Thorn bounded to the baobab tree and seized Nut’s arm. “Something’s coming!”
“Get off!” Nut slapped at his paw. “I’ve only just sat down.”
Thorn shook him. “We need to go!”
Dragging the reluctant Nut to his feet, Thorn raced back into the long grass and ducked out of sight. Nut slumped down beside him, looking truculent, but half rose to peer out over the tossing sea of grass.
Over the crest of a slope thundered a galloping zebra. His eyes rolled in terror, showing the whites, and his breath came in guttural rasps. Streaks of sweat ran down his chest and flanks.
Moments after him, the flesh-eaters appeared. Lions, thought Thorn; he’s doomed. The big cats’ golden bodies were strong and lithe, and they barely looked out of breath. Three sleek lionesses were closing in from the side as a powerful-looking male with a scarred nose drove the zebra forward. To the right, two cubs bounded, cutting off the escape route: one was half grown, the other much younger.
As the cubs veered closer, Thorn gasped. The half-grown cub was Fearless.
“Big Talk,” whispered Nut. “That’s handy. Get his attention.”
Thorn, though, felt his belly quail. He had never seen Fearless hunt a full-grown, hoofed grass-eater, so he’d never seen that expression on his face: fangs bared, ears cocked, glittering eyes fixed on the prey and nothing else. The young lion looked intent, and bloodthirsty, and entirely deadly.
The zebra veered and jinked, trying to shake off its pursuers; with a lurch of his heart, Thorn recognized the pattern of his curving stripes. “That’s Sleekfriend,” he hissed to Nut. “I visited him with Stinger, right before the Great Gathering.”
Sleekfriend dodged again and bolted past the baboons, his eyes glazed with terror. His pounding hooves struck up plumes of red dust that swirled in the wind, but his legs trembled visibly; he was already exhausted. Thorn could hardly bear to watch.
Please let him get away!
But the lions were closing their ambush. They swerved, keeping pace with Sleekfriend, and the lionesses angled toward him as the cubs held the flank. There was a jolt of hesitation in Sleekfriend’s hoof-beats as he tried to double back, only to find his way blocked by a muscular lioness.
His moment of indecision was enough. A tawny lioness sprang. She landed on Sleekfriend’s haunches, digging her claws deep. Sleekfriend staggered and swayed. He tried to buck her off, kicking out with his hind hooves, but his forelegs gave way and he fell to his knees. The other lions piled onto him, crushing Sleekfriend to the ground. Fearless was at the forefront of the ambush; Thorn saw him lunge with open jaws for the zebra’s straining throat.
Thorn looked away. He heard a single desperate whinny that was strangled to silence. After that, there were only the triumphant grunts of the lions.
Thorn gulped. The struggling heap of bodies out on the plain subsided into stillness; Sleekfriend’s thrashing leg trembled, stiffened, and sank to the ground. It was over.
Beside Thorn, Nut was shaking, his breath coming in quick, nervous pants.
“Ruthless!” Fearless’s familiar roar resounded across the plain. “Ruthless, come here!”
Thorn peered back at the killing site. The lions had risen to their paws, leaving Sleekfriend on the ground, and they paced and circled a little distance away. Ruthless—Thorn recognized him now, the tiny cub he’d once helped Fearless save from cheetahs—must have fallen behind during the hunt; now he was pounding eagerly toward the rest of the pride, his tail high.
“What are they doing?” Nut whispered indignantly. “That zebra’s not even dead!”
With a jolt of horror, Thorn saw that Nut was right. Sleekfriend’s bloodstained ribs pulsed with shallow breaths. That leg was still twitching. His eyes were glazed, but there was life in them.
Thorn felt sick. Lions hunted and killed; of course he knew that. But they followed the same Code as all the animals of Bravelands: Only kill to survive. Why would they bring down Sleekfriend and not hurry to eat? Weren’t they ravenous after their hunt?
The worst of it was that Fearless looked perfectly calm, his tail flicking as he called to Ruthless again. The Fearless Thorn had known would never have left Sleekfriend to suffer. Had life with the lions changed him so much?
The biggest lion, a male with three long scars across his muzzle, was sniffing the air. He took a few paces toward the long grass where Thorn and Nut crouched, and his shoulders tensed.
