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The Wicker Man, by MetroFox and ConorHyena

He'd moved away for ten minutes. Ten minutes to the river, to have a quick wash. Ten minutes he'd left Kuveli to tend to the fire. The boy was almost of age, he could do this. Conor wasn't going to emulate his brother by being over-controlling, so he let him sit with the roe deer carcass they'd hunted together and himself just walked the fifty metres down to the river, to wash the sweat of the hunt off his face and, perhaps, quietly thank the great mother for still being here.

He and Kuveli had gone out hunting together for a few days, tracking a herd of deer along the forest until they had finally managed to ambush them, and slay one roe deer successfully. They had started the trek home to the Lentavohi camp this morning, but it was a two day journey and, by now, it was already late and they had settled in for the night.

When the tall hyena returned to the camp, the carcass was still there, legs fastened to a stick with rawhide, but there was no Kuveli. He had assumed the boy had hidden somewhere and scoured the immediate forest for him, yet his pack was still there. Waiting for a few minutes, he eventually started calling.

His calls had become more desperate as Kuveli didn't answer.

Eventually, he had started, in the dying light, to concentrate on the tracks and the smells of the immediate area. He quickly spotted Kuveli's scent, almost like Sakara's but subtly different, however, there were others. Deeper indentations in the ground, prints, paw prints, heavier than Kuveli. Marks of a scuffle, but only a short one. He counted six pairs of prints leading away from the campsite.

His heart sank into what could only be described as a bottomless pit of dread. Someone had taken Sakara's brother, and now he, Conor, was alone. The Lentavohi camp was a night's journey away, and, in the dark, he was likely to take even longer. They could return with horses, but they'd be here by midday the next day, and then they'd still have to track him. The paw prints were good, the scent was fresh. This hadn't happened long before.

The best chance he had to avert returning to Sakara with the fact that he had managed to lose his younger brother, was to track him immediately. Travel as light as possible.

He reached for his quiver, depositing the two arrows he had broken during the hunt inside his pack, then made sure his belt was tied tightly, his small flint dagger and the ornate hyena war-axe attached securely, and then he gripped his bow, quickly spanning the sinew with expert grip and testing it for a moment, then slinging it across his back. His time was running out. He assumed the kidnappers only had a few minutes on him, and if he was fast, he might catch them on the road, and could shadow them to their campsite perhaps, or ambush them before.

He set off, along the trail, his eyes glued to the ground, nose twitching, ears raised high, through the darkening forest.

~~~

The cut on Kuveli's face stung. The blood dripping from it tickled his fur. It was a maddening feeling, he wanted to press his paw against it, to stop the bleeding, but his paws were bound tightly behind his back with rawhide. He might have been able to wriggle free, but then what?

There were five of them, armed with spears and bows, axes and slings. They had come suddenly, a bear had whisked little Kuveli away. They had taken nothing else. That was odd, Kuveli thought, very odd. Why would you take only another mouth to feed? His mind went back to the sabretooth tribe some summers ago. The thought made his stomach turn over and his knees weak.

"Keeping moving!" A lynx sneered, taking the blunt end of his spear and smacking Kuveli on the back of the head with an unpleasant crack.

The little fox went sprawling, falling face-first onto the earthy forest floor, caking his simple boarskin toga with dirt. His footpaw became snagged in some roots.

"I said keep moving." The lynx hissed. Kuveli felt the cold, sharp flint of a spearhead press firmly against his back. He froze-up, his instincts preventing him from moving. "Get up!" The lynx demanded, becoming more enraged "Get up, right now."

Despite the orders, Kuveli's body still refused to move. Something deep inside believed he'd be killed on the spot if he moved. Perhaps it was from last time, perhaps it was natural. He didn't have time to worry about that, as the bear who had bound and dragged him away approached.

The bear, Karruh was what the others called her, wore what could only be described as a fine tunic and leggings of patchwork leather. Clearly no one animal skin was enough to cover this bear's might. She stood almost twice as tall as her companions, and looked as though she could swallow any of them whole as and when she wanted. The way the others backed away from her, Kuveli could tell she demanded respect, regardless of whether or not she deserved it.

"We asked nicely, young blood" Karruh loomed over Kuveli, reaching out and grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "We won't ask again." Her muzzle wrinkled into a snarl and her grasp becoming tighter around his scruff.

Kuveli shivered, by laying her paws on him, something had stirred in Kuveli, that instinct that told him to lie still was changing. Paws scrambling against the dirt, Kuveli lifted himself as best he could and bit-down on the bear's arm. She cursed, throttling the little fox into the earth with all her strength.

"Cheeky little shit!" She boomed, lifting Kuveli up only to smash his face into the ground again.

"Feisty this one, he's got much young blood in him." One of the others chuckled, his companions immediately trying to silence him, as to not incur the same wrath befalling Kuveli.

The little fox's muzzle ached, and he could taste blood. He felt dizzy as Karruh lifted his face up to look at her.

"Put him in the net, I can tell this one will worm his way out of simple bindings." She smirked deviously, roughly yanking Kuveli off the ground. The little fox yelped as a sickening crunch rang through the trees, and an immense pain shot through his leg.

"Get off me..." He managed to wheeze shakily, clenching his teeth, fangs showing to the bear. But she just chuckled, tossing him to her companions. His vision began to swim as they wrapped him-up in a rawhide net until, as they began to drag him over the rough forest floor, he passed-out.

