Stinger shook his head. “Thank you, Fearless. That’s a brave offer. But you need to stay close to Titan, remember?” The baboon drew a weary paw down his face. “Maybe I’m imagining things. But you see, I’m not just worried for myself. After everything that’s happened, the troop needs stability.”
“Brightforest needs you, Stinger. You’re the leader they’ve waited for, I know that. I wish my pride could have such a leader!”
Stinger patted Fearless’s shoulder. “Just you wait, Cub of the Stars. They’ll have that pride leader, remember? Because someday, you’ll be the one leading them.”
Through the swaying branches Fearless could just see a flash of pale fur moving down the hill, springing from hillock to stone. “Valor’s coming to look for me. I’d better go.”
“Farewell, Cub of the Stars.” There was wistful sadness in Stinger’s voice.
Fearless emerged from the scrub into the teeth of the ferocious wind. Blinking, he scrambled back up the hill, his paws sliding; the grass was already drying in the gale’s blast, but the soil had been saturated. Pausing on an outcrop of rock, he glanced back to see Stinger still hunched beneath the trees, his face hidden in the shadows. One of his long-fingered paws was raised in farewell.
Hope scudded through Fearless like the racing clouds above him.
One day, I will face Titan, and beat him, he realized.
Stinger knows it. And when Stinger knows something, it will always come to pass.
Returning across the hilly grassland to Titanpride was a struggle. Both lions were forced to duck their heads into the wind that gusted and raged; it raked their fur, and Fearless’s eyes stung from blown grit. Valor shook her head constantly, blinking and growling.
The sandy earth was spun into random, whirling dust devils around them; there was no way to be sure of the wild wind’s direction. As a strong gust struck them from the west, Valor abruptly halted, sniffing the air.
“What is it?” Fearless half crouched, the wind ruffling his rump. “Let’s get to shelter. This is horrible.”
Valor’s whiskers twitched. “Blood,” she growled. Her muscles tensed. “And it’s fresh.”
Fearless sneezed out dust, and sniffed. There was blood, but beneath its sharp tang was a tangle of different scents—oily fur, an earthy musk, and something foul.
“Lions?” he asked his sister. “And something else, too.”
Valor nodded. “Hyenas. Smell that rot-meat?” She wrinkled her muzzle. “There must have been a fight.”
“But the hyenas were at the watering hole,” Fearless said. “I saw them.”
“Your nose doesn’t lie,” said Valor. “That’s what Mother used to say.”
They followed the trail of smells, slinking low on their haunches in the long grass. The scents of lions were muddled with the rank stench of hyena, and Fearless thought he could recognize some of them. Is that Sly? he wondered, sniffing. And I’m sure that’s Resolute.
Valor jerked her head toward a nearby escarpment. A smear of dark shadow at its foot proved to be a deep hole, with rainwater pooled in its base. It stretched far into the heart of the escarpment; Fearless could make that out straightaway. He’d seen a cavern before that was just like this one.
When they reached it the hyena scent was so strong it filled his nose and throat, almost making him gag. Valor’s pawsteps splashed tentatively into the water, but she slunk on into the hole, and Fearless crept after her.
Inside, it became a waterlogged tunnel, the end of which was lost in darkness.
“Must be their den,” whispered Valor.
Fearless’s pelt tingled. Not long ago he had ventured into that other hyena den, vengefully seeking the killers of Bark Crownleaf. It had not ended well; he had barely escaped with his life.
This is different, he told himself. I’m not alone.
Ears craning, he listened. All was completely silent.
It was dank, and cold, and foul with that awful scent, but at least they were out of the wind’s blast. The den felt so still, it was almost peaceful. Don’t get complacent, Fearless reminded himself.
They padded forward. The walls of the tunnel were narrow and crumbly, and Fearless’s chest constricted. He hated this crushing space, not least because he knew what might await them deep inside. Shuddering, he recalled the claws and teeth of the hyenas that had ambushed him before.
