Little Fur lay wide awake in her favorite sleeping place among the roots of the eldest of the Old Ones. She had seen a fire only once, when lightning had struck at the edge of the wilderness, but rain had put it out before long. But the hot orange tongues of flame had traveled with frightening speed and she vividly remembered the whispered terror of the trees.
When at last she did sleep, it was an uneasy doze in which she seemed to hear the Old One whispering to her that all things came to an end, even seemingly immortal trees, and that fire was as much a force of nature as rain or sunlight or even humans.
Little Fur woke with tears on her cheeks and the knowledge that she must go to the Sett Owl. She climbed to the top of the hill and gazed outward, over the shadowy rooftops of the human dwellings around the wilderness to the mysterious, shining high houses in the distance. Animals said there were few trees and green places around the high houses, but the beaked house was in an older part of the city where roads were sometimes made from round cobblestones that let the earth breathe, and where there were trees and tiny parks and paths of grass. There were even green places where humans did not bother to go. Little Fur felt sure that she could make her way carefully from one of these green places to the next without losing touch with the flow of earth magic. And it could not be very far if, as Crow said, the bells they sometimes heard tolling in the wilderness belonged to the beaked house. She would have to go slowly but she could travel at night, when most humans slept. That meant a greater chance of encountering trolls, but there were not so many in the parts of the city where green things grew, and if she was careful, she could avoid them.
A greater risk would be the ragged, wrong-smelling humans that cats called greeps. There were a good many of these living in shallow burrows and crevices in the older parts of the city, and they were bolder than trolls because they were not afraid of other humans. But Little Fur had the impression from cats’ tales that greeps were awkward and clumsy, so perhaps they could be avoided, too.
CHAPTER 3
A Dark Road
“This is a very bad idea,” Brownie said.
“There is no other way.” Little Fur pushed some dried mushrooms into her pouch.
“What if a human sees you?” asked Brownie. “You will be captured and put in a cage.”
“You just jealous because it not being your idea that she seeking advice of Sett Owl,” Crow crowed.
Brownie glared at him. “Birdbrain! It will be your fault if humans or greeps get her, and what about bad trolls?”
“I will flying ahead to warning her of dangerfulness,” Crow boasted.
Brownie snorted. “Little Fur, have you thought about what will happen if you are seen?”
Little Fur softly patted his nose. “Don’t be angry with me for doing what I must.”
The stiffness went out of Brownie. “I am frightened for you,” he said humbly. “I wish this were over.”
“So do I,” Little Fur said. She threw a fine gray spiderweb cloak about her and gave him a final hug. Then she turned to the two cats who had agreed to help guide her. Both were street cats that she had healed more than once, several times from battles with one another. Ginger was gray-furred, tough and silent, with orange eyes. Sly was lean and mean, with one narrow green eye and a broken tail tip. Crow had fetched them when Little Fur suggested it might be good to have scouts on the ground as well as one on the wing.
“Let’s go,” Sly hissed.
“What about the Old Ones?” Brownie called out to Little Fur as Crow took to his wings. “Have you told them what you are doing?”
“They will know,” Little Fur said, and she set off in the direction that Crow had taken, flanked by the two cats.
Little Fur stared in dismay at the black road stretched before them, thinking that it was like a river of cat shadow which, if crossed, would permit no return. Yet they must cross it, for the beaked house lay on the other side.
“Can’t crossing here,” Crow said. He was perched on the high, thin wooden barrier separating the black road from the grassy common they had crossed. “Must going on grass path until reaching tunnel under road.”
Little Fur stepped gingerly through the gap in the wooden barrier onto the sparse grass path that ran by the black road. Earth magic flowed through it, but so sluggishly that after a few steps, Little Fur decided she must try to help it.
She dropped to her knees and opened her seed pouch. Choosing three seeds of a hardy, long-rooted ground creeper that would like the dry, sandy earth better than grass, she pushed them into the dirt, covered them and dribbled some water from her bottle over them. If the seeds germinated, the creeper would spread swiftly along the verge, and eventually the wind would carry its seeds to the other side of the road. And where green things grew well, they would summon the earth spirit more strongly.
Suddenly Ginger hissed, “Quick! Road monster coming!”
There was nowhere to hide, so Little Fur flung herself down on her face and pulled her cloak over her head. For a long moment, there was nothing but the dusty smell of the weary earth under her cheek. Then the ground began to tremble and she heard the unmistakable snarling growl of a road beast. She had heard them in the wilderness, but this was so much louder.
When she could bear it no longer, she peeped out and saw it coming along the black road at a tremendous speed: an enormous, flat-sided beast like no creature she had ever seen. It moved on great black wheels and its eyes were bulbs of glaring white. Without warning, it gave a screaming cry. Little Fur pressed her face to the dirt and felt all the hair prickle up on her neck as it passed, sucking the air after it and lifting the dry earth into a gritty whirlwind in its wake. When she dared to look after it, the road monster’s red back-eyes were staring at her. But it did not turn or stop.
It took Little Fur a long while to be able to stand. Ginger sat on his haunches watching her and she wondered that he could be so calm.
