Free Ratha's Courage by Clare Bell

numbers. Again she was struck by how alike the other tribe’s members were as compared to the clan.
    These differences might be even greater than she knew, Ratha thought. Thistle and Thakur had been playing around with the idea that the Named couldn’t see reds and oranges as well as their treelings could. Thakur suggested that one could collect some of a reddish fruit that had equal hues (at least to Named eyes), but had varying degrees of ripeness. By blanking out a treeling’s sense of smell, perhaps by scattering strong-scented leaves nearby, one could show that treelings selected the ripest fruit by the depth of its rosy color.
    For Ratha, it felt odd to think that she might not be seeing the true color of the ember within a flame, or the burning intensity of Bira’s luxurious fur.
    What did Bira look like to a treeling, Ratha wondered. Perhaps only Thakur and Thistle had the imagination to even ask such a question.
    And herself? She might well have enough imagination but limited opportunities to indulge it. She had to pay more attention to practical questions, such as whether the differences between her people and True-of-voice’s were dangerous.
    When Ratha pointed her nose toward the face-tail hunters, closed her eyes, and let odor claim her attention, she noticed that the theme of similarity among them continued from sight to scent. True-of-voice’s people had almost no individual scents, only traces. The dominant smell was True-of-voice, and even his pure scent did not encompass his group. They had a tribal smell: part True-of-voice, part other. The scent of the song, Thakur had called it, even though his choice of words seemed muddled and contradictory.
    The scents of her own people, though, Ratha could easily pick out, even if Thakur, Bira, Thistle, or whoever had been rolling in the strongest herdbeast dung. Even Quiet Hunter, in moving from True-of-voice’s tribe to her clan, had developed more of his individual scent as well as the Named group-smell. His was strong enough now that Ratha could taste it on the air that passed the sensitive area on the roof of her mouth. She envied Thistle slightly, and her gaze wandered to Thakur.
    She also caught herself grimacing slightly to catch the scent and taste of the herding teacher. She bent and groomed a forepaw to distract herself from those thoughts.
    Thakur followed Thistle. He would be displaying an unusual herding tactic. Though the Named herders were reluctant to admit it, some beasts couldn’t be stared into submission or easily caught. Young three-horns were often too quick and too fleet for the Named to catch and hold their gaze.
    Ratha shifted on the sunning rock. Thakur had been working on this new capture technique for a while but had kept it private until he could perfect it.
    Now he was ready. He stood to one side of the arena, almost within a tail-length of the Named side of the audience. Opposite him, Fessran, Drani, and Bira held a three-horn fawn. Fessran wrapped her forelegs around the deer’s neck while Drani held the tail and rump. Bira put both forepaws on the young deer’s spotted back, using her weight to keep the animal still.
    She saw Thakur gather his hindquarters beneath him and lower his head. Catching the suppressed excitement in his scent gave Ratha a powerful wish to slide her forepaws out, raise her hindquarters, lay her chest down, and moan in longing. She quickly squashed the urge.
    Thakur lifted a forefoot, extended his claws and gave them a quick glance, paying particular attention to the dewclaw. Curious, Ratha sat up, craning her neck. The Named didn’t use the dewclaw much, at least not in herding.
    Muscles quivered and tensed in Thakur’s flanks.
    He gave a sharp upward flip of his tail, the signal for the three females to release the fawn.
    Ratha thought he would explode forward in a rush, using his speed to bring the fawn down before it could take a step. Instead, while the young deer stood nervously, flicking its