She missed.
Sandcat had stopped just a bit further away than she'd guessed. Nearly overbalancing, she kept her footing because the alternative—falling on her face in front of the annoying cub—was too horrible to contemplate. Quickly she put on her best "angry alpha-wolf" face and set her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing following me?" she demanded.
Sulky yellow eyes glared up at her and small brown arms folded defensively. "Following you, what else?" he asked as sarcastically as he could with her twelve-year-old self looming over his eight-year-old frame.
Ember shook her head angrily. "Nuh-UH. You're too little."
"Am not! I can track better than you can!"
"Huh! You couldn't smell a rotten bear two steps away!"
"Neither could you if the wind was wrong!"
"It doesn't matter. Father says that I can hunt alone and that you can't!"
"I can too!"
"Can not!"
"Can too!"
"Not!"
"Too!"
"You can't follow what you can't catch!" So saying, Ember spun around and dashed off at full speed. Sandcat tore after her as fast as he could but her longer legs had won the day before they'd gone very far. Ember risked a glance behind her and saw him still doggedly following her even as the distance continued to widen. Tyleet! she sent in frustration, come get the little pest! She waited long enough for Tyleet to respond before she changed course and leapt a ravine too wide for Sandcat to jump.
"What are you doing?" Tyleet asked when she finally caught up with her wayward cub. He was walking up and down the side of the ravine, carefully inspecting several small trees.
"Trying to make a bridge," he said. He was still mad at Ember but this bridge idea was so interesting he couldn't resist talking about it. "If I can push some of these saplings over, they'd bridge the ravine and we could bind the trunks together with vines to keep it strong."
Tyleet knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "That's a good idea, but what about the humans?"
"Humans?" he blinked at her, dragging his mind back out of the hypothetical world.
"Wouldn't they think it strange to find a bridge way out here? Where no humans live?"
"They don't live here. They won't find it." He shrugged.
Flickers of sunlight glinted off of red-gold hair as Tyleet shook her head. "There are more humans every year. Every year they come closer to the holt. Sooner or later, the bridge will be found."
"Oh." His shoulders slumped. "What if we--?"
Tyleet laughed, interrupting his question with one of her own. "What if we discussed this back at the holt? I'm sure Ekuar would love to hear your ideas."
Sandcat allowed himself to be distracted and led back home.
Tyleet walked along holding Sandcat's hand and telling him about various plants that lined their way. Gradually she noticed that he was hanging back. "Come along. I thought you were eager to share your idea with Ekuar," she chided kindly.
Sandcat heaved a sigh. Frowning, he scrubbed a hand over his forehead. "I don't feel so well," he muttered.
"Would you like me to carry you?" Tyleet asked carefully. He had made his feelings on being "babied" quite clear but perhaps now…
He shook his head. "I can make it," he said stubbornly.
They continued on quietly but he walked slower and slower until he was nearly staggering. Concerned, Tyleet knelt down in front of him. "Sandcat?" she asked. He stared vacantly down at his toes, his eyes glazed. "Sandcat?" she tried again, but there was still no response. "Rayek?"
He blinked and confused eyes met hers. "Tyleet?" he whispered.
"Here." She scooped him up—no easy task since he was taller than a Wolfrider cub would have been—and set off quicker than before. Sandcat squirmed a bit but soon settled down. The lack of protest made Tyleet walk even faster. His head pressed into her neck and seemed to be getting warmer. After resting a hand against his cheek she abruptly changed direction.
Reaching the banks of the stream that ran by the holt, Tyleet barely took time to strip their leathers before she dunked them both in the cool water. Sandcat's eyes flew open and he cried out from the shock. "Hush, little one," Tyleet soothed. She hooked one arm around his shoulders and held him floating safely in the current. Her free hand gently scooped and poured water over his head.
For long moments everything was quiet. A few woodhatchers flew toward them but veered off and settled further downstream. Tyleet could feel the little minnows return from the hiding places her entry to the stream had scared them off to. They were nibbling at her toes; she wiggled them and off the fishes swam again. She dipped her hand into the water to pour over his head again but he suddenly flailed and smacked her hand away.
"Home!" he shouted hoarsely. His eyes flickered around, unseeing. She tested his forehead and found it dangerously hot. "I want to go home." He degenerated quickly from there. Tyleet watched in fright as he began to thrash and sob. "I want to go home!" he cried again. "I want to go home." Each repetition of "home" was a little fiercer, a little more desperate. Soon he was barely speaking, just crying in odd, silent gasps as if his heart had broken. "I want to go home."
Shen-shen! Tyleet called. Please, come quickly!
The herbalist answered quickly. What's wrong?
Sandcat has a fever! He's out of his mind!
Tell me where you are, let me gather the right herbs and I'll be right there, Shen-shen responded briskly.
When he looked at her he seemed to look through her. Fear squeezed Tyleet's heart and she prayed to the High Ones for the safety of her little foster son.
By the time Shen-shen arrived, Sandcat had begun to calm. "You did exactly right," she told Tyleet. "Let's take him out of the water now and I'll look him over." Gently they coaxed Sandcat up the bank and lay him on a fur that Shen-shen had brought. With calm efficiency Shen-shen checked his temperature, peered into his eyes and listened to his heart. "He's over the worst of it now," she said. "I'll mix you a tisane for him. With that and some rest he'll soon be right as rain."
"Thank you," Tyleet beamed at Shen-shen as she knelt down next to the child. Her eyes misted over and she reached out gingerly to brush the wet hair back from his face. His eye fluttered open at the touch and Tyleet's smile broke.
"Why—" he broke off, frowning at the faintness of his voice. When he tried again it came out stronger but it cost him something. "Why are you crying?" he asked.
A mother's love is strong but her fears can only take so much. All thoughts of Sandcat's hatred of being babied flew to the winds and Tyleet scooped her cub up into a fierce hug. Never, she pleaded, scare me like that again! Through her sending poured maternal devotion and gratitude for his safety.
An expression of wonder came over Sandcat's face. With an effort he raised a hand and patted her cheek gently. "I… I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for. All he knew was that he wanted to reassure the sweet, honey-haired one who had been friend and parent since his arrival.
Shen-shen found her own eyes a bit misty as she watched the little scene. She had known Rayek to be many things but she'd never expected to see such softness from him. Tyleet stayed where she was for some minutes before she raised her head. I think he's asleep, she sent softly to Shen-shen. While Tyleet dressed, Shen-shen bundled Sandcat in the fur.
"Should we call for someone to help carry him?" the herbalist asked.
Tyleet shook her head. "He's my son. I'll carry him."
"Being a mother doesn't mean wearing yourself to death," Nightfall said, emerging from the brush.
"I thought I'd scented you but I wasn't sure," Tyleet gasped, surprised.The huntress shrugged, uncomfortable. "I saw Shen-shen grab her herbs and hurry off in the direction you'd gone."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Shen-shen demanded. She didn't like being surprised.
"You had everything under control. I didn't want to interrupt unless you needed help."
Tyleet smiled hopefully. Mother and daughter were still close but their relationship had been strained since she'd taken Sandcat as her own. "Thank you, Mother."
In answer, Nightfall bent down and gathered up the bundle of cub and fur. As the little party set off for home, she studied the face of her foster grand-child. In the years since Sandcat's arrival she had tried, for the sake of her daughter, to like this small, dark stranger. Leetah's brainstorm—a name change—had in fact smoothed the cub's way among the Wolfriders. Nightfall, who had shared so much of Cutter's waiting, had still found it hard though. Tonight she had finally seen something that touched her. "You're not so loveless as I thought," she murmured. Sandcat didn't stir.