Shadows on the Mountain, page 2
“Thank you for the bananas,” he muttered.
A little deflated, Bramble padded back toward the rest of the troop. Life as the Silverback certainly wasn’t all fun and bossing other gorillas around. He felt bad for his father, so preoccupied with protecting the troop he could never relax and take things easy. And I’m actually quite glad I’m not the Brightback, he admitted to himself. It was Cassava who would take over all those weighty responsibilities, not him. Poor Cassava.
It would be nice if he could be of some help to his brother—and to his father, for that matter—but what could he do. Well, you could start to practice being a troop defender, instead of playing games all the time. And with no enemies in sight, he could always try out his moves on something smaller. . . . Glancing from side to side as he plodded on, Bramble suddenly spotted the red-and-yellow flash of a lovebird, pecking around for seeds on the forest floor.
Furrowing his brow, he gave a throaty growl. He slammed his fists into the earth, then bared his fangs. “Hey, you! I’m a lion. See my tusks? You’d better run!”
The bird gave him a sidelong glance and, looking not terribly nervous, fluttered away a little distance. Bramble prowled after it. Irritated, the lovebird hopped and flapped away, and he followed, hunching his shoulders and tossing an imaginary mane.
The lovebird gave a whistle of annoyance and fluttered away again, but Bramble was having far too much fun to stop. He raised his head, swung what he imagined were terrifying, bloodstained tusks, and gave a roar.
The bird glared at him across a small clearing.
“I’ve got you now!” growled Bramble. He leaped across the glade—and collided in midair with a pale, furry shape that sprang from the trees beyond. Shocked, Bramble thudded to the ground with the spotted yellow creature, their limbs tangled together, while the lovebird flew away with a trill of what sounded like laughter.
The yellow creature gave a yowl of shock and kicked away from Bramble, then lowered itself into a menacing crouch. The young gorilla scrambled hurriedly to his feet and faced his attacker. Panting, they both stared at each other.
A real lion! was his first, panicked thought.
It wasn’t quite as Cassava had described it. It had no mane and no tusks, and when he glanced fearfully at its lashing tail, he could see no stinger. It was a lot smaller than he’d expected. But he was quite sure this was the closest thing to a lion he’d ever seen.
Trembling, Bramble raised himself up on his hind feet and bared his teeth. The creature hunched its shoulders and exposed its own long, dangerous fangs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled. “You got in the way of my hunt! Don’t you know it’s almost nightfall? You should be safe in your nest and scratching your fleas.”
“Me? Look at you!” Bramble bristled. “No ugly old patchy-furred lion tells me what to do!”
“Lion?” She gave a harsh coughing sound of derision. “I’m a leopard. Lions don’t live on the mountain, fool! They’re afraid to!” She laughed again.
Oh. A leopard. “I knew that!” he blurted.
She was circling now, slow and menacing. Bramble circled too, his fists slamming into the ground, keeping the leopard’s yellow fangs in view. “You did not know that!” she taunted him. “You’ve never even seen a leopard before, have you?”
“So what? I bet you’ve never seen a gorilla!”
“Ha-ha! I see gorillas all the time.” Her muzzle twisted in derision. “They’re always snoring. Because their eyes don’t work at night. Leopards live in the night! The darkness is our home.”
“That just means you’re too scared to show your faces in the day,” grunted Bramble. “Poor sensitive things!”
Her lip curled. “We hunt in the night because our eyes are so much better than yours. A thousand times better than the eyes of a stinky gorilla!”
Bramble sucked in an indignant breath, but he couldn’t think of a witty comeback soon enough. “You’re stinky,” he snapped.
“Pfft. I am Chase Born of Prowl, and I hunt tonight to support my family. You’re nothing but a cub. A baby!”
“I am Bramble.” Provoked, he blurted it before he could help himself: “Bramble Silverback!”
“Silverback?” Her eyes widened, and she tried to peer behind him. “I thought Silverbacks were grown-up leaders?”
“I—” Something cracked in the bushes behind him, and Bramble twisted around in shock as he heard a high snarl. More leopards? Is it a pack?
