Tailchaser's Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

the face name, and the tail name.
    The heart name was given by the mother at the kitten’s birth. It was a name of the ancient tongue of the cats, the Higher Singing. It was only to be shared with siblings, heart-friends and those who joined in the Ritual. Fritti was such a name.
    The face name was given by the Elders at the young one’s first Meeting, a name in the mutual language of all warmblooded creatures, the Common Singing. It could be used anywhere a name was useful.
    As for the tail name, most of the Folk maintained that all cats were born with one; it was merely a matter of discovering it. Discovery was a very personal thing—once effected it was never discussed or shared with anyone.
    It was certain, at least, that some Folk never discovered their tail name, and died knowing only the other two. Many said that a cat who had lived with the Big Ones—with M‘an—lost all desire to find it, and grew fat in ignorance. So important, secret and rare were the Folk’s tail names, and so hesitantly discussed, that nothing much about them was actually agreed upon. One either discovered this name or did not, said the Elders, and there was no way to force the matter.
     
     
    On the night of the Naming, Fritti and his littermates were led by their mother to the special Nose-meet of the Elders that preceded the Meeting. For the first time Fritti saw Bristlejaw the Oel-cir‘va, and old Snifflick, and the other wise Folk who protected the laws and traditions.
    Fritti and his siblings, as well as the litter of another fela, were herded into a circle. They lay hunched against each other as the Elders walked slowly around them—sniffing the air and sounding a deep rumble that had the cadence of an unknown language. Snifflick leaned down and put his paw against Tirya, Fritti’s sister, and brought her to her paws. He stared at her a moment, then said: “I name you Clearsong. Join the Meeting.” She rushed away to share her new name, and the Elders continued. One by one they pulled the other young out of the pile where they lay breathing shallowly with expectation and Named them. Finally there was only Fritti left. The Elders stopped their circling and sniffed him carefully. Bristlejaw turned to the others.
    “Do you smell it, too?”
    Snifflick nodded. “Yes. The wide water. The places underground. A strange sign.”
    Another Elder, a battered blue named Earpoint, scuffed the earth impatiently. “Not important. We’re here for a Naming.”
    “True,” Bristlejaw agreed. “Well. . . ? I smell searching.”
    “I smell a struggle with dreams.” This from Snifflick.
    “I think he desires his tail name before he has even received his face name!” said another Elder, and they all sneezed quietly with humor.
    “Very well!” said Snifflick, and all eyes turned to Fritti. “I name you . . . Tailchaser. Join the Meeting.”
    Bewildered, Fritti leaped up and trotted rapidly away from the Nose-meet, away from the chuckling Elders who seemed to share a joke at his expense. Bristlejaw called sharply after him.
    “Fritti Tailchaser!”
    He turned and met the Master Old-singer’s gaze. Despite the merriment wrinkling his nose, his eyes were warm and kind.
    “Tailchaser. All things in earth’s season—only given time. Remember that, won’t you?”
    Fritti flattened his ears and turned and ran to the Meeting.

    The waning days of spring brought hot weather, long trips into the countryside—and Tailchaser’s first meeting with Hushpad.
    As he drew closer to his maturity the daily company of his brothers and sisters became less important to Fritti. Each day the sun was longer in the sky, and the scents carried by the drowsy wind grew sweeter and stronger. So, increasingly, he was drawn on solitary rambles outside the range of dwellings among which his family lived and slept. During the hottest parts of the Hour of Smaller Shadows—his hunger blunted by his morning meal, his natural curiosity freed—he would range through