By evening, Arcove's officers had a.s.sembled on the warm rocks at the foot of the cliff for council. Sharmel had arrived late that morning. Arcove had let his news circulate throughout the wood, but had not asked his officers to report until nightfall. No sense in waking everyone for something that did not appear to be an emergency.

Roup let Arcove arrive first. It would only make Halvery more jealous if Arcove appeared to be discussing the problem with Roup before addressing the council. As Roup approached the meeting place, he heard voices already raised in argument.

"I can't agree with you," came Sharmel's smooth drawl. "That was a prearranged performance. No ferryshaft foal could rush onto a sheep trail and survive without knowing exactly what he was doing."

So much for agreeing with everyone, thought Roup. He'd rarely heard Sharmel so adamant.

"Well, you must admit that it sounds fantastic!" sneered Halvery. "A foal learns to run on the cliffs, then decides to try the trick on a bunch of creasia. He casually attacks them, then-"

"I didn't say that he casually attacked us, but I know that he didn't reach the end of the trail and go off on impulse. That foal knew what he was doing from the moment he set foot on that path-possibly from the moment he ran."

Halvery snorted. "I think it far more likely that he ran in blind panic and got lucky. He probably fell trying to get back to the path. He's probably lying dead at the foot of the cliffs as we speak."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," growled Sharmel. "I doubt very much that he's dead."

"I think we're missing the point." Ariand tried to step between Halvery and Sharmel. He was smaller than either of them, the lowest ranking of Arcove's officers. "The question is not what this foal did or how he did it. The question is: will he do it again?"

"And that," said Sharmel, "comes back to what I was saying. If he ran out of fear, he won't try again-not unless he's unlucky enough to get selected twice for the cull. But if he planned the whole thing..."

"He will try again." Everyone looked at Arcove-a darker shadow beneath the rock overhang. "If a ferryshaft succeeds once, he will continue to try until he is stopped. We have to decide how we're going to deal with that."

Treace spoke. He was the youngest of the officers, although he already outranked Ariand. "The herd must be punished. If we kill enough of them, they will see the futility in revolt."

Arcove flicked his tail. "Killing too many only makes them more determined."

Treace frowned.

"I think we should invite the foal to council," said Roup.

Halvery started to laugh.

Roup ignored him and continued. "They're three generations removed from the war. What do the youngsters think about us? Do they have any idea why we kill them? Maybe it's time for a new treaty."

Halvery's laugh turned nasty. "Now that is the most ridiculous thing anyone has said."

Roup kept talking. "Charder is tired and beaten. I don't think he even knows which way the wind is blowing. Pick one of the young ferryshaft who's clever and wants change. Put him in charge. Renegotiate the treaty. We might be able to stop the raids without risking reprisal."

Halvery snarled. "Stop the raids, and they will outnumber us three-to-one in five years or less. They'll come to Leeshwood some year and boil us in our own hot springs."

"You think that won't happen if we keep antagonizing them?"

"I think if you had your way, we'd hunt for them and babysit their foals!"

It was an old argument between the two highest-ranking officers. Sharmel and Ariand shifted uncomfortably. Treace uncurled with a yawn. "Why would we ever stop the raids?" he murmured, his sharp eyes on Roup. "It gives the subordinates something to look forward to."

Arcove spoke before Roup could. "I thank you all for your opinions in this matter. The episode with Sharmel's raiding party may mean much or little. We'll know soon.

"Sharmel, you will discipline your clutter on the proper hunting of ferryshaft. These animals are intelligent. They are not deer. They cannot be hunted like deer. Your clutter gave a sloppy performance in front of the entire ferryshaft herd. I trust I will not have to revisit this subject."

Sharmel's ears drooped. Roup could see he wanted to tuck his tail, but refrained with a modic.u.m of remaining dignity. "No, sir, you will not."

"Good. Treace, go learn everything you can about this foal. Learn his name, his parents, his friends, his background, everything. Even if he's dead, I want to know."

"And then kill these animals?" asked Treace.

