The Spirit-Eaters Page 3

  “Welcome!” the birds cried as one. “Welcome, Great Father Thorn of the Bright Forest! Welcome, new hope of Bravelands!”

  As he listened to them, strength surged through Thorn’s bones, even as a knot of fear tightened in his belly. To the animals on the ground, he knew, the birds’ squawking and screeching would mean nothing. For every moment of his life until the day before, they had been nothing but squawks to him too. But now, invested with the power of the Great Spirit, the poetry of the sky was revealed to him, inspiring and chilling at the same time. The fact that he now understood Skytongue was all the proof he needed: however unlikely it seemed, he really was the Great Father of Bravelands.

  But how can I do this?

  So many hopes to be fulfilled, so many expectations to be met. Where did he even begin to understand how to lead Bravelands?

  Already the herds were massing at the lake, their movement stirring up great clouds of dust that obscured both horizon and sky with a milky ocher haze. Scanning the horde desperately, Thorn at last made out Nut, Mud, and Spider. The three of them were making their way with difficulty toward him, negotiating bodies and hooves and swinging horns. The sight of his friends was reassuring. But Thorn’s hide still tingled with nerves.

  Zebras, gazelles, antelopes, and buffalo were crowded so thickly on the shore, the herds were intermingled, and bellows and brays echoed as they bumped into one another. Giraffes loitered on the edge of the crowd, gazing rather smugly from their high vantage point. A few gerenuk had propped their front hooves against trees to browse while they waited. A leopard sprawled on a branch, watching it all with detached curiosity. Even the earth was alive with scurrying rats and ground squirrels and guinea fowl; a fat little hyrax craned his head up to watch Thorn and Sky as they passed.

  “The Great Father is with us!” chorused the birds above their heads. “All will be well now! All will be well!”

  “They expect me to solve everything,” Thorn muttered to Sky. “They’re putting so much trust in me. I’m not sure I can ever live up to this.”

  Sky curled back her trunk to touch him, lightly but distractedly. “The Great Spirit knows what it’s doing. Believe that.”

  It sounded a little like a command. It also sounded, just very slightly, as if she was talking to herself.

  Thorn furrowed his brow, about to ask her if she was all right—but at that moment his eye was caught by a distinct movement beyond the tree line. He started and clutched Sky’s ears tighter.

  “Dawntrees Troop!” he gasped. “Over there.”

  The baboons that had once been Brightforest Troop, now led and renamed by their Crownleaf, Berry, were bounding down the shallow slope toward the gathering place. Thorn felt a lurch in his heart at the sight of them. They were his family, his friends, but he and Nut and Mud had been exiled with the stranger Spider. How would the troop react to their disgraced comrade being Great Father?

  Berry—their Crownleaf and his mate—hadn’t been happy about it. Their relationship had already been troubled, but when he’d at last confided his greatest secret, Berry had turned away from him in disbelief and shock.

  “I need to go to Dawntrees Troop,” he whispered to Sky. “Let me down, please?”

  She nodded in understanding, and half knelt to let him scramble down her shoulder. Just at that moment, Nut, Mud, and Spider at last pushed through the crowd to his side. Their eyes shone with excitement.

  “That’s quite the entrance, Thorn.” Nut grinned.

  “Spider thinks this elephant is a very fine one,” announced Spider, patting Sky’s leg. She snorted at him, amused.

  Mud embraced Thorn, then drew back, furrowing his brow. “You look worried, Thorn. Remember, you’re in charge now.”

  “Maybe that’s why his fur is going gray before our eyes,” said Nut.

  Thorn knew his friends were trying to make him feel better, and he appreciated their efforts. But it wasn’t the burden of his future responsibilities that was making him anxious—it was the past. He swallowed hard.

  “Don’t let them intimidate you,” boomed Nut, with a hearty slap of Thorn’s shoulder. “You’re Great Father now.”

  “We’ll come with you,” offered Mud.

  “Thank you.” Thorn nodded with gratitude and turned. With Nut, Mud, and Spider behind him, he bounded through the milling animals toward his former troop.

