Broken Pride

  “They’re noisier than us too,” grumbled Thorn, remembering how the shrieks of the invading monkeys had woken the troop that morning. The monkey scouts who’d breached the camp itself had been seen off, but now a huge throng of the attackers was gathered at the edge of Tall Trees. Judging by the racket they were making, Thorn reckoned they must number at least two hundred—many more than the baboons.

  “Stay close to me,” warned Berry, touching his shoulder.

  “Attack!” came Grub Crownleaf’s howl from behind them all. His command was barely audible over the shrieks of both monkeys and baboons, but it was enough.

  Thorn sprang forward, baring his fangs. The monkeys weren’t very much smaller than him—some looked bigger than Mud—and they rushed to meet the attacking baboons in a swarm of screeching, hollering, greenish-brown bodies. Their black faces were fringed with white fuzz, their mouths open to reveal long, pointed fangs. One of them skidded to a halt in front of Thorn, shaking a branch aggressively. Thorn rose up on his hind legs, peeling back his lips in a scream of threat.

  “Our turn to rule Tall Trees!” shrieked the invader. “Our turn!”

  Berry leaped at the monkey, but his friends were right behind, and they flung themselves at her.

  Thorn joined the assault, snapping and screeching as the monkeys piled onto him and Berry. She’d been right; they were ferocious. Claws raked through Thorn’s fur, catching and ripping his skin, and he felt the sharp stab of teeth in his shoulder and flank.

  Three of them grappled with him, their weight dragging him sideways, and as they all tumbled to the ground together, the monkeys kept clawing and biting. Thorn rolled over as he landed on the forest floor, kicking them away with his hind claws in time to see Berry start tearing at his attackers.

  I’m glad Lowleaves aren’t allowed to be fighters. Mud could never have coped with these brutes, no matter how badly he wanted to help.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Nut flee into the trees, pursued by a band of invaders. Other baboons were scrapping frantically with whole gangs. One lanky monkey landed heavily on Thorn’s back, snarling and tearing, but Berry dragged it off.

  “Careful!” she yelled. “Up there!”

  Above them, five monkeys were poised to leap down in ambush. Yanking Berry out of the way, Thorn rolled aside into the bushes. The monkeys crashed down in the spot where they’d been, barked in angry frustration, then darted off to attack another, more exposed group of baboons.

  Panting, Thorn gave Berry a quick hug. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said through gritted fangs. “Determined, aren’t they?”

  “Let’s go and get them.” Thorn grinned. Springing up, they both raced back toward the struggle. One unwary invader was focused on pursuing Nut, and Thorn prepared to spring at him from the side.

  “Wait!” Berry paused and gripped his arm. “Grub’s directing us—look!”

  Thorn snatched a branch, cutting short his headlong rush. It was his first troop battle since he’d become a Middleleaf, and he was glad for Berry’s guidance.

  “All together!” Grub was screaming. “Group! Hold back—Mango, Berry, hold!—now attack!”

  A coordinated rush of baboons was exactly the strategy they’d needed, Thorn realized as he hurtled into battle alongside his troop. The flow of the fighting suddenly turned, as the larger baboons began to dominate the desperate monkeys. Yammering with disappointment, the monkeys extricated themselves one by one and fled from the fight. Brightforest Troop’s fighters, hooting triumphantly, chased them until they were well clear of the trees.

  Thorn, in hot pursuit of a young monkey, at last slowed and came to a halt, slapping the ground. He let out a screech of victory. All around him, the other Brightforest baboons were jumping and whooping. Berry, at his side, turned to him with eyes that glowed with excitement.

  “You did well, Thorn—you’re a natural fighter!”

  “It was—fun!” He gave a yelp of laughter. “I really enjoyed it—once we started winning, anyway.”

  “Oh, you were enjoying it before then. I was watching you!” Berry sat back on her haunches, her large brown eyes shining. “You’re a great defender of the troop already, Thorn.”

  He felt a warm sensation course through his blood, but he had no time for a quiet moment alone with her. Stinger was pacing toward them, picking out scraps of leaf and twig from his fur. His face was twisted with contempt.