"Not yet." Arcove left the overhang and strolled into the deepening twilight. "We also need someone to go on another raid immediately. I think the foal will attack again, but I may be wrong. At any rate, I want to know how this affected the rest of the herd. Have they been inspired to open revolt, or is this individual still acting alone?"

"I'll go," said Ariand.

Arcove inclined his head, and the group broke up. "Well, that happened almost the way you predicted," muttered Arcove to Roup.

Roup flicked his tail. "The foal left quite an impression on Sharmel."

"I think he left quite an impression on me," said Arcove.

Roup looked at him quizzically.

"I think I saw him," continued Arcove, "in the Great Cave after the last Volontaro. As we were leaving, there was a gray foal standing among the herd elders. I remember turning for a second look."

Roup c.o.c.ked his head. "Because...he resembled someone we once knew?"

"Mmm."

"That's not an answer."

"It wasn't supposed to be."

Chapter 2. Repercussions.

Storm felt a consuming elation as he bounded over the sheep trail. He could hardly believe that he'd gotten away with it. At last, he reached the isolated cave where he had often left rabbits to freeze on the stone floor. He whirled in the cave's mouth, panting, legs beginning to quiver. He half expected a creasia to charge in after him, but he heard nothing except his own labored breathing. At last, he crept to the entrance and looked back the way he'd come.

They were leaving! He could see the entire group heading back down the trail. The howl that broke from his lips surprised even Storm, but it felt right. He threw back his head and sang his triumph.

Then he collapsed on the cave floor. He started to shake all over. It occurred to him that the creasia might return to the herd and kill a different set of ferryshaft. But not the same group as before.

Storm remained in the cave all day, licking up snow to sate his thirst. He saw no creasia in the rocks below or on the trail. Still, he waited. As darkness approached, he realized that he would have to either leave the cave or spend the night, since he dared not risk a sheep trail in the dark. Hunger persuaded him, and he made his way tentatively back to the main path.

The night was fully dark by the time Storm reached the foot of the cliffs. His senses had remained taut all day in the cave, and now he felt suddenly exhausted. Storm picked his way through the rocks to the place where his clique had been sleeping. He wondered if his friends had any food they would be willing to share.

On his way to their sleeping place, he saw two other ferryshaft foals. He did not know either of them by name. Both took one look at him, stared, and then scampered off without a word. Storm wondered what they must be thinking.

He did not have to wonder long. Leep met him in the boulders before he'd reached the sleeping place. "Storm," he breathed. "It really is you."

"It's me," said Storm. "Do you have anything to eat?"

Leep didn't seem to hear him. "I can't believe you're alive. What happened?"

"I ran onto a sheep trail," said Storm. The story didn't sound nearly as exciting as it had felt.

"A sheep trail?"

"Yes, that one with the cave where I sometimes leave game. I'm sure I've mentioned it."

Leep just stared at him.

A moment later, Tracer trotted into view. "I heard-" he began, and then saw Storm. "You are some kind of crazy, Storm Ela-ferry."

"I saved your life," said Storm with a hint of irritation.

"You saved all of our lives. You should go talk to Tollee. She hasn't said a word since you ran off. Not a single word to anyone. But everyone else is talking. What you did...I don't think anything like that has happened before. Ever."

Storm frowned. "That can't be true. It... It really wasn't that hard. I just ran onto a sheep trail, and the creasia couldn't follow me. Did they come back and kill more ferryshaft?"

"Not yet," said Leep. "No one has seen the creasia since they took off after you, but a lot of the adults seem to think they'll punish us. You might want to keep out of sight for a while."

Storm felt mystified. "They're angry?"

"No, they're afraid," said Tracer, "but sometimes afraid looks a lot like angry."

Storm found Tollee curled up in the lee of a rock formation where the clique usually slept. She did not raise her head until he nudged her. "Tollee?"

Her head came up slowly, and she turned to stare at him. She'd never looked so young.

Storm smiled. "Hey."

She tried to say something, but no words came.

