Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named) Read Free

He had seen it before: the gaze of animals who resembled the Named in every way except for the lack of light in their eyes.
    The herding teacher flinched in surprise at what he saw. The Un-Named One’s eyes shone orange. Not amber, but a deep, glowing orange, the color at the center of the Red Tongue. In the depths of those eyes, almost masked by rage and fear, was a clarity and intensity Thakur hadn’t expected.
    Others of the Named had seen it too. Suddenly the invader had become more than a scavenging animal.
    Thakur saw Ratha lean so far down from the rock he thought she might tumble off. Slowly the Un-Named One lifted his muzzle to meet her stare. The silvercoat opened his mouth and Thakur tensed, ready to spring to Ratha’s aid if the Un-Named One attacked her.
    What came from the stranger’s jaws was not a roar of challenge nor a whimper of fear, but words in clan speech.
    “Not bite. Not claw,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Came to clan. Not to kill.”
    The words were awkward and ill-spoken, but understandable. This time Ratha did slip and had to scramble to regain her seat. The other clanfolk stared at each other in disbelief.
    “No kills.” The silvercoat put out a stiff forefoot. “Sniff paw. No deer-smell. No horse-smell. No blood.” He kept the leg extended, although it trembled from weariness.
    No one else moved. Thakur saw Ratha look toward him. “Herding teacher, you know the scents of our animals better than anyone else. Tell me if what he says is so.”
    As Thakur approached the crouching silvercoat, she added, “If there is even a trace of a herdbeast’s scent on him, he will die now by my fangs.”
    The herding teacher circled the Un-Named One, smelling him carefully from all sides and trying to ignore the stench from filth and festering sores. He pawed dirt away from between the toes so he could smell the soil without the other’s odor intruding. When he finished, he stood back and said, “He has eaten only roots and grubs. There is no herdbeast smell on him.”
    Ratha peered down at the orange-eyed silvercoat. “So Thakur says you have made no kills on clan ground. Why have you come here?”
    “Clan is fierce and strong. Clan eats while Un-Named grow thin and die. This one, Orange-Eyes, not ready to die.”
    The hostile muttering faded. The Un-Named One glanced about. “Orange-Eyes is clever, like clan. Not afraid. Should be with clan.” Boldly he added, “Clan needs Orange-Eyes.”
    Ratha recoiled and spat. “We have no need for a mange-ridden scavenger who thinks too much of himself.”
    “Orange-eyes has sores because no food. Eating will make better.”
    “I told you we don’t want you. Now go.”
    The Firekeepers drew their brands aside to let the Un-Named One slink away, but he turned instead to Ratha. “Now this one wants only to die by clan fangs. Let ugly herder with kinked tail come forward and kill Orange-Eyes.”
    “Gladly,” Shoman growled from the back. Thakur felt Shoman push past him roughly, leaving his fur rumpled.
    “Shoman, keep your place!” Ratha narrowed her eyes at him, then at the Un-Named One. “So you think you are clever and brave enough to join us.” She raised her head. “Fessran, the dance-hunt is unfinished. Let the Firekeepers take their place.”
    Again the ritual started, the quarry now a single enemy. At Ratha’s order, not a claw touched Orange-Eyes, but the torchbearers’ steps took them close to him, and they thrust their brands at him, flaunting the Red Tongue’s power. Each time a flaming torch came near the Un-Named One, he jumped and shuddered, but he held his ground. The Firekeepers’ lunges came closer until fire licked silver fur. Orange-Eyes fell on his side, no longer able to keep his balance, but he refused to either flee or cower.
    Fessran, sitting next to Thakur, never took her eyes from the stranger. Her tail curled and twitched with suppressed excitement.
    “Enough!” Ratha cried.
    The torchbearers fell back. The