  “Green monkeys!” he exclaimed. “Hmph. I’ve eaten more than one of those, in days gone by. And they wanted to move into Tall Trees! I wish we’d caught one of them; I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

  Berry laughed as Thorn’s eyes widened. “I bet they don’t taste as good as scorpions, Father.”

  “Indeed.” Stinger scratched at his back and tugged another twig from his fur. Around them, the other Highleaves and Middleleaves were gathering, looking pleased with themselves. “I reckon we should post better lookouts in the future. In case this happens again.”

  Behind him, Grub Crownleaf growled, “That’s a matter for Council meetings, Stinger. Highleaves do not discuss such things in front of the lower ranks.” He shot an unpleasant look at Thorn.

  Still exhilarated from the battle, Thorn ignored it. We did a good job here, but the monkeys wouldn’t even have attacked if Grub hadn’t made Fearless leave!

  “No,” he muttered under his breath, “it wouldn’t do to have the lower orders listen in. We don’t tolerate outsiders in this troop, do we?”

  “What was that?” demanded Grub. He spun to face Berry. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing, Grub!” said Berry quickly. “Thorn was just agreeing with you. Weren’t you, Thorn?” She gave Thorn a sharp look.

  “Huh.” Grub drew himself up. “Well, I’m going to make a formal complaint about that incursion. I’m going to tell the Great Gathering exactly what happened, and I’ll make sure Great Mother knows that it’s never to happen again!” With his tail high, he strutted off back toward the center of the forest.

  Thorn watched him go. “I think Great Mother has enough on her mind,” he growled. “She’s got plenty of animals to keep in order without our Crownleaf pestering her. And it’s Grub’s fault anyway, having that stupid vote—if Fearless was still here, the monkeys wouldn’t have dared to come near Tall Trees!”

  Stinger didn’t reply at once. He tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

  “Well, it’s true Great Mother has much on her mind,” he said at last with a shrug, “but the Great Spirit chose her for a reason. She’s supposed to guide all of us.” He breathed heavily through his nose. “I suppose everyone makes mistakes, though. Great Mother led the grass-eaters to the watering hole and pushed the monkeys out of their territory.”

  “She didn’t do that deliberately,” protested Thorn, surprised that Stinger would defend Grub. “And if the monkeys had smelled lion here, they’d have gone somewhere else!”

  “Well, that seems likely,” agreed Stinger. “But that’s not the only thing that’s gone wrong lately. Look what happened to Fearless’s pride—and look what happened to Bark Crownleaf. Remember, Great Mother is old now, so it’s little wonder she doesn’t seem to be controlling things very well, is it?” He gave a grunting laugh. “There’s never been a baboon Great Parent. Maybe it’s time that changed!”

  “Oh, Father,” said Berry fondly, “I can’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  “Maybe not.” Stinger laughed. “Anyway, whatever Grub says, I think we should post more lookouts. The Great Gathering isn’t over yet.” He surveyed the baboons who were still gathered around, getting their breath back. “Grass and Fly,” he said to the other members of his retinue, “you two go to that tall kigelia tree on the sunset side. Make sure you stay on high alert—if the monkeys attack again it’ll most likely be from there. Stone, Mist . . .” He gave directions to each baboon, and Thorn noticed that no one questioned his right to do it; no baboon argued. Of course Grass and Fly obey
ed him instantly, but with the others too Stinger had a natural, easy authority. It gave Thorn—and, he guessed, everyone else—a strong sense of security.

  “Nut and Berry, you go to the southern border,” Stinger went on.

  Thorn’s fur sprang up, but he bit down on his frustration. He kept his jaws firmly shut as Nut shot him a look of vicious smugness. I can’t argue with Stinger—but I wish Nut would wipe that smirk off his face.

  “I’m sorry, Thorn,” whispered Berry, but she could do nothing but bound off alongside Nut.

  Of course I can’t do sentry duty with Berry; we’re not the same status and we never will be. But it still rankled horribly.

  “That should cover it,” remarked Stinger thoughtfully, as he peeled bark from a twig. There were only four baboons left in the little clearing. “It would be best if the rest of you go hunting. Those monkeys have completely disrupted our day. You can all go and find some food.”

  Still nursing an ache of unhappiness, Thorn turned to pad away with the others, but Stinger called him back. “Thorn, wait a moment. Now that you’re in my retinue, I’ve got a special task for you.”