Along the earthen walls, marks were visible of the paws that had dug it out—four-toed, with the raking scratch of long claws. The soil was permeated with that hyena stench of grease and foul flesh. Ahead of him Valor crept cautiously, but with each step, Fearless’s unease grew. If the hyenas were here, why was it so quiet and still? If they weren’t, why did it stink of fresh blood?
As they left the entrance behind, all light faded, and Valor became a blue-and-green shadow moving ahead of him. The scents thickened as the tunnel began to widen into a cavern, and with a lurch of sickening foresight, Fearless knew that now they would finally see what lay within the hyena den.
Emerging into the cavern, Valor gave a high yelp that echoed from the walls.
Hackles prickling, Fearless pushed past her. It was much like the hyena den where he’d once fought for his life. And just like that one, cracks and fissures in the roof let feeble daylight seep through, casting an eerie glow on lumpy, twisted shapes. As his eyes adjusted, his stomach turned over.
The den was full of dead hyenas. The earth walls and floor were spattered with blood. A scrawny female sprawled near his paws as if she’d been tossed there, her glazed eyes fixed on him.
The smell of lions was here too, stronger than ever. Dominating it was a sharp scent, like churned-up earth mixed with torn flesh: Titan.
“Maybe it was a battle.” Valor stared around. “Maybe the hyenas attacked the pride?”
Fearless shook his head. Anger was building within him; his blood was hot with it. “Look at them, Valor!”
Some of the carcasses were tiny, others gaunt and thin-furred. A pup lay by the den wall, half hidden beneath an old female who must have been trying to protect it. Their throats were torn out.
“They’re all too old or too young to fight,” Fearless said in hoarse disgust. “They didn’t come to the Gathering, and you know why? They stayed here because they were too weak to make the journey.”
Tentatively Valor sniffed at the pup. “They’ve not even been eaten.”
Fearless could barely think for his buzzing rage. “Titan’s a Codebreaker!” he snarled. Turning his rump on the den and its grisly contents, he bolted back down the tunnel.
“Wait!” cried Valor, racing after him. “Fearless, stop!”
He ignored her, bounding out of the tunnel and into the chaotic fury of the wind. He blinked as dust swirled into his eyes. Valor caught up in a couple of paces, skidding to a halt before him.
“You can’t confront Titan about this, Fearless. He’d love an excuse to kill you.”
“I don’t care!” Fearless pushed past her. All he could think about was sinking his claws into Titan’s pelt.
Valor sprang in front of him once more. Her dark eyes flashed. “Well, I care. And so does Mother. Do you want to break her heart all over again?”
Fearless hesitated.
“Promise me you won’t say anything.”
His breath came in hard rasps. Dreams of revenge whirled in his head: No one would stop me. No one would care. I’d be doing Bravelands a favor.
“You don’t even have your mane yet!” Valor cried in exasperation.
It was exactly what Stinger had said. As rage drained from Fearless’s blood, Stinger’s other words by the watering hole came back to him: One day, he will go too far, and he will have no escape. . . But until then, you must wait.
“Fine.” Still shaking from the surge of fury, Fearless averted his eyes. “I promise. I’ll say nothing.”
Valor huffed in relief. “Finally, some sense.”
But Fearless could not get rid of the stench of blood in h
is nostrils; not even the violence of the wind could blow it away. Somewhere inside him the fury still simmered, and when they found Titanpride sheltering in the long grass, he felt it spark back to a flame once more.
Halting, Fearless eyed the pride. Along Daring’s flank ran a vicious scratch, and Resolute was licking dried blood from his paws, but those were the only signs that Titanpride had ever stirred from this spot. The lions sprawled in contentment, letting the grass billow and thrash around their heads; it was hard to believe that they’d recently massacred a helpless den of hyenas. Sly and Honor groomed each other while Regal and Artful gossiped. Ruthless was chasing a blue butterfly that lurched helplessly from leaf to leaf. The cub batted idly at the wind-tossed creature, with big paws he had yet to grow into.
“Hi, Fearless!” he called, his ears pricking forward.
Titan’s ears swiveled too. Rising to his feet, he stretched, the muscles along his scarred flanks rippling. He licked his jaws, narrowed his eyes, and stalked toward them.