~~~

The hyena was following the tracks, thanking the mothers for the fact that he was used to hunting in the dark. His tribe had done so since time immemorial, and therefore, the dark forest's secrets were much known to him.

He had come upon a scuffle on the ground, earth upturned, and took a while to look at the tracks, waiting for them to divulge their story to him. From how it looked Kuveli had fallen, perhaps knocked over. There was blood on the floor, but not much, not enough to get him worried, however, the deep, large tracks of the bear leading the group was causing him to worry. A strong, heavy animal.

A dangerous adversary, even to someone like him, who knew how to kill other beings. The only chance he had was to catch them unawares. Bear or not, if he could get close enough, an arrow to the skull would certainly have the desired effect.

However, as he looked around, he noticed Kuveli's tracks ending here. Perhaps someone of the group had gripped the fox, even to carry him. It would delay them, which, in the hyena's eyes, was good.

He got up again, following the tracks further along the forest floor. They were still very visible, and Kuveli's scent was still fresh. He followed them, at a measured but brisk pace, one he could keep up, despite the recent activities, for some time. Hunger made his stomach itch, yet he knew that he was now hunting, not hunting animals, but other beings, like him, sentient, thinking, living beings and it made his heart thud inside his chest, his senses tingle, and it made him feel alive. He licked his lips, and continued, looking down at the floor to keep up with the tracks.

Despite the rush of the hunt, however, he was acutely aware that if he was unsuccessful, if he was unable to track the young fox and retrieve him, that his brother, Sakara, would never forgive him. Kuveli was the person Sakara treasured most, and he had trusted Conor enough to allow the two to go hunting without him. Conor knew how much convincing it must have taken Kuveli to be allowed to leave with the hyena, and if Sakara knew...

But Sakara was far away, unable to know. There was nobody here to help him, nobody he could turn to. He was alone, and, if he was honest to himself, despite the doubts that plagued him, it was how he preferred it. Often had he felt like an outsider with the Lentavohi, not knowing how to fit in... being awkward, silent, and too often retreating into the forest to be with the silence he knew so well.

Even with Sakara, it sometimes was hard. The fox understood a lot, but not everything. Some things were best left buried.

Some things he only shared with the silence.

The silence was his friend, one they could never take away from him.