  Thorn’s heart clenched as he picked out Berry’s golden fur among the crowd. She marched at the head of Dawntrees Troop, flanked by her loyal and fearsome Crown Guard. Thorn shuddered at the sight of them. He had never approved of the formation of a personal bodyguard for the Crownleaf, and the powerful baboons looked no less hostile than they had when some of them had driven him out—all because he and his friends had stopped them from murdering Tendril, the Crownleaf of their rival troop.

  “Berry Crownleaf.” There was a catch in Thorn’s throat as he greeted his mate. Was she still his mate? He didn’t know if she still loved him, or if resentment and bitterness had killed what they had had.

  “Thorn.” Berry halted and gazed at him. There was not a twitch on her face to betray what she was feeling. For a long moment they watched each other, and then simultaneously they both averted their eyes. Thorn felt his heart lurch with misery, and his throat went dry.

  “Hey, you!” Viper shouldered in front of Berry and glared at Thorn. “What do you think you’re doing? You don’t belong with Dawntrees Troop.”

  Creeper, thuggish and one-eyed, pushed forward to stand beside Viper. “Get away from our Crownleaf, exile.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” growled Thorn through clenched teeth. “I know I don’t belong with Dawntrees anymore.”

  “We’ll make sure the four of you understand that.” Viper rose onto her hind paws, her fur bristling. Peeling back her muzzle, she snarled at Nut, who reared up to face her with a defiant growl. “A beating should remind you never to approach us.”

  “Viper, Creeper,” snapped Berry. “Stand aside.” She stalked between the two Crown Guards, giving each of them a reproving look. “Whatever else has happened, Thorn is my mate. Treat him with respect.” Her eyes narrowed, and she gave Viper a particularly savage glare. “And no one attacks any baboon without my say-so. Understand?”

  Viper looked away sullenly. Nut smirked at her.

  Thorn gave Berry a nod of appreciation. He couldn’t speak; his heart was too full at the sight of her.

  “There’s something I want to say to you, Thorn,” said Berry. Her voice was still haughty, but there was a trace of the old warmth in her golden eyes. “You were right about Tendril. Her killing would have been an unforgivable breach of the Code, and you and your friends risked a great deal to stop us. You always were wise.”

  Viper shot her a look of rebellious outrage, but quickly blinked and suppressed it. Creeper simply glowered.

  “Who cares about Thorn or Tendril anyway?” muttered Viper. “Both are irrelevant. We’re here for the new Great Parent.”

  Berry’s eyes widened a little, and she swallowed hard as she met Thorn’s gaze. She knew already what her Crown Guard did not. Her expression was pained, and it cut him to the bone.

  How can this possibly work? he wondered dismally. We’ll never get back to the way we were. To be Berry’s mate and Great Father to Bravelands: it seemed impossible now. Oh, Great Spirit . . . What have you done to me?

  “You’d better go, Thorn Highleaf,” Berry told him quietly.

  “Yes . . .” He hesitated, then turned away and made his trembling way through the herds.

  “Thorn?” Sounding anxious, Mud touched his flank.

  Thorn didn’t turn or respond. He couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes, and he had nothing to say.

  The four baboons padded back to Sky, who was by now standing at the shoreline. For a fleeting instant, Thorn thought she looked worried. But as he drew closer, she blinked, and her expression became calm.

  “Are you ready, Thorn?” asked the young elephant sof
tly.

  He nodded. Sky raised her trunk, stepped back, and let out a great trumpet of greeting.

  One by one the animals hushed their chatter and yelling, and the low thunder of voices subsided. The rumble of shifting hooves and paws was stilled, and the dust began to settle as every creature turned their attention to Sky.

  “Animals of Bravelands,” she cried. “The Great Spirit has returned to us and has found its home once more. We have our new, true Great Parent!”

  Thorn watched between her legs. Every creature seemed to hold its breath. Their excitement was like an energy Thorn could feel in the air; it thrummed like the beating of a thousand hearts, like the pulsing rhythm of Bravelands itself.

  “I bring him to you today.” Sky lifted her head, scanning the herds’ suspenseful gazes. “He is the future of Bravelands, of us all.” She paused, then took a few steps to one side to reveal him. He felt the fire of a thousand burning stares on his fur. “Salute your Great Father—Thorn of the Bright Forest!”