“Let’s going,” Crow cawed, wheeling above.
Little Fur nodded, but the truth was that she wanted to go as fast as she could back to the wilderness and never leave it again. Yet what would become of the Old Ones if she did? Sly had vanished, and as they set off again, Little Fur wondered if the road monster had frightened her away. She would not blame Sly if it were so.
When the road began to curve, the wooden barrier curved, too, and Little Fur could no longer see ahead. So it was a shock when she came abruptly to the end of the grass path. Ahead, the black road now ran alongside the high wooden barrier with only a narrow gray curb to separate them. Before Little Fur could call out to Crow, Ginger stretched out a scarred gray paw to dab at a line of grass pushing up between the gray curb and the black road.
Little Fur touched one toe to the narrow seam of grass and was surprised to find earth magic flowing along it. Trying not to think about what would happen if the road monster returned, she put her whole foot down over the seam, then gasped. “The road is hot!”
“The blackness holds the heat of the day.”
Little Fur looked up to find Sly draped elegantly along the top of the wooden barrier. She rose and leaped lightly down to sniff at the surface of the black road. “Nice and warm to lie on, but dangerous,” she purred, as though the thought of being in danger pleased her.
Little Fur set off along the grass seam, holding out both arms for balance and hoping it would not be long before there was a better place to walk.
By the time Little Fur reached another grass path, she was tired out. How can being careful and anxious be so wearying? Ginger was padding along tirelessly beside her, but Sly had gone ahead again. Hunting, supposed Little Fur.
All at once, she caught the scent of a tree and cast about until she saw it; small, with sparse foliage, it was growing beside one of the poles that held up glowing balls of false light. Little Fur went to the tree, eager to touch its bark. Like most trees planted since humans had come, it was deeply asleep, but when she leaned her cheek against the trunk its dreaming came to
her partly as words, partly as a humming vibration and partly as pictures that flashed into her mind.
Pity gripped her when she realized that the tree believed it was the only one of its kind. She might have tried to convince it that there were others, but what use would that have been when none were near enough to give it company? Instead, she rummaged in her pouch for a small tree orchid wrapped in leaves. She always carried one of these with her because their pollen was useful for healing inflammations in flesh as well as in bark. “You must be a friend to this tree now,” she whispered to the orchid, pushing it into a leafy elbow of the tree where it would be safe from the bruising wind of the road beasts.
Crow landed on the lowest branch of the spindly tree. “Mustn’t stopping here,” he chided. “Must keeping on walking.”
Little Fur smiled up at Crow. “How far is it to the tunnel that goes under the road?”
“Many wingflaps,” Crow said.
Little Fur sighed. Crow couldn’t count, so to him, millions and hundreds and dozens all meant the same thing: many.
They continued along the black road until Little Fur’s head rang with its thick, unpleasant smell. She was very relieved when Crow cried out that the tunnel was just ahead. But to her dismay, it turned out to be a pipe going under the road. Fortunately, there was earth at the bottom of it, where weeds and small plants had taken root.
“No trolls,” Crow said, misunderstanding her hesitation.
The tunnel did not smell of troll. It did not even smell of humans, although it was clear that humans had made it. “What is it for?” she asked.
“After rains, water gushing through here,” Crow said. “I going now. Waiting on other side.”
“What about Ginger?” Little Fur worried. Sly had not long ago reappeared smelling of blood, and that was when the big gray cat had vanished.
“He will follow our scent when he has eaten,” Sly said languidly.
“Going quickly,” Crow ordered, taking to his wings.
CHAPTER 4
The Feeding of Beasts
It was dark in the tunnel but the troll part of Little Fur felt safe and her eyes adjusted quickly. Wet green algae coated the inside of the pipe, so that even if the dirt underfoot ran out, she would be able to keep touch with the flow of earth magic. As she walked, she bent to tweak leaves from a plant she had not seen before. But her thoughts were not on herbs so much as the road passing overhead.
“Why do humans make black roads?” she murmured.
“To summon road beasts,” Sly said, looking back over her shoulder. “They keep them as pets. I myself have seen humans bathing their shells with water.”
“The giant beast that roared past us was a human pet?” Little Fur could not believe it.
“Perhaps not that one,” Sly admitted. “No doubt there are road beasts that will not be tamed, just as there are cats who will not be tamed.”
“Truly, humans are strange,” Little Fur mused, still not sure whether to believe the cat.
When they emerged from the tunnel, the moon’s eye had opened and it peered narrowly down at them. Crow said they must go back along this side of the black road in order to reach the beaked house.
Ginger appeared and took his place at Little Fur’s side as she set off with a heavy heart, and Sly roamed ahead, as she seemed to prefer. But she returned almost at once, hissing that she could smell humans.
“Can we go another way?” Little Fur asked.
“No other way,” Crow said.
They went on until Little Fur could smell humans, too, and she trembled at the thought that she was to see them at last.
The wooden barrier turned suddenly and ran around a square, flat field upon which stood a human dwelling spilling light out into the night from all sides. Little Fur gagged at the smell.