He moved on.

~~~

Kuveli was jolted awake some time later, his head smacking against the ground as he was lifted over a brook. He tried to move, but a sharp pain shot up his leg and caused him to yelp. It was tangled in the net, the swaying mess of rawhide causing it to burn with an unbearable pain.

"Ah, good, he's awake." Said the lynx, hauling the netting like a sack of fresh-caught fish. "Just in time, too." He chuckled, brushing through some bushes and out into a clearing. Kuveli managed to lift his head up, resting his weight against the net. What he saw awed him.

Mouth agape, Kuveli looked upon the strangest of things. It was like a combination of the little figures of people the Lentavohi, but as big as the stone megaliths of the Tuhkavot and Punsekaalrat, only it was made from a woven kind of wood instead of stone. Around the base was piled much firewood, resembling a bonfire. With that, it was easy to guess what the purpose of this was. A spirit thing, like the fore mentioned megaliths and carved figures.

Set back from this lay what had, to be his captor's camp. They did not build Lavvu like the Lentavohi. No, instead their shelters were roundish, standing only as tall as a man's chest, and covered with a thick layer of dry grass, moss, and turf, instead of furs and leathers. Perhaps that would explain why the camp was set so far away.

As they approached, they drew the attention of the camp's inhabitants. There were many of them, mostly canids, even a few that resembled Conor, but skinnier and with bigger ears.

Conor... He had almost forgotten. The hyena must have been worried, let alone enraged. He wasn't stupid, he knew what happened by now, and had probably gone to go get help. Maybe not though, Kuveli had seen that look of his on occasion, the same one Sakara had when he killed that sabretooth chieftain. It was a look as if one had been blinded by a bloody mist.

Suddenly they came to a halt and Kuveli was set down. Churned mud and stones pressed against Kuveli's back uncomfortably. He wriggled to try and get more comfortable, but the tangle of rawhide and the pain in his ankle quickly stopped his struggling.

"Hestr, my elder." The lynx, joined by the bear and the other captors, bowed low and stepped aside. The warm light of a bonfire washed over Kuveli, and in it was silhouetted a single figure. Their leader. Even Karruh seemed to cower as the figure turned. Although Kuveli could not see their eyes, Kuveli could feel his glare.

"Prohasti-krewh, hsu-krewh, deg-krewh" The figure spoke softly, his surprisingly voice refined. Kuveli did not understand the tongue he spoke, though it sounded familiar...

The little fox watched the figure approach slowly, unsheathing a long, ivory blade. The silhouette slinked out of the shadows, and Kuveli came to see the golden jackal hiding beneath. He was naked except for a cloak, and covered from head to toe in black pawprints. His face bore the most grisly feature. The head of a young auroch, severed and crudely cleaned-out. The fur was still attached to the skull while chunks of flesh dangled from the edges, and the horns were painted a pattern of black and red.

As this grisly shaman approached, a foul stench of rot made Kuveli wrinkled his muzzle in disgust. Even growing-up in a tribe that considered strong stench to mean a healthy soul could not prepare him for this shaman's stink. Little Kuveli shuddered as the shaman knelt-down, leaning over him and reaching out. Kuveli bared his fangs instinctively and, to his surprise, the shaman recoiled.

Then he chuckled.

"Karruh, swep-seh hen ki. Wey deg-seh krewh." The shaman gestured to one of the grass shelters, a deer's skull wrapped in entrails sitting over its entrance. The bear rose from her bow.

"As you wish, Sun Shaman."

~~~

The hyena had, increasingly anxious, followed the trail. He had been misled, once, by his nose, because the wind had changed, but he had quickly realized his error and doubled back, and continued by sight. The darkness was now utterly complete, and he relied more on his ears and nose than his eyes to navigate himself through the forest.

He could smell a river, and soon, he could make out the scents of an encampment. He broke off from the tracks and circled around, until he was downwind from them, the river gurgling maybe forty metres to his side. He moved close to the edge of the clearing, silently, and crouched, watching.

He knew how to watch. He was quiet, his gaze unblinking, his eyes and nose alert, and what he saw didn't make him feel cheerful.

There was a set of roundish shelters, like he had not seen before, certainly not the Lentavohi lavvus. Between them and him, constructed on the bank of the river itself, was a large structure made out of woven wood that vaguely stirred some recognition inside Conor, something he'd heard in a story or so. It was maybe eighty paces from his position in the high grass through the clearing over to where he assumed he could see Kuveli, but he didn't dare come closer. The layout of the clearing did not lend itself to an approach. It was at least fifty, if not more paces to the borders of the forest, a distance, even if he was running, he would not be able to bridge quickly enough for a surprise attack. The shelters were low, yes, but not low enough to use as cover effectively. The strange wooden statue in the middle would allow him to split the eighty paces in two, but it wouldn't do him much good. He'd be cornered, alone against ... fifteen, perhaps sixteen, this was not something even he could do.

However, one avenue of approach was wide open, he realized. While burning torches lit the perimeter of the encampment, and there was a large fire in the middle around which he could see various figures ... the bear stood out, else, he didn't see much, except that their scent reminded him oddly ... of home.

He shook himself. No time like the present.