“Baboons!” he roared. “Come on, we each need a kill today. Get them!”
Of the six lions, Fearless was first to react. With a grunting roar he sprinted toward them. Thorn froze, as rooted to the ground as a baobab. Was his friend hunting him?
Nut grabbed Thorn’s arm and yanked. “Move, you idiot!”
Thorn stumbled, his paw scraping against a rock; finally the reality hit him. With a gasp, he broke into a run, racing at Nut’s side toward the woodland. One glance over his shoulder told him Fearless was in hot pursuit.
Thorn’s breath burned his lungs, and his muscles felt uncoordinated and clumsy. This was like being caught in a nightmare. Deep in his heart he could barely believe his old friend was hunting him down. Yet with every pounding pace he knew what was coming: Fearless’s sharp claws in his back, Fearless’s weight forcing him to the earth, Fearless’s fangs piercing his throat . . .
“Make for the trees,” rasped Nut. “Thank the Great Spirit he’s a useless climber.”
For the first time Thorn knew what it was like to be truly hunted by a flesh-eater. Flashes of Sleekfriend’s expression came to mind: the rolling eyes, the flared red nostrils, the soundless scream of terror. Thorn knew he must look exactly like that; it was almost as if he was detached from his body, watching it all from above. Fearless is going to kill me. My friend, my troop-mate, Fearless . . .
Closer to the trees there was blown debris everywhere: snapped branches, tangled twigs, dislodged fruit. Something sharp pierced Thorn’s paw, but even as blood seeped between his fingers he kept running. The cool green of the forest was ahead, so very close. With a final desperate spring, they were beneath the trees.
“Climb!” Nut screeched.
Thorn reached for a branch, but in a sudden gust of wind it sprang out of reach. With a whimper of despair he tried again, and snatched a handhold. The foliage lashed at his face; the wind was so unpredictable there was no way to dodge it. His snout was bleeding too now; he could feel a trickle of warm blood beneath his nostrils, but he didn’t care. Leaping for a branch that bounced and tossed in the gale, he grabbed it and swung, holding on for dear life. His paws trembled so badly, he could barely cling on.
Branch by swaying branch, the two baboons dragged themselves into the treetops.
“Farther in!” Nut yelled.
Burrs and broken twigs whipped their faces as they risked crazy leaps from tree to tree. In theory, retreating deeper into the forest should have sheltered them a little from the storm, but they were so high in the canopy now that it made little difference. Another branch jerked suddenly away in a powerful gust, and Thorn was left hanging on to a cluster of twigs. Nut grabbed his arm and dragged him to safety, and they bounded on.
At last, near the top of a sycamore fig, Thorn dared to stop. Nut did too, slumping against the trunk, his broad shoulders heaving. Parting the foliage with trembling paws, Thorn peered at the ground far below. Something moved down there, but as his breath caught, he realized it was only a warthog, grubbing in the brush. Of Fearless there was no sign.
“I think . . . we’re safe.” He flopped along the branch, chest heaving.
Nut glared, his breath still rasping. “I . . . told you it was . . . a stupid idea. I said we couldn’t trust Big Talk.”
“You did.” Thorn’s whole body sagged with misery and exhaustion. “You were right.”
His stomach churned. Fearless had been his friend. They’d grown up together. That cruel killer was nothing like the Fearless he knew. Thorn didn’t understand how he could have ch
anged so much, and so suddenly, but he couldn’t deny what had just happened. Nut lurched up, propping himself against the trunk with one paw. “So much for fighting Stinger,” he panted, starting to climb down the tree. “This has been a huge waste of time.”
“Wait!” cried Thorn.
He lowered himself carefully down after Nut. Not until he was close to the foot of the tree did he risk the final jump to the mossy forest floor; he felt a lot more fragile and killable than he had only this morning.
“I need your help, Nut. Please. You’re the only one who knows the truth.”
Nut shrugged and shambled off through the trees, scratching at his dirty fur. “Forget it,” he growled. “And if you have another bright idea, don’t come bothering me with it.”
“Fine,” Thorn muttered, coming to a frustrated halt. “I won’t.”
