Fleas - Songs of the Gnolls I

THE ONE THING I HAVE 1.4

In two days they would reach the great wall that separated the human territory from the rest of the savannah. He had never seen it and could not even imagine it. Nor could he imagine the great structures the warriors spoke of. To him, there were only the tents of leather and gnawed cloth. The hyaenids lived in the wild, sometimes sleeping under the stars, sometimes in the scarce rain, sometimes half-sunk in the mud. Their only protection from outside threats were the shattered bones of their prey and enemies scattered throughout the tribe, which served as both defense and alarm.

Just before dusk, the cubs went on a final scouting mission. The atmosphere was tense, as if they were being watched. They probably were. They didn't normally go near this area, and the species might consider them intruders. They had to be careful. Nothing caught their attention. Fleas observed a few boar tracks here and there, nothing else. That night they did not put up the tents. It was warmer than usual, and the tribe intended to move as soon as the sun came up. Without delay.

Fleas waited until everyone was asleep and slipped out, not too far away, he was no fool, but far enough to see the stars.

"Can't you sleep either?" Kkelea asked as she sat down next to him.

"There is something... strange about the atmosphere. I don't know what it is."

A shadow crossed Kkelea's face. As if she hadn't noticed it until that moment.

"It is the silence..."

Kkelea jumped to her paws. A rustling sound could be heard nearby. It was the bones. The cub unsheathed her silver rapier and cried out, her eyes alertly scanning the darkness:

"Fleas, run!"

He sprang to his paws too, but his legs were shaking, he could not move.

The paws came closer, the moonlight illuminating three figures pouncing on the cub. They were small and wild, but they were not animals, they held clubs and spears in their pink hairy hands.

Kkelea howled loudly to alert the warriors. A sledgehammer tried to silence her, but she was quick enough to dodge it. She had the perfect opportunity to strike back, but she did not. She was afraid. She understood the theory of combat, but not the practice.

One of the attackers approached him, screaming terribly and swinging a huge stick over his head. His legs buckled under the weight, his eyes filled with tears, and he crumpled into a ball. He was no warrior, he was nothing. He didn't want to die, but he didn't know what to do to live. He felt a claw grab him by the neck and toss him aside as if he were a puppy, just a few days old. Kkelea had just saved his life. He scrambled to his paws. The boar-faced creature started to chase him, stopped suddenly and let out a hideous scream. A thin red point, none other than the rapier's, protruded from its chest. The beast fall dead. Kkelea looked at it in surprise and a little fear. Fleas saw the other two approaching. He wanted to scream, but the words died before he could utter them. Kkelea noticed his expression and turned around, encouraged by the excitement and her recent victory. But it was two against one. A javelin flew in from afar, piercing one from ear to ear. The other barely had time to panic as an axe severed his head from his neck. The warriors had saved them.

"Those fucking orcs," the warrior said as she wiped the blood from her axe on the grass. "Hey, you, what the hell are you doing up?"

When the warrior realized that Kkelea had claimed her first victim, she smiled, scratched her head and congratulated her.

"Well done, little one. An orc is not an easy prey, with so much screeching and erratic movements they can confuse even the best fighter. Keep it up and soon you will be one of us. First thing tomorrow morning, we'll perform the ceremony," she looked at Fleas with an angry expression. "You mangy scum, go back to sleep right now, and I'll forget you ever bothered the matriarch's daughter."

He glanced furtively at Kkelea, but she said nothing. He went back to sleep.