"I know," said Roup, "but then no one listened. No one cared, except a few trouble-makers."

"And now?"

"Now, when I come upon a conversation, everyone stops talking," said Roup. "When I surprise cats in the forest, they give me strange looks."

Caraca considered. "Are you sure it's not because they're saying something that they wouldn't want Arcove to hear?"

"That's possible. Does that make it any better?"

"I suppose not."

They were both silent a moment.

"Caraca, why don't my cubs look like me?"

She gave a nervous laugh.

Roup flicked his tail. "Oh, I'm not saying- I know they're mine. But if anyone knows how color is inherited, it's you."

Caraca smiled. Roup thought she was flattered and trying to hide it. "If you bred to one of your daughters, you might get a golden cub."

Roup gave her an odd look.

"I'm just telling you...and I could be wrong...but that's what I've seen with the oories and the rabbits. Unusual colors are hidden inside some of us...in the blood. But when the right two animals come together, you see it in the fur. There could be all kinds of colors hiding in other females, but I know for sure that they're hiding in your cubs...if that makes sense."

Roup licked his lips. "Sort of."

"Have you seen Mist and Percil's litter?"

Roup grinned. "I have." Mist was Roup's daughter, and Percil was Arcove's son. They'd established their first den a little to the north. One of the cubs was black with golden eyes.

"That's your blood," said Caraca. "But proof isn't what these gossips want. They want to make trouble." She thought for a moment. "Is Treace causing it?"

"Directly? Probably not. Indirectly? Almost certainly."

"Have you thought about fighting him yourself?"

"What would that accomplish? I already outrank him."

Caraca flipped her tail. "You could kill him."

Like one of your aggressive rats. Roup sighed. "I have thought about it." His mouth twitched up. "And wouldn't that shock Halvery?"

Caraca laughed.

"But Arcove spared Treace. And for me to pick a fight... It wouldn't look right." And I don't even want to think about what Arcove would say.

"Doesn't matter how it looks, so long as it works," said Caraca. "Everyone knows you don't get along with Treace." She thought for a moment. "But it might not work. The problem might already be bigger than that. Why don't you go talk to my mother? She's been mate to three kings. I'm sure she'll have a few ideas."

Chapter 13. Instinct and Reason.

Storm taught Teek to stalk mice and rabbits on the edge of the boulder mazes. He was wary of taking the cub too far from the caves. What would I do if we met a creasia clutter?

But they saw no sign of creasia. The herd pa.s.sed twice in the vicinity of the curbs' den, and each time Storm kept Teek away until they were gone. It was just as well, because the ferryshaft herd left no food in its wake. Even the ground beneath the snow was sc.r.a.ped clean. Storm wondered what it must be like for foals born two springs ago. Their first winter had been mild. This one must come as a cruel shock.

Teek slept curled in the crook of Storm's body. Storm tried, on several occasions, to get him to sleep with the pile of curb puppies, but he always came creeping back. Like the curbs, Teek seemed most alert in the early morning and late evening. Storm was hunting with the pack, so he adjusted his sleep schedule to fit theirs.

On sunny days, Teek would beg to be allowed to sleep on the warm stone outside. The curbs were leery of this, afraid to be caught away from their nest when their pups were still small. Storm, however, began making tentative forays above ground during daylight. He missed the mazes and the cliffs. Little-by-little, he began to reacquaint himself with his old haunts, including the sheep trails. Teek came right along behind him. A voice in Storm's head whispered that, if Teek were ever to lead a creasia clutter, he would prove a deadly opponent. But, he'll be too big and too heavy to run on sheep trails by then, Storm reasoned.

On rare days when the sky was cloudless, Storm and Teek would find a rocky ledge where they could stretch out, sun their bellies, and dream the day away. Occasionally, Teek would twitch and whimper in his sleep. Once, he lashed out with a clawed paw. Teek's claws were still just tiny p.r.i.c.ks of pain, but the event reminded Storm of what they would become. For a long time, he could not get Teek to tell him the nature of his nightmares. He was afraid to probe too deeply. What if it's the ghost of his mother...showing him how she died?

