In 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...
The nervousness in the air was almost palpable. Two species that had never been together shook hands, but each held a knife in the other one. This was their entry into orc territory. Now they walked through the precarious structures that served as a trench to defend the Eternal Spring. Below, a series of caves were woven into an unfathomable labyrinth from which they could never return if they were careless. The orcs were not great warriors, but they were skilled in the art of deception and trapping. For this reason, no hyaenid trusted the excuse that those who attacked them were rebels against the common cause of the pact. According to them, some orcs would not mix with the other species because they considered them impure. "There are two forces at work in the world, Bris-Dá - the Light - and Mash-Rá - the Darkness. These entities fight in everything we do, in every day we live," explained the Rishh, the spiritual leader of the orcs and the only one who seemed to speak fluently. Kkelea didn't understand much of that; to them, the Storm and the Earth were their only gods, and they didn't fight, they made love in the torrential rains and bore the plants.
They were allowed to settle near the water, behind the moat, but away from the entrance to the tunnels. In that place the plants were very green, the birds very singing and the butterflies very colorful. Animals supposedly drank there, but they saw very few. They were probably frightened by their predatory presence. Frogs croaked here and there. Kkelea felt the urge to chase them, for the fun of it, but it was forbidden. Apparently, with them the orcs poison their arrowheads and weapons. It was not fatal to adult hyaenids, but it could cause great discomfort.
Éwik, son of Fizkwik the Scream and brother of the late Dizky, followed close behind. Shortly after Kkelea had approached him to comfort him, Fizkwik had entrusted her with his care and training. This was because, according to tradition, she could not do it. Kkelea felt very confused, on the one hand she liked the little cub, but seeing him reminded her of Dizky and how she had treated him before his death. It also accentuated the inner struggle she felt between the traditions her mother and Zeppel were fervent defenders of, and the desire to change them. She remembered Fleas and how he had been pushed away because of those traditions. Dizky's death had also been partly their fault. He remembered the words of the orc Rishh, of the battle between good and evil. Maybe that was the battle that was going on inside of her right now. But... what was good and what was evil?
The matriarchs met with the orc leaders. Kkelea was invited by her mother, but she refused. Kkrya was very confused, but she did not insist.
Leaving little Éwik with the other cubs, Kkelea crept over to where the males were resting after the long journey. They had carried all the tribe's supplies and possessions, so their tiredness was natural. They looked at her, a little frightened and surprised. One of them, an old male, stopped with a stern look on his face. Someone pulled him aside, it was her father she had come to see.
"Kkelea, what are you doing here?"
"I want to talk."
His father had kind eyes and a crooked smile. He also had a cut on his left ear. He looked tired but refreshed when he saw her.
"I don't think we can do this here."
"Come, follow me."
She took his hand and led him to the spring. On the way, the same stern old male tried to cut her off, but she refused.
"I am Kkelea, daughter of Kkrya the Toothless, warrior of the tribe. Step aside this instant!"
The old male opened his eyes and obeyed. His father laughed.
"You are just like your mother."
Kkelea was not so sure.
They sat by the water, both watching the sunset.
"What did you want to talk about?" Her father asked, his eyes lost in the sky reflected in the water.
"I don't know. Something."
His father thought in silence. Finally he said:
"Do you know how plants are born?"
"Yes, the Storm makes the water fall on the Earth."
"Something like that. My mother used to tell me this story. A long, long time ago, the Storm was sad because she was lonely. But she didn't know she was sad, so she didn't cry. And the Earth watched the sky, thoughtful. So dry that her skin was full of cracks. One fine day, a bolt of lightning escaped the Storm and struck the Earth. The Storm, sorry for unintentionally hurting the Earth, sent a breeze that gently caressed her. The Earth was fragile, delicate, brittle, while the Storm was strong, determined, and violent. Over the course of the solar cycles, the Earth formed mounds, then hills, then mountains to get closer to the Storm. The Storm, noticing this, came down in fluffy clouds that kissed the tops of these mountains. And when they touched, the rain poured down. The Storm understood how sad she was, and she could cry. And the Earth understood how fragile she was, and with that rain she could give birth to plants to sew up her cracks. And the plants hug the Earth hard, but they also want to touch the Storm. But the sky is between them. They cannot bridge that distance, so they must be content with those small moments when the Storm and the Earth kiss in the form of rain."
Kkelea began to cry and hugged her father tightly.
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