Shadows on the Mountain, page 7
Despite his misgivings, Bramble pushed forward through the other gorillas. He breathed hard as he stared down. A fully grown female leopard lay there, sprawled awkwardly, her neck twisted, her open eyes glazed, and her muzzle frozen in a death snarl.
“She’s big,” muttered Groundnut. “They must have fought to the death. Ah, Bramble, be comforted.” He patted Bramble’s shoulder. “It was no punishment from the Great Spirit, and no evil creature broke the Code. Now we know what happened: your brother died bravely, fighting for the troop.”
Bramble’s throat tightened with grief and anger. “So why would he leave the troop? What was he doing, wandering off at night into the path of a leopard?” He thumped his fists hard against the ground. “If he wanted to protect the troop, he should have stayed with us!”
It was as if his furious words had sparked something in the whole troop. The Blackbacks began to whoop and holler with rage, slamming their fists into the ground, jumping up and down until the ground shook beneath them. Bindweed darted forward and punched the leopard’s head hard. At that signal, all the Blackbacks fell on her, hitting and tearing and kicking the limp corpse.
Bramble stayed back. He felt no rage toward the leopard, only a cold numbness that spread remorselessly through his body. What was the point, anyway? The leopard was already dead, and Cassava was too. The troop’s rage could not change that. All the bared fangs and flashing eyes and thudding fists in the world would not bring back his brother.
His heart weighted like a stone with grief, Bramble turned and shambled back to where Cassava’s body lay.
Burbark had withdrawn and was sitting with his back to both his sons, rubbing at his wrist. Bramble touched Cassava’s shoulder.
A slight breeze stirred the black fur. Taking a deep, painful breath, Bramble moved around to look at his brother’s face. Cassava’s eyes were slitted open, but as dull as the leopard’s.
There was a tick buried in Cassava’s armpit; at least that wouldn’t bother him again. Bramble reached down and twisted it, tugging it out.
With a huge effort, Bramble worked his hands beneath his brother’s shoulder and tried to heave him over. It took his three fumbling attempts, but Burbark made no move to help; he didn’t even turn. At last, with a final clenching of his jaws and a violent thrust, Bramble tumbled his brother over, to lie sprawled on his back. He stood for a moment, panting, his chest heaving.
Cassava’s chest did not stir; of course it didn’t. Why had he dared to believe it would?
Sighing, gritting his teeth, Bramble began to pick leaves and bits of twig from his brother’s fur. He tidied and smoothed, removing more ticks, untangling the matted fur around his brother’s wounds. He stroked Cassava’s fur back from his face, caressing his creased brow and gently closing his eyes.
“If Father won’t perform the Last Grooming, I will,” he whispered, touching Cassava’s scarred cheek with his knuckle. He bowed his head.
“My brother. I will miss you, more than I can say. But I’ll make sure of this: you will look your best when your spirit reaches the stars.”
Chapter Eight
When dawn seeped into the den between the old tree’s roots, Chase wasn’t sure she’d slept at all. That was not unusual, but on any other night she would have been hunting till sunrise, eager for the kill, reveling in the stillness of the forest’s dark hours. Lying beside the sleeping Seek, she had been able to think of nothing but Prowl.
Where was her mother? Why hadn’t she returned with the daylight? Wasn’t Prowl eager to make sure that Seek was safe, to lick Chase’s ears and tell her how well she had protected the cub?
There were bushpigs out there, quick-tempered and surly. In her mind’s eye, Chase saw one of them charge, its wild tusk-thrust goring her mother’s ribs and tossing her aside. Chase shook her head to dispel the image, growling, but more terrible visions leaped into her mind, unbidden and unwelcome: Prowl as she paced along one of the many ridges of these jagged foothills, missing her usually sure footing and slipping to her death. A rotten branch breaking beneath her weight, sending Prowl plummeting into a ravine.
