Beginnings

THE BEST

LAID PLANS


David Weber



“I don't really mind your going as far as the dam by yourself if it's all right with your mother, you pack a lunch, and you remember not to be late for dinner.”

“Of course it's all right with Mom. I talked with her after breakfast, before she left for the office, and she said it sounded like a good idea to her. I wouldn't have asked you if she hadn't.”

“Oh?” Her father cocked his head at her from the com screen a moment later, after the inevitable transmission delay. She could see the bulkead of his office aboard the space station Hephaestus behind him in the display, and his expression was just the tiniest bit skeptical “I seem to remember a few occasions when you neglected to make sure of that minor fact.”

She concentrated on looking simultaneously as innocent as the new fallen snow and moderately martyred. He continued to gaze at her for several moments, then snorted.

“All right, Honor. Go! Have fun. And be careful!”

“Yes, Sir,” she said obediently and waited for the display to clear. Then she shook her head. “And yada yada yada,” she added under her breath, rolling her eyes. “I'm not exactly an infant anymore, Dad.”

Fortunately, the link had already been closed. And even more fortunately, from Honor's perspective, her father hadn't specifically asked her if she'd asked her mother for permission. She could say with scrupulous honesty, as she just had, that she had discussed the possibility of the expedition with her mother over breakfast, and that her mother had expressed no opposition to the notion. Indeed, her female parental unit had been cheerfully in favor of it. Of course, Honor hadn't quite gotten around to informing her mother that she was thinking about making that trip today, but that didn't change the fact that Mom had clearly been agreeable to the notion in a general sort of way. And it wasn't her fault her mother was going to be tied up with patients straight through to lunch. Or that there were strict rules about not breaking into consult time or interfering with examinations, except in cases of emergency. And since no one could argue that this came under the heading “emergency,” it was obvious she couldn't possibly justify screening her mother directly over something this minor.

Honor was aware that a true stickler might argue that she'd been guilty of misleading both of her parents to at least a tiny extent, but she had cleared it, and with just a little more luck, Dad would forget to ask Mom if she had authorized the trip for today.

Yeah, sure! And when was the last time you had that much luck? she asked herself sardonically. Actually, the odds were pretty good she'd find herself grounded for at least a week, but that would be a fair exchange. If her timing was right, the huge banks of purple mountain tulip above the dam should have come into full blossom during the last three or four days.

Honor hadn't mentioned their existence to either of her parents, because they just happened to be her mother's favorite from among all the flowers and blossoming trees of Sphinx . . . and tomorrow just happened to be her mother's birthday. She had a carefully worked out plan that began with the double-chocolate cake (her mother's favorite flavor) and culminated with the original copy of the sixth-century Diaspora poet Dzau Syung-kai's collected works which her Uncle Jacques had found on Beowulf, and enough of those mountain tulips for the enormous centerpiece she was constructing for the dining room table would be the crowning touch.

She couldn't very well explain all of that if she wanted her birthday present to be a surprise, and even if she could have she was pretty sure her mother would never have let her go that far into the bush without “adult supervision.” Neither of her parents believed in keeping their daughter wrapped up in cotton, and they seldom objected to her spending a day rambling around in the woods as long as she didn't stray too far from the house. Her father insisted that she take along a pistol when she did (a paternal decree to a then eleven-year-old daughter which Honor suspected her mother, who'd grown up on über-civilized Beowulf, had taken some getting used to), but she'd been rigorously drilled in gun safety since her tenth birthday. Their definition of “too far from the house” (and especially her mother's) wasn't quite as flexible as she might have wished, however.

In fact, that was the reason she'd been creatively vague talking to her father. Honor never lied to her parents—even when she'd tried, her father had always been able to tell as easily as if her skull were made of glass and he'd been able to peer inside it, so she'd given up the effort early—but there was a difference between lying and . . . shaping the truth to best advantage, and this was a perfect example. There were two dams, both with their own populations of near-beavers, and she hadn't gone out of her way to tell Commander Harrington which of them she intended to visit. When he asked her about it, she was going to have to admit it had suited her purposes for both of her parents to assume she was talking about the one on Sand Bottom Creek, where she'd been conducting her school wildlife observation project for the last three months. And she was also going to have to admit that while she'd known neither of her parents would have any problem with her going by herself to Sand Bottom, they would have objected—strenuously—to her wandering off to Rock Aspen Creek. That was almost five kilometers deeper into the freehold . . . and the SFS had reported that peak bears were coming down out of the higher mountains early this fall.