“Back at last,” he growled. “Anything to report?”
Fearless and Valor glanced at each other.
“Well?” Titan stared down at them. Gouts of blood had dried in the black fur of his windblown mane.
“We have news from the Great Gathering,” Fearless said. “Stronghide—”
“Oh, I don’t care what those fools do at the watering hole.” Titan flexed his claws. “I only let you go so you wouldn’t whine about what I had planned for the hyenas.” He grinned, muzzle curling to reveal his bloodied teeth. “Did you happen to notice their filthy den as you came back?”
Valor ducked her head. “Yes, Titan.”
“Do you have any objection, Fearless?” Artful asked, amusement in her voice. She glanced pointedly toward Swift, who sat at the edge of the pride. Fearless understood the unspoken threat perfectly.
He ducked his head too. “Of course not.”
Titan opened his massive jaws in a grunting roar; the pride were instantly on their feet, gathering in a circle around him.
“Our raid on the hyenas is the first of many,” he announced. “The fools who believe in the Great Spirit are as panicky as ants—they’ll be easy pickings. We can wipe out our enemies.”
A few of the lions shifted uncomfortably. “Isn’t that against the Code?” asked Daring.
Titan narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t hear you objecting when we dealt with the hyenas,” he snapped, and Daring shrank back. “The Code says, Only kill to survive,” Titan went on. “Our enemies compete with us for food and territory. We can only survive by destroying them.”
Fearless sucked in a shocked breath. Valor’s jaw was trembling. On the edge of the pride, their mother turned her head away, as if she couldn’t bear to hear. Some of the other lions fidgeted uneasily, but no one spoke.
“We will kill as many herd animals as we can,” Titan went on. “With less prey, our enemies will starve.”
Ruthless, blissfully unconcerned, was still chasing the butterfly. He pranced in front of his father, paws darting after its blue wings.
“Ruthless! Stop that!” Titan roared. Ruthless flinched and cowered. “I’m talking about the future of Titanpride. Your future. Act like my son and listen!”
Ruthless scampered to Artful’s side and huddled against her.
“We will guarantee the safety of our pride and ensure that my son inherits a fine territory.” Titan’s tail lashed. “Each of you must make one kill a day. The rule of Titanpride will spread across Bravelands!”
The lions looked stunned. Regal seemed about to speak, but closed her mouth tightly.
Fearless knew what they were thinking, and he felt cold with horror. A kill a day from each lion? Not only would that be next to impossible in the current hunting conditions, but if by some wild chance they succeeded, the kills would be far more than the pride could eat. Fearless pictured all those pathetic corpses left untouched and rotting on the savannah, and his stomach lurched.
Titan was mad. What good would it do to destroy the herds? In the end that would mean death for Titanpride, too. And here I am, forced to wait like an obedient servant, following Titan’s insane orders for moons, seasons, years.
Shutting his eyes, he tried to hold fast to Stinger’s words. He needed the baboon’s wisdom more than ever. But he also needed to remember the promise that had followed from Stinger’s warnings.
One day my chance will come. One day I’ll know the time is right.
He clenched his fangs, forcing his dark longing deep down inside him.
And then this hidden scorpion will strike.
CHAPTER 9
Thorn was dreaming of mangos and sunshine. Rich, sweet juice on his tongue, and the pleasure of nibbling the last shreds from the big stone: in his sleep, he grunted and smiled. Somewhere on the edge of his mind he knew it was a dream, but it was such a simple, carefree one, he relaxed and enjoyed it. Reaching for another mango, he sank his fangs into its skin.
It screeched in terror.
Thorn jolted awake, grabbing instinctively for a branch. The sunshine was gone; it was dead of night, and a powerful wind rocked the trees where the troop had found temporary shelter. The scream that had broken his dream had been a baboon’s. Thorn was in time to see a flash of pale fur below as the falling baboon struck another branch, bounced helplessly, and plummeted to earth. Thorn cried out in horror.
Baboons were waking now, screeching in distress and pounding the trees with their paws. In the next tree he could see the jagged scar where a branch had snapped in the wind; the branch itself was lodged halfway down, tilted between two trunks at a crazy angle.