The only part that was not well illuminated was the riverbank, and the river itself.

Quietly, Conor extracted himself from the grass and circled downwards until he was standing at the riverbank. It was dark, but if he listened in, he could hear the river flowing. It was powerful, but not very fast, and it did not sound like it would go over any rocks soon, but he couldn't know.

It would, however, allow him a shielded, and stealthy approach up to the campsite itself.

If Kuveli was their prisoner he would distract them, and then use the river. He could use it as a means of entry and exit, swimming downstream with the fox once he had him, and backtrack on the other side to mask his trail.

It sounded like a plan, at least in his head, yet, he still wanted to watch the camp more. He needed to understand how it worked.

Quietly, he re-took his former observing post, lying down low and flat and looking intently at the goings on in the camp. The grass pricked his arms and tickled his nose but he waited and watched intently.

~~~

Kuveli lay in the shelter, back against the internal frame of wooden poles. His ankle had swollen badly, it hurt so much. He was nearing tears with each gout of pain which shot through his body when he made even the slightest movement, and it didn't help that he only had a thin layer of dry grass to act as a bed.

"What do you want?" Sneered a muffled voice from outside the entrance.

"Hestr asked me to tend to the blood, or it will run thin and useless." Somebody responded, their voice distinctly meek compared to the others.

"Be quick about it then, thin blood." Kuveli kept his eyes on the entrance, intrigued as to who this 'thin blood' was. Perhaps it meant weak, and he could maybe overpower him. Kuveli almost chuckled at the thought, not with a broken ankle you're not.

A small, bony paw brushed the scrappy leather curtain aside, and the 'thin blood' entered. Hunched over and shrouded in shadows it was tough to make out any details, but Kuveli could tell it was a feline, with a stubby muzzle and long, sleek tail. Their body was badly emaciated, and their green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the shelter.

"I apologise," he began, turning-up his nose and wrinkling his muzzle. "This place reeks of piss, I didn't get to clean out the mess our last guest made." Kuveli gulped, the last guest? Did that mean they- He didn't have time to finish his thought, as the stranger crouched by his wounded ankle.

"G- get off..." Kuveli bucked his leg, gritting his teeth as the jolt sent another wave of pain crashing through his body.

"Be still!" The feline hissed, gripping his leg tightly. Kuveli felt a cold, wet sensation where he had been grabbed, sticky too. A healing salve? "I only mean to help you, or I promise you'll have a much worse fate." The feline continued. Much closer now, Kuveli could make out more details. His fur was a sandy yellow, covered in black spots from head to toe. Around his waist was a simple scrappy loincloth, a medicine horn dangling from the belt, and around his head was a band of leather, died vaguely bluish and with a handful of crow's feathers dangling from it.

"I- I don't mean to be rude, but... Who- What are you?" Kuveli cocked his head to the side, perhaps he did mean well. Those glowing eyes now seemed less intimidating. In fact, they seemed tired, sad even.

"My name is Péthr," The feline placed a paw on his chest before reaching into his medicine horn. Looking at Kuveli, he raised an eyebrow. "I am a cheetah, of course. Do you not know what a cheetah is?" Kuveli shook his head no, he'd never heard of such a creature. The closest he'd seen to this Péthr was maybe a mountain lion or a lynx.

"Well, we are renowned for being fast! But..." Péthr sighed, turning back towards Kuveli's wound. "I was born with funny legs, you see?" He gestured to his spindly legs, and Kuveli saw the odd growths, places where bad spirits had burrowed. The cheetah's face seemed to sink, his eyes somehow growing sadder as he pulled a length of plant fibres from his medicine horn. "Only the Hedker would take me in. They think it's a curse, so I'm kept tending to the livestock, you."

Livestock? Kuveli shuddered at the thought he might be thought of as livestock. He knew what happened to livestock, the strange earth hut dwellers on the western coast kept goats as livestock. They had anything of worth stripped before they themselves were slaughtered. Was that to be his fate? And who were these Hedker to do such a thing?

"You say these things like I should know what they are." Kuveli sucked in his breath, trying to sound confident.

"You do not know of the Heart Drinkers?" Péthr asked, lifting a salve-covered paw off of Kuveli's leg, before quickly wrapping the plant fibre cloth tightly around Kuveli's ankle. The little fox grunted, the salve seemed to have dulled the pain a little, at least.

"No, and I wish I hadn't asked." Kuveli mumbled through grit teeth. Heart Drinkers, such a name could only mean terrible things.

"It's a long story..."

The cheetah positioned himself better on the ground, his surprisingly gentle touch continuing to bandage Kuveli's aching ankle.

"Are you going to tell it?"

Péthr looked at Kuveli for a moment "There is a place that is known as the sand sea. You have heard of it?"

Kuveli shook his head. He had heard of the sea, but never the sand sea. It was hard to believe. He had seen sand, of course, and the sea, too, but never a sea of sand...

"It is a great expanse, and there is sand. Only sand and stones. And the sun. Its powerful disc burns down by day, but by night, the great silver woman rules. The sun and the moon are locked in eternal combat, for every morning, the sun must destroy the wicked moon, and every evening, the sun succumbs to its infernal machinations."

Péthr had finished with Kuveli's ankle, and the ache had dulled slightly but was still there, making the young fox acutely aware that he would not be able to walk, at least not without some pain.

"The Hedker live on the edges of the sand sea. They worship the sun, the great eye. It brings prosperity and warmth."

Eye, Kuveli had heard that before. Nevertheless he listened intently to the cheetah's words.

"We must be far from the sand sea" he said "Why are you here then?"

Péthr's eyes clouded over, softly. He whispered "They came. The ones that worship the silver woman. They came upon the Hedker one night, and with the fury of their blasphemous moon, slew many."

Kuveli shuddered. He had never heard a story like this. Why would one tribe attack another like that?

"Who were they?" he asked.

"They were the Morigna Neks. They are the women of death." The cheetah said, darkly, and Kuveli looked at him, confused.

"But I do not understand."

"We went north, for their fury was without mercy. They would not have spared even me."

"So you came to the lands of the north" Kuveli reasoned

"We did, yes."

Péthr fell silent, and looked at Kuveli, sadness lining his face. Kuveli didn't know what to say. It must have felt terrible to lose your home like that, but at the same time, they had taken him, hurt him, and now he was here, Livestock, as Péthr had said, and he did not know what would happen to him. He gritted his teeth and lowered his ears "What will happen to me?" he asked

The cheetah shook his head. "The Hedker believe that once the silver woman is in full, a sacrifice must happen to allow the great eye disc to defeat her again, and ensure the sun rises every morning. The wicker man is built, and then, when the moon rides its highest, it is set alight. Blood must be spilt, and flesh must be burned."

He shuddered slightly.

Kuveli bit his lip, as he felt a knot form in his stomach.

