Chapter Three
In the remote northern territory of the Arcerian cats, summer was brief, cool - and blazingly beautiful, as if it were trying to pack all the joy and growth of a southern summer into a few short weeks. Liriash wouldn't have traded it for anything.
They were sunning on a low, flat-topped bluff - Liriash, Halla, and Falan with her half-weaned cubs tumbling around her - and watching Jaenelle and Shaleer's madcap game of chase in the clearing below. Sun and exercise were doing the she-kitten good; her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed, a far cry from the quiet, withdrawn air she'd had early this morning. Still too thin, though - was she having trouble learning to hunt?
With Shaleer a careful whisker-breadth behind her, Jaenelle climbed up a boulder - and kept on climbing, scrambling up on nothing until she stood in midair, half a body-length above the startled Shaleer. Her giggle floated up to them as Shaleer reared onto her hind legs to take a lazy swipe at Jaenelle's bare toes.
*She really should have a little more dignity,* Halla said in a tone of fond exasperation.
*Shaleer?* Falan chuffed in amusement. *She's barely more than a cub herself.*
*No, the two-leg. She's - I don't know, but-*
*Special,* Falan finished in perfect understanding.
And they didn't even have a Black Widow's vision to guide them, Liriash thought. She should have known that two old and canny witches would be able to see at least partly through Jaenelle's facade. Liriash saw a little deeper, but didn't deceive herself that she saw it all. Cub she might be, but the child had more facets than she let _anyone_ see. And if a little play in the sun could soothe that angry presence she'd first sensed in Jaenelle, she'd do her best to help.
Partly for Jaenelle, and partly just to tweak Halla's whiskers, she padded to the edge of the bluff, crouched, and sprang out in a shallow arc that took her just under Jaenelle and just over Shaleer. Jaenelle squeaked, lost her concentration, and plummeted to land ungracefully across Liriash's shoulders. A moment later, the clearing had become the site for an impromptu wrestling match, with Jaenelle and Liriash tussling across the grass while Shaleer circled around the two of them, pulling hair and tails with gleeful impartiality.
A trio of happy yowls announced that Falan's litter had joined the fray, and when Liriash regained her feet she saw the aging Queen picking her way daintily down the rock to referee. The mock fight quickly degenerated to adults-against-cubs, with Falan's three cubs under Jaenelle's leadership playing stalk-and-pounce against Liriash and Shaleer. Halla couldn't quite unbend enough to join in and slipped noiselessly away into the underbrush. By the time the uproar died down to an occasional pouncing kitten (plus a few smothered giggles from Jaenelle), she was carefully nudging the last pieces of a pile of food into place. Liriash rubbed cheeks with her in gratitude.
*It's nothing,* the older cat said on a private psychic thread. *Besides, _look_ at the cub! If she's hunting on her own, she desperately needs lessons.*
Privately, Liriash agreed with her. But the times they could see Jaenelle were few and scattered, and she wasn't about to spoil the mood of the day with schooling. And Halla's fish were smelling more tempting every moment.
They settled in for what was a light afternoon snack for the adult cats - fish and a few rabbits, with edible fungus and branches of pale summerberries that Halla had pulled down for Jaenelle. Falan's cubs nibbled dubiously at anything in reach, eager to imitate the adults but clearly not convinced of the benefits of solid food over milk. Jaenelle ended the meal propped comfortably against Liriash's ribs, savoring the last of her berries with a contented sigh. Liriash flicked her tail in mild amusement.
*If Halla saw how many of those berries you could put away, she'd stop trying to give you hunting lessons.*
"She thinks I need _lessons_?" Jaenelle said indignantly. "I could hunt if I had to - I think - I've just never had to, but if I made a sight shield like yours then I could-"
*Cub.* Liriash nudged her affectionately. *She worries, that's all. She worries about _everybody_...she was trying to mother me long after I learned to hunt. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have her trying to wash your ears after you've downed a full-grown stag?* She flattened them at the memory.
Jaenelle snickered at the mental image, but her expression was growing distant and thoughtful. "I don't need hunting lessons, I need-" She stopped, trying to find the words she wanted, then shook her head with a very feline huff of exasperation. "Liriash, what do you do when something's hunting _you_?"
*Fight if you can, run if you can't,* she said pragmatically.
