A cat crawled along a branch, and she felt the tug of the light within her, too, the flow of the life of the world, and herself with it. She could see the gleam of the great eyes, followed it with her mind while she prowled around the foot of the tree. There was a sweet, sharp, musky scent in the air now and, in the mind of the cat, she followed it, not knowing whether or not she moved or whether only the cat moved . . . closer and closer she came, and heard herself make a small snarling, purring cry of hunger and need . . . turned with a lashing of the great tail as the cat’s mate pounced down the tree trunk, with cries and frisking sounds. Her body ached and hungered and as the cat seized her mate, Romilly twisted on the moss of the ground and dug her hands into the ground, gasping, crying out…
Ranald . . . she whispered, hi the moment before she was lost in the wild surge of heat. The night seemed filled with the snarling, purring sound of the great cats in their mating, and she lay silent, battered down beneath it, and at last, her senses and laran overloaded, she lost consciousness.
The next morning she woke, hardly aware what had happened, feeling sick and exhausted. She did not know why, but her aimless moving through the forest had quickened pace. She must get away, get away … a nameless apprehension was on her, and when she heard, above her, the same snarling cry of the great cat, she was too numbed to be afraid. And then there was a dark flash as it slithered to the ground and stood facing her, mouth drawn back in a snarl over sharp fanged teeth. Behind it she sensed the presence of the little balls of brownish fur, hidden in the hollow tree….
The cat was protecting her young! And, she, Romilly, had blundered into the proximity of the cat’s protected territory . . . she blundered backward, fighting the temptation to turn and run, run away … if she did, she knew the cat would be on her in a moment! Slowly, stealthily, she drew backward, backward, trying to catch the animal’s eyes, to press on it with her laran…
Peace, peace, I mean no harm, not to you, not to your little ones. … At some time, she had done this before, something which menaced her, cold, fierce, in the snows. . ..
Silently, silently, step after step, withdraw, withdraw . . . peace, peace, I mean you no harm, your cubs no harm….
Then, when she was almost at the edge of the clearing, the cat moved like a streak, with a single long leap, and landed almost at Romilly’s feet.
Peace, peace . . . The cat bent her head, almost laid it at Romilly’s feet. Then shock struck through her.
No, no! I betrayed Sunstar to death, I swore 1 would use that laran no more, never, never … no more of the innocent to die …
One paw lashed out like a whip; claws raked Romilly’s face, and the weight of the arm stretched her sprawling and gasping with pain; she felt blood break from her cheek and her lip. Now she has spilled my blood, will she kill me now as sacrifice to her cubs, in expiation for the death of Sunstar. . . .
The hoarse, soft snarling never stopped. Romilly rolled over, to protect her face. Then, as the cat sprung again, a fury of wings lashed down, and the hawk’s claws raked at the eyes of the great cat, beating wings flapping around the cat’s muzzle.
Preciosa! She has come to fight for me!
Romilly rolled free, springing up and climbing into a nearby tree. Preciosa hovered, just out of reach of the deadly claws, flapping and striking with beak and talons, until the cat, snarling softly, turned her back and vanished into the long grasses where her cubs were hidden. Her breath catching in her throat, Romilly slid down the tree and ran as far as she could in the opposite direction, Preciosa close behind her; she heard the sound of the wings and the little shrilling sound of the hawk. When she was out of range, she stopped, turned, thrust out her fist, in a gesture so familiar that she did not even make it consciously.