Honor could understand why her parents might think that feeding the peak bears—especially if the meal in question happened to be their only daughter—wasn't the very best idea anyone ever had. On the other hand, she had no intention of doing anything of the sort. She'd grown up in the woods, hunting with her father and fishing the streams of her family's freehold or hang-gliding across it. She wouldn't go so far as to say she knew every nook and cranny—that would have been a bit much for a square of mountains and still-virgin forest twenty-five kilometers on a side—but she'd hiked and flown over most of those sixty-two thousand-plus hectares one time or another. And she knew Rock Aspen better than most, since it was one of her and her father's favorite places to fish. She knew how to keep her eye out for the nastier members of Sphinx's wildlife, too. That was something of a family tradition, after all, all the way back to Great-Great-Great-Great-Whatever-Grandma Stephanie. It was unfortunate that she couldn't hang-glide to Rock Aspen because of the tree cover (not to mention the quantity of tulips she planned to be bringing back), but her personal counter-grav would still take her up a tree in jig time, as Uncle Jacques liked to put it, if something wicked came her way.

And just in case something went wrong with Plan A, there was always Plan B, which was why she had claimed her Simpson & Wong from the gun safe. She didn't really expect to need it, but when the inevitable parental wrath descended upon her head, she would be in a position to point out that anything which had wanted to eat her would have had to comb the S&W's old-fashioned ten-millimeter slugs out of its teeth first. Her mother probably wouldn't be especially moved, but she expected her father would cut her a little slack if she could demonstrate she'd been suitably armed to deal with trouble. He'd probably prefer one of his pulse rifles to the S&W's old-fashioned nitro-powder, but he was also the one who'd taught her to shoot, and he knew what she could do with a rifle or a pistol. She'd just shot High Expert in the Twin Forks Youth League for the SFC and walked away with the Shelton Cup for the second year in a row, with a score of 600 out of a possible 600, and at a hundred meters, the S&W's 19.5-gram bullet, traveling at 840 meters per second, would deliver almost 7,000 joules of energy to any unfriendly critter she encountered. In fact, it would deliver over 3,000 joules all the way out to five hundred meters, although she didn't have any business shooting anything at that range “in self-defense.” Besides, the S&W was her favorite shoulder gun, and not just because it had been her birthday gift from Uncle Jacques two years ago.

It had been almost as long as she was, at the time, although she'd put on one of the promised (or threatened) growth spurts since then. Now she was closing in on thirteen T-years old and already almost a hundred and seventy centimeters tall. That left her over thirty centimeters shorter than her father, but it meant she towered over her mother. Big enough to handle the S&W's buffered recoil, anyway.

Honor told herself that was a good thing and tried not to think about how . . . overgrown she was beginning to feel. No one was quite sure when so much altitude had crept into the family's genes, although the majority opinion was that they could look all the way back to Great-Great-Great-Great-Whatever-Granddad Karl. There seemed to be a few holes in that theory, as far as she was concerned, though. Certainly her grandfather had been tall—almost as tall as her dad, in fact—as had his parents, but most of the previous generations had been of little more than average height, so where had Grandad Karl's genes been then? Besides, there was her mom's genetic contribution to consider, and all of the Beowulf side of the family was on the short side.

Wherever all that height had come from, and however great a thing it might seem to the male members of the family, it was a pain in the backside for an all-but thirteen-year-old girl who could confidently expect to break a hundred and eighty centimeters before she was done and had a brilliantly intelligent, exotically beautiful, sleekly graceful, petite mother. She loved her mom dearly, but why, oh why, couldn't the female Dr. Harrington have passed along some of that beauty to her daughter? Or at least offset the upsizing which had afflicted the family for so long?

