Treecat Wars (30 page)

“Jess, I think you might be right about the treecats going after a hexapuma or something. There’s a lot of damage here, both on the ground and up in the trees as well. The area gets more torn up the further I go.”

“Did you find what they were fighting?”

“No sign. Maybe it got away. Maybe these ’cats weren’t as good at fighting as Lionheart’s clan. How’s your patient?”

“I think I have been stabilized, but he needs more help than I can give him. Normally, I’d take him to Dr. Richard, but—”

She shrugged and Anders bit his lip. What a time for Stephanie’s parents to be off Sphinx!

“I don’t know if we should take him to the clinic,” he said. “Dr. Saleem is good, but I’m not sure how much he knows about treecats. He’d have the files, but I don’t think he’s done much hands-on work. Dr. Richard always handled the treecats himself. What about Scott MacDallan? Stephanie told me Dr. Richard’s been sharing all of his notes with Scott, and he treated Fisher himself after the two of them first met. Is your car up to a flight to Thunder River?”

Jessica nodded. “It’ll take a bit longer than it does in Karl’s car. My junker just can’t go as fast. I’ll have to com Mom, though. What should I tell her?”

Anders noticed that without having discussed it, both of them were already agreed that the injured tree cat—and three dead ones—were not matters for general discussion. The x-a’s would probably insist on seeing the injured treecat and poking it, no matter how hurt it—no, he—was. Heck, Anders couldn’t even be sure
Dad
would keep off!

“Stephanie’s a big fan of telling the truth,” he said, “just leaving out the awkward parts. Let’s do that. Tell your mom we found an injured treecat and that we think Scott would be the best person to treat it. Ask her to keep it to herself.”

“I think she’d do that,” Jessica agreed, “especially given how those x-a’s were looking for dirt on Valiant. She’d understand the need to protect this one.”

Naomi Pheriss did indeed understand. “Take your time, Jessica. Call if you decide to stay the night in Thunder River, all right?”

Anders called his dad, too, but Dr. Whitaker was—as usual—too distracted by his work to worry about why his seventeen-year-old son might not be home until late or the next day. “Have fun with your friends,” he said.

“I suppose,” Anders said after he’d disconnected “we should call Scott and warn him we’re coming. We should probably have called him before we called our folks.”

“Yeah, and given Scott a chance to tell us to take this poor fellow to the clinic in Twin Forks, instead,” Jessica added.

But MacDallan made no such suggestion. Instead, the redhaired doctor asked Anders and Jessica for any details they could give and viewed images of his future patient over the uni-link.

“I’ll have a treatment room ready,” he promised. “Call again when you’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“We will,” Anders promised. “And thanks for helping out on such short notice.”

When Anders disconnected, he helped Jessica clear a spot in the rear seat of the air car and settle in the wounded treecat.

Then he said, “I think we should bring those bodies along. I noticed you had some tarps in the trunk.”

“Mom and I always carry some in case we need to wrap a root ball or something,” Jessica said. “I’ve got boxes, too. Do you think the other treecats will mind?”

“I don’t see anyone making funeral arrangements,” Anders said brutally. “Let’s do this like last time, let Valiant see what we’re doing. If he protests or the other treecat wakes up and gets upset, then we stop and settle for images. Otherwise, we bring the bodies, too. We’ll take the same precautions as last time, handle the bodies as little as possible, and disinfect afterwards.”

Jessica nodded and, when Valiant showed no signs of being upset, they carried out their grisly task as quickly as possible.

“I suppose we could have buried these like we did the other one,” Anderson said, “but I’m edgy about all of this.”

“You, too?” Jessica said. “I thought Valiant’s worry over the other ’cat was making me nervy.”

“It’s not just you,” Anders assured her. “It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve found four dead and one injured treecat all in the same region. What if something’s hunting them—some predator displaced by the fire, maybe? I’d like to see if Scott can make a guess at what got them. Then maybe the SFS can do something.”

“Good idea,” Jessica agreed, tucking a tarp to secure the load packed in the air car’s trunk. “We’ll call Scott on the way and tell him what to expect. Now we’d better fly.

