Free Ratha's Courage by Clare Bell Page A

tail, Thakur sank down low in the grass and began a hunting stalk.
    The deer broke into a high-stepping trot, herders loosely ringing the creature to prevent it from running too far away. They didn’t want to let the animal think that it could actually escape.
    Thakur quickened his stalk, his shoulders and haunches the only parts of him visible in the high grass. His stalk became a fast walk, a trot, and then a springing gallop, the deer bounding ahead of him.
    For an instant the deer pulled ahead, and Ratha thought that Thakur would lose it. Less than a whisker-twitch later, he hit his full speed, his back bowing and arching, his reaching strides flying him to the fawn’s heels.
    The deer ran hard, swerving and dodging, but Thakur stayed on it, whipping his tail out to keep his balance. Ratha saw his forepaw flash out, dewclaw fully extended. His blow struck and hooked the deer on the outside of the hock, sweeping its hind legs out from under it. The quarry fell, sliding on its side in a jumble of flailing hooves and a shroud of dust, pebbles, and torn-up grass. Both prey and hunter tumbled together, loose earth raining down on them.
    With a snakelike strike, Thakur was on top of the deer, diving, twisting, dodging the hooves, seeking the throat. Ratha’s breath quickened. Was he going for a kill?
    As the dirt and dust settled, Ratha saw him crouching, forearms embracing the fawn’s neck, open jaws cradling the underside of the throat, gently twisting the head back and to one side. A slight twitching at the corners of his mouth told Ratha that he was holding back, fighting the urge to bite deeply.
    Applause was slow to start, for many of the Named bore expressions of puzzled amazement. When it did come, it broke from the clan side in a swelling roar that vibrated through the sunning rock where Ratha sat.
    Both stalker and prey held absolutely still until the crowd noise died. Then Thakur released the deer and backed away. Bira, Fessran, and Drani were already closing in. The fawn, dazed, sat as if still held, then, with a jerk, scrambled to its feet. The three deer-wranglers ringed the young three-horn and took it away.
    Thakur pivoted around, his tail sweeping the air in a flourish. Ratha knew Thakur never strutted like some clan males, but he was close. His walk was full of suppleness and pride, his chin lifted, his eyes glowing.
    Again happy caterwauling and howling burst from the clan side and seemed to fountain up into the trees.
    Thakur is the one who carries the true spirit of the Named, Ratha thought. She joined the applause until her throat felt scratchy. When it faded, she heard Cherfan’s voice saying, “And that was our herding teacher, showing the newest capture technique he developed. He did it without really harming that fawn. How did you do that?”
    Some movement on True-of-voice’s side of the crowd drew Ratha’s gaze. It was Thistle and Quiet Hunter, leaning close to the other tribe’s leader, speaking quietly to him and one another. True-of-voice leaned forward on his forepaws, eyes narrowed and intent.
    Tail high, Thakur jogged to the announcer, taking a place beside Cherfan on a low outcropping near the sunning rock.
    Ratha could hear his fast breathing from the chase and a slight strain in his voice as he tried to speak louder.
    “I borrowed the idea from some long-legged Un-Named ones who were hunting prong-buck. I tried it out on our fawns and it worked.”
    “I imagine that getting it to work took some practice,” Cherfan replied.
    The herding teacher took a large breath. “It certainly did. I was pretty winded by the time I got it right.”
    His part ended, Thakur hopped down off the outcrop, leaving Cherfan to announce the next event, a contest between the cubs as to who could stay longest on a bucking animal. Ratha, having seen this several times previously, crouched down as Thakur passed the sunning rock, and asked him to come sit with her.
    While the crowd’s attention focused on