~~~

Conor had racked his brains where he had seen this type of arrangement before, and then, after a few minutes of thinking and silence, remembered that it had been a story that one of the old war mothers had painted, with colourful clay on a hide strung to a frame. A burning statue, of wood, full of people. He had asked her what this scary figure was, and she had replied it was a Hedker, a heart drinker. She said that the mothers of war often united and drove the Hedker from their lands. Excitedly, Conor had asked if there were any close by, but the war mother had told him that no Hedker had been seen in the lands of the Ngahiji for generations. She herself had remembered when her grandmother had gone to raise the war axe against them, but that was a long time ago, and she had still been a cub by then.

He then asked why she painted the Hedker and she said she painted it so the war mothers would recognise the evil when it rose again. She then went on to tell him that he should not worry. It was the job of the men to tend to the camp and the children, and he should not concern himself with matters of war.

But now he was here, seeing a Hedker, this man of wood, erected in the clearing in front of him, and he was confused. It was not meant to be here. It did not belong here.

He cast his mind back to the painting. It was terrifying, with flames eating away at the stick-like creatures. He had dreamt badly that night, of hyena-eating wooden men, but his mother had told him bluntly that there were no Hedker, and that the old war mothers painted this because they were old, and they were war mothers and liked to scare the cubs.

He had forgotten all about the Hedker, had believed his mother, but here it was now, like a mirage, standing in front of him.

And they had taken Kuveli. The burning figures...

He swallowed, and reached for his bow. He was not a war mother, yet he was of the Ngahiji. He would drive the Hedker from these lands, much like his ancestors had.