* * *

Keen Eyes realized the pain had gone away. He still felt very weak, but it was a delicious sort of weakness. He felt cared for, protected, relaxed in a manner he hadn’t felt for a long time—certainly not since the fires destroyed his clan’s home range, perhaps not since he’d been a kitten.

His lids were so heavy that he could not open his eyes, but he did twitch his nose. The odors around him were very strange. He was certain he had never smelled them before, yet they were not completely alien…He let his mind drift. That, at least, was easy. And in the depths of memory, Keen Eyes found the connection he sought. He had never smelled these things, not with his own nose, but he had experienced them in one of the memory songs Wide Ears had given to the scouts.

The song had been at several removes, but Wide Ears had been a strong singer. Moreover, she had been showing them these particular memories to help them in their scouting. For that reason, she had been even pickier than usual about making sure the various sensory details were as refined as possible.

The song was from the memory of two young People from the Damp Earth Clan. They had been trapped by one of the earlier fires in the past fire season—one in the lowlands, near the large central nesting place of the two-legs. These two—Right-Striped and Left-Striped—would certainly have been burned alive had their cries for help not been heard by Climbs Quickly of the Bright Water Clan, companion of the young two-leg called Death Fang’s Bane.

Without help, Climbs Quickly could not have saved them, but he had managed to make his two-leg companions understand that they were needed. After they were rescued, Right-Striped and Left-Striped had been taken to Death Fang’s Bane’s nesting place. Her sire, Healer, had treated their burns.

Some of the smells from that memory were what Keen Eyes was smelling now. Medications. The odor of the interior of one of the two-legs’ flying things. And, not at all in the least, that of several two-legs. He was very tired, but as a scout he was good at sorting through scents. Many of the two-leg scents were older. Those who had left them were not present. However, there were two sharper scents, strong enough to indicate that those who had made them were close by. Keen Eyes registered another scent, as well; that of a male Person of some years. Now that he had this focus, Keen Eyes realized he had been aware of this Person’s mind-glow since he had awakened. Its calm, comforting presence had a great deal to do with the feeling of being protected and relaxed that had been wrapped around him.

Tentatively, Keen Eyes spoke, <
I thank you…I am Keen Eyes of the Landless Clan. You are?
>

The comforting mind-glow replied, <
I am Dirt Grubber of the Damp Ground Clan, although now I live with the two-leg called Windswept and her clan. The ones you smell are Windswept and Bleached Fur. We are in their flying thing, up in the sky
.>

The mind-voice was accompanied by images. Keen Eyes recognized both Windswept and Bleached Fur from the background of Right-Striped and Left-Striped’s memories. However, he had had no idea that yet another Person had chosen to bond with a two-leg. He felt lost and confused. Dirt Grubber immediately moved to reassure him.

<
There is no reason you should have known. My clan lives in the lowlands. Perhaps your memory singers have been too busy to share songs with another clan
.>

<
We have no memory singers
.> Keen Eyes did not try to hide his pain and bitterness. His mind was muddied, perhaps from whatever had taken away the pain, but he managed to share something of the Landless Clan’s history since the fires. He deliberately held back its problems with Trees Enfolding Clan, for he had no idea whether or not Dirt Grubber or his clan was friendly with Trees Enfolding. They might even be related clans.

<
You have had a bad time
,> Dirt Grubber replied. <
I would ask more, but you are very weak. Windswept has given you something to help with the pain. She is taking you to Darkness Foe, who will help you, but it is a long journey. I think you should try to rest
.>

Keen Eyes wanted to protest, but he really was very tired. Dirt Grubber started purring, his mind-glow filling with slow, easy images—of plants unfolding their leaves, of sunlight warming fur, of eyes heavy with sleep after a good meal.

Keen Eyes did not resist, but gave himself over to sleep.

* * *

Scott MacDallan’s red hair shone like a landing beacon as Jessica brought her air car down behind the house he shared with his wife, Irina Kisaevna.

Fisher had been on his customary perch on Scott’s shoulder, but as soon as the car landed, he came racing across, waiting with obvious impatience until Anders opened the door. Flirting his tail in a gesture of thanks, Fisher leapt inside, where he joined Valiant.

