Kkrya, despite her age, was not to be inferior to the other matriarchs, so she did not allow herself to be burdened by the constant march eastward. She had lost three fangs, two in a bloody battle, one because it had rotted. Hence her nickname. The one she had left was so blunted it couldn't even pierce water. But the sharpness his teeth lacked was now embedded in his huge, serrated machete. These metal teeth were all she needed.
Suddenly she noticed Fátrwa, stealthy as always, walking beside her. She was not startled because she was used to it.
"Are there any other threats nearby?", she asked Fátrwa.
"Nothing the cubs have spotted. We sent our trackers to investigate with them anyway."
The male hyaenids had a keener sense of smell and could distinguish the poison used by the orcs. At least they were good for something besides impregnate the females.
"We cannot allow a repeat of last night's attack," Kkrya explained.
"It shouldn't, the Pact clearly states that..."
"The Pact means nothing without the conviction behind it," the Toothless was well respected, and that was why she could interrupt someone like Fátrwa. "Those three orcs could be acting on their own, or they could be part of a faction that does not accept our alliances. If so, we should expect another attack before we cross the Great Wall. An attack in which my daughter and yours may perish. Kkelea is strong, but a puppy. She was lucky to face three orcs and survive."
"You doubt the pact. So do we. But what future is there in the savannah when where the sun rises and where it sets, the humans are encroaching? And they surround us. And they take the prey from our claws and the water from our mouths and the stones from our paws. We must accept that this pact is our hope. Perhaps the other races will understand, from the straggling orcs to the grumbling mountain trolls."
"I accept it, Fátrwa, but don't expect that I'm happy about it."
The small, silent hyaenid smiled.
"You have reason to be. Lucky or not, your little girl has proven herself."
"Yes," she looked in all directions, "where is she, by the way?"
YOU ARE READING
Fleas - Songs of the Gnolls I
FantasyIn the middle of the savannah lives a tribe of hyaenids, men half hyena, and what some humans of the Seasonal Continent call gnolls. A small cub, victim of constant mistreatment, sleeps amidst nightmares and lives without desire. Until he meets the...