Chase sat up, curling her tail around her. She licked her jaws, washed her whiskers. Seek mewled happily in his sleep. Chase trod an impatient circle around him, then lay down again, staring at the patch of light where dawn showed at the den entrance. Twitching her ears, she craned them for any sound of paws in the leaf litter, for the crack of a twig that would signal her mother’s return. But she’s always so silent, Chase reassured herself. I won’t know Prowl is back until she slinks into the den with prey.
Perhaps her mother had simply gotten lost? It was possible. Not likely. But even a leopard as stealthy and confident as Prowl might be led astray if she wandered too far. She might have run into that strange leopard Shadow had mentioned. She might have driven him off so far, so fiercely, that now she was having trouble retracing her steps.
Prowl getting lost would be unexpected. A little shocking, even. But Chase would far rather that than any of the other visions that troubled her.
The morning seemed unnaturally quiet; Chase could barely hear any birdsong. She grunted a cough, partly to clear her throat, partly just to break the silence. Seek stirred, stretching out a foreleg and licking his jaws, before falling back into a doze.
Then, quite suddenly, there was a sound. Not far off, something was hollering and screeching. No, many somethings. A flock of birds, perhaps, disturbed by a predator?
Mother! Perhaps that was Prowl out there now, too tired to worry about scaring a bunch of starlings from their roosts. Maybe I should venture out to meet her?
But she didn’t want to move out of the den. That noise didn’t sound like birds. It sounded as if it came from bigger, more dangerous creatures, screaming with fury. It sounded, she thought with a quiver in her belly, like enraged gorillas.
Her hackles sprang erect and she bared her fangs at the den entrance. Something warm nudged her forepaw, and she realized the racket had woken Seek. He stood at her side, tail quivering, as his ears swiveled and flicked to the sounds. His eyes were huge.
“Chase, what’s that sound?”
“I don’t know, little one,” she growled. “I think it’s gorillas fighting.” They couldn’t be far away, she thought, flattening her ears and narrowing her eyes. And she’d never heard gorillas fighting—not like this.
Seek padded closer and put one small paw on hers. There was real terror in his eyes now. “Chase, where is my Mother-Sister?”
Bending closer, she licked his head. “Nearly home. Don’t worry.”
It was a silly thing to say to him, she told herself—even as a thrum of fear tightened her own gut. Leopards would always worry. The dangers were too many. But she couldn’t bear to watch Seek’s anguished little face any longer without doing something. She gave him a last, warning growl—“Stay here”—and scrambled up out of the den.
In the open, warm air of the forest, the furious screeching seemed to rebound from the tree trunks, louder than ever. It wasn’t hard to follow the screams; Chase’s sensitive ears ached. All the same, she ran swiftly toward the commotion.
The racket became overwhelming, and she slowed to a walk, pacing cautiously through the dappled shadows. When she saw a massive, black-furred back, she stopped and flared her nostrils.
Chase couldn’t see beyond the gorilla, but he was too intent on what was in front of him to notice her. She stayed absolutely still, one paw raised; after only a moment he gave a roar and bounded forward to hammer with his fists at the ground. There must have been ten or more of the troop in the glade, old and young, male and female; they took turns loping to something in the center of their group, stomping and kicking and punching it. Chase furrowed her muzzle in perplexity. There was another smell, one she recognized. She stepped forward, heart suddenly a hot weight under her rib cage.
And now Chase could see what they were hitting: a tattered, misshapen, bloodied body that would be unrecognizable but for the ragged, spotted pelt.
“Mother!”
Rage swept through her; Chase threw all her natural caution to the winds and sprang forward into the midst of the gorillas, snapping and snarling.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!”
Taken utterly by surprise, the huge apes staggered back a few steps, leaving Prowl’s corpse clear for a moment. Chase took her chance. She straddled her mother’s body, hunching her shoulders, and turned, slowly, eyeing each gorilla.
One of the biggest gorillas lumbered toward her, his lips curling back in a vicious sneer. “Stand aside, you stupid cat.”
“It’s none of your business,” growled another.
“She’s—she was my mother!” The growl burned deep in her throat.
The bigger gorilla shrugged. “And now her corpse is ours, to treat as we wish.” He gave a deep growl of anger. “To treat as she deserves!”