Looking up at the starlit sky, full moon riding high, he smiled, for a moment, suddenly feeling raw inside. His mother was up there, hunting with the night mother, and so was his sister, and his uncle and his father. So were the war mothers of his clan.

He hoped they'd look down on him now, because if they did, they'd see how a warrior of the Ngahiji fought.

And he was sure, despite the fact that he was male, they would be proud of him.

~~~

The cheetah returned after an hour, bearing more gifts for the little fox: A pawful of roasted salmon cuts seasoned with dill and mint leaves, and a bowl carved with ritual patterns filled to the brim with an odd-smelling pale red liquid; fermented berries.

"He insisted on it, the livestock must be strong or the sun will take insult." Péthr placed both the bowl and the fish onto Kuveli's lap, then pretended to pick-up a pawful of food and shovel it into his mouth. Kuveli snorted, he found the gesture condescending.

"And this?" Kuveli picked up the bowl and lifted it to his muzzle. Péthr raised a bony finger.

"To numb your senses for the ritual." He said, as if saying such a thing was normal. How could somebody tell you they were going to kill you so calmly? Kuveli placed the bowl back on his lap and instead began to pick at the salmon. "Don't you drink?" Péthr cocked his head to the side, reaching out to grab the bowl off him.

"I do," Kuveli stopped the cheetah "it's just-"

"Péthr!" Demanded the guttural voice of the she-bear, Karruh. "It is nearly midnight, so hurry up in there!"

"Y- yessir..." The cheetah replied weakly, his body tense as he stared at the entrance to the shelter. But after a minute or so, he seemed to calm again, and turned back to Kuveli. His eyes seemed so kind, like he wanted to do good, but something had a firm grip on him. Kuveli took another bite out of the salmon and felt a tightness in his chest, perhaps this would be his last meal.

"You must understand," the cheetah sighed "this is bigger than what I want. The Sun could burn the world to a crisp should we disobey her!" He was trying to reason with himself, Kuveli could tell, he had seen it in the cannibals from all those years ago. They always found an excuse, fear drove them to, like fear does. Péthr wasn't going to be able to help. Kuveli simply finished his meal of fish and downed the fermented berries.

"Keep telling yourself that..."

~~~

Conor had changed position, circled around so he was well out of the wind, and the wicker man would not be in the path of his arrows. He had unslung his quiver, propping it up against a rock, and then took out the seven arrows he had. He had then, quietly, unlaced his coat, unfastened his belt, and slipped it off, depositing it behind the tree at the rock as well. Just in his loincloth and leggings now, the axe stuck in his belt, the dagger fastened inside his leggings, he had reached for his bow, testing it, moving it a bit so he made sure he had enough room. He had, quietly, cleared the floor of anything that might be in the way and then checked the arrows as well as he could in the moon's low light. They were all in good shape, flint tips sharp, three hunting arrows, and four of his war arrows, heavier, with a barbed tip. He hadn't used them for a long time, but he knew they'd fly straight.

He had then put them on the floor, arranged in such a way that he could pull them with minimal movement, and then, nocked the first arrow, one of the war arrows, and raised the bow, not yet drawing, but getting used to his aim. Eighty paces was a distance he could comfortably hit a person-sized target, and the night would mask the flight of his arrows, so he was comfortable he could let off his entire arsenal, before ditching the bow, and moving to his left, where he had already laid out a path in his mind that would allow him to reach the water undetected. He'd enter the river, and then allow the current to take him down to the camp.

There was movement and his ears pricked up. He heard the deep voice of what he assumed was the bear proclaiming it was almost midnight.

They'd start their ritual soon, he assumed.

He breathed in, hands trembling for a moment and then gripping his bow tighter, clarity filled him, the calm before the storm, the stillness of the hunt. He felt the adrenaline sharpen his senses, clear his throat, and becalm his troubled mind.

He was Conor of the Plains.

