Fleas - Songs of the Gnolls I

THIRST 4.6

Contrary to her nickname, Fizkwik the Scream had been silent since she found her son dead on the battlefield. He had not been the only victim of the orc attack; six other cubs and two female warriors had perished as well. Five others were seriously wounded, while a few suffered minor scratches and cuts. The Voices of Rock sang a harmonious healing chant that helped with the poison. Kkelea was shattered, as was Fizkwik. Poor Dizky had approached her in a spirit of brotherhood, and she had mistreated him. Her last words to him were cold and severe. She would never forgive herself.

Orcs in white robes wandered through the tribe, helping the wounded with an ointment that soothed the symptoms of the poison. Their leader, who had ridden the lebrillope into battle, spoke awkwardly with Kkrya and Zeppel. Kkelea and Zanarah stood beside them.

"We regret this. When we made pact, not everyone was right, some did not agree. They," he wondered what word to use, "rebelled against us." We hunted them, but much escaped."

"Many of our people did not agree with the alliance either, orc," Zeppel spat reluctantly, "but they took our orders. Are there more rebels?"

The orc shook his head. He maintained an iron calm that allowed no hint of fear, joy, or thought to escape. The two matriarchs analyzed him, looking for something in his expression that would confirm or dispel their suspicions.

"The leader waiting, over there, short distance away," he said. From the height, the spring and its walls of green vegetation could be seen in the distance.

"Go," Kkrya ordered. "We'll leave as soon as our wounded warriors can walk and bid farewells to the fallen."

The orc nodded. He shrieked. The lebrillope approached gracely jumping. He mounted it and gave the command to march. Kkrya and Zeppel looked at each other.

"What do you think?" The Beast asked.

"I sensed no treachery in him, but no loyalty either. He kept his cool at all times. It is impossible for me to know if this was all a pantomime. Perhaps we should wait for the other tribe."

Zeppel snorted and folded her arms. Zanarah stood up.

"Waiting is a mistake! We are the strongest of the hyaenid tribes. If we wait for help, we will show a weakness that is foreign to us. Thus, when the human kingdom falls, we will be next."

Zeppel was about to scold her feisty daughter, but Kkrya cleared her throat and said:

"You have a lot of fire in you. Now I understand why my daughter is so fond of you. You have won me over. Let's continue."

Kkrya withdrew. Before she left, Zeppel approached her daughter.

"I understand why you would rather surround yourself with enemies than see her again, but you must know that blood is stronger than distance. Separated or not, we are one tribe."

Zeppel went to the place where the dead lay. Kkelea followed stealthily. Soon, according to the ritual, they would become a material and spiritual part of the living. A difficult process, but necessary so that the smoldering fire would never be extinguished. She wanted to say goodbye to Dizky before that happened.

The cub lay on his back with his arms crossed. Beside him, Fizkwik knelt and watched him with incomparable pain in her chest. Kkelea wanted to be respectful and stepped back. Without looking at her, Fizkwik spoke to her.

"Come closer, Kkelea, daughter of Kkrya the Toothless."

She knelt on the other side. She looked at Dizky. He seemed so peaceful. Despite his wounds, he had run bravely to warn of the threat. He surely deserved more recognition than he was getting.

"I am sorry for the way I treated you," he whispered into his sleepy ears. "I've heard so many times that males are less than that, even though I didn't want to, I ended up believing it."

"My son was braver than some female cubs. He was more honest than some matriarchs. Your mother always insisted that my son was not mine," Fizkwik looked at her spitefully. Kkelea was intimidated. "But she had no qualms about acknowledging you as her daughter. Tell me, Kkelea, daughter of Kkrya, how are you different from him, why was he sent to the front, into danger, and you were not?"

Kkelea felt very uncomfortable.

"My mother always said that traditions are important..."

"Your mother can say that because you are still breathing. What have traditions given me or my children? Only death and humiliation!"

Kkelea was silent. She did not understand the pain she would feel, but she could imagine it. Kkelea had suffered loss. First her brother, but he had died before she was born. And then Fleas, though she hadn't had enough time to form more than mild sympathy. She stood, ready to go.

"Wait, little one. I'm sorry, I know you're not responsible, it's just..."

Fizkwik the Scream's voice broke, and she began to cry. She covered her face, for she was a matriarch and could not appear weak. Kkelea sat down beside her and hugged her. She hugged her back. They both cried until they had no more tears to give. With only the fallen to witness.

When the time came for the ritual, when the moon was high, Kkrya spoke a few words. Words that addressed the traditions Fizkwik hated so much, words of encouragement for the challenges to come, words of hope... Kkelea did not know what to think. The bodies of the fallen were devoured, leaving their spirits among the living. All but one. Neither Fizkwik nor Dizky appeared that night. Perhaps Fizkwik wanted her son to stay with her forever; or perhaps she had buried him in a rejection of the customs, so that Dizky could finally be free of the traditions that had condemned him. Kkelea never knew the answer.