Painted Flowers

Chapter 13 - Born Along a Road

The rest of the day would prove to be tense and uncomfortable for Zain. Kwasi had completely soured his mood and made him feel too anxious to be around anyone. As the sun reached past its highest point and began to set, casting long shadows across the camp, he remained hidden in the yearlings' cave with Zahra, retiring from the heat and listening to the voices of the pack just outside. They were waiting for dusk to approach before they began their hunt, curled up back-to-back in the sand, away from the crowded camp but still listening in on passing conversation.

"Get enough to eat, pups?" Cyrah was speaking gently to her puppies, and Zain imagined her grooming their faces after their taste of the impala that Kwasi had brought back for them.

"Yes, Mama!"

"Meat is way better than milk!"

Zain, though he would certainly never admit this aloud, hated his foster mother. The way she had treated him and his sister from the very day they were "adopted" by her was cold and unfair. She saw them as nuisances, because she hadn't birthed them herself, and was saddled with mouths to feed that she had no connection with. Now that he was grown he stayed away from her as much as he possibly could, aside from when she forced him into babysitting.

But he didn't feel the same way about her latest litter; they were innocent souls, and weren't aware of how hurtful Cyrah could really be. Of course, these puppies were her kin, so naturally she would value them more.

"Good; you three are growing well," Cyrah continued. "Soon enough you'll be too big for the nursery!"

"So now can we go hunting with Kwasi and Amare?" That was little Bahati's voice. "Can we?"

"Can we?" Jabir begged simultaneously.

"You're not that big!" Cyrah teased. "Don't get ahead of yourself!"

Zain nearly snarled--she certainly never coddled him or Zahra that way back when they were weaning. He had never even known this dog could be so kind and gentle. But he had told himself before not to let these negative feelings towards Cyrah overtake him; he wasn't a puppy anymore, and didn't need a mother, foster or otherwise. Cyrah was as good as a stranger to him.

In fact, he didn't need anyone in the Pack of Falling Ash. If he and his sister were considered lowborn outsiders, then so be it. They would fight for their equality together. Don't dwell on hurt feelings, he recited to himself, or you'll never survive.

This wasn't fair to Zahra, though. She deserved a mother who cared about her; family and lots of friends she could rely on. She deserved love more than anyone else in the world, and not just from him. He couldn't stand that she was treated this way, and hated himself for not being able to protect her from it.

He hadn't realized how tense these thoughts were making him until Zahra shifted beside him, turning her head to look at him inquisitively. "You okay?"

He exhaled slowly, trying to ease up. "Not really," he whispered.

Zahra sighed. "I'm jealous, too."

They would never really reminisce on their past. He realized that she must have felt the very same animosity he did, but she never cared to bring up those memories with him, as if she would rather pretend they didn't happen at all. It was just a bit hard to witness Cyrah acting this way, when they knew how she felt towards her first, "broken" litter. They never needed to speak about their childhood, for they endured every bit of it side by side.

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It had all happened nearly a year and a half ago. A scarred, malnourished and postpartum mother glided frantically through the grasslands, dodging in and out of bushes, up and over rocky hillsides. Though Zain only had the foggiest of memories from this time, he remembered the confusion as the world around him whooshed past. Her jaws were clamped firmly around his scruff, though never too hard as to hurt him.