Over the next moon Clay grew. He lost the last vestiges of his pup fluff, his face sharpened, snout narrowed, chest and shoulders broadened, and pelt grew coarser. He was a miniature Ripper now, minus the scars, and not even that miniature. He figured he had surpassed Haywood in height and size now, though it was a theory only since he hadn’t seen his friend in a moon. He’d also stopped having the night terror of drowning in a pit of clay, which he considered a win.

It turned out that Firash had been right from the beginning, the two could and had learned a lot from each other. Gotu kola wasn’t the only herb Firash used. Firash knew the whereabouts of useful healing herbs in the jungle and in the desert. He showed Clay where to find pelargonium, a flower which stood as tall as Clay when he was balancing on his hindlegs with long, heart-shaped leaves forming a rosette with striking purple or black flowers. Firash had sought it out when he’d developed a dry, creaking cough. Within three days of taking pelargonium the cough was gone. Clay’s own injury had healed by that time as well and he was amazed that a simple plant could cure illness.

“I mean I’ve heard the ancient myths. My mother told me them when I was a pup.” Clay told Firash one day at dusk as they strolled along the tree line. “In them some meer were called healers but it was never said how they healed others. I assumed it was all just stories to entertain us.”

“What are these legends?” Firash asked with interest.

Clay swept his tail at a dragonfly perched on a bending blade of grass. It shot into the air, wings a shimmer of movement, body a cobalt flash. He snapped it in his jaws and swallowed it in one gulp, spitting out a thread of wing that caught in his teeth. “You don’t want to hear those, they’re pure fantasy.”

“Nothing is pure fantasy.” The leopard insisted, his ears flicking forward. The dusky light cast a red glow over the desert that dyed Firash’s tawny fur blood orange and his spots deep black.

Clay shook out his pelt and sighed. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He explained the legend of the Firstbloods, how one meer, one greatwing, one clawbeast, one rainbird, one black fox, and one cobra had all been friends long ago. They survived together, supported each other, until the cobra betrayed the others. He spoke of how the first family of meerkats, First Family, itself had splintered and divided after moons of hardship. He even delved into some of the lesser myths, Daylight meeting the sun and Darkness crossing a vast lake that spanned most of the desert.

Firash’s amber gaze shone with curiosity as night fell. “Do the other creatures descended from your Firstbloods have similar lore?”

“I never really thought about it.” Clay shrugged. “Maybe.”

Firash gave him a playful swat from a huge paw that Clay ducked and returned. “I now know the names of Star and Death Bringer, Darkness and Daylight, from your legends and Click, Suri, and Haywood from your family, yet you have not told me yours. Why is that?”

It was true, Clay had never offered the leopard his name, but this was the first time he’d been asked why. “I don’t know what it is anymore.” He admitted, voice quiet.

Firash uttered a thoughtful hum. “Well, let me know when you find it.”

Clay blinked at him, tiger eyes bright with gratitude, thankful that his friend hadn’t judged him. “You don’t find it strange?”

“What strange?”

“That I don’t have a name.”

Firash smiled and swished his tail over Clay’s back, an action that Clay had determined was a form of affection for cats. “You have a name.”

From that moment onward the young meer vowed not to return to his family until he had discovered his new name, his true name, one that fit him better. As soon as he decided he felt lighter, as if twenty ticks had just been yanked from his pelt. He followed Firash as they entered the jungle for the night with a jaunt in his step. For the first time since he’d went with Firash his guilt of leaving Suri and Haywood and the rest of The Powers behind evaporated. This was the right path for him, the only path.

This was the path which would lead him to his name.

*****

Pelt rippling and whiskers bristling, the young meer rounded the shrub, sticking to the shadows. He crouched, tail low and head raised, smelling the bitter poison of the blister beetle before he saw it. The insect, about half the size of his paw was perched on a wilting dandelion stem. It’s yellowish antenna probed the air and its white splotched wings fluttered. The glisten of its black shell enticed him forward. Waggling his haunches, he pounced rather cat-like, slamming his paws down on the beetle before it could buzz away. Its toxin seeped, thin and acrid tasting, through its shell but unlike with other animals the venom didn’t blister the meer’s flesh. The beetle squirmed as he took it in his teeth, its tiny eyes bugging as he shook his head savagely until it fell limp. Feeling a rush of triumph, he headed back to find Firash.

The leopard was waiting for him at their usual spot in the Edgelands with a still warm hare laying at his paws. He trotted over and spat the blister beetle on the grass. “This is a blister beetle.” The young meer announced.

Firash tilted his head this way and that, bending down to sniff the dead insect. “Why is it called a blister beetle?”

“It releases a toxin that blisters the skin. And if you eat anything tainted by the toxin you could die.”

“Huh.” The spotted cat’s breath stirred the small carcass. “Interesting. It may be good for removing ticks.”

“Yeah, you sure need it too.” He rolled onto his back and stretched, waving his paws in the air. “Every time you try to pluck off a tick your gargantuan teeth get in the way.”

Firash rolled his eyes and flopped onto his side. “At least I don’t share a home with dung beetles.”