Valiant had sat cuddled up next to the wounded treecat for the entire flight and now he made room so that Fisher could join him.

It takes absolutely no imagination at all
, Anders thought,
to figure out that something more than a group hug is going on here
.

In the background, he could hear Jessica speaking to Scott: “Anders and I just lifted the hurt ’cat in, but do you think we should use a stretcher or something getting him back out?”

“I’ll give him a first exam here,” Scott said, shoving head and shoulders into the back of the air car. “Then we’ll decide. Move over, guys. I realize you’re helping him, but I need to take a look and I can’t do with you in the way.”

Valiant and Fisher moved aside as one, leaping to frame the doctor from new perches on the back of the seat.

“Stars above,” the doctor said softly a few moments later. “He’s really been slashed up. Some of those claws went deep. Internal organs might’ve been perforated. I don’t think there’s any bone damage, but….”

He activated his uni-link and spoke without pausing. “Irina? I’m going to need a small stretcher.”

“Coming.”

Feeling as if he was going to jump out of his skin if he didn’t do something, Anders turned and ran back toward the house, meeting Irina as she emerged. He took the compact stretcher and sprinted back to the car.

Scott was pulling himself out of the enclosed space. His worried expression momentarily brightened when he saw Anders and Jessica holding the stretcher ready.

“Okay. Slide it over here. Now I’ll lift a little…Good…”

Within a few minutes, they had the injured treecat in the room already prepared as a surgery. Scott frowned.

“I hate to do this,” he said, “but I’m going to insist you two stay out unless you have some surgical experience. Irina, scrub up.”

“What about the ’cats?” Irina said, for Valiant and Fisher had resumed their posts next to the patient.

“I’m going to let them stay,” Scott said. “Jessica? Do you think Valiant would wear a surgical mask? And put up with a sterile spray-down?”

“Sure,” she said promptly, “if he sees Fisher doing it. He’s used a respirator, and he’s seen Dr. Richard—and me—spraying wounds to disinfect them. He may not understand
why
we do it, but he knows it’s part of making them better.

“Good.” The doctor paused. “We’ve emptied a cooling unit. Put the bodies in there. I’ll look at them after I’ve done what I can for this guy.”

“Right.”

As Jessica and Anders left the surgery, Irina called after them, “Make yourselves free of the house and grounds. Patients don’t normally call here at the house. If anyone shows up, tell them the doctor’s unavailable because of an emergency.”

“Right.”

When the door closed firmly after Irina, Anders was aware of a tremendous sense of relief. He’d been terrified that the treecat would die during the long flight to Thunder River. If he had, he knew he and Jessica would never have forgiven themselves for not taking the shorter route to Dr. Saleem, even if Scott did have far more experience with treecat injuries.

“I think,” Jessica said, sinking down on a cushioned bench in the entryway that was the closest available seat, “I’m going to start either blubbering or screaming.”

“Delayed shock,” Anders reassured her. “This has been a blackhole of a day. You really kept it together. I won’t think the worse of you if you start crying.” He gave a crooked grin. “I might even join in.”

With a funny little choked noise, Jessica bent forward slightly, her long hair curtaining her face. For a moment, Anders thought she was laughing. Then he realized that Jessica’s shoulders were shaking with an effort to contain her sobs. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to reach over and hold her, to let her press her face against his chest while he stroked her back.

“There, there,” he said inanely. “You did great, really great. It’s going to be all right.”

After a while, she pulled away. “I’m sorry. I just…I just…I’ve always been really good at keeping my head when something’s wrong, but afterwards…Mom says I always pay twice what I would if I just admitted how I felt, but I can’t help it.”

Anders nodded. “What’s wrong with crying? You know, it would’ve been okay even if you’d broken down when we found that hurt ’cat. I mean, it was scary.”

Jessica grinned ruefully. “I bet Stephanie never cracks up. I love her like a sister, but she’s always so, so…intellectual. Weighing the odds, figuring out the angles.”

“I think,” Anders said, feeling a bit awkward, “that Stephanie does crack up. She just does it differently. She loses her temper instead of crying. Anyhow, she told me she cried her eyes out when Lionheart got hurt saving her. I bet she’d understand. I really do.”