This was his hunt.

~~~

Kuveli's stomach churned, the fermented berries refusing to settle. His throat was tight, he felt like he might be sick at any moment. Péthr paced around the shelter, paw on his chin.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... Shit." Péthr rubbed the back of his head. Kuveli had a feeling he wasn't meant to down it in one go, but here they were. He wasn't worried about it anyway, his mind was clouded with black fog, the overwhelming presence of death.

"They'll kill me for this. They- they'll kill me!" The cheetah stuttered, crouching down on his haunches. "No, it's my fault, I should have been clearer." He clasped his paws together, burying his muzzle in his palms. "If there's anything I can do-"

"My horse..." Kuveli slurred, reclining until he lay flat on his back. "I'm supposed to be buried with my horse, so I can ride into the next world." The clouds in Kuveli's head grew thicker. Midnight was upon them, no sign of his big brother or the hyena. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the little voice in the back of his head, the one that always spoke of doom, was growing louder by the second.

"Your horse? By the Lunar Mother, how am I supposed to get you a horse?" The cheetah grit his teeth with his face in his palms.

"If not that, then give me some supplies." That's all the little fox needed, supplies, a sling, food, a waterskin, and second in importance only to his horse; a knife. The little voice was so loud now, he had to listen whether he liked it or not. He was going to die, that's what the little voice said. He struggled to disagree with it. So he best make sure he was ready to move on to the next world.

"I- I can get you those, yes. One moment!" Péthr stood up in a flash, before turning and hobbling out of the shelter's entrance. And Kuveli was alone once again.

He lay on the dry grass, head spinning from the fermented berries, bile in the back of his throat. This wasn't necessarily how he pictured himself going. Despite big brother and Chief Tikeri telling him it wasn't right for a child to picture how they died, Kuveli couldn't help it. Between nearly being eaten by a cannibal sabretooth tribe, or being blinded and gutted by the Tarkkaijia cultists, or even just being gored and trampled by an auroch, it was a hard thing not to picture.

He sighed, rolling over. It made him hate big brother sometimes. How he babied him in the way he spoke and acted. Death was life for them, and Kuveli had grown-up an orphan just as his big brother had. He had the same wisdom, surely, but big brother would not see it.

What was he thinking!? Kuveli buried his face in his paws, sobbing. Was he really led here, about to die and thinking ill of the big brother that had done everything to protect him and raise him well? Perhaps he deserved this.

Soft, methodical thumps roused Kuveli from his feverish thoughts. Karruh squeezed herself into the shelter, making it shift and creak. She stared at him with hazel eyes full of... Joy. It must have been-

"Time to go."

The bear threw a gnarled, old stick at Kuveli, letting it smack him in the nose. The little fox groaned, grabbing the stick and groggily lifting himself up. He stumbled, catching himself on the shelter's wall, in his haze he'd forgotten to keep his weight off his ankle.

Karruh stepped aside, glaring at Kuveli with an unsettling grin on her muzzle. The little fox wobbled as he crouched down, and a force shoved him through the entrance.

"Hurry up" The bear grunted. Kuveli stumbled into the moonlight, a rush of cold air enveloping him. His vision was spinning worse than ever, he swore his head was still, but his eyes seemed to drift to the right and up into the sky. There were so many stars this night, so few clouds, and a dim full moon.

Péthr stood off to the right, a crowd of onlookers around him, dressed in simple furs and leathers. The cheetah's paws were clasped together, and a nervous smile on his face. On the left stood Hestr, the golden jackal with the auroch skull over his face. He stood with only a pawful of onlookers, decorated with daubs of body paint and the tails of unfortunate animals. The jackals cloak slid off his arms as he slowly raised his paws to the moon.

Kuveli drew his breath and closed his eyes.

"Péhwr! Duhmós! Hésno! Wey deg-prohasti weh-pers kewero. Déht Sowhl!" He proclaimed, shaking his clenched fists. The crowd followed suit, erupting into cheers of 'Déht Sowhl!'

All except for Péthr, who slowly approached the little fox. He extended some objects, a small spear, fit for a child of only eleven summers, a couple of roasted fish, and a sling. It wasn't much compared to his own sling, but... It would escort him safely into the next world.

With the thought of his imminent death, Kuveli's knees felt weak. They buckled beneath him and he fell to his knees, clenched fists resting on his legs. Karruh squeezed past and gripped his muzzle, pulling it close to her face. Her black nose twitched as she sniffed at the fox, like a hyena probing carrion.

"I smell wine." She growled, guttural and deep, her fury bubbling to the surface. "Péthr, what did you do!?"