“Hey!” The half-grown meer sprung to his paws. “Dung beetles can be very useful.”

The leopard chuffed a laugh.

He grabbed the beetle and swallowed it, then padded to the hare. It was twice his size with spindly forelegs and powerful hindpaws. Its fur was a dun, sandy brown and its dark eyes stared at nothing. He bared his teeth at the meaty death scent and wrinkled his nose. “What do you have to show me?” It was part of their agreement, for everything he taught the leopard the leopard had to teach him something.

Firash hooked the hare with a claw and pulled it to him. “Come watch.” The young meer crouched at Firash’s side, peering at the kill. The leopard took the hare’s forelimb and gave it a sharp twist and thrust. There was a pop.

“It’s already dead, Firash.” His face creased in confusion and a frown graced his snout.

Firash’s whiskers twitched. “I know. I’ve dislocated its shoulder-”

“Ooo-kaaaay…” He stared at his friend.

“I’m going to show you how to put it back into place.”

It took a moment but then realization replaced his befuddlement. “Oh!” His whiskers perked and he waved a paw, clearing his throat. “Go on.”

Amusement glittered in Firash’s amber gaze, but he did as the meer pup said. He placed one paw against the shoulder blade and another on the knee joint. “You want to be gentle but quick. It may take some force, especially if the patient is alive.” Firash took a deep breath then thrust up the knee and pressed the shoulder inward. There was another pop and the limb jerked. “There. Now you try.”

It was harder for the meer since he was smaller than the hare, but he eventually got it. When the lesson was over Firash tore into the kill, devouring half the hare, skin and all, leaving just a pile of gnawed bones for the lone vulture circling like a specter in the endless blue. The leopard laid his head on his paws, content to doze, but the meer was restless. He tried sunning himself for a bit, but it was almost high sun, and the heat was climbing. Then he rested in the shade of a baobab tree with Firash, but sleep eluded him. Finally, he took to pacing and scratching at the sand.

He’d been listless more and more as of late and he didn’t know why. He enjoyed learning from Firash, and he was starting to get used to the jungle. His leg was healed, and he was well-fed. He never had to worry about predators because Firash was at the top of the predator heap around these parts. So, what did he have to have to worry about?

Maybe it was because of his name. He still didn’t know what to call himself. He knew it was untraditional for a meer to change his name, but Clay just didn’t fit anymore. He was different now, more mature, more skilled, and much more knowledgeable. He couldn’t wait to teach Suri and Haywood what he learned. He might not even need a guardian now, they’d have to accept him as a full adult member of the family when he returned. He couldn’t imagine returning to everyday training and arguments with Quiet.

If Quiet survived…

He eyed Firash as his thoughts returned to that day over a moon ago when Quiet staggered, battered and bleeding, from his failed mission to find the end of the No-End Path. The quest that he had dared Quiet to go on just to get even. Had Haywood’s brother survived his wounds? Could it really have been Firash who’d attacked him so viciously?

“You have a question.” Firash stated, propping one eye open, his ears pricked.

The meer jumped, he’d been certain that the leopard was in a deep sleep. “No.”

Firash lifted his head and yawned, his white canines flashing. “You have had a question since I found you. What is it?”

He looked at his paws, flexing his claws to skewer the sand. “Did you attack Quiet?” He mumbled. The leopard observed him, unblinking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “A meer about my age, did you attack him last moon? He was following the No-End Path and probably near the jungle.”

He shut his eyes waiting for an angry outburst about how ungrateful he was for asking his friend, who’d protected him and taught him the last moon, such a thing. He trusted Firash, didn’t he? How could he think that the leopard was capable of such a thing?

But when he dared to peek at Firash, after several dragging moments of quiet, he found his friend as calm as ever. His pelt was unruffled, and a fly whizzed about one ear, making it twitch. The leopard tipped his head, eyes narrowed in thought. “Hmm… yes. I did see a young meer on the No-End Path some turns ago, before I met you. I decided to observe him, but as I tracked him the wind changed direction, carrying my scent straight to him. As soon as he smelled me, he paniced, charging off the path. It just so happened that a caracal had been loitering in my territory, hoping to feed off my scraps. When it saw your friend, it took advantage of his distraction to attack.”

“A caracal?” The young meer echoed, picturing the lanky, tufty-eared, sloped-back, ginger-brown cat that was no match for a leopard but much larger than a meer. “We thought it was a leopard because Quiet bore your scent when he returned.”

“Ah, yes. The caracal was smart. It had rolled in my scent markers to try and keep its presence on my ground a secret from me. It didn’t work, of course, but the cleverness was appreciated. Some big cats will kill even much smaller cats if they trespass, but I’ve never been one of them.” Firash licked a paw and drew it over his ear.

“What happened after you scared the caracal away?”

“Oh, the caracal wasn’t scared away. It didn’t even see me.” Firash chuckled. “You should know by now that a leopard who doesn’t wish to be seen isn’t.”

The meer frowned. “You just watched?”