She brushed the thought aside, texted an “I'm going out, Mom!” to her mother's account; pulled on her jacket; slung the S&W over her shoulder; checked her belt gun, bush knife and counter-grav; made sure the uni-link in her pocket was fully charged; hung her lunch-packed rucksack over the other shoulder; snagged her favorite fedora from the coat tree; and headed for the door.

* * *

<And how much trouble are you in with Songstress today?> Sharp Nose asked amiably, turning on the branch to present his belly fur to the sun.

<And why do you assume I must be in trouble with Songstress at all?> Laughs Brightly inquired, looking down at his younger brother from the branch above him.

<Because both of you are awake at the same time,> Sharp Nose replied dryly. <If you have not yet done anything to irritate her, I am sure you will get around to it soon.>

Laughs Brightly flirted his tail, but he also bleeked a laugh of agreement. Bright Water Clan's newest memory singer was the daughter of their mother's sister, and she seemed to feel it was her familial duty to restrain Laughs Brightly's sense of humor.

Or attempt to, at any rate.

<You wrong me,> he told Sharp Nose after a moment. <I have not done anything which could possibly upset her since I helped show Crooked Tail his golden ear supply was not as safely stored as he thought it was.>

<That long?> Sharp Nose marveled. <Why, that was almost a full hand of days ago!>

<Not quite,> Laughs Brightly admitted modestly, <but close.>

<And has Crooked Tail thanked you for assisting him?>

<Not yet. I am sure he will once he has discovered all of the places where I hid it, though.>

Sharp Nose shook his head in one of the gestures the People had learned from the two-legs with whom they shared their world. Laughs Brightly was almost a full hand of turnings his elder, and much as Sharp Nose loved him, he had never understood how his prankster brother could be so popular with the rest of the clan. Crooked Tail, who was almost certain to become one of Bright Water's elders in the next few turnings, was not noted for his sense of humor. Yet even though every member of the clan knew exactly who had purloined his treasured supply of stored golden ear, no one—including him—had attempted to take Laughs Brightly's ears over it. No doubt that was because they knew he would return every single ear of grain the moment Crooked Tail asked him to. Which, of course, made it a matter of pride for Crooked Tail to find all of Laughs Brightly's hiding places personally. Exactly how Laughs Brightly had managed to steal away the other Person's entire supply without being caught at it was just one of those mysteries Laughs Brightly excelled at creating. Still, he had been scrupulous about leaving Crooked Tail the clues he needed to identify the one who had “borrowed” his grain.

<I do not know how you have survived this long, Brother,> Sharp Nose said now.

<Every clan needs someone like me,> Laughs Brightly replied tranquilly, his mind-voice rich with amusement. <We keep the rest of you from becoming too set in your ways.>

<You mean you keep all of us hovering in dread of what you are going to do to us next.>

<But that is exactly what I just said!>

<I am sure you think so, at any rate.>

Laughs Brightly laughed again, then leapt lightly down to his brother's lower branch and stretched out beside him.

<You are becoming too fat and lazy for one of your youth, Sharp Nose. You should come with me today. The exercise would be good for you, and perhaps a day in my company will help teach you how to laugh!>

<And where are you headed?> Sharp Nose asked a bit suspiciously. His brother was one of Bright Water Clan's most skilled scouts—another reason the rest of the clan put up with his supposed sense of humor, no doubt—and his idea of a leisurely jaunt through the net-wood could quickly exhaust anyone unwary enough to accept one of his invitations.