But one day, still dreaming, Teek whimpered, "The black cat, the black cat..." and woke with a gasp. Then Storm remembered what Teek had said that first day when he'd followed Storm from the Great Cave.

"Who is the black cat?"

Teek rose and curled up against Storm's flank. He was bigger now than he'd been at the start of winter-still short-legged, but less bony, closer to the size of an oory than a rabbit. When he was at peace, he sometimes made a throbbing noise. Storm had never heard anything like it before, but he'd come to a.s.sociate it with comfort. Teek tucked his head against Storm's side and began to make the noise, as if trying to rea.s.sure himself.

Storm tried again. "What did the black cat do, Teek? What did you see?"

After a moment, Teek muttered. "I was exploring away from my den...not very far...I don't remember. It's like a dream."

Storm washed the top of Teek's head the way that he'd seen curb mothers groom their puppies. After a moment, Teek said. "They'd caught a rogue cub. Older than me... And they tore open his belly, and they put snakes in."

Storm was mystified. "Who are 'they'?"

"The black cat," whispered Teek, "and another cat and..." He struggled for a moment. "Curbs. There were curbs. One said, 'You have to give it the blood of its prey.'"

"Snakes?" echoed Storm. "Like the black snakes near the river...?"

Teek tucked his head again. "I don't want to talk about it."

Storm thought for a moment. "Teek, who was your commanding officer? The highest ranking cat in your part of the wood. Do you know?"

Teek was silent a moment. "I think his name was Treace."

Nadine was feeding at a kill when Roup arrived, and she graciously invited him to join her. Several hungry-looking females and adolescents were hanging around nearby, but Nadine took her time as befitted her rank. She listened as Roup spoke, pitching his voice for her ears alone. He'd finished and was tearing a few bites off the deer's flank, when Arcove joined them. "Well, I think a lot of cats will be hungry this winter, but I don't think we'll have ma.s.s starvation. If we manage the game perfectly and don't have many cubs this spring, I think next winter will be easier."

Roup glanced at him sidelong. He knew Arcove had been preoccupied with the deer-count, the cub-count, and their implications. He felt disloyal for raising another issue.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Nadine. "Roup was just telling me that there's been a lot of fighting lately between the males."

"He's not wrong," said Arcove. "Halvery broke up a serious fight just before I left. If they would challenge each other to single combat as is traditional, we wouldn't have to get involved. But several dozen cats were quarreling over a kill, and cubs were on the ground in the middle of it. One three-year-old was already dead, and two others had wounds they can't afford. Everyone is hungry, and it's stirring up tempers."

"I think Treace is stirring up tempers," muttered Roup. "How many of the cats fighting were previously under his command?"

Arcove sighed. "A few."

"I want to hear what Nadine thinks," said Roup. "She's been doing this longer than we have."

Nadine smiled. "Ah, Roup. Always the sweet one."

Arcove gave a rumbling chuckle. "You could have had him in your den."

"I know. It is such a shame that you needed him on the council."

Roup felt slightly embarra.s.sed. "Maybe we should give the rest of your den-mates a chance to eat?"

"They are getting impatient, aren't they?" said Nadine. "Let's go talk where it's warm. We might as well be comfortable...because neither of you will like what I have to say."

Roup followed, wondering, as she led the way through the trees, along a trampled path between drifts of snow, to a bend of Smoky Branch. Nadine turned at last and looked at Arcove amid the curling steam. "I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you what your predecessors would have done. They would have killed Treace, but not just Treace."

Arcove growled. "Oh, I'm sure."

"Ketch would have taken a clutter over there and slaughtered every male in that den and anyone else who was unwise enough to raise a paw. Masaran would have made the officers fight him one-by-one and then killed their cubs."

Arcove opened his mouth, but Nadine continued.