Shadows flickered between the trees, and brown-and-black shapes emerged from the twilit forest, a whole clan of young hyenas. Their yellow eyes glittered in the shady light, and they licked slavering jaws as they prowled forward, ragged ears flickering.
Bramble felt his heart stutter. He backed away as they approached with wide grins, their hackles bristling. Bramble’s movement brought him closer to Chase Born of Prowl, and he eyed her nervously, but there were more of the hyenas, and right now they looked a lot scarier than Chase did.
“Aha,” said the oldest-looking hyena, tilting its head and licking its jaws. “Two babies! Tender and delicate.”
The hyena beside him sniggered. “Far from home. Yum!”
“Gorilla and leopard go well together,” guffawed a third.
The leopard snarled, narrowing her eyes. She spun so swiftly, Bramble barely saw the movement; then she sprang up into the nearest tree, clawing her way up the trunk till she reached the first and thickest branch. She glared down at the hyenas, growling, then padded away onto the leaves.
“Oh well,” said the leader, hunching its shoulders. “One left, anyway.”
All Bramble could do was leap for the same tree as the leopard, but his movements were slower, his frantic scramble clumsier. He could barely hang on to the bark—he didn’t have claws like the leopard’s. As his heart raced with terror and he clung desperately to the trunk, he felt an abrupt bolt of pain explode in his leg.
With a howl, he jerked at his leg—but it was held fast in the teeth of the biggest hyena. Panic surged inside his chest, and he screeched and yelled in desperation.
The hyenas hollered in excitement; their leader bit more deeply into Bramble’s leg. All its paws were off the ground, and its weight was dragging him down; the branch Bramble clung to was creaking and cracking. Soon he would fall, he knew, and they would tear him apart.
It was over. And so soon. Cold fear flowed through his arms, making Bramble’s grip weaken even as he struggled to cling on. He wanted to scream for his troop; Cassava, help me! Father!
But the words wouldn’t come. His throat was too constricted, the pain too dizzying.
Father . . . Cassava . . .
They’ll never even know what happened to me!
Chapter Two
Chase slunk along the branch, keeping her body low. The hyenas weren’t interested in her now; all she had to do was melt into the forest as she’d been taught. The gorilla had been slower, and that was his bad luck. It wasn’t her fault.
She halted when she heard the sound behind her: it was a high screech of terror that seemed to rattle her bones. The gorilla youngster was doomed, but he was cursing and screaming at the hyenas anyway. That could have been me. Her heart thundered at the sound of his howls. Could have been me screaming my last.
She licked her jaws. She should keep going, back to the den. No gorilla was worth it.
But the sounds were blood-chilling. He was no silverback, that tiny gorilla. He was perhaps no older than she.
As long as I stay up high, I’ll be fine. I’ll just go and look.
She turned and crept back along the branch the way she’d fled.
He was still fighting for his life. Bramble the gorilla gripped a low branch in desperation, a hyena hanging by its teeth from his leg. As Chase watched, the gorilla’s grasp failed and he crashed to the ground, the hyena still fastened to him. That’s it, then. Poor thing. Should have climbed faster.
But the gorilla hadn’t given up. He rolled, squirmed upright, and pounded the hyena’s head with his fists. As it released him and snarled, with bloody fangs bared, the gorilla reared up onto his hind feet, beating his chest and roaring.
He had guts, thought Chase admiringly. Pointless, but brave. The hyenas, drooling, didn’t look as if they’d be giving up in the face of his bravado. They stalked forward, wary but intent. Hyenas were patient and determined. All they needed was an opportunity to strike, and then it would be over.
“Careful, clan-mates. Work together, remember what the adults say?” growled the leader. “Don’t get yourselves hurt.”
“He’s just a furball,” sneered a female. “Nobody’s getting hurt today.”
“Except him,” giggled a small male.
“You two, go for a leg each,” said the leader, flicking his ears. “The others, grab his arms.”
A roar caught in the gorilla’s throat, tailing off to a squeak, and he had to cough violently before he could give voice to another defiant bellow. Despite all the chest-beating and hollering, thought Chase, Bramble looked terrified.
Oh well. Such is the will of the Great Spirit. She could hear her mother Prowl’s voice as if she was standing right next to her. Leave the gorilla to his fate and get out of there.