  Thorn’s throat felt tight with resentment, but he managed to grate out politely, “What is it, Stinger? Where do you want me to go?”

  The older baboon grinned in a friendly way as Thorn tilted his head. “I haven’t had time to do any hunting myself today, and now I’ve had to organize the sentries. And I need to go back and check on the Deeproots and the Lowleaves, and make sure things are getting done in the middle of all this excitement.” He picked absently at the notch of the scar on his muzzle. “Could you do me a favor?”

  Thorn nodded submissively. “Of course, Stinger.” Besides, even if I had the right to sulk, there’s no point. I have to impress Stinger as much as I can, at every chance I get.

  Stinger leaned closer. “I’ve got a hankering for scorpions,” he murmured. “No one else is as good at finding them as you are, Thorn—well, apart from me, obviously.” He grinned again. “Could you find me one? Or maybe two?”

  “I’ll find as many as you like!” Thorn was pleased that the task was a fun one—and that it would make the older baboon particularly pleased.

  “If you can trap them and keep them alive, that would be lovely.” Stinger licked his lips wistfully. “I like them when they’re fresh.”

  “Of course. It’ll be my pleasure.”

  “Thank you, Thorn.” Stinger leaned in to pick a scrap of leaf from Thorn’s fur. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, youngster.”

  And that’s exactly what I want him to think, thought Thorn cheerfully as he scampered off through the trees. Even if I’m not a Highleaf, Stinger might get to like me enough. . . . Then one day he might ask Grub for special permission for me and Berry to be paired! Now, where is Mud . . . ?

  Mud, it turned out, was lounging with Bird Lowleaf in a fork in a fever tree, enjoying an idle mutual grooming session as they kept lookout. He looked a little bored, and his eyes brightened as Thorn ran up to him and scrambled onto a nearby branch.

  “Hello, Bird. Listen, Mud, I need you!”

  “What’s up?” Mud looked delighted.

  As Bird chittered a farewell and climbed down the tree, Thorn turned to his friend and explained what had happened and the task he’d been given. “Can you help, Mud? Stinger wants his scorpions fresh, and you’re so good with traps and tools.”

  “Of course! I know how much you want to impress Berry’s father.” Mud slapped Thorn’s back. “Come on. I’ll show you what we can do!”

  Eagerly Thorn bounded after him. Mud stopped near the mango tree and scuffled about in the mossy undergrowth. “Ah!” He tugged out a thick piece of branch and picked off straggling bits of fern.

  The branch was clean of bark, smooth and well-worn, and there were three long claw scratches on its mottled yellow surface. And it was hollow, Thorn realized—when Mud shook it, a couple of dried-up insect legs and a wing fluttered to the ground.

  “Mother uses this to keep live beetles inside. See? Let me find the stones she uses. . . . Here we are!” Mud crouched to pick up a broad, flat pebble that was almost perfectly round. “There are two, see? You seal one end with this one. And the second stone fits the other end. It took her ages to make it, but it’s really useful. The beetles can’t get out, but they stay alive. And so will the scorpions.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Thorn hopped up and down with excitement. “I knew you’d have a solution, Mud; you always do.” He furrowed his brow, thinking, Scorpions like to hide under rocks. There are a lot of loose rocks in the secret ravine. . . . “Now follow me!”

  The two young baboons loped out of the forest, carrying the hollow branch between them. “Where are we going?” asked Mud.

  Thorn grinned. “The ravine—remember it? Where the gazelles graze.”

  “Ah, yes. Do you still know the way?”

  “I do indeed.” Thorn’s heart warmed as he remembered the happy, secret times he’d spent there with Berry. He pointed to a small rocky hill. “See that kopje? You have to go between the rocks and climb up, and you can see the way into the ravine from the top. Remember?”

  “I do now!” Mud scrambled up behind his friend. “You’re brilliant, Thorn!”

  Dragging the hollow branch, they scrambled up the kopje, and at the top squeezed between two sides of a split rock into a narrow gorge. Together they slithered down until it opened out into a gentler, grassy slope. Gazelles were clustered at the foot of a steep incline, hidden from the view of flesh-eaters on the plain; they raised their heads and swiveled their ears; then, clearly deciding the baboons were no threat, they returned to their peaceful grazing.