“That smell comes from the brew humans feed to road beasts,” Sly said. “See? There is a road beast waiting to be fed under the wings of the place.”
She was right. A black road ran in a loop from the main road around the building. One of the great, ugly road monsters stood on it, next to the bright house. It was so silent that it must have fallen asleep. It did not look dangerous now, but Little Fur wondered what there was in such a thing for humans to love. It did not smell of kindness or softness or sweetness. It did not smell like it needed anything or loved anything. Indeed, it did not smell alive at all.
Crow flapped down to the grass beside her. “Not standing here! Humans will seeing you!” he cawed. “Going along barrier to broken place. Going very fastly.”
But before Little Fur could move, the sleeping road beast suddenly roared to terrifying, deafening life and its dreadful eyes shot out beams of blinding whiteness that fell on all of them. Crow gave a squawk of fright and took to the air and the cats covered themselves in cat shadow.
Little Fur could not move. She felt as if the eyes of the road beast had a power that bound her, just as a snake holds its victims with the magic of its deadly gaze.
“Fly!” screeched Crow from overhead. When she did not move, he swooped down and raked her head with a claw. The pain woke Little Fur from her trance and she turned to run. The road monster shrieked in rage. Little Fur fell to her knees and waited for it to rush at her and kill her. But nothing happened except that its roar grew louder. She opened her eyes and was amazed to see that instead of coming at her, the road beast was swerving away toward the black road!
It occurred to her that perhaps the road beasts could not leave the black roads.
She would have told this astonishing thought to Sly, but three humans ran out of the shining house. Little Fur stared at the sight of them, for all three were as pale as new mushrooms, and so big!
“They see you!” Sly hissed.
Little Fur realized it was true, and terror filled her. She sped along the barrier, her ears turned back to track the thud of the humans’ feet. Sly disappeared through a gap in the fence and Little Fur followed, but there was a dry tangle of grass clogging the gap and she tripped and sprawled onto her hands and knees on the stone-studded ground.
“Get up!” Ginger rasped from his shadows.
Little Fur was too frightened to move. There was a long silence and then a big, round human head rose above the barrier.
She froze, for animals always said that humans you when you stayed very had trouble seeing you when you stayed very still. One of the humans spoke and she caught the sweet scent of curiosity in its words. Another of the humans answered and its words were saturated with the hot, biting stink of cruelty. The head above the fence vanished and the voices faded.
Little Fur sat up. Her head hurt where Crow had scratched it, and her hands and knees burned where she had grazed them, but she had no time to treat her wounds. She wanted to get as far away from the beast feeding place as she could.
Sly and Ginger emerged from cat shadow close by. “Let’s go,” Sly said.
Little Fur obeyed, knowing there was nothing else to do but go on.
They crossed a stony field and climbed through a little ditch which brought them to a green paddock where earth magic flowed strongly. The grass had been well cropped by a flock of white animals and seeing them made some of the fright leak out of Little Fur. Four-legged and white-furred, the animals had delicate horns and cloven hooves. Little Fur would have liked to speak with them, but Crow was overhead screeching at her to hurry.
On the other side of the field was a small stand of pear trees. They had been planted in the human fashion, in neat, unnatural rows, and the field smelled of humans, but their scent was half smothered by the smell of pear nectar. Little Fur went to the nearest tree and put her face against its lichen-dappled bark. She soon learned that it had been planted by a human who came often to harvest its fruit. A tiny, drab bird nesting on one of its branches told Little Fur that the harvesting human came in daylight. The only humans that came at night were greeps who would sometimes stumble to the foot of a tree and fall down to sleep, reeking of their strange appeti
tes.
Little Fur shuddered and was about to turn away when a thought came to her. She touched the tree again and sent a picture of humans burning trees into its dreams, and the sense of her own quest to save the Old Ones. A great shiver of sadness went through it and two pears dropped fatly to the ground.
Little Fur felt sick because even this tree, deeply asleep as it was, knew of the tree burners.
“It wants you to take its seeds,” the bird told her, hopping to a lower branch and fixing its tiny, fierce eyes on her.
Little Fur picked up the fruit, wondering if the tree wanted her to plant its seeds in the wilderness. She laid her hand against the tree one last time, and promised that its seeds would be safe with her. Then she bade the bird farewell and left.
The pears in her arms grew heavy. She ate one as she walked, pushing its dark, sticky seeds into a little pocket at the hem of her tunic. She took some twine from her bag to fasten the other pear to her back. They crossed an overgrown field where there were many bare, dead patches of earth. The flabby coldness of that dead earth filled her with revulsion and pity. Occasionally, she would find a patch that was not quite dead; then she would stop, despite Crow’s objections, and push a seed from her pouch into the ground.
At length they came to another of the barriers so beloved of humans, and Little Fur suddenly remembered that Brownie called them fences. This one was no more than low posts of wood driven into the ground with metal strings stretched between them. The real barrier was a thick, high hedge growing beside it, but she could easily crawl under both.
She was on her hands and knees when she caught the strong smell of humans on the night air.
“Better not to think so much,” Sly advised. “The smell of fear thoughts is strong.”