  A gasp went up from the throng, turning swiftly into cries and hollers of excitement and surprise. The sound of voices rose in a rustling crescendo as the news spread through the herds, reaching the rearmost animals faster than Thorn had thought possible. The giraffes at the back began to bray, stretching their necks skyward. Rhinos pawed the ground and snorted; gazelles bounced; a zebra stallion whinnied shrilly; hippos opened their jaws and gave resonant bellows. Two cheetahs mewled harshly, and the leopard in the tree roared a reply. Thorn had to shut his eyes briefly, overcome with the din.

  But he couldn’t close his eyes forever. He had a job to do, the most important job of his life. He padded to Sky, turned to face the crowd, and rose onto his hind paws.

  Once again, the noise faded, and an expectant hush fell over the herds. For a moment Thorn hesitated, and his gaze fell on Dawntrees Troop. Their faces almost made him bark a nervous laugh, but that would have been inappropriate: the moment was too solemn. They looked as if a chimpanzee had smacked them with a branch. Viper and Creeper wore matching expressions of horror, their jaws hanging open to exactly the same degree. Berry, though, scratched apprehensively at her muzzle, then stared at the ground.

  It was more comforting to look at Mud, Nut, and Spider at the front of the crowd, their chests puffed out with pride. Thorn cleared his throat. It felt tight.

  “I . . . thank you, animals of Bravelands. Thank you for your trust. This is a . . . a proud moment for m-me. . . .” No, that’s wrong—

  He swallowed. The silence was like a pressure on his ears.

  “I didn’t expect this. I don’t think any creature in Bravelands would have.”

  Beside him, Sky shifted uneasily. There was a little ripple of laughter from the crowd, but it wasn’t the unkind sort. Thorn let himself smile. He drew himself up straighter.

  “Animals of Bravelands, the times are hard. Things have been wrong for a long time; we all know that.” He felt his voice growing steadier, stronger. “I’ll be honest: I don’t know if I can fix it. On my own, I certainly couldn’t. But I’m not alone. And it’s not just that I have good friends to help me, friends who love Bravelands as much as I do.” He turned and gave Sky a smile, then nodded fondly at Mud, Nut, and Spider. “I’m not alone, because the Great Spirit is with me. The Great Spirit is with all of us. It has come back at last. It is the Great Spirit that will rescue Bravelands, and I am honored to be its host.”

  The herds erupted. Stamping, neighing, tossing their heads, they bellowed and squealed. It was long moments before the hush settled once more. Thorn waited, feeling the warmth of their delight flowing into his blood and bones. Their excitement was for the Great Spirit, he knew, but it put strength in his spine all the same, made his head feel clear and purposeful.

  “Our troubles are not nearly over, that’s the truth of it. I wish I could tell you otherwise. There are still hard times ahead, friends. But I believe, I honestly do believe, that good times are just beyond the horizon—if we have faith in the Great Spirit. We’ve all worked together before to defend our home—remember the Great Herd that came together as one to defeat the False Parent?”

  A buffalo bellowed, “Indeed. A good and honorable day.”

  “Even the smallest of us had a part to play, even the weakest.” Thorn glanced down at a little ground squirrel and inclined his head. “If we remember who we are and what we fight for, we can bring peace back to Bravelands. If we follow the Code and uphold it in our lives, we honor the Great Spirit and follow its will. With all the strength that’s in me, I swear to you I will fight for that.”

  Sky was watching him intently; her eyes seemed brighter and happier now. Thorn coughed again, pausing for a moment.

  “But I have to tell you that a new threat has come to Bravelands—yes, friends, another. The golden wolves have come to dishonor our Code, to steal the spirits of the strong and the clever and the sprightly. In other words, they’ve come to steal everything we are. But we’re not going to let them. Together, we will defend the Code, trust the Great Spirit, and defeat them.”

  A halfhearted cheer rose from the herds. They don’t quite believe in me yet. And why should they?

  Thorn lowered his head. “I know many of you will be wary of a baboon Great Father.”

  “No!” neighed a zebra.