  Thorn led Mud around the edge of the valley toward a scattered patch of dry stones and boulders. “Here we are,” he said, eyes gleaming.

  Mud nodded. “Looks like a good place for scorpions.”

  Hoping his instincts had been right, Thorn seized a stone and rolled it onto its side. A scorpion darted out, scuttling for new cover, but Thorn snatched it by its tail and dangled it triumphantly. “First try!”

  Mud held out the log for him to drop it in. “Beginner’s luck!”

  The next six stones yielded nothing, but just as Thorn was starting to think Mud was right about the first find being fortunate, his friend exposed another panicked scorpion. After that, they seemed to find one beneath every second stone. The two baboons hooted in delight as they dropped scorpion after scorpion into the Starleaf’s ingenious trap.

  Thorn paused and stretched his aching shoulders. “I wonder what Fearless is doing.”

  “One day soon we’ll see him again and he’ll tell us,” said Mud confidently. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  Something flashed in the corner of Thorn’s eye; he dived on another scorpion. “I don’t doubt it. I miss him, though.”

  “This is going well. We’ve got lots.” Mud peered into their log. “I’m more worried about Berry than Fearless right now. Imagine having to do sentry duty with Nut.”

  “I expect he’s being charming,” said Thorn bitterly. “He’d love to be paired with her, just to annoy me. And I’m really worried that Nut will tell Grub about me and Berry. Or worse, tell Stinger.”

  “Don’t worry.” Mud patted his shoulder. “Stinger likes you, Thorn. He didn’t choose Nut to be in his retinue, did he? He chose you. And don’t worry about Berry; she’s far too smart to be taken in by Nut. She likes him about as much as we do.”

  “I guess so.” Thorn sighed. “I wish Stinger had been voted Crownleaf. Things would be so much better than they are under Grub. How are we doing? Let me see the log.”

  Mud held it toward him, and Thorn peered in. His eyes took a moment to adjust after the brightness of the sun, and for an instant he could see only vague, chaotic movement. But when he finally made out the mass of scorpions in the dark log, he couldn’t repress a shudder. They seethed and writhed, snapping their pincers in fury, crawling over one another, and las
hing out blindly with their stingers.

  “That’s enough,” he said quickly, clapping the round stone firmly onto the end of the trap. “Even Stinger will take a while to eat all those.”

  “I never really understood the appeal myself.” Mud wrinkled his muzzle, then grinned. “Let’s take them back to him. I’ve seen enough scorpions to last me for quite a while.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The long savannah grass rippled in the breeze; Fearless could smell approaching rain on the cool air. He was thirsty, and the damp, rich scent reminded him enticingly that the watering hole wasn’t far away, but he held his motionless crouch. Tantalizingly near to him, a herd of zebras moved across the plain, cropping peacefully at the plentiful grass. He was so close he could hear the crunch and grind of their jaws.

  Fearless wasn’t the only flesh-eater watching them. He had noticed three others, stalking low and sleek in the grass, so far unseen by the zebras. The strange, slender predators crept on delicate paws, patient and cautious, pausing now and again to go entirely still. They were cats, too, but Fearless knew they weren’t lions; they were maneless, skinny, and long-limbed, with spotted fur and dark trails on their faces, as if black water had been squeezed from their eyes. Fearless was fascinated, but unafraid.

  And he was hungry again.

  He licked his jaws, his mouth watering already. So far, the zebras were blissfully unaware of all four of the hopeful predators.

  He wasn’t at all sure he could bring one down. But if I can’t, those other cats certainly can’t either. They’re far too skinny and delicate.

  He blinked in surprise as one of them sprang forward, sprinting toward the herd, its companions behind it in an instant. The zebras bolted. The three cats spread out, homing in on one of the outlying zebras with ruthless precision. But it wasn’t their clever teamwork that made Fearless stare in awe.

  They’re so fast!

  They had become little more than flashes of light in the grass, a blur of yellow movement. They were far faster than the rhinos, faster than any baboons or lion he had ever seen. As they hurtled after their target, the rest of the zebras scattered with screaming whinnies of alarm.