“Observation is how you learn.” The leopard recited, beginning to groom his paws with long strokes of his pink tongue. “I saw the struggle. I thought the caracal was going to finish it but your friend was quicker than I thought. He gave the caracal a nasty bite to the paw that it wouldn’t have forgotten anytime soon. It tried to chase down your friend, but it was limping too heavily, and he slipped away. Didn’t see him again after that but I assumed he’d died. There was a lot of blood.”

Firash said there was a lot of blood as nonchalantly as one might say there was a lot of sun yesterday. “So, you could’ve helped and… didn’t.” The young meer fell back of his haunches, voice hollow.

The leopard blinked at him. “I didn’t know he was your friend. I didn’t even know you then.”

“I know but… he could’ve died… the whole family was terrified that there was a murderous leopard on the loose… that’s why I went to find you…” He rambled, his mind whirling. He pressed his paws to either side of his face, sucking in breaths until the world stopped spinning.

“So, that’s what you were on about the night we met.” Firash’s eyes glinted and his tail swished.

“Don’t you feel bad at all?” He snapped, letting his paws drop. “You could’ve prevented this!”

“Prevented what?” Firash stood, his white tail tip twitching, and his tone cool. “I can’t intercede in the nature of the desert. The caracals need to eat too. It wasn’t stealing my prey. I had no reason to insert myself.”

“No, but you didn’t just leave! You watched!” The young meer’s fur spiked and he jumped to his paws, his tail arched over his back. He looked at Firash with revulsion.

The leopard’s gaze was steady as Firash met his tiger eyes with glowing amber. “I can’t apologize for gathering knowledge the best way possible.”

“Can’t or won’t?” The sand lurched beneath him. He couldn’t believe that Firash had acted as mentor to him for the last moon, yet he’d allowed Quiet to almost die for the sake of knowledge. Had he even learned anything of value from the encounter? He doubted it. Betrayal made his pelt smolder as if he’d been standing in the baking sun for days. “Why’d you save us the night we met then? Why insert yourself then?”

Firash looked down at him. “I only doubled back when the antelope startled at the sound of voices. I thought it might be that pesky caracal again or a bunch of stupid squirrels and I couldn’t allow it to get away with ruining my hunt. But then I saw those gazelles heading right for you.” The leopard shrugged. “I thought I could learn more from you alive then dead. I thought we could help each other. I was right, wasn’t I?”

Firash’s eyes gleamed as if he already knew the answer and he wore that cryptid smile. The young meer snarled. “I-”

He was interrupted by the shrill echoes of alarm barks in the distance. Spit calls and growls followed that he had to strain to hear. His head snapped in the direction of the Edge Burrow. It took a moment for it to dawn on him and his blood roared. “The Powers…” He murmured, pelt prickling with distress. “They’re being attacked.”

Firash stared at him. “You need to go home.”

The meer looked between Firash and the horizon with wide eyes, frozen to the spot. What should he do? He’d never fought in a battle before. It sounded like a burrow raid, as if an enemy family were the perpetrators. His blood ran cold, like the river had worked its way into his veins. Suri, Haywood, Click… what could a half-grown pup who’d been absent for a moon really do to help against such a threat?

A shadow fell over him.

A shiver wormed down his spine as he looked up. Firash loomed, blocking the sun and sky. He had the other half of the hare clutched in his jaws. His expression was unreadable, claws unsheathed and pricking the earth. The meer cringed, fear rising in his throat. Was Firash going to kill him for asking about Quiet and pointing out his fault in the situation?

Firash didn’t say anything, he clenched his jaws and shook his head hard. Blood gushed from the hare, splattering onto the meer’s head and neck, dripping down his spine and splashing onto his sides and paws. Even his tail wasn’t spared. Firash must’ve shook the hare until every droplet of blood fled it, then he tossed it aside. The cold blood congealed on him quickly, drying to a shade of carob-crimson. He blinked it out of his eyes and gazed up at the leopard.

“Any enemy would fear one that’s covered in blood.” Firash rumbled and stepped back.

The meer’s jaws gaped and he glanced at himself, thinking that he must look terrible. Firash’s plan set in, and he nodded to the leopard, the motion making his sticky skin uncomfortable. “Thank you.” He said, unable to think of anything more appropriate. His fur was heavy with the blood of the hare, but the feeling was returning to his limbs, purpose flooding him. He couldn’t afford to freeze. His family needed him and Firash had given him the edge he needed to help them.

Firash waved his tail and turned away, padding towards the jungle. This time the young meer did not follow. “Will I see you again?” He had to ask even though his feelings about the leopard were still muddled. Was he really a friend? Or had Firash just been using him to expand his wealth of knowledge?

The leopard glanced over his shoulder with a sweep of his tail. “One day.” His golden gaze sparkled, and he grinned.

“What should I tell the family about you? I promised them I’d chase you off our ground,” the meer said almost to himself.

“Tell them I am gone. I’m leaving for a while. Maybe when I return, you’ll know your name.” He blinked, enigmatic and regal. Then his pelt melted into the shadows of the trees. He was gone and did not look back.