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

tried to save. I dragged the beast away from the Red Tongue, but like the snake’s tongue it struck.” He huddled, trembling, terror shimmering with the firelight in his eyes. “The Red Tongue licked at the stallion until the skin was black and falling off. It licked until the entrails burst and the bones showed white beneath. Aayowrr!”
    Ratha glared at Thakur, hating him for making her remember the time when the thing she now called her creature had run wild, destroying the forests. The ashy stubble she stood on was reminder enough. She grew angrier as her own fear, the fear she had subdued to tame the Red Tongue, now rose again.
    “Meoran must think you drowned in the river crossing since you haven’t yet returned to clan ground. If you don’t return soon, he’ll find a young male to take your place as herder.”
    “Don’t taunt her, Thakur,” Fessran warned as Ratha felt her nape start to bristle.
    “I don’t care what Meoran thinks!” Ratha snarled. Her belly churned as she remembered the clan leader’s cold eyes and scornful voice. Meoran thought her a weakling, unfit for the task of clan herder. Despite her words to Thakur, the thought stabbed into her, driving as deep as fangs into her flesh.
    She quivered, wishing she could blaze out like the Red Tongue, to engulf Thakur, Meoran and all those who doubted her, to burn until nothing was left.
    Thakur lifted his muzzle. “You cared what Meoran thought when you swam the river. And if you didn’t why, why, by the Law that named you, did you have to drag me across this place?” He scuffed a foot in the charred stubble. “The smell sickens me. The ash stings my feet. And you, Fessran,” he said, turning to her, “why do you encourage this foolish cub? Would you lead one of your dapplebacks onto a cliff and hope it didn’t fall off? I thought you had some sense.”
    “I do,” Fessran said quietly, “and fear doesn’t keep me from using it.”
    Thakur’s eyes went back to Ratha. The green in them was pale. She hated him for his weakness and she saw him flinch as he felt the depth of her hatred.
    His next words were measured and careful. He stared right at Ratha as he said, “I made a mistake when I chose you to train. I should have obeyed Meoran. Teaching you to herd was a waste. I will think hard before I accept another female to train.”
    “Go then!” Ratha spat, every hair on her body on end. “I’m tired of hearing you whine and tired of smelling your fear-scent. Go lie in the dark and cold, frightened one!”
    Fessran’s jaw opened, but before she could say anything, Ratha sprang at Thakur.
    “If what Meoran said about me was true, then what he said about you was even more so; your lair-father was an Un-Named chewer of bones, and you are unworthy of the name Baire gave you!”
    She landed in front of him. He didn’t flinch or strike out. He looked at her steadily. Ratha lifted one paw to claw him, found she couldn’t and stamped in frustration, more furious at herself than at him. Thakur kept his eyes on her and the pain in them made her throat burn with shame. She wished she could dig a hole and bury her words deeper than she ever buried her dung.
    “I will see you on clan ground,” he said very softly and was gone.
    For a moment, Ratha stood staring at his pawprints in the flickering light and smelling the sour traces of his smell. Behind her she could hear Fessran licking her coat. She listened to the tongue strokes and the muted guttural sounds as Fessran routed fleas and combed out snarls and mats. At last her voice came from behind Ratha’s back. “He is a good herder. You did wrong to shame him.”
    Ratha spun around, all patience gone. “Go with him then. I can herd the Red Tongue by myself.”
    “You would do better, Ratha, if you herded your own tongue behind your teeth and kept it there for a while.” Fessran finished grooming herself, shook her pelt and got up. “Now show me how you feed this creature of yours so I