A gust caught Thorn as he rose, almost knocking him off-balance, and he snatched for a handhold. Above him the canopy tossed, the sound of its wind-torn foliage deafening. A tremor rippled from his paws to the top of his head, and he realized his entire tree was shuddering.
A thunderous crack split the air. Thorn didn’t have time to think; he raced to the end of his bough and sprang. As his paws found purchase on the next tree, he heard behind him a crash like an avalanche of boulders.
Panting, he scrabbled with his hind paws to get himself safely onto the new branch. Only then could he turn and survey the devastation.
All around the swaying trees, there was panicked hooting and screeching; some of the howls came from injured baboons below. Thorn’s heart lurched. How many had fallen? Where’s Berry?
Thorn shinned backward down the lumpy tree trunk, jumping the last short way to the ground. The glade that had been here at sunset was gone; it was a chaos of broken branches and masses of leaves, and the broad trunk of a great mahogany jutted straight across the middle. A sliver of moon flitted from the racing clouds, edging the scene in a cold pale light.
Some of the shrieks of pain were fading to whimpers that were drowned out by the fury of the storm. “Mud!” yelled Thorn. “Berry!”
“I’m here.” Mud was crawling from beneath a great heap of leaves, his eyes stark with terror.
“Where’s Berry?”
“Here!” Berry was clambering awkwardly along a cracked branch, her paws shaking.
The wave of relief made Thorn dizzy. “Thank the Great Spirit,” he croaked. “How many are hurt?”
Other baboons were jumping down from the trees now, wide-eyed and shattered; Thorn, Berry, and Mud joined them, picking their way through the devastation to search for the wounded. Some baboons were obviously dead, crushed beneath the massive trunk or sprawled at odd angles.
“Strongbranches!” Stinger’s command resounded. “Get to work freeing all the trapped baboons. Find the wounded and take them to Petal and Blossom Goodleaf.”
Thorn felt a tremor of uncomfortable emotion: it was disappointment. I shouldn’t wish this fate on any baboon. But how much simpler things would have been if Stinger had been one of the baboons lying there. . . . Shaking himself, Thorn turned to work, dragging aside branches and gently carrying baboons to the care of the two anxious Goodleaves
.
“We must make camp on the open plain for now.” Stinger was pacing through the chaos, organizing the rescue efforts and comforting the injured. “We have no choice until this wind stops. If it can bring down that mahogany, no place in the forest is safe.”
The first hint of dawn was paling the eastern horizon by the time all the wounded were retrieved and the whole troop had limped out of the forest. Settling in a shallow dip of land, they fidgeted and murmured in distress. The hollow gave little protection against the howling wind; grown baboons shivered, and babies whimpered.
“It doesn’t feel right to sleep on the ground,” complained Beetle. “It’s not the baboon way.”
“Like Stinger said, we don’t have a choice for now.” Thorn, padding past the old baboon, tried not to roll his eyes. “He’s appointed the Strongbranches to keep watch, so try to get some sleep. It’s almost dawn.”
Climbing to the lip of the hollow, he tried to make himself comfortable for what was left of the night. He sensed movement beside him, but it was only Frog, joining him at his sentry post.
“Can I tell you a secret, Thorn?” she whispered.
“Of course,” he said, surprised. He patted the ground beside him.
She sat down quickly. “I’m ashamed. I wasn’t there tonight. When the tree fell. Because . . . I sneaked off to visit Great Mother’s body.”
Thorn raised his brows. “You did?”
“I don’t know how to say this,” she whispered, “but you’re the only one I might be able to talk to. Some of the things Stinger asks us Strongbranches to do . . . I’m not comfortable with them. I have a feeling it’s the same for you.” Frog gave him an anxious, questioning look. “I went to the watering hole because I wanted guidance from the Great Spirit. I . . . can still sense it, around Great Mother.”
Thorn lowered his voice. “Did it show you anything?”
“I’m not sure.” Frog sighed. “But I think . . . the fallen tree might be a punishment. We’ve done wrong things, Thorn. I hate being used to scare other creatures.”