Chase’s tail lashed. “Do not touch her again!” She kept twisting, her fangs bared, so that none of the gorillas would have a chance to dart forward and attack her.
There was no question Prowl was dead. The gorillas had all but destroyed her corpse. But Chase would not leave her. Before she could mourn Prowl, she must protect her body.
The gorillas circled her slowly, shambling on their knuckles. Two of them rose up on their hind legs, intimidating; others bared their fangs; and yet others thudded their huge fists against the ground, hard enough to make it tremble. It was all Chase could do to keep her eyes on more than two at a time, and she had to keep twisting constantly. She knew if she had to that she would claw and bite to the end. The great apes were wary, but they didn’t look afraid. That was hardly surprising. They were so much bigger than she was—far larger even than Prowl, who had been a good-sized leopard, strong and wily. . . .
No. She couldn’t think about how much she was going to miss her mother—not yet. Chase spun again as a gorilla shifted behind her, but it had already backed off.
Chase panted, her jaws parted. The rush of energy was wearing off, and she was beginning to be viscerally aware of everything about the gorillas: their bunched muscles, the tension in their limbs, the blazing anger in their black eyes. She had startled them, but they were too furious to retreat back into the forest.
“Why have you done this?” she yowled. “She never harmed you!”
But they were silent, their stares sullen. And Chase became aware of something else: the circle of gorillas was closing. They were shuffling toward her, barely perceptibly, but one knuckled fist was planted firmly after another, and their eyes glittered with menace. They were almost on her. If they all charged at once, Chase knew she was as dead as Prowl. Her heart thundered in her rib cage. If they kill me just for defending my mother’s body . . . they shatter the Code!
Chase hunched her shoulders and lashed a paw forward, extending her claws to score deep gashes in the ground. Baring her teeth, she snarled her challenge at the nearest gorillas.
For a moment, she thought her bravado had worked. The gorillas exchanged hesitant glances before drawing back a little. One of them grunted in anger.
But the snarl that answered him did not come from another gorilla. Chase twisted in surprise.
Behind her, the gorillas had fallen away a little, breaking their threatening circle. Through the gap stalked the biggest leopard Chase had ever seen. His muscles rippled under his sleek pelt, his ears were laid tight back against his skull, and his jaws were wide to display glistening, long fangs. He swung his head as he paced on, eyeing each gorilla directly as if daring them to attack him.
And those eyes of his were the most extraordinary thing about him. Chase had never seen anything like them. They were ice-blue, like shadows in the snow on the high slopes of the mountain. When he turned them on her, Chase’s heartbeat seemed to falter.
“Flee while you have the chance,” the strange leopard’s snarl rang through the clearing.
She almost did. Taking a panicked step back, she turned. But that movement made her glance down once more at her mother’s torn body. Her lips curling back from her fangs, Chase felt her rage surge again.
“No,” she roared. And as the gorillas hesitated, held back by the eerie blue gaze of the newcomer, Chase sprang at the nearest one, swiping her unsheathed claws at his chest.
Startled, the huge gorilla flinched back and staggered. But he recovered his composure almost instantly. He beat his chest and thundered forward, baring his own yellow teeth.
All the gorillas roared, throwing their heads back; some thumped their fists against the ground. Chase felt the earth tremble beneath her paw pads, but she did not regret her aggressive strike. They deserved it! she told herself. I’ll still die with honor!
A huge female gorilla charged forward, swinging a powerful fist that Chase only just managed to duck. Behind her, another attacked, and she had to roll onto her back, then leap to her paws.
“Leave my mother alone!” she snarled at them.
“Your mother was a Codebreaking killer,” spat the big female.
Crouching, Chase sprang for her, claws reaching for the gorilla’s black eyes. “Never! She never would, liar!”
The huge apes were surprisingly quick movers; the female dodged, and Chase felt the blow of a fist against her flank that knocked the breath from her. She tumbled head over paws and leaped up again, panting. She could still do them some damage! There were so many of them. . . .
No matter. I’ll leave a few lifelong scars!
“I said flee!” roared an exasperated voice behind her.