"Yes, but if you can't - if they're too-" She broke off in confusion, biting her lip as if to keep the words in by force. That rich, clean psychic scent was laced with fear and frustration like that of a deer at bay.
Liriash sighed in a long, thoughtful rumble. *Little Sister, everything has a price. Sometimes all you can do is make it high enough that your enemy will regret paying it. There's a story I know, if you'd like to hear it?* She hoped the cub would recognize it for the lesson it was; with no way to write, Kindred witches passed down their Craft through stories and riddles.
"Story?" Jaenelle perked up, curiosity warring with the worry in her eyes. "Yes, please."
So Liriash told her the story she'd learned after passing her apprenticeship, about a Black Widow Queen of the elk Kindred who'd found rogue Arcerian males hunting down her people. Physically they were outmatched, and a battle fought with Craft would have devastated the land. So she'd woven a web that struck at the next Arcerian to taste Kindred blood, and spread to all those who shared his kill. With half their pride locked in fevered delirium, the males had sued for peace; it hadn't stopped the last few deaths, but it had prevented any further hunts. It wasn't a particularly happy story, but it didn't have to be, not as long as it taught its lesson. And Jaenelle, who'd sat soaking it in like rain into the earth, had that thoughtful look on her face that meant she was taking the lesson and making it her own.
"But what happened to the Qu-" Jaenelle glanced up to the sun, and her face paled. "It's late. I have to go. They'll be wondering - I have to go."
She scrambled to her feet, wrapped her arms around Liriash's neck - she stayed still for the odd caress before giving the girl a proper cheek-rub - and caught the nearest Wind with a hasty wave of farewell to the other cats. Padding up beside Liriash, Halla looked dubiously after the child. *I heard the story you were telling her. That's an awfully advanced lesson for a cub.*
*It's all I can do for her. But she doesn't need lessons, she needs teeth and claws.* Jaenelle was going to grow into a formidable Queen, but right now all she had were milk teeth. Sharp, yes, but not enough for defense.
Halla ducked her head in agreement. *I'll see what I can teach her the next time she comes.*
*And I'll help.*
It would be years before they saw her again.
In the remote northern territory of the Arcerian cats, summer was brief, cool - and blazingly beautiful, as if it were trying to pack all the joy and growth of a southern summer into a few short weeks. Liriash wouldn't have traded it for anything.
They were sunning on a low, flat-topped bluff - Liriash, Halla, and Falan with her half-weaned cubs tumbling around her - and watching Jaenelle and Shaleer's madcap game of chase in the clearing below. Sun and exercise were doing the she-kitten good; her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed, a far cry from the quiet, withdrawn air she'd had early this morning. Still too thin, though - was she having trouble learning to hunt?
With Shaleer a careful whisker-breadth behind her, Jaenelle climbed up a boulder - and kept on climbing, scrambling up on nothing until she stood in midair, half a body-length above the startled Shaleer. Her giggle floated up to them as Shaleer reared onto her hind legs to take a lazy swipe at Jaenelle's bare toes.
*She really should have a little more dignity,* Halla said in a tone of fond exasperation.
*Shaleer?* Falan chuffed in amusement. *She's barely more than a cub herself.*
*No, the two-leg. She's - I don't know, but-*
*Special,* Falan finished in perfect understanding.
And they didn't even have a Black Widow's vision to guide them, Liriash thought. She should have known that two old and canny witches would be able to see at least partly through Jaenelle's facade. Liriash saw a little deeper, but didn't deceive herself that she saw it all. Cub she might be, but the child had more facets than she let _anyone_ see. And if a little play in the sun could soothe that angry presence she'd first sensed in Jaenelle, she'd do her best to help.
Partly for Jaenelle, and partly just to tweak Halla's whiskers, she padded to the edge of the bluff, crouched, and sprang out in a shallow arc that took her just under Jaenelle and just over Shaleer. Jaenelle squeaked, lost her concentration, and plummeted to land ungracefully across Liriash's shoulders. A moment later, the clearing had become the site for an impromptu wrestling match, with Jaenelle and Liriash tussling across the grass while Shaleer circled around the two of them, pulling hair and tails with gleeful impartiality.