So why didn’t she?
Chase licked her jaws. Her breath was rapid and harsh in her throat, and she realized why she felt so tense: she was still willing Bramble to survive, somehow—to find a last burst of energy, to knock his attackers aside and flee.
Let him learn his lesson but escape with his life.
But step by step the hyenas were closing in. Bramble spun around, flailing his fists, his teeth bared. One of the hyenas feinted, and the gorilla overextended, slipping. It was the opportunity the pack was waiting for, and another dived in, snatching at Bramble’s leg with his teeth.
Oh Stars and Shadows, what am I doing . . .
Chase leaped down from above and landed square on the hyena’s back, digging in her claws and raking hard. She tore at its neck with her teeth. A second hyena, shocked, lunged for her, but she lashed out a paw and caught its ear by pure luck. As it pulled away, blood sprayed, and it screeched in pain.
“Look out!” The bellow of warning came from Bramble.
Chase spun around, flicking her tail to balance herself, and snapped at a young female, but she felt fangs bite into her haunches. Though it wasn’t a deep wound, the sharp pain focused her on the dangers.
“Get out of here!” she cried to the gorilla.
Slapping away a yelping hyena, Bramble bounded across the forest floor, springing up to land on the back of the hyena attacking Chase. Using it to propel himself, he jumped up to the nearest branch and hauled himself into the safety of the tree. Chase gave a last savage claw swipe to the nearest hyena, then sprang lithely up the tree to sit at Bramble’s side.
The young gorilla was trembling, she could feel it—but then her own heart was racing. Despite the snapping and frustrated yelping of the hyenas below, Chase clearly heard her mother’s voice in her head again: What in the name of the Great Spirit were you thinking, Chase?
“Thank you,” gasped Bramble, panting. He was staring at her in bewilderment; he must have been as confused by her decision as she was. The young gorilla gulped a lungful of air, as the hyenas snarled and barked below. “I mean, thanks for coming back to help.”
She gazed at Bramble in silence, letting her heartbeat slow and steady. “Don’t mention it,” she said at last, crisply. “Nothing personal, you understand. I just hate hyenas.”
“Hey, you two!” barked the hyena leader below them. “Come on down here! We’re only playing!”
“If one of you’s too nervous,” panted another, her tongue lolling in a grin, “the other one could come down first. Then you can see we’re quite friendly.”
“Ha-ha,” growled Chase dryly. “Hyenas are stupid. We’re not.”
The hyena clan yelped and whooped in anger and stalked around the base of the tree, but when it became clear that Chase and Bramble weren’t going anywhere, they padded off with disappointed growls.
“We’re lucky those were only small ones,” remarked Chase, licking hyena blood from her paw.
“They were?” Bramble looked startled.
Chase made a disdainful face.
He grinned at her, which she found endearing and annoying in equal measure. “Well, thank you for your help, anyway.”
“I told you, it was nothing.” Sitting up, she scratched uncomfortably at her ear. “It’ll be completely dark soon, Bramble Silverback. You’d better get back to your troop.” She gave him a sly look. “I’m sure they need their leader.”
He looked embarrassed again; that was better, thought Chase with satisfaction. Silverback indeed!
“Bye, Chase Born of Prowl!” He grinned ruefully.
“Farewell to you too,” she grunted.
She watched him climb down from the tree, then pause to peer nervously into the shadows. He must be checking for any sign of the hyenas. After a moment, Bramble shambled off into the forest.
Chase shook herself. The buzz of the fight still rippled through her veins, and there was a spring in her pawsteps as she trotted back toward her den. It was always good fun to get the better of hyenas.
She hadn’t been telling quite the truth when she told Bramble she saw gorillas all the time. In truth she had glimpsed the huge creatures only briefly, through the trees in the starlight. Bramble So-Called-Silverback was the first gorilla she’d ever actually spoken to, and she had to admit she was a little surprised he could hold a conversation. She’d always thought gorillas were as dense as hyenas.
