Free Ratha’s Creature (The First Book of The Named) by Clare Bell Page A

you cold now?”
    “What a question! How can I not be with the wind blowing through. ...”
    Ratha waited. Fessran stopped, blinked and fluffed her fur. “Your creature warms us,” she said in surprise. “I remember now; when we ran from the Red Tongue, I felt its hot breath on me and I ran faster.”
    “There is no need to run from it now. My creature is only bad when it grows too large. I know how to keep it small,” Ratha said, a touch of pride in her voice. Fessran’s hackles smoothed, but she gave no indication of staying. She padded out past the rim of the firelit circle and melded with the darkness until only her eyes and teeth showed. Ratha followed to the brown-shadowed edge and shook herself as a sharp gust tore through her thin summer coat. She heard Fessran shiver.
    “Come back to me and my creature,” Ratha called. She waited, then turned around in disgust and walked back to her Red Tongue. Something made her look into the dark. The eyes hadn’t gone. They still stared out at her.
    Ratha ignored them. She flopped down, her belly to the fire, spreading her pads and feeling the heat flow around them. She heard hesitant footsteps behind her and began to grin.
    “Be a good cub, my little Red Tongue,” she said softly to the dancing flame. “She may soon be your friend if she sees no reason to fear you.”
    The footsteps grew quicker then and stopped. There was the soft brush of a tail being curled across feet. Ratha rolled her head back. Fessran sat behind her as if she were a wall protecting Fessran from the Red Tongue’s capricious play.
    “You like it, don’t you?” Ratha said.
    Fessran’s whiskers twitched. Her expression was still guarded, but her eyes, as she stared at the flame, were full of wonder rather than fear.
    Ratha lifted her chin for a nuzzle and this time received an answering touch.
    “Was I such a foolish cub to keep the creature alive?”
    Fessran’s face softened. “Perhaps not, Ratha.”
    Ratha yawned, arched her back and stretched until her toes and tail quivered. “Thakur told me once that the clanfolk thought old Baire was foolish when he tried to tame three-horns and add them to our herds,” she said.
    “Those who spoke so had reason to be afraid,” Fessran answered. “I saw many herders die on those horns. We learned much and now we can keep the creatures, but we lost many clan folk.”
    “Three-horns are good for the clan,” Ratha argued. “Baire wasn’t foolish to herd them. Maybe I’m not foolish to herd the Red Tongue. I already know much about it, and I can teach. Clan folk won’t have to die to learn.”
    “May it be so, Ratha,” Fessran said cautiously. “You speak of Thakur. I have left him waiting in the cold.” She got up, shaking ash from her hindquarters.
    “Call him here to warm himself beside my creature,” Ratha said.
    “I’ll try, but don’t forget that he fears the Red Tongue.”
    Fessran turned her back to the fire and called into the darkness where Thakur was still waiting.
    Ratha saw him slink to the edge of the light where orange turned to brown and shadows grew long and wavering. There he crouched and would come no further despite Fessran’s coaxing. He wrinkled his brows and squinted away from the fire with frightened, watery eyes.
    “Herd-brother, Ratha’s creature won’t harm us. Come and lie down with me. The Red Tongue makes the night as warm as your den.”
    “My fur is warm enough,” Thakur growled. “The Red Tongue’s light bites my eyes. I would rather see by starlight.” He fluffed his fur against the wind. “The herdbeasts fear this thing and their fear is wise. Not to fear it is foolish.” He looked at Ratha.
    “I know about it. I don’t have to fear it.” She flattened her ears.
    “I know about it too.” Thakur’s lips drew back and his fangs gleamed as he spoke. “Have you forgotten how it ate the forest? Have you forgotten the dappleback I dragged away? Fessran, that was your little stallion I