He watched Nut disappear into the green shadows of the woodland, then heaved a sigh and turned back toward the savannah. He didn’t need Nut’s help, he tried to tell himself; after all, that baboon had never been anything but trouble.
He just wished he didn’t feel so alone.
No Nut, he thought, swatting at a termite nest. No Fearless. No plan.
No hope?
Maybe not. But he had to try.
The trek back to Brightforest Troop felt far, far longer than he’d remembered. As he finally padded, exhausted, over the rim of their hollow, he paused, one paw half raised.
Low hoots and wails were audible, though muffled, as if desperate baboons were trying to keep silent when they wanted to screech in rage or pain. Thorn’s throat constricted. What’s happened?
He sprang forward, energized by fear, into the troop’s midst.
Lily Middleleaf, her baby in her arms, turned her agonized face to him. Starleaf squatted by a jutting slab of rock, gripping a Moonstone in each paw and muttering. The Goodleaf baboons, Blossom and Petal, were hunched over a pathetic heap of fur that lay huddled on the short grass.
“You’re back!” cried Mud. He ran to Thorn, grabbing his shoulder. “You’re back, thank the Great Spirit.”
Thorn stared from Mud’s tormented face to that motionless figure on the grass. He took another pace, though his paws seemed suddenly too heavy to lift. The figure was a baboon; she was spattered with gouts of blood, and he couldn’t make out if she was breathing.
Even in the clouded afternoon light, her matted fur was shot through with sparks of gold.
“Thorn.” Mud tugged at him urgently. “Berry’s been hurt!”
CHAPTER 11
Fearless creased his eyes against the blustering wind. It’s a good thing I was here, he thought. They’d have gotten themselves killed.
Thorn and Nut were moving much faster now, thank the Great Spirit, and in moments they were lost in the foliage above him. Fearless wondered what Thorn was doing with Nut in the first place. He knew Thorn couldn’t stand him—Nut had thought it hilarious to twist Mud’s tail and steal his fruit, but his vicious sense of humor had taken a much darker turn during the Second Feat. He had almost gotten Mud killed when he riled up the crocodiles.
Fearless shrugged. Perhaps Stinger had sent Thorn and Nut off together to complete some kind of task and teach Nut a bit of team spirit? Yes, he decided, that was it: Stinger was admirably wily and wise.
At least he’d managed to drive them away before any of the other lions could catch up. Fearless took a deep breath. He let his tail droop, hung his head, and forced disappointment into his face as he shambled back to the lions.
“Useless.” Resolute glared at Fearless down his scarred nose. “Can’t even catch baboons.”
“Sorry.” Fearless mustered a huge sigh.
Honor pawed uneasily at the ground. “We should finish off that zebra,” she told Resolute. “Let me kill it and be done.”
Fearless glanced to where the zebra lay shuddering on the ground. Valor had taught him to kill quickly and cleanly, and the sight of the suffering creature appalled him. He’d longed to suffocate the life out of the poor thing even as he gripped its throat, but fear of Titan’s retribution had held him back. Fearless couldn’t let him hurt Sleekfriend any more.
“Don’t touch that zebra, Honor. Fearless was following orders, for once.” Resolute swung his maned head toward Ruthless. The little cub crouched by Regal’s side, batting at a red beetle that tottered along a grass stalk. “Ruthless will make this kill.”
Ruthless looked up, his eyes wide. “Me?”
“He’s too young,” Honor protested.
“Nonsense.” Resolute tilted his head, his voice teasing. “Ruthless is a very special cub. He deserves a chance to prove it.”
Ruthless stared at the zebra, his jaw slack. “I can’t choke that. It’s enormous!”
“You can do it, Ruthless,” Regal said, licking the top of his head. “Use your teeth. If you put one paw on the neck and push the head down, you’ll see the line where the blood flows. Bite that line and he’ll be dead in a heartbeat.”
Ruthless’s eyes widened. “Will there be a lot of blood?” he asked faintly.
Daring flicked her ears. “Don’t listen to her, Ruthless,” she said. “It’s better to straddle the zebra so he can’t kick you. You’ll have to lean over his neck, but just make sure to really tear with your teeth. It might take a little longer, but you’ll get the job done.”
Ruthless swallowed and looked fearfully at the zebra.