<It is not that far,> Laughs Brightly chided. <Only as far as Thunder Mist. Bark Master and Wind of Memory have asked me to estimate how many swimmers the stream holds and to discover whether or not the green-needle and gray-bark pods have been stunted by the dry weather.> His mind-voice turned a bit more serious. <The task would go more quickly with another to help.>

Sharp Nose twitched his whiskers at the idea that Thunder Mist was “not far” from the clan's central nesting place, but Laughs Brightly's mission was clearly an important one. They were well into leaf-turning. It would not be so very much longer before the first snows began to blow down from the mountains, and green-needle and gray-bark pods were an important—and tasty—part of the People's diet during the months of ice. And he had to admit that he was flattered by Laughs Brightly's invitation. Although Sharp Nose was respected as a hunter and a tracker, he was not one of those normally chosen for the sorts of tasks the clan's scouts usually undertook. He knew part of that was his youth, for he was barely half Laughs Brightly's age, and the opportunity to spend the day in his brother's company was an attractive thought. In many ways, for all its importance, Laughs Brightly's task was routine, but Sharp Nose could still learn a great deal under the tutelage of such a skilled scout. Besides, despite the difference in their ages, he and Laughs Brightly had always been close.

<No doubt you will need me to help keep you from getting lost,> he said after a moment, and heaved a great sigh as he rolled over and came to his feet. <So I suppose I had better come and keep an eye on you.>

* * *

From comments her mother had made upon occasion, Honor supposed that someone who hadn't been born and raised on Sphinx might have found the morning chilly. For her, though, it was merely a bit brisk, and she walked with her jacket unsealed, enjoying the crisp, clean air. Dried leaves crackled underfoot as she made her way through the near-pine and red spruce, the sound sharper and louder than it really should have been thanks to the dry weather. It wasn't as bad as it had been upon occasion, though. Every four or five planetary years—twenty or twenty-five T-years—they had a really dry summer and fall, the sort that turned Sphinx's forests into tinder boxes. She couldn't remember a year like that, but her father could, and he'd been increasingly firm in his warnings about careless use of fire as the long, slow summer drew on. The predictions were that this winter would produce even more snow and snow pack than usual, though, and that should help next year. She didn't know about that; it would be only her third winter, and the first one didn't count, since she'd been born halfway through the first one and didn't remember it at all.

And it would also probably be her last winter at home. Her pace slackened for a moment, and she looked around and filled her lungs to the aching point with the cool Sphinxian air, the treasured scents and smells of the woods of the planet on which she had been born and raised. She would miss them—oh, how she would miss them!—but there was always a price to pay for dreams, and she'd known ever since she'd been a very little girl sitting in her father's lap what her dream was.

Honor didn't really know where it had come from. Part of it was probably her father's example, although she had no temptation to become a physician as both he and her mother had. Besides, he'd been only the third member of her family to serve in the Royal Navy, and the only one in the last three or four generations. He hadn't started in the Navy, either, although he'd never explained to her exactly why he'd transferred into it from the Royal Marines. She'd asked—once, when she'd been much younger—but he hadn't told her. That was unusual, because he and her mother always answered her questions. She was pretty sure that meant it had been something ugly, something he hadn't wanted to talk about with her until she was older. Or maybe even at all. Fathers could be like that. Especially, she suspected, with daughters, which was pretty silly, since he was the one who'd taught her how to dress out her own game when she'd been only ten T-years old and she'd been cleaning fish for at least two T-years before that. But she supposed there was a difference between skinning and butchering prong bucks or a Baxter Goose and killing another human being.

She'd found her father's medals two years ago and looked them up. That was how she'd found out that the Osterman Cross was the Star Kingdom's second highest decoration, that it could be earned only for “extraordinary heroism” in combat, and that it could be awarded only to enlisted personnel and noncommissioned officers. But she'd also discovered that the award was classified. Or if it wasn't officially classified, where, when, and how Platoon Sergeant Harrington, RMMC, had earned it wasn't part of the public record, at least, for some reason. Then there were the three wound stripes he'd been awarded. He hadn't gotten those as a Navy doctor, either, and if he hadn't wanted to discuss how he had earned them with his then eleven-year-old daughter, he'd earned that right, as well. Someday, she knew, he would tell her about them, if only to be sure she truly understood the possible consequences of the career she'd already chosen. Until that day, she could wait.

