Tailchaser's Song Read Online Free

dwellings of the Big Ones, they could smell the fresh scents of others of their kind.
    Over the top of the rise and past a stand of massive oak trees lay the entrance to the canyon. Tailchaser thought happily to himself of the songs and stories that would be shared by the crumbling Meeting Wall. He thought also of Hushpad, whose slim gray form and arching, slender tail had been on his mind almost constantly of late. It was fine to be alive and of the Folk on Meeting Night.
    Meerclar’s Eye cast a mother-of-pearl light on the clearing. Twenty-five or thirty cats were assembled at the base of the Wall—rubbing against each other in greeting, sniffing the nose of a new acquaintance. There was much mock fighting among the younger Folk.
    Tailchaser and Thinbone were greeted by a gang of young hunters who stood casually about on the edge of the throng.
    “Great you’re here!” cried Fleetpaw, a young fellow with thick black-and-white fur. “We’re just about to have a game of Hop-in-the-Air—until the elders arrive, that is.”
    Thinbone jogged over to join, but Fritti lowered his head politely and moved toward the crowd to look for Hushpad. He could not locate her scent as he slid through the milling group of cats.
    A pair of young felas, barely out of kittenhood, wrinkled their noses at him flirtatiously, then ran away, sneezing merriment. Ignoring them, he bowed his head respectfully as he passed Stretchslow. The older male, who lay majestically prone at the base of the Wall, dignified him with a lazy blink of his huge green eyes and a desultory ear-wiggle.
    Still no Hushpad, thought Fritti. Where can she be? Nobody missed a Meeting Night if he could help it. Meetings were only on those nights when the Eye was completely open and at its brightest.
    Perhaps she will come later, he thought. Or perhaps even now she was walking with Jumptall or Leafrustle-extending her tail languidly for them to admire....
    The thought made him angry. He turned and cuffed a juvenile tom who had been prancing and capering at his heels. It was young Pouncequick, who gave him such a look of dismay that Fritti immediately felt sorry he had done it—the rambunctious kitten was often a nuisance, but well-meaning:
    “I’m sorry, Pouncequick,” he said, “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was old Stretchslow, and I was going to teach him a lesson.”
    “Really?” gasped the young one. “You would have done that to him?” Fritti regretted his joke. Stretchslow would not find it very funny.
    “Well, anyway,” he said, “it was a mistake, and I apologize.”
    Pouncequick was charmed at being treated as an adult. “I certainly will accept your apology, Tailchaser.” he said gravely. “It was an understandable mistake.”
    Fritti snorted. Giving the young cat a playful bite on the flank, he continued on his way.
     
    Halfway through Deepest Quiet the Meeting was well under way, and Hushpad had still not made an appearance. While one of the Elders regaled the assembled multitude—now swollen to almost sixty—Tailchaser sought Thinbone, who was sitting with Fleetpaw and the others. The Elder was describing a large and potentially dangerous Growler who was running wild in the area, and Thinbone and the other hunters were listening intently as Fritti approached.
    “Thinbone!” he hissed. “Will you come over and talk to me for a moment?” Thinbone yawned and stretched before ambling over to Fritti’s tree-root perch.
    “What is it, then?” he inquired amiably. “Is it time for my barking lessons?”
    “Please, Thinbone, no games. I can’t find Hushpad anywhere. Do you know where she is?”
    Thinbone considered Tailchaser as the Elder droned on. “So,” he said. “I thought you seemed a little preoccupied. All this over a fela?”
    “We were doing the Dance of Acceptance last night!” said Fritti, stung. “We didn’t have a chance to finish before the sun came up. We were going to finish tonight. I know she was going to