21 Brave

A tiny throat let out a soft rumble in the cold dry dark. Soft arms held him against the softer fur-covered chest. His female fed him and kept him warm. It was him and her. She would care for his needs and sometimes perform odd tasks such as cutting and scraping meat and fat from hides. When there were no hides she would twist fiber for rope. When she did this she would purr and whine songs of patterns. Sometimes the flaps on his den would flutter open and he would see the placid look on her face. She gazed down and her eyes were as soft and warm as her fur.

This welp knew not to leave his den. When she would bundle him in the softer hides and tell him to wait. He would wait and she would return eyes no longer warm, nose no longer wet. The welp did not like his female looking like this. It was the same expression as the feathered head she brought in once. Its eyes were dull lifeless unblinking. Whenever she was cold like this she would stare at him. It scared him. She kept him warm. It scared him so he hummed. Her eyes would warm and she would settle her hackles.

There had been others at one time. They were larger than him and he remembered tumbling with them fondly. They smelled like him but different. His female took them one day though. He did not understand why or why she had left him. He did not have the mind to ask though. This was the first time that she had shown him the dead eyes.

Now though he was older and of the mind to find the others. He could walk now but his female would hiss quietly at him when he would try to leave. "Enkyall is a cold place my little welp." She would purr to him, "Do not wander. Cold hungry beasts feast on furs and crunch on bones tougher than yours. Stay." So he stayed.

* * *

Some few seasons had passed he had been told. Little changed except his female called him chela now instead of welp and now stood half her height. She chewed his meat for him when it was too tough but he could eat his own food now. Thoughts of others in his litter had not passed from his mind through the turns and so he would ask to go outside his den again and again. Each time she would hum back a new song about the outside every turning. Each time a new fear he should expect. Each time a new excuse. "So small despite 3 blooms of cold." She would start and stroke the side of his face. Then she would continue, "There are others that look like us, you would get confused and not recognize me." To which he would respond, "Not so, I know my female's scent."

"Your lips speak truth." She would laugh.

"Then why may I not leave the den?" He would ask.

"Those who look like me eat soft little ones like you." She would say.

"There is plenty of meat there is no need to eat a chela as me."

She lamented their history of the Dauver which corralled and ate them. This he knew to be false. She said they all froze another time and he knew that they would not be a danger if they froze.

His young mind wandered and dreamt of the terrors of beyond the den. He was brave and certain he could face it. His female had survived and so would he. So he waited. His female left for food or vines again. There had not been much in the way of hides recently. He crawled and then walked towards the flap.

Bone pins held it fast together. He had watched her unbind it countless times. Fingers touched the smooth cold fasteners, twelve in all. Each was held through a small loop of leather. It was a clumsy twisting of bones and his fingers were not dexterous as hers.

After each loosening fear built. His breath held and fur hackled. He had seen the small bits of light when she had left before. Images of a white world filled with terrible creatures filled his mind. Another bone fumbled and popped out of a loop.

Fingertips peeked out through the lower half of the flap and widened an opening. Eyes stung from the light. It was a world of light. Despite the pain, he stared.

* * *

It was all so bright. Shapes silhouetted came to eyes first. Then came colors. Even then the young kesit did not know what to make of everything. Sound struck and Enkyall raised an uproarious song to him. He had heard it all before but they were sung through thick layers of sticks hides and mud. Hands rose to his ears as winds carried the ambiance of life around him.

Resolution came with tears. Still nearly blind he saw domes surrounding and towering over his small body. Still kneeling in the slush he stood. In his small den he was safe in the open he was trapped by the structures. This was not the fear he was warned of. Ground beneath him tilted again as he staggered forward to turn around. Behind him, there were openings to the domes. He had come from one of these, but which one. The welp was lost.

Lost he wandered, lost he looked. He thought to call out to his female but with his new panic was afraid to make a noise. He walked like the hunters in the songs he heard. They were strong, they were silent. He tried to scent after his kin as hunters scented after prey. Shadows peaked over the thatch-works. These were the ones she had mentioned were like her. They stood taller than the dens which stood taller than his young frame. If her words were true these tall ones were to be avoided. They did not have the grey in her coat but did not have her scent.

They did not have her scent. They stank and bore him no mind as they carried on their labors. Fur scraped with fangs. Foots clumsily trod and other females bundles of bones, vines, and bound hides. He saw no males but that may be due to the shadows he hid under.

He had returned to all fours at some point during his search. This allowed him closer to where the smells clung to. He smelled so many others that what he had been looking for was long lost. He would be tenacious as the monsters in her songs had been. Offal and other fluids lingered in the mush outside. Still, he carried on through the shadows and light mind among the scent. At one point he thought he had found something familiar. Along with the familiar scent came a familiar chanting. It was the same smell as those that would pass by his den chanting so loudly.

This was not one odor but an amalgamation of them. At the edges of its smell, there was something familiar. So, he followed not being seen. He followed only seeing one. This was a male. A beast his female had warned him of. They took chela like himself and devoured them. They took ones like himself and fed them to beasts. There were many around this one. If the words sung him were true there would not be so many around the tall kesit.

"We are birthed from soft things and begin soft." The tall one spoke. "Just as we came from the dauver as mere fodder the kin began as soft. What should we do for this?"

The sound came around him as an overlapping answer "we shed our weakness. We become strong."

These question and answer recitations were familiar to him. His female taught him many of these. So he followed. It was more out of curiosity. Eventually, they drew to a clearing towards the outskirts of the dens. A shallow indentation. The young chela hid behind a dome as he watched. The tall male picked 12 youth at random and pushed them in. They began fighting and tearing at each other. One smaller than the others tried to crawl out. He could hear him crying, "No shamen." This male this shamen then began kicking the youth until they fell back into the pit.

He watched in fascination and terror. These were again not the warnings that he was given by his female. In his daze, he did not notice the feet approach behind him. A tight painful grip around his shoulder pulled him up and swept him under an arm. Something had him and would start to eat him. He was going to die. He should have stayed where it was safe with his female and food in the comfortable dry den.

"Mind of minds this chela is looking to hide from his lessons." The thing which held him in a painful vice shouted. A deep growling came from it showing its rage.

"Bring him here" The shamen responded.

He thrashed growled and tried to bite as the ground passed beneath him. It was useless. The ground came up and met him as he was unfurled from the arm of the thing which held him. Dirty gnarled feet met his eyes. A voice then barked out "Get up useless welp." A gnarled foot drove into him. Pain came as he had never experienced before. His shoulder his shoulder his shoulder it hurt. He screamed from the pain. "Get up" another kick followed. A hand grasped him by the top of his scalp. Eyes met him until he looked away.

"This welp if full weakness. What should we do for this?"

The young voices cried out in response "We shed our weakness. We become strong."

The hand which held the welp lifted him higher and then threw the ignorant chela into the pit.

* * *

Murkie saw the pit before his mind. He remembered the fear but was not part of it. He remembered the pain and his spiritual body felt it. His mind saw the pit but before him all he saw was dark. His spirit was bound and could not roam. He must shed this weakness.

“In the end I loved her

Words taught me

Warmth held me

Eyes watched over

I was her young

Teeth chewed for me

I sang for her

Scent was comfort

My den was dark

Plains outside light

Eyes dim and cold

Words a lie

Warmth left me

In the end, I hated her”

-High Priest of the Dead