Her mother seemed a bit more baffled by her plans than her father did, but she'd never tried to talk Honor out of them. A military career wasn't exactly high on the probable career tracks of upper-class Beowulfers like Allison Harrington, but unlike some star nations, Beowulf did regard it as an honorable profession. Uncle Jacques had served in the Biological Survey Corps, too, and despite its peculiar name the BSC, was one of the best special forces organizations in the Solarian League. Whatever anyone else might think of the military, her mom had always been a firm supporter of both the BSC and her father's Navy career.

No, Allison's bafflement had far more to do with how early—and how firmly—Honor had made her decision. And the amount of planning she'd already put into it. They'd discussed it more than once, and her mom had suggested that perhaps she might have waited at least until she was, oh, nine or ten before deciding what to do with the entire rest of her life. Ambition was a good thing, and so was clear thinking, forethought, and planning, her mother had pointed out, but most people seemed to wait just a bit longer before diving into such decisions. That seemed pretty silly of them to Honor. If you knew what you wanted to do with your life, then you ought to start working on it as soon as possible. That was only sensible. The female Dr. Harrington had muttered something about “forces of nature,” “stubbornness,” and “statistical outliers” (not to mention an occasional “just like her father!”), but she'd finally conceded the point. Which had simply proven to Honor how much her mother loved her . . . and that she was smart enough to recognize when discretion was the better part of valor. Perhaps she still hoped Honor might grow out of it, but if she didn't, Allison would be just as supportive as her husband.

Honor treasured knowing that, even if she didn't know what had originally sparked her interest in naval history. Maybe it was the way the Star Kingdom's dependence on the commerce pouring through the Manticoran Wormhole Junction made the Navy such a vital part of its life and prosperity. Maybe she was just fascinated by the thought of distant suns and planets, different people and cultures. Or maybe it was all just a romantic fantasy that she'd grow out of quickly once she experienced the reality. All she knew was that she'd read and viewed every scrap of naval history—all the way back to when warships had floated in water back on Old Earth, before humanity ever ventured beyond atmosphere the first time—she could get her hands on for as long as she could remember. And she knew—knew—she wanted a starship's deck beneath her feet in the service of her king. It was . . . important to her in some way she'd never been able to articulate clearly, even to herself.

But she would miss mornings like this one, she thought, looking around her and trying to absorb the essence of Sphinx through her pores. This was where she came from, this was who she'd grown up being, the place that would always be there at the center of her memories. She knew that even some of her fellow Sphinxians, far less people who'd been born and raised on Manticore, probably thought of people like her and her family as backwoodsmen. Rubes who weren't quite civilized, or they wouldn't let twelve-year-olds wander around the woods packing guns. Most of them came from cities, however, and Honor regarded anyone doomed to that sort of existence with a kind of bemused tolerance, even pity. People who thought that way shouldn't be allowed to wander around the woods where they might get hurt. That meant they would never enjoy a morning like this, though, and the loss was theirs.

Oh, stop it! she told herself with a grin. Yeah, you'll be headed off to the Academy in another four or five T-years. So what? It's only a few hours either way between Manticore and Sphinx, so it's not like you won't be able to get home for visits, now is it? And Daddy didn't exactly shake the dust of Sphinx forever from his feet when he joined the Marines, did he? Everybody grows up, and everybody has to decide where to go and what to do with their lives. At least you've already got a pretty good idea what you're going to do with yours.

She gave herself a mental shake and checked the GPS on her uni-link. Her father had insisted that she learn to find her way around with only a compass—uni-links, he'd pointed out, could be broken or lost, as could compasses, now that he thought about it, so while she was at it, why didn't she notice which side of the trees the moss grew on, too?—but she personally had no objection to knowing exactly where she was. And where she was happened to be a full three kilometers short of her destination, so she'd better get a move on.

* * *

<The green-needle pods seem well grown to me, Laughs Brightly,> Sharp Nose observed.

<True, but there are many fewer of them than usual,> Laughs Brightly replied, sending his brother a mental picture of this same stretch of woodland from turnings' past. <And look there, on the far side of the stream. Do you see where that entire stretch of gray-bark trees has no pods at all?>

Sharp Nose paused, the sensitive nose which had earned him his name pointed in the indicated direction. He cocked his head, looking very carefully, then twitched his whiskers.

