving her footprints on top of Thakur’s. Ratha watched her for a while before turning back to the fire. The flame had shrunk to a pale orange fringe that huddled on the branch.
Ratha crouched beside it, curled her tail around her feet and watched it.
What are you? she asked it silently.
The flame crackled back.
Do you speak like me, or do you only growl like the Un-Named Ones? Ratha crept closer, laying her chin on the ground. You are so tiny now that you couldn’t hurt me. Whose cub are you, little Red Tongue? Her breath teased up small clouds of ashes and made the fire flutter. Don’t die, little Red Tongue, she thought.
The flame jumped, doubled its size for a moment, then shrank again.
Ratha lifted her chin, stared at the creature, extended her neck and breathed gently on it. Again the fire gained strength as it fed on her breath. Ratha jerked her whiskers back, opened her mouth and exhaled.
After a while, however, the flame began to flicker and die down into glowing coals. Ratha had to blow hard to coax the creature up again and it wouldn’t stay. Her breath wasn’t enough. It was dying. It needed something else. Ratha watched it, feeling helpless.
The charred branch broke; crumbled. Embers glowed orange and the warmth beat on Ratha’s face as she leaned over the fire. Again, she blew, raising a fountain of sparks. One landed on some dry needles and flashed into flame. For several moments, the second fire outdid the first one; then as it consumed the needles, it fell and died.
Ratha trotted to the scorched spot, sniffed it; turned back to her creature. She felt she was on the edge of an answer.
It needs ... it needs ... I know what it needs!
Ratha almost stumbled over her own paws as she ran to seize a twig covered with brown needles. She dropped it on the embers and jumped back as the fire spurted up again.
My creature needs to eat, she thought, whisking her tail about in her excitement. It won’t die if I feed it.
She scurried about, collecting food. She found that the fire wouldn’t eat rocks or dirt and balked when fed green stems,
“You don’t want to fight me,” Ratha said as Fessran sidestepped around her. The other female glared at her one more time and lowered her head. “The Named do not bare fangs against the Named,” she said harshly, “and I do not bare fangs against one I trained. Very well. The creature is yours. Keep it or kill it as you wish.”
There was the sound of feet padding away. Fessran turned her head. “Thakur has gone,” she said and took a step after him.
“Are you going with him?” Ratha asked. Her anger was gone. A hollow, empty feeling crept into her belly as she watched Fessran turn, her eyes following Thakur’s pawprints in the ash.
“I should. He is my herd-brother. You don’t need either one of us. You have your creature.”
Ratha felt herself start to tremble. “Fessran ...”
The other female stood, her tail twitching, something shifting around in the depths of her eyes. Ratha’s tongue felt numb and heavy in her mouth.
“Find Thakur, then,” she said. “Tell him I didn’t mean to frighten him. After you have found him, come back to me.”
“I doubt he will come back here, Ratha.”
“Then send him on ahead and come back by yourself.” Ratha tried to keep her voice steady, but she knew her eyes were pleading. Fessran stared beyond her to the fire. Ratha followed her gaze and said, “The creature is dying. It does not matter whether I kill it or not; when you return it will be dead.”
Fessran snorted. “You were ready to fight me to protect a creature already dying? You make no sense, Ratha.”
Ratha opened her mouth to speak, found no words and hung her head. She didn’t know why she had tried to protect the Red Tongue; why her sudden anger had made her threaten Fessran and scorn Thakur.
Ratha saw Fessran’s eyes soften. “Wait here while I track Thakur. I will return for you then.” She padded away, leaving her footprints on top of Thakur’s. Ratha watched her for a while before turning back to the fire. The flame had shrunk to a pale orange fringe that huddled on the branch.
Ratha crouched beside it, curled her tail around her feet and watched it.
What are you? she asked it silently.
The flame crackled back.
Do you speak like me, or do you only growl like the Un-Named Ones? Ratha crept closer, laying her chin on the ground. You are so tiny now that you couldn’t hurt me. Whose cub are you, little Red Tongue? Her breath teased up small clouds of ashes and made the fire flutter. Don’t die, little Red Tongue, she thought.
The flame jumped, doubled its size for a moment, then shrank again.
Ratha lifted her chin, stared at the creature, extended her neck and breathed gently on it. Again the fire gained strength as it fed on her breath. Ratha jerked her whiskers back, opened her mouth and exhaled.
After a while, however, the flame began to flicker and die down into glowing coals. Ratha had to blow hard to coax the creature up again and it wouldn’t stay. Her breath wasn’t enough. It was dying. It needed something else. Ratha watched it, feeling helpless.
The charred branch broke; crumbled. Embers glowed orange and the warmth beat on Ratha’s face as she leaned over the fire. Again, she blew, raising a fountain of sparks. One landed on some dry needles and flashed into flame. For several moments, the second fire outdid the first one; then as it consumed the needles, it fell and died.
Ratha trotted to the scorched spot, sniffed it; turned back to her creature. She felt she was on the edge of an answer.
It needs ... it needs ... I know what it needs!
Ratha almost stumbled over her own paws as she ran to seize a twig covered with brown needles. She dropped it on the embers and jumped back as the fire spurted up again.
My creature needs to eat, she thought, whisking her tail about in her excitement. It won’t die if I feed it.
She scurried about, collecting food. She found that the fire wouldn’t eat rocks or dirt and balked when fed green stems,
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