  “Never!” squeaked the little ground squirrel in agreement. “You’re not Stinger!”

  “Thank you,” said Thorn humbly, “but it’s true that many other animals will be nervous.” He raised his head, trying to meet as many troubled gazes as he could. “I want to promise you all, in the sight of the Great Spirit, that I’ll never betray you as he did. I’ll never lie, nor will I turn the animals of Bravelands against one another. I will never, ever break the Code. I am not Stinger, and may the Great Spirit strike me down if I ever become like him.”

  Thorn hesitated. He couldn’t help his eyes straying toward Berry, the daughter of Stinger. Her gaze remained fixed on him, but it was impossible to read her expression. I had to mention the False Parent, thought Thorn, I had to repudiate him! Thorn could only hope with all his heart that Berry understood.

  He took a deep breath. “My friends. I serve the Great Spirit. I honor the Code. And I swear to protect Bravelands all the days of my life!”

  He closed his eyes, suddenly more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. But he couldn’t let it show.

  “So. Who will follow me as Great Father?”

  The silence seemed charged by the threat of lightning. No creature moved, none spoke. An impala exchanged glances with a wildebeest. A solitary cheetah stared past Thorn toward the lake.

  Then Berry Crownleaf stepped forward. She padded through a herd of zebras and rose to her hind paws, staring at Thorn. His heart was in his throat.

  “I accept Thorn Highleaf.” Her voice rang through the air, clear enough for all to hear, yet her eyes never left Thorn’s. “I accept him as Great Father, and I have faith in him. He is wise and compassionate; he is the furthest from my father Stinger it is possible for a baboon to be—and I speak as one who knew them both. I would trust him with my own life, and I trust him with the future of Bravelands.”

  Thorn gulped hard, feeling a turmoil of emotion in his chest. Thank you, my love, he wanted to say, but he found he couldn’t speak.

  “If our Crownleaf accepts our new Great Father, then so do we.” Lily Middleleaf bounded forward to Berry’s side.

  “We do,” chorused all of Dawntrees. Even Viper and Creeper joined the shouts, though their faces were surly.

  “And I accept Great Father Thorn, on behalf of my herd,” declared Sky, taking a determined step forward and raising her trunk. “My family is on migration now, but I have the right to speak for them, and I do.”

  “And I on behalf of my own bull-herd,” bellowed her brother Boulder from the back of the crowd. “Great Father Thorn is our leader.”

  “We follow you, Thorn!” A zebra stallion sprang forward, tossing up his head.

>   “As do we!” brayed one of the gerenuk, rearing high on its hind hooves and flailing its forefeet.

  “We too!” squeaked a pack of rats.

  “And the hyenas.”

  “And the hippos.” Wallow, whose pod had joined the Great Gathering, plunged through the shallows in a massive shower of spray.

  “The rhinos agree!”

  “The impalas agree!”

  “The leopards follow you.” A lazy growl from the branches.

  “The serval cats follow.”

  “And the bushbuck!”

  Thorn stood in awed wonder as one by one, the animal herds shouted their acceptance. He felt buffeted by their support, proud and humbled at the same time. But no declaration meant quite as much as Berry’s pledge of loyalty; the memory of her words glowed warm in his breast.

  There was a stirring in the herds, a startled shifting of bodies and clatter of hooves as animals dodged out of the way. Some even gave cries of fear. A golden-furred body hurtled forward through them, and for a moment Thorn froze in shock.

  Then a lion sprang on him, bowling him over, licking and nuzzling him and panting hot breath happily in his face. Thorn grinned and giggled, play-punching Fearless’s heavy body. He remembered the last time Fearless had knocked him over on this spot, when the young lion’s intent had been far more deadly.

  It was so different now. Thorn hugged his old friend. Suddenly Fearless bounced back, shaking himself, his face anxious and uncertain.

  “Sorry. Sorry, Thorn. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re Great Father now.”

  “Oh, my friend. You can do it any time.” Thorn laughed. “So long as you’re not trying to kill me.”

  For a fleeting moment Fearless averted his eyes in embarrassment. Then his muzzle twitched with amusement, and he nodded at Thorn.