<You are right,> he acknowledged. <Why is it so, do you think?>

<I am not certain.> Laughs Brightly's tail reached up to curl around a branch above his head and he swung himself up to a higher perch, gripping it with hand-feet and true-feet while one true-hand groomed his own whiskers. <I discussed it with Bark Master and Wind of Memory yesterday, and Wind of Memory sang back through the memory songs. The wind has not been much out of the lowlands this green-leaf time, and there has been less rain. Perhaps that is the reason. But I think it more likely the People can thank the bark-borers and leaf-eaters for it. See, those gray-bark trees' leaves are the color of sickness. I think the bark-borers have wounded the trees, and the leaf-eaters have taken many of the pods before they fully ripened.>

<That is not a good thing,> Sharp Nose said somberly. <The clan will miss those pods this ice time. Why do you think the bark-borers and leaf-eaters have done so much more damage this season?>

<I think there have been too few swift-darters to feed upon them,> Laughs Brightly replied after a thoughtful pause. <I have seen this before, in dry seasons—dry seasons that stop short of fire season. Without the rain in the middle of the season of green leaves, the swift-darters make fewer nests and hatch fewer young. When that happens, there are many more bark-borers and leaf-eaters during leaf-turning than at other times.>

<Will it pass with the snow and ice?> Sharp Nose's mind-voice was more than a little anxious, and Laughs Brightly flirted his tail.

<I think it likely that it will. The cold and ice will freeze the bark-borers and leaf-eaters, and if there is enough rain in mud time, the swift-darters will return in greater numbers to devour their eggs before they can hatch once more. But I fear that some of these gray-bark and green-needle trees are too badly hurt. I do not think they will survive ice time.>

<This is the real reason Bark Master and Wind of Memory sent you to scout Thunder Mist, is it not?> Sharp Nose asked.

<It is,> Laughs Brightly acknowledged. <Wind Seeker was here two hands of days ago, hunting bark-chewers, and it seemed to him there were too few pods. So I was sent to check, and it would seem he was correct.>

The older treecat's mind-glow was somber as he clung to the branch, looking out across the foam-streaked rapids at the foot of the towering waterfall. The stream was not huge at this point, little more than a triple hand of People lengths across as it raced down the narrow valley, but it ran deep and fast despite the unsual dryness of the season. Farther downstream it was broader and slower-flowing, especially when it reached the lake builders' dam and grew wide and very deep. The water there was rich with striped swimmers, many of them more than a People length long, although catching them could be an . . . interesting challenge. The fishing was easier here in the shallower water of the rapids, where the sheer height of the falls raised the continual cloud of fine mist which had earned them their name. It was ironic, he thought, that in a turning of such marked dryness, when the swift-darters were so few, the wet breath of Thunder Mist had watered these damaged trees so well.

<Will this endanger the clan this ice time?> his brother asked him.

<I think not.> Laughs Brightly groomed his whiskers again. <This area is more badly hurt than any other in our range. Now that we know that it will yield so many fewer pods, no doubt we will harvest here first, to save what we may from the leaf-eaters, but there are more than enough other gray-bark and green-needle trees beyond this part of our range which have not been hurt . . . yet, at least.>

Sharp Nose would have been happier if Laughs Brightly had not added that final qualifier, yet he felt a sense of satisfaction at having aided, if only by bearing his brother company, in discovering something important to the clan's well-being.

<Look there,> Laughs Brightly said suddenly. <Do you taste it?>

Sharp Nose looked in the indicated direction, and his tail kinked as he saw the young two-leg walking quietly through the forest towards them.

