Midnight approached the mule deer and her fawn. He nickered softly and humped his back, doing a little dance to show off before them. The doe snorted and shook her head. She was not afraid of a colt but she would take no chances with her baby. She turned about and led the little one back into the brush.
Lady Ebony stayed in the upper meadow. She wanted to give her son time to get his legs under him before moving on. By the third day the colt was able to race around the meadow. He noticed the brightly colored flowers, and made a great show of fear when a rabbit hopped away before one of his charges. He was inquisitive and shoved his pink muzzle close to everything that interested him. That day he met one of the wilderness dwellers who lived in a burrow under a dead stump. Midnight was dancing about pretending to be frightened by a pair of rockchips who sat on a stone scolding and chattering because he had disturbed them. The stranger walked out of a brier thicket and marched down a deer trail.
He was sleek and black except for broad stripes of white running down his back. His tail was a handsome plume of drooping hair, his snout was pointed, and his little eyes stared out on the world like black buttons sewed on his face. This stranger showed little interest in his surroundings. His dull mind held but one thought. Hunting for mice and bugs had been poor in the thicket near his burrow; he was crossing the meadow to another thicket. He had no fear of other animals. He claimed the right of way on every trail and not even a grizzly bear would have contested that right.
Midnight stared at the striped brother, then shook his head and stamped his feet. He expected the big skunk to scamper for cover, then he would chase him. When the striped one paid no attention to him Midnight advanced a little closer. Perhaps this dull-sighted fellow was a little deaf. He danced and stamped his feet some more as he extended his nose toward the skunk. The skunk marched on, ignoring the little horse. Midnight stamped close to the striped fellow; the skunk’s plume lifted with a jerk as dirt and rocks showered over him from the colt’s hoofs. Any other wild creature would have fled from that danger signal. To Midnight this seemed a friendly gesture. He whinnied eagerly and thrust his nose closer to the striped one. The plume jerked twice as the skunk halted in the trail.
Lady Ebony saw the skunk. She whinnied a loud warning. Midnight jerked up his head and looked around. He expected to see an enemy descending from the air or rushing out of the woods. His action saved him considerable pain and surprise. A greenish flare of musk shot by, close under his nose. Reeking fumes rolled around him. Midnight whirled and galloped hastily toward his mother. He dashed past her and thrust his muzzle into the cool water of the stream. Then he ran back to her side and stood staring at the striped brother, who was marching at an unhurried pace down the deer trail. The skunk’s aim had been low but he had taught Midnight another lesson. The striped one was master of all trails and not to be annoyed or disturbed.
The musky smell hung so rank and strong over the meadow that Lady Ebony led her son to the lower end of the field where the breeze carried the smell away from them.
Lady Ebony did not move on up the canyon to the long slopes dropping away from the higher benches of the Crazy Kill Range. There would still be chill nights and deep snowdrifts in the spruce near the peaks. She wandered slowly up the little stream, halting for days at a time in lush meadows where the grass was green and tender. Midnight grew rapidly; his legs became strong and steady. Lady Ebony watched over him constantly, never letting him stray far from her side. When he raced around a meadow she followed him, running at his side, urging him to greater speed.
She remembered the things she had learned on the high mesa. When she made long stops she chose rock-bordered meadows where the yellowbelly whistlers lived. The yellowbellies always had sentries posted in the daytime. At night when the whistlers were deep in their burrows she lay down close beside her son.
An afternoon came when she had need for her vigilance. From a high perch on a red rim a lank cougar sighted the mare and her colt. He was lying on a narrow shelf where the warm sun beat down on his sleek hide as he drowsed. Through slitted eyes he watched Lady Ebony and Midnight feeding below his lofty perch. There was no flesh he prized more highly than young colt. He twitched the black tip of his tail and unsheathed his sharp claws, but he did not move. Slow, sure, and patient methods were those of the yellow killer. Once he had waited on a ledge for four days in order to make a kill, a scrawny colt from a wild band. The colt in the meadow below would be easier prey because there was cover close to the tall grass.