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brought unlit sticks that had been chewed to a point and sharpened in the flame.
    The bristlemanes climbed over and around each other to escape the vengeful creature that surrounded them. A Firekeeper thrust a brand at a trapped animal and it retreated until it backed into the others and could go no further. Its cries became faster and shriller until they became a terrified wail. It crouched and shuddered, trying to bury its face in its flank.
    Something made Thakur glance at Orange-Eyes, who stood just outside the circle of torchbearers. The silvercoat’s eyes narrowed and his lips drew back in a half-snarl. It was not the same expression as the Firekeepers wore. Their eyes blazed with vengeance-hunger and a sudden, eager cruelty. Orange-Eyes was looking, not at the frightened bristlemanes, but at those of the clan who brandished fire at them.
    Thakur remembered that the Un-Named One had also faced the Red Tongue’s wrath. He came alongside the silvercoat and softly said, “The mare and colt are still loose. We should help the herders find them.”
    Orange-Eyes’s gaze remained fixed on the scene. A change came over his eyes. Their color grew more intense, and it was not just the firelight on his face.
    “The Red Tongue is powerful creature,” he said softly to himself.
    “The mare,” said Thakur, nudging the Un-Named One’s shoulder.
    “Yes, herding teacher.” Orange-Eyes blinked, lowered his head and followed.
    They found the mare’s scent trail, still strong in the wet grass. Thakur looked back once to see the flames rise and fall. Firekeepers lunged with pointed sticks in their jaws. Yapping and snarling, the frenzied animals charged the ring of torchbearers. One Firekeeper lost his brand and fell back. The cornered bristlemanes attacked again. Yowls mingled with shrill yelps as they broke through the circle, throwing their tormentors aside.
    Before either Thakur or Orange-Eyes could whirl around, the pack had fled away into the night. Recovering themselves, the torchbearers gave chase, the flames tossing on their brands. Orange-Eyes leaped to join them, but they had gone and their cries had already begun to fade.
    Thakur let his muscles relax. “Come back,” he called to the silvercoat. “Let the Firekeepers chase them.”
    Orange-Eyes hesitated, looking after the disappearing glow of the torches. He muttered something to himself that the herding teacher couldn’t hear.
    “Are you going to help me track those dapplebacks or not?” Thakur felt his patience going. Orange-Eyes started and swung around, the strange expression still in his eyes. It was half resentment and half something else ... Thakur didn’t know what. A hunger, perhaps. A hunger that would not be sated by meat.
     
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
     
    Ratha halted the pursuit at the far end of the meadow. She slowed, panting, the cries of the escaping bristlemanes still in her ears. Behind her, the torchbearers’ growls mingled with the angry snap of the Red Tongue. She shared their fever; the urge to hunt the enemy down with fang and fire.
    Terror had given the bristlemanes the speed to outrun the Firekeepers. Their pack-mates lay dead in the meadow and Ratha knew that those who lived bore scars on their memories as well as their hides that would forbid them from again setting foot on clan ground.
    She heard a muffled snarl and the sound of a body being dragged and shaken. She turned to see one of the Firekeepers mauling another dead bristlemane. The long tongue hung out of the stiff black jaws and flopped around with each angry jerk he gave the body.
    Ratha watched, letting the sight feed her hunger for vengeance. “Enough!” she cried suddenly. The Firekeeper released the corpse and backed away. She waited, studying the eyes that shone back at her with reflected torchlight, their glow softened only by a fine mist of rain. “Enough,” she said again in a low voice. “The herd is safe and the enemy gone. Firekeepers, return with me and