Sephtis

22. Jealousy.

At some time in the night I leave the den to go under the trees to relieve myself. Eyes watch me, and I recognize Shamar. She is alone, Amitz is no where to be seen and I am curious to his whereabouts for he never came into the den to sleep.

Standing up I call to her, she comes to me, but is hesitant. I bend over her, hugging her neck. Her sides are hollow and I suspect she has only hunted field mice and may still be hungry. "There is meat up in the trees that I brought back," I say. She pushes her snout against my chest, licking my neck and chin. I go to the tree in which I hid the meat, but as I go to take it down a shadows glides silently towards me. I see yellow eyes full of jealous rage, and teeth bared for the attack. It is Amitz. He growls terribly, and I throw the meat in front of him, thinking that is what he wants. But he ignores it, his eyes wide and fixed on mine. He means business, this wolf. I wait for Shamar to rush to my defense, but she does not, and I feel betrayed. Amitz growls again, and leaps, past me and at Shamar. At first I am bewildered, then I realize that this fight is between Shamar and Amitz. Several things I realize all at once, between two breathes. I know the reason for his rage, I show affection to another wolf, offer food to that wolf, and he thinks those privileges should be offered to him and him alone. He wants Shamar's status with the wolf-pack, the unity I have with Kavah and Zahar, and the kinship I have with Shamar. He intends not to kill, but to show Shamar that he is a higher ranking than her. I run at him, punching his side, causing him to turn to me with a snarl, his intentions, have now changed as he stares me in the eyes. He now intends to show me my place, which is below him. If I give in to Amitz, my relationship with the wolves will alter, perhaps become impossible. I prepare to fight.

He runs at me, snapping, his teeth dripping saliva. I snarl and run at him, and he backs off. Then he runs at me again. I touch the handle of my knife, but hesitate too draw the blade, and in that moment he attacks.

So fast he comes, so powerful and so full of fury, that all I can do is raise my arms to shield my face. His jaws find my right hand, and his teeth in me are agonizing fire. Howling, I smite him hard between the eyes with my free fist. The blow stuns him. He backs away, growling and whimpering, looking at me sideways. I rush at him, and hit him again, hard. I scream at him, hoping rage will blind him to my fear. He looks away, and hangs his head. But still he growls, and I do not trust him. I know I have to tell him now that I am greater, or we will fight again and again until one of us wins. I take him by the ears and shake his head till he yelps. He snaps at my hands, struggling to pull free, and his strength astounds me. I am terrified that he will turn and oppose me in earnest. I let him go, giving him one last hard hit across the neck. He runs, yelping, his tail between his legs.

Shamar is watching me, her hackles raised. I yell at her also, and she turns away, her eyes averted. Kavah lies near the den entrance, washing his paws. It is nothing to him, a minor skirmish, a family disagreement. Yet I tremble all over, and my right hand is pierced and bruised, and bleeding profusely. I collapse on the cold earth, shaking and sobbing from the relief that I am not dead.

When I calm again, the skies are grey above the ruins, and the birds are awake. Kavah stands a little way from the den, facing towards the stairs and forest paths that lead back to my place. He looks at me, over his shoulder, his eyes like ripe harvest moons.