"This would have provoked a brief, but b.l.o.o.d.y war. Some of Treace's cats would have fought back. Perhaps they would even have won. Here's the important thing: they would have fought. We are creatures of struggle, Arcove. Creasia are born to fight. We fought with the ferryshaft for as long as anyone can remember. We fought with the telshees. When we weren't fighting with them, we fought with each other.

"You gave us peace. Sixteen years of peace. Everyone said it couldn't be done. You did it. But you can't keep that battle-hunger trapped forever. If you don't give them something else to fight soon, they'll fight you."

There was a heavy silence.

When no one said anything, Nadine continued. "Roup, I think you are right that some of this unrest is coming from Treace-or, at least, from cats who are dissatisfied over his demotion. Arcove, I think you are right that simply killing him won't solve it-not unless you make the kind of example you don't want to make. But I don't think either of you see the larger issue, and that's because you didn't live as adults under previous kings."

"You think, as a species, we're incapable of peace?" asked Arcove.

Nadine sighed. "I don't know. I do know that you cannot break an animal of its nature. Caraca cannot teach her oory to talk no matter how hard she tries. Perhaps you cannot teach the creasia not to fight."

Arcove gave an unhappy rumble. "I didn't win the war to let them kill each other over petty squabbles. I didn't stop them from killing each other's cubs so that I could begin doing it myself."

"I know," said Nadine. "But perhaps you have been too gentle with them. When you won their leadership, we were desperately outnumbered. You needed every creasia alive and fighting, and that remained true for a long time. But it's not true anymore, Arcove. You'd never tolerate the kind of behavior from Charder that you've tolerated from Treace."

"I will not rule the creasia the way I rule the ferryshaft," growled Arcove. "I didn't win the war to do that, either."

"Won't or can't?" said Nadine.

Arcove was bristling. Roup watched them. He'd never had more respect for Nadine, but he hoped she hadn't pressed too far.

"Your loyalty is to your den and your cubs," said Arcove after a moment.

"Yes," agreed Nadine. "Most of them will not outlive you, and I do not think I will have a fourth mate, either."

"Can't or won't?" asked Arcove with a smile and Roup relaxed.

Nadine chuffed. "I was counseling kings when you were still at your mother's teat, oh confident one."

"And did any of the others let you keep your cubs when they took your den?"

Nadine's gaze dropped. "You know you have my loyalty, Arcove. And I can't tell what you should do. You're on an untrod path and always have been. I can only tell you what was done in the past and why it worked. Excuse me now. I need to go make certain that everyone gets a share of the kill. As you said, we are all a little hungry."

When she'd gone, Arcove stretched out with his head on his paws. Roup thought he looked tired. "Maybe I shouldn't have-" Roup began, but Arcove gave a hard flick of his tail, as though to dismiss the apology.

After a moment, he muttered, "Perhaps I shouldn't have eliminated all the fractious little herds of ferryshaft after the war. Then I could send the young cats out to fight with them."

"You haven't sent out any raiding parties this winter," ventured Roup. He hated to bring this up as a solution, but he also saw the wisdom of Nadine's words.

"No," said Arcove. "And I won't."

Roup was surprised. "Why?"

"Two reasons. I keep ferryshaft numbers at half of ours, and we are considerably more numerous than I thought. Also, these cats are hungry. Treace has already put it into their heads that ferryshaft are an acceptable food source. I don't want to tempt them. Under normal circ.u.mstances, creasia would rather eat deer, and by next winter, most of them will be doing that regularly again."

Roup lay down beside him and draped his head over Arcove's shoulders. "We are not incapable of peace."

Arcove chuffed. "I know you're not." He seemed to perk up suddenly. "There is another way... I was always averse to the idea before, but...maybe new problems require new solutions."

"What would those be?" asked Roup.

"Let me think about it a little more."

"That's what you say when you know I won't like what you're thinking."

Arcove's tail twitched, but he said nothing.

Chapter 14. Spring.