She slowed to a walk as she approached the den and sniffed carefully at the base of the trees. Other leopards had marked their passing, but not recently; she could smell Shadow’s mark, but it was old and faded. He hadn’t been around for a long time, and Chase’s mother would be happy about that. Prowl did not like the arrogant young male who ventured too brazenly into their territory.
Flattening her body to the ground, Chase slunk between the white hollow roots of a dead tree and squeezed into the space beneath. Prowl was in the den, but she barely glanced at Chase; she was focused on the tiny leopard between her paws. The little cub grunted in his sleep, and his whiskers shivered: perhaps he was already dreaming of hunting, thought Chase.
“How is Seek?” she asked, licking her mother’s ear.
“As well as can be expected without his mother’s milk,” said Prowl, peering at the snoozing infant. In a mutter she added, “Slink should have fed him for much longer.”
The break in her mother’s voice was barely noticeable, but Chase heard it. “Slink would have wanted to,” she said softly. “She didn’t mean to leave him.”
“Indeed.” Prowl had composed herself, and her growl was clear and strong once again. “But my sister’s death was the will of the Great Spirit. It’s up to us now to look after Seek.”
Chase nuzzled her mother’s head comfortingly, and Prowl raised her head to rub her chin against her daughter’s cheek.
Prowl drew back abruptly, her lips flaring. “Do I smell hyena? Is that why you haven’t brought back any prey?”
“What?” Chase widened her eyes. Immediately she knew she was wasting her time; her mother would not fall for an innocent face. She should just have said they hyenas had stolen her prey . . . except that Prowl wouldn’t have fallen for that, either. And Chase knew she could never tell her mother such an outright lie.
Prowl didn’t repeat herself; she didn’t need to. She remained silent, staring levelly at her daughter, until Chase had to avert her gaze.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Chase dipped her head, ashamed. “I did have a”—she didn’t want to say fight—“an encounter with a pack. They were attacking a young gorilla, and it annoyed me. They didn’t give me much trouble, don’t worry—”
Prowl grunted in anger. “Chase, how could you be so irresponsible? We both have to stay safe, now that we’re taking care of Seek. The life or death of a gorilla isn’t any of your business!”
“I’m sorry. They made me furious, that’s all. You know I despise hyenas.” She had better not tell Prowl, Chase thought guiltily, that it was actually the gorilla who had deprived her of her quarry.
“How many times have I told you, Chase? Trust only yourself.” Prowl’s voice lowered as Seek stirred. “This forest won’t look after you—you have to be on guard all the time.”
Guilt churned inside Chase. “You’re right.” Little Seek was opening his mouth in a huge yawn that showed his baby teeth, and she nuzzled him gently.
“Hi, Chase!” He blinked and batted her chin with his paws. “Can we play now?”
Prowl shook her head. “Chase has to go out hunting again, Seek. She hasn’t brought any prey back yet.”
“Mother,” said Chase, her head drooping, “I need to rest first.”
“No, Chase. We need to eat.” There was an edge of ferocity in her mother’s voice. As if to soften her sternness, she licked Chase’s cheek. “I will not be here forever, my daughter, and it is my job to make sure you are ready.”
Seek placed his little paws against Prowl’s chest. “Mother-Sister, I don’t want you to leave! You won’t ever leave us, will you?”
Prowl nuzzled him gently. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time, my daughter and my sister-cub. But I must know that you are both safe and capable on that day . . . in the far future, little one.” She licked Seek’s face firmly.
Chase pressed her head to Prowl’s cheek. “Of course I’ll go hunting again. And this time I won’t return empty-jawed.”
She crawled up out of the den again into the cool night, fired by determination. But as she set off at a trot, she couldn’t help her faith quavering. Prowl made hunting sound so easy, but even finding prey was hard enough.
The forest was not silent; it was filled with the cries of night birds, the chirping of crickets, and the piping of tree frogs. But she needed to find something bigger than any of them, though a large bird might do for now. . . .
Chase padded on through the darkness, her ears quivering at every rustle in the dead leaves, her gaze finding the glow of other eyes as tiny creatures scuttled away in the night. At last she felt the trees thin out, and she sprang up onto a vast fallen pine. She knew it jutted out over an escarpment above a small glade, and she trod silently along its trunk until she could survey the ground below.
