Painted Flowers

Chapter 9 - The First Colors

Dawn sunlight glistened among the acacia leaves, dancing as they were disturbed by long tongues, which grabbed and pulled them into the giraffes' mouths. The towering creatures feasted peacefully, traveling from tree to tree, flicking their ears and tails and rubbing against their fellows. At least a dozen; graceful, iconic; the gentle giants of the savanna.

Far, far below, hidden among the grass, crouched two very different sorts of animals. Two tiny cheetah cubs, almost three moon cycles old, tumbling and playing in the field. The giraffes were in no way bothered by them, for they knew that they were harmless, though they did have to take care not to step on any tails as the cubs weaved in and out of the forest of legs in their game of chase.

The mother cheetah was not present, and had deliberately left her children in this area before she left to track down something to eat. Giraffes offered protection from lions, hyenas or leopards--not because they were aggressive, but simply because they were so big. Predators would not bother to look for food around here, not wanting to dodge hooves and dung piles, so the giants acted as a sort of "babysitter"; though they didn't seem to care much about this fact.

The cubs were wrestling now, growling and squeaking, making noise without a care in the world. Previously invisible among the stalks, their mother appeared at last, with affection in her one good eye. Along with her brought the delicious aroma of a fresh kill. The children purred happily at the sight of their caregiver, and their mouths watered in anticipation. They rushed forward, and their mother bathed them lovingly, smothering them in kisses.

After their greeting, Mama Cheetah turned her head to her night's labor: an antelope. The cubs looked at it in curiosity and surprise, for this was their first encounter with meat of this quantity. They were used to more "bite-sized" prey like rodents and rabbits, and had yet to taste ungulate, so they were a little less than willing.

Flies danced around the antelope's eyes and nostrils, leaving the female cub a bit grossed out. She sniffed it tentatively, but it just didn't seem that appealing to her. She glanced at her mom skeptically, and her brother stuck his tongue out in disgust.

Mama was beginning to grow a bit impatient, and she bared her teeth. It took her hours to bring this doe down, and she knew that the stench of it would quickly draw predators in to their location.

Startled by her mother, the little girl was convinced to at least take a lick of the meat. It wasn't...awful. The boy followed her lead, and not long after, both cubs were gorging themselves on the first true breakfast they had eaten in days.

Satisfied, Mama let out a purr as she settled close to her children and tucked into the tender skin. The family ate and ate, filling their bellies with the warm flesh as quickly as they could, devouring their precious gift before the herd of giraffes moved on and the dangers of the savanna would close in on them.

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Zahra and Zain were on babysitting duty, yet again, making themselves "useful" in the most mundane of ways. Cyrah, their foster mother, had left her newest litter in the twins' care before she tagged along with the dawn hunting patrol, trying to integrate back into normal pack duties. She hated being cooped up in the nursery, and it seemed like she just couldn't wait for Bahati, Jabir and Cada to be old enough to fend for themselves.

In painted dog society, all members of the pack care for the young ones, even if the litter doesn't belong to the royal family. They watch them, hunt for them, and regurgitate meat for them. Cyrah was more than happy to place these duties on her foster children as often as she could, as their "repayment" for the care she had provided them as infants, when she had nursed the mysterious pups that had been abandoned at the camp's entrance the previous year.