"I'm sorry I didn't make use of your fighting lessons," he continued. "Like I said, running is what I'm good at."

"Storm," she said at last. "How are you alive?"

"I just ran onto a sheep trail." He had a feeling that he was going to get tired of repeating this.

Tracer and Leep had come up behind him. "You just ran onto a sheep trail," snorted Tracer. "No, Storm, you just outmaneuvered a creasia on the ice in front of the entire herd."

Storm had almost forgotten that part. He smiled, and his tail thumped the ground. "It's all in the turns, Tracer."

Mylo, Callaris, Valla, and Tarsis had arrived. Mylo dropped a rabbit at Storm's feet without a word. He was limping a little. Storm remembered the fight with Kelsy and felt instantly guilty. "Thank you," he said as he tore into the rabbit.

Mylo gave a ragged laugh. "You're thanking me?"

Valla came up to him and began licking his face in a way that made him feel strangely warm and very awkward. He stepped away. "I was in that group, too. It's not like I didn't save my own life along with yours."

"What can we do to help?" asked Callaris.

Storm was confused. "Help?"

"The herd is talking," said Tarsis. "They seem to feel that the creasia will punish us severely if you're allowed to live."

Storm felt dizzy. He had never imagined such a repercussion.

"We can say we never saw you," continued Tarsis. "If you're gone by first light-"

"I'm not going anywhere!" exclaimed Storm. As though I'd live long as an outcast from the herd.

"Then hide for a while," said Tracer, his voice reasonable. "If nothing serious happens, they'll forget about it. They're just shocked. Nothing like this has happened before. They don't know what it will mean."

Storm wanted to go find his mother and Sauny to let them know that he was alive, but word seemed to be circulating, and he was so tired. He lay down next to Tollee, who draped her head over his shoulders, and was instantly asleep.

Storm woke with someone nudging him. "Storm," whispered Tollee. "Storm, get up." He opened his eyes. Tollee was standing beside him. He could sense her nervousness. Three adults he didn't recognize stood a few paces away. They were whispering among themselves.

Storm looked around for the rest of his clique, but didn't see them. He turned towards the adults, but they backed away and departed without speaking.

"They just keep coming to stare," muttered Tollee. "I don't like it."

"Where are Leep and Tracer and the rest?" asked Storm. He felt disoriented. He could tell by the slant of the light that it was midmorning.

"Foraging," said Tollee, "but we felt that someone should stay with you."

"I need to go find Sauny and tell her I'm alright."

"You need to stay out of sight," growled Tollee. "Some of those adults look hostile."

"Then I'll run away," said Storm with growing annoyance. "If the creasia couldn't catch me, I'm sure a bunch of ferryshaft can't."

He stood and started away before she could respond. Mother and Sauny will be with the herd at this time of day, he thought, and they'll be on the edge of the plain. There was still a great deal of gra.s.s beneath the snow at this time of year.

As they neared the herd, they encountered more ferryshaft. Most took one look and shied away. Storm felt as though he had a disease. They whispered as he pa.s.sed. He caught one word over and over. "Vearil," they whispered. "Vearil, Vearil, Vearil..."

Tollee was bristling beside him. "Storm, please."

Then two adult males blocked their path. Storm blinked. One of them was Dover. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he hissed. "Do you think they won't come looking for you and everyone related to you?"

Storm took a step back and b.u.mped into Tollee. A brief glance over his shoulder told him that two more adults were standing behind. He felt like an idiot. Why did I let Tollee follow me? If he ran, she would be left alone.

"We are doing what is best for the herd," said one of the other adults. Storm didn't remember his name, but knew he was an elder. The circle was closing. Tollee's lips peeled back in a snarl. Storm's heart began to pound. He tried to remember what she had taught him about fighting.

And then there was a rush and a flash of red-gold fur, snarling everywhere and the sound of hooves connecting with bodies. Storm took a moment to recognize Kelsy in the act of knocking down Dover. Kelsy's clique swarmed around them, striking and snapping at the adults. "Go!" one of them shouted. "Run!"