<It is Dances on Clouds!> he said. <What is she doing so far from her nesting place without her sire?>

<Something she should not be doing,> Laughs Brightly said, his mind-voice richly amused. <Taste her mind-glow more deeply, Sharp Nose. It reminds me very much of your mind-glow when you thought you were sneaking off without our sire or dam noticing.>

<She should not be here,> Sharp Nose said crisply, doing his best to ignore his brother's amusement. <It is not safe!>

<That two-leg may be young,> Laughs Brightly replied, stretching comfortably along the limb to which he clung, <but she is well able to look after herself.> He laid his chin on his folded true-hands, his eyes half-slitted as he gazed at the approaching two-leg. <I have seen her use that thunder-barker of hers before.> His mind-glow carried an unmistakable edge of approval. <A snow hunter—or even a death fang—that threatens her will not enjoy the experience!>

<If she knows it is coming, perhaps,> Sharp Nose returned stubbornly. <But she is a two-leg, Laughs Brightly! Not only is she mind-blind, her nose is but a poor thing, and all the People know that two-legs' ears are half deaf at the best of times.>

<Indeed?> Laughs Brightly cocked his head at him. <Then it is a very strange thing that death fangs and snow hunters have learned to fear them rather than the other way around, is it not?>

<I have admitted that if she sees a danger she can deal with it eith her thunder-barker. My fear is that she will not see it until too late.>

<Oh, I think she will see it,> Laughs Brightly said thoughtfully. <I have not tasted her mind-glow in almost half a season, but there is much of the scout in her. Taste again, Sharp Nose. This is a two-leg who feels everything about her almost as one of the People would. And her mind-glow is stronger than it was when last I tasted her.>

Sharp Nose glanced at him dubiously, then turned his attention back to the two-leg and reached out to touch her mind-glow. His ears rose slowly as the sheer strength of it washed over him, so powerful it was almost painful to sample it too closely. Yet Laughs Brightly was correct, he realized. That youngling was almost as well aware of the trees and mountainside about her as any scout.

<I had not realized her mind-glow had grown so strong,> he said to Laughs Brightly after a moment in a tone of profound respect. <That is very strong indeed, even for one of Death Fang's Bane Clan!>

<It is very like her father's,> Laughs Brightly replied. <I remember him when he was her age. Very strong, he was! All the world knows that Death Fang's Bane's children have always had bright mind-glows, even for two-legs, and there is something very like the taste of Darkness Foe's mind-glow from the memory songs about Deep Roots and Dances on Clouds, in fact. It is not the same, only similar in . . . clarity, perhaps. They see much and they feel more, Sharp Nose. And I believe their mind glows may well be stronger than any who have come before them.>

Sharp Nose blinked in surprise, then looked back at the young two-leg. He had never really thought about it, but even if he had, it would probably not have occurred to him to think such a thing. Every kitten of Bright Water Clan grew up with the memory songs of Death Fang's Bane, of the bright, fearless taste of her mind-glow and the depth and richness of her bond with Climbs Quickly. It was one of the glories—and the deepest tragedies—of the clan, for with Death Fang's Bane's passing, Climbs Quickly had followed that glorious mind-glow into the darkness with her. She had lived a long life for a two-leg, but none of the People had realized then how short two-legs' lives truly were.

Yet now, as he sampled that approaching mind-glow more cautiously, he realized Laughs Brightly might actually be correct. It was as if the sun itself had come down below the golden-leaf and green-needle branches, blinding any eye that looked too closely upon it. Sharp Nose had never felt the least temptation to bond with one of the two-legs, even of Death Fang's Bane Clan, which was honored and loved by every clan of the People. Yet if he had ever felt the desire to reach out to that glory, bind himself to it forever, this mind-glow would have drawn him as a flame drew the night-flyers.

<She is truly Death Fang's Bane's daughter, however many the turnings between them, and not just because she, too, dances upon the clouds,> Laughs Brightly said quietly. <I have tasted Death Fang's Bane many times in the memory songs, and this one . . . this one will be as strong, do as many things—or more—I believe.>

<Have you ever considered bonding with one of the two-legs?> Sharp Nose asked, and Laughs Brightly bleeked softly in amusement.