“Come on, Ruthless,” Resolute coaxed him. “Show us why your father chose your name.” His tone was light, but Fearless saw an excited gleam in Resolute’s eye, as if he were stalking prey.
He wants to humiliate the cub.
All the lions were watching Ruthless now. He hunched his little shoulders and stared at the ground. Honor looked worried, but the other lions were egging Ruthless on.
“You can do it!” Daring urged.
“Hurry up, Ruthless,” said Resolute. There was a tinge of impatience in his voice now. “The zebra’s all laid out ready for you. We’ve done the hardest part. You just have to make the kill.”
“Your first kill is something to be proud of,” Regal chimed in. “You’ll never forget this day.”
“What will your father say,” Resolute wondered, “if he hears you refused?”
Ruthless trembled. He crouched lower, as if he wanted to disappear into the grass.
Fearless sucked in a breath. Before anyone could react, he sprinted toward the zebra. “Fearless!” Resolute roared behind him.
He didn’t look back. Reaching the zebra, he remembered Valor’s advice: Bite deep and bite hard, right where the neck meets the head. His fangs closed on the zebra’s throat, warm blood filled his mouth, and the zebra jerked once, convulsively. Then it went limp, dead at last.
As he backed away, licking blood from his jaws, a hard blow caught him in the ribs, bowling him over in the grass.
“You never steal another lion’s prey!” Resolute roared. “Are you a fool or a traitor?”
Regal bounded up and clouted his head. “You have no right to steal Ruthless’s kill! He is Titan’s heir!”
Fearless staggered to his paws. He reeled from the blows, but hot indignation coursed through him. “He’s too little,” he spat. “Anyone can see that.”
Regal snarled and drew back a paw to strike again, but Resolute shoved her aside with a muscular shoulder. “We’ll let Titan deal with him,” he said. “Let’s get back to the pride.”
With a disgusted shake of his mane, Resolute strode back toward Titanpride territory, Regal right behind him. Ruthless followed, his head and tail sagging. Without even glancing at Fearless, Honor and Daring grabbed the zebra’s legs and dragged it after them. Fearless trailed last, his body sore and his gut tense. His anger was fading as an uneasy regret crept in. I shouldn’t have done that. How’s Titan going to react?
He scowled at Regal’s haunches. He’d known her all his life; she had been a lioness of Gallantpride and a friend of Valor. Yet now her loyalties seemed to
lie with Titan and his cronies. Fearless’s skin crawled beneath his pelt. Was she that scared of Titan? Or was it simpler than that, and Titan’s viciousness was infecting the whole pride one by one?
“Thank you for helping me,” squeaked a soft voice. It was Ruthless, who had dropped back to walk close to Fearless. His pale brown eyes were full of trust, his belly still round with cub fat. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”
“It’s okay,” said Fearless. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Ruthless’s tail drooped. “I should have been able to kill that zebra.”
Fearless gave his shoulder a nudge. “It’ll get easier.”
Ruthless perked up. “Will you teach me to hunt? You’re really good at it.”
Fearless grinned. “I’m still learning, just like you. My sister, Valor, though—she’s a great hunter. I could ask her to help you.”
“Would you?” Ruthless’s whiskers quivered. “Thank you, Fearless.”
Side by side, Titan and Artful were waiting for them. Fearless saw that Valor was already back from her own hunt, sitting beside Swift; Valor snuggled against their mother, her head on her shoulder. In the center of the camp, prey was haphazardly strewn in a pile, and Daring and Honor hauled the zebra toward it.
Titan turned toward them. “You’ve made your quota of kills today?”
Both lionesses ducked their heads as they dropped the zebra. “Yes, Titan.”
“They did well, Titan,” Resolute told him. “Honor took down a gazelle by herself, and Daring killed a bushbuck. They’re on the prey pile already.”
Titan nodded, rising and dismissing the lionesses with a jerk of his head. He sniffed at Resolute and Regal, letting them pass without comment, then bent low over Ruthless. The little cub cringed guiltily.
“Why don’t you smell of prey?” Titan growled. He put a heavy paw on Ruthless’s back.
“He’s so young . . .” Artful murmured.
“My son is no ordinary cub,” Titan snarled. “He will be the finest of hunters, and I want to know why he hasn’t made a kill today.”