Chase felt something grab tight hold of her neck, and for an instant she was sure a gorilla was about to snap her spine. It’s the end. She kicked and squirmed, but something dragged her backward, away from the enraged gorillas. As Chase twisted, baring her teeth, she saw that her captor was no gorilla; that massive leopard had her scruff between his jaws and was dragging her away.
“Your mother is dead,” he mumbled through her fur, and released her. “You are alive, so run!”
Something in his voice penetrated the mist of rage in Chase’s head. As the gorillas bounded toward them both, muzzles peeled back to show their fangs as they roared, Chase came suddenly to her senses. I’ve done all I could for Prowl. I tried!
She spun and bounded after the big male leopard. Behind her, she heard the crack of branches and the gruff bellows of the angry gorilla troop, but they were dwindling now that she was racing through the forest; she and this new leopard were far faster than those slow-bodied, slow-witted apes. Chase felt her muzzle curling in anger even as she ran.
“Run, you cowards! Run, murderous cats!” It was the last taunt she heard, and for a moment it almost made her twist and fly back at them. But the strange leopard beckoned her on with a warning growl, and the voices of the jeering gorillas were soon lost in the forest behind them.
Chase could no longer take out her grief and rage on the gorillas, but resentment swelled inside her at the leopard who had interfered. As his racing steps slowed, she skidded to a halt on a fallen log and snarled at him.
“What did you think you’re doing? I needed to avenge my mother!”
He halted and trotted back toward her, looking not in the least remorseful. “By getting yourself killed? I’m sure your mother would have loved that.”
She glared at him. Those blue eyes were so disconcerting. “I could have taken those apes!” she snapped.
“No, you couldn’t.” He blinked slowly and sat down to wash a paw. “I just saved you from certain death. That’s what I thought I was doing, to answer your question.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
“Yet I gave it anyway.” He placed his paw back on the ground and tilted his head to stare at her. “You saw what they did to your mother. However brave you were, they’d have done the same to you.”
What they did to my mother . . . Chase felt a surge of grief overwhelm her anger. The big leopard was right; those gorillas would have torn her limb from limb.
I’m sorry, Mother. I’m so sorry. I’ll have to honor you by living on. By looking after Seek in your place . . . Chase had a sudden vision of the vulnerable cub, back in the den, still unaware of what had happened to his Mother-Sister. Poor little Seek . . . he’d been bereaved twice in such a short time. Chase’s heart ached for him. Yes. I have to take care of him; he’ll need me more than ever now.
And that meant the arrogant blue-eyed leopard was right. Chase averted her eyes and glared at the ground. “I suppose I should thank you, uh . . .”
“Range,” he told her, twitching his whiskers. “Range Born of Sprint. And you are?”
“Chase,” she said bleakly, “Born of . . . of P—Prowl.”
“And that was Prowl back there.” He nodded sympathetically. “So where is your territory, Chase Born of Prowl? How far did you come, just to find gorillas to fight?”
The gleam of his gaze was disarming, and Chase opened her mouth to answer him truthfully. Then she stiffened, remembering Shadow’s warning about a strange leopard in the area. She heard her mother’s voice clearly in her head.
Trust only yourself, Chase.
“Thank you for your help,” she growled, “but we keep our . . . I mean, I keep my territory to myself.”
“Wise, but bear in mind I did just save your life,” Range murmured. “It’s not as if—”
He broke off abruptly, his head snapping round, his ears quivering. Distantly, but drawing closer, there were sounds of crashing branches and angry grunts.
“The gorillas.” His blue eyes widened. “They’re coming this way.”
As Range poised there, judging the direction, every muscle tense with the weight of his decision, Chase took her chance. Twisting, she bolted away from him, plunging into the undergrowth and running fast as she could for the deep forest.
He had taken her by surprise before, but she had been taught by Prowl. She knew this side of the mountain as well as she knew her own den, and she knew how to travel silently, how to leave no tracks. Yes, he would know all the same tricks she did; he was a leopard after all. But with her head start and a fast run, that stranger cat should not be able to follow her home.