<Not I, little brother! If I had, I would probably have leapt at the chance to bond with her father when he was but little older than she is now. Yes, their mind-glows blaze bright, but their lives are too short. There are too many wonders in this world still for me to see to bind myself to a two-leg, even one as youthful as this youngling, and miss so many of them! Besides, she is Deep Roots' daughter even more than she is Death Fang's Bane's. Like him, she is bound for other worlds, other suns, and I am a child of this world, Sharp Nose. Scout though I may be, I do not wish to leave it.>

Sharp Nose twitched the tip of his tail in slow agreement, considering what his brother had said. Death Fang's Bane's mind-glow burned bright still in Bright Water Clan's memory songs, but this had been her world. Though she had left it upon occasion—and Climbs Quickly had accompanied her when she did, returning with mind songs of the two-legs' other worlds—she had always returned, for it had been the treasure for which her heart had hungered. Yet not all of her descendents had shared that heart hunger. Still . . .

He looked at Laughs Brightly speculatively, and the older treecat turned his head to return his regard, ears cocked as he tasted his brother's question.

<How can you be so sure she is bound for other worlds?> Sharp Nose asked finally, and Laughs Brightly's ears twitched in surprise.

<How can you doubt that she is?> he returned. <Can you not taste the way in which she is saying goodbye even now?> He returned his gaze to the two-leg youngling. <It will not be tomorrow, or even the next day, but she is leaving, Sharp Nose, and she does not know if she will ever return. I tasted the same from her father.>

<I cannot taste it,> Sharp Nose admitted. <Perhaps her mind-glow is simply too bright. Still, Wind of Memory has said you have a stronger mind-voice than most males, and you are a scout.> All the People knew scouts became scouts because their mind-glows reached to sample the world about them so much more clearly than others could. <Perhaps that is why you taste more clearly than I.>

<It might be so,> Laughs Brightly mused. <Our line has been close to Death Fang's Bane's Clan for many hands of turnings, though, and I am older than you. Perhaps that is why I taste her more sharply.>

It was true that he and Laughs Brightly were directly descended from Climbs Quickly, Sharp Nose reflected, yet that was true of many of Bright Water's People after so many turnings. And he did not think that was the sole answer. All of the scouts and hunters of Bright Water Clan kept watch over Death Fang's Bane Clan. Even those to whom no Person ever bonded were . . . family, to be cherished and guarded when they ventured into the clan's range, and Dances on Clouds was no exception. Although none of the People had bonded with her, many had shared the soaring flights which had earned her her name among them. Like Death Fang's Bane herself, she was one with the wind, never happier than when she launched herself into flight and gave herself to it with all her heart and mind. Who could share that wondrous moment with her, taste her joy and delight, and not take her to his own heart?

Yet there was a dark side, as well, and Laughs Brightly had placed his true-hand squarely upon it. The shortness of their lives had always made Death Fang's Bane's children even more to be cherished, for their natural span was less than half that of one of the People, and in the memory songs it often seemed as if they were gone almost before they had arrived. That lent an added poignancy to guarding them when they walked the clan's range, yet for all the care with which the clan kept watch over “their” two-legs, he did not think any of the others could have tasted what Laughs Brightly tasted now. Or thought he tasted, at any rate.

<They are changeable, two-legs,> he pointed out. <Deep Roots left turnings ago, before I was even born, yet he is here now and he is, indeed, deeply rooted to the world.>

<He is, but at great price. I do not know what happened to him, but I tasted his mind-glow after it, and he was deeply wounded, Sharp Nose. The pain in him cried out to me. It made his mind-glow even stronger, yet he had not yet rooted himself here once again. That did not happen until he returned with Laugh Dancer. It was she who made him whole. Indeed, they are as deeply bonded in many ways as any of the People who mate. They do not see and taste as the People do, but they are not nearly so mind-blind as others of their kind, and their love for one another burns like a crown fire. I think, perhaps, if Deep Roots had not bonded to her so closely—>

Laughs Brightly broke off, and Sharp Nose's eyes narrowed as he caught the fringes of what his brother had left unsaid.

<But enough of lying here watching two-legs!> Laughs Brightly said more briskly. <We have much yet to see before we return to the clan. Come—I will make a scout of you yet, Sharp Nose!>

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