A trio of happy yowls announced that Falan's litter had joined the fray, and when Liriash regained her feet she saw the aging Queen picking her way daintily down the rock to referee. The mock fight quickly degenerated to adults-against-cubs, with Falan's three cubs under Jaenelle's leadership playing stalk-and-pounce against Liriash and Shaleer. Halla couldn't quite unbend enough to join in and slipped noiselessly away into the underbrush. By the time the uproar died down to an occasional pouncing kitten (plus a few smothered giggles from Jaenelle), she was carefully nudging the last pieces of a pile of food into place. Liriash rubbed cheeks with her in gratitude.
*It's nothing,* the older cat said on a private psychic thread. *Besides, _look_ at the cub! If she's hunting on her own, she desperately needs lessons.*
Privately, Liriash agreed with her. But the times they could see Jaenelle were few and scattered, and she wasn't about to spoil the mood of the day with schooling. And Halla's fish were smelling more tempting every moment.
They settled in for what was a light afternoon snack for the adult cats - fish and a few rabbits, with edible fungus and branches of pale summerberries that Halla had pulled down for Jaenelle. Falan's cubs nibbled dubiously at anything in reach, eager to imitate the adults but clearly not convinced of the benefits of solid food over milk. Jaenelle ended the meal propped comfortably against Liriash's ribs, savoring the last of her berries with a contented sigh. Liriash flicked her tail in mild amusement.
*If Halla saw how many of those berries you could put away, she'd stop trying to give you hunting lessons.*
"She thinks I need _lessons_?" Jaenelle said indignantly. "I could hunt if I had to - I think - I've just never had to, but if I made a sight shield like yours then I could-"
*Cub.* Liriash nudged her affectionately. *She worries, that's all. She worries about _everybody_...she was trying to mother me long after I learned to hunt. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have her trying to wash your ears after you've downed a full-grown stag?* She flattened them at the memory.
Jaenelle snickered at the mental image, but her expression was growing distant and thoughtful. "I don't need hunting lessons, I need-" She stopped, trying to find the words she wanted, then shook her head with a very feline huff of exasperation. "Liriash, what do you do when something's hunting _you_?"
*Fight if you can, run if you can't,* she said pragmatically.
"Yes, but if you can't - if they're too-" She broke off in confusion, biting her lip as if to keep the words in by force. That rich, clean psychic scent was laced with fear and frustration like that of a deer at bay.
Liriash sighed in a long, thoughtful rumble. *Little Sister, everything has a price. Sometimes all you can do is make it high enough that your enemy will regret paying it. There's a story I know, if you'd like to hear it?* She hoped the cub would recognize it for the lesson it was; with no way to write, Kindred witches passed down their Craft through stories and riddles.
"Story?" Jaenelle perked up, curiosity warring with the worry in her eyes. "Yes, please."
So Liriash told her the story she'd learned after passing her apprenticeship, about a Black Widow Queen of the elk Kindred who'd found rogue Arcerian males hunting down her people. Physically they were outmatched, and a battle fought with Craft would have devastated the land. So she'd woven a web that struck at the next Arcerian to taste Kindred blood, and spread to all those who shared his kill. With half their pride locked in fevered delirium, the males had sued for peace; it hadn't stopped the last few deaths, but it had prevented any further hunts. It wasn't a particularly happy story, but it didn't have to be, not as long as it taught its lesson. And Jaenelle, who'd sat soaking it in like rain into the earth, had that thoughtful look on her face that meant she was taking the lesson and making it her own.
"But what happened to the Qu-" Jaenelle glanced up to the sun, and her face paled. "It's late. I have to go. They'll be wondering - I have to go."
She scrambled to her feet, wrapped her arms around Liriash's neck - she stayed still for the odd caress before giving the girl a proper cheek-rub - and caught the nearest Wind with a hasty wave of farewell to the other cats. Padding up beside Liriash, Halla looked dubiously after the child. *I heard the story you were telling her. That's an awfully advanced lesson for a cub.*
*It's all I can do for her. But she doesn't need lessons, she needs teeth and claws.* Jaenelle was going to grow into a formidable Queen, but right now all she had were milk teeth. Sharp, yes, but not enough for defense.
Halla ducked her head in agreement. *I'll see what I can teach her the next time she comes.*
*And I'll help.*
It would be years before they saw her again.