Ratha’s Creature (The First Book of The Named) by Clare Bell

may keep it alive while you sleep.”
    Ratha swallowed the rest of her anger. Fessran was going to stay. That was enough. She showed Fessran her bundle of twigs and how to poke them one at a time into the Red Tongue’s lair. When Fessran had mastered the task to her satisfaction, Ratha curled up in the ash, buried her nose in her tail and slept. The last sound she heard before she fell asleep was the soft crackle-purr of the fire burning. 
     

 

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    When Ratha woke in her nest in the ash, morning had cleared the haze from the sky and deep blue arched over the burn. Slivers of green dotted the grounds; new shoots had come up overnight from fire-ripened seeds; each one so fragile that it bent beneath the weight of a single drop of dew.
    Ratha sat up, yawned and brushed ash from her fur. She looked for Thakur before she remembered why he wasn’t there. Half the night spent tending the Red Tongue had made her peevish, and the hungry rumbles in her belly didn’t help her temper. A haunch of dappleback or some of those river-crawlers might be nice, she thought, feeling warm saliva filling her mouth. She swallowed and tried to turn her mind away from food. There was nothing to eat here. She would have to wait until she returned to clan ground.
    “This place has food only for the Red Tongue.” Fessran’s voice came from behind her and the tang of smoke stung her nose. “And not enough, either. Your creature is a greedy thing; I grow weary of feeding it.”
    Ratha stretched one leg at a time and arched her back to get the stiffness out of it. She groomed her belly, glancing now and then at Fessran, who was poking the last few sticks into the Red Tongue’s nest.
    The morning breeze shifted, sending smoke into Fessran’s face and she shook her head, blinking, her eyes tearing. She backed away, grimacing. “Arr, you ungrateful creature!” she growled. “I feed you and feed you and then you make my eyes sting!”
    “Stand on the other side.” Ratha yawned. “And you’re feeding it too much. Keep it small.”
    “I will feed it no more; there is nothing left to feed it.” Fessran rubbed her face on the inside of her foreleg, leaving the fur damp and spiky. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. “There. I can see again.”
    “I can get food for it.” Ratha pointed her nose at the tree. “Up there.”
    “Unless you can knock down the whole tree, you won’t get very much,” Fessran said, eyeing the stunted saplings dubiously. “Even if you can feed your creature for a while, we can’t stay here.”
    “And if we go, what happens to my creature?”
    “We’ll have to leave it, Ratha.”
    “No!” Ratha planted her paws in the ash. “It kept me warm last night. It kept you warm too. It is a cub; it must be looked after and fed. If we go, it will die.”
    “We can’t stay here,” Fessran repeated.
    “Why did you keep it alive last night if now you say it must die?” Ratha wailed.
    “I was cold last night and I’m not now. I don’t want your creature to die either, Ratha, but staying here isn’t going to fill our bellies.”
    Ratha circled the fire, pacing frantically. An idea struck her. “I want the clan herders to see my creature,” she said, turning to Fessran who stood waiting, flicking her tail from side to side. “I can stay here with the Red Tongue while you bring them. Can you bring them, Fessran? I can stay.”
    “And be meat for the first hungry beast that comes along?” Fessran snorted. “If I left you here, I’d find only your bones when I got back, even if the clan herders would believe my words. Arr! What are you doing?” she cried in alarm as Ratha tried to snap at the flame and was driven back by heat and pain.
    “I can’t catch it. There is nothing to catch. I see it, but my teeth can’t feel it.”
    “Do you think you can carry the Red Tongue by the scruff?” Fessran wrinkled her nose. “I may not know much about it, but I know it is not