~~~

Conor watched the bear suddenly bow down, disappear inside the shelter, and then, maybe a few seconds later, Conor's heart skipping a beat, emerged with the form of the diminutive fox, dragging him out of the shelter. There was another creature hovering beside him, one of the cheetah people, Conor recognised his species. "I... I'm sorry!" The wind carried over to the hyena's sensitive ears, and then he heard an old, rasping voice, straining to make out every word.

"He spoiled the blood, thinning it...Karruh! Kill the cursed one!"

The hyena drew his bow, lightning fast, drawing the arrow, then aiming for the huge form of the bear, his neck, but he could not have been fast enough. The bear, Karruh, bent down, and reached for the cheetah, lifting him up, and then, Conor could hear a loud crack of a neck breaking, and then the body of the cheetah crumbled to the floor besides Kuveli who emitted a yowl. The bear was dangerous. Powerful. Cheetahs were fragile, yes, but this brute posessed a strength he had no chance in matching. In combat, she would best him easily.

Conor's arm trembled and he slowly released the tension of the bow. Disaster averted. They weren't after Kuveli, at least, not yet

He again watched as the bear gripped Kuveli and then, with mounting dread, Conor watched him push the young fox towards the wicker man.

He had not thought of this, but then again, it was to be expected. He chastised himself for forgetting this. It made things ... different. The bear and another two creatures left the camp and moved towards the wicker man, and Conor realized that now was the time to make his move. He waited until the deputation had reached the wooden statue, then breathed in, drawing the bow, slowly, measuredly this time, his shoulder feeling the pull slightly, until the war arrow was at full strength, and then, aiming for the bear's neck, he let the arrow fly.

The sinew twanged against the flat piece of leather he had strapped against the inside of his wrist, and the arrow arced through the sky, finding its target just below the bear's neck, who roared in pain, and dropped Kuveli on the floor.

He reached for the next arrow, quietly, this time one of the hunting arrows and drew the bow, picking out his next target.

~~~

Kuveli hit the ground with a thud, pain seizing his body as his broken ankle crumpled beneath his weight. Karruh came crashing down on top of him with an ear-splitting roar, the little fox gasping as the air was squeezed out of his lungs. An arrow was sticking out of her impressive neck, and blood leaked over her fur, yet she was not dead.

Around them, the crowd looked dumbstruck. Panic began to show on their faces and they looked all around, unable to pinpoint where the arrow had come front.

"Go you fools, deal with it, now!" Karruh snarled, fangs bared and a mad look in her eyes. She placed her paw on Kuveli's head and lifted herself up, smothering the young fox in the dirt. "And you, strip the little shit of his gifts. Clearly he means to do harm to the Sun itself." She growled, getting to her footpaws and stomping towards the sun shaman, who watched silently.

Two cultists rushed to Kuveli and lifted the little fox, stripping him of the gifts Péthr had arranged for him. Upon seeing the cheetah's lifeless corpse, Kuveli felt sick, his body recoiling. Killing animals for food was one thing, a normal thing, but killing people... For some reason it felt different, sickening and horrifying all at the same time. It made his fur stand on end.

As he stared at the crumpled corpse, neck snapped like a twig, Kuveli was dragged towards Hestr. He could feel the jackal's glare through the empty sockets of that auroch. A glare of hunger, great hunger indeed. It sent a chill up Kuveli's spine.

"Put him in the wicker man," he ordered, his odd accent muffled by the auroch skull over his face. His stench was odd too, stale and... Almost like rotting roasted meat. "And you, Kuveli, when you see your mother, tell her I miss her." Kuveli could sense the wide, sadistic smirk on Hestr's face as he began cackling.

A lump formed in Kuveli's throat, how did this cruel jackal from far away know his name? Perhaps Péthr had used it, but... Somehow he knew about his mother too. A fog filled Kuveli's head, he shook it to clear his mind, maybe they'd assumed Conor was his father, but they looked nothing alike. It terrified Kuveli, no matter how he dismissed it, the way in which Hestr had said mother was too strong, there was too much emotion for it to have been a guess.

Kuveli didn't recognise him, his voice, or his scent. Just who was this shaman?

He didn't have much time left to contemplate that, as Hestr personally took the little fox by the scalp and dragged him towards the wicker man.

"Be strong my warriors, do not fear our attackers, for tonight the sun will burn brighter than ever before!"

~~~

Conor had wasted no time. The arrow had felled Karruh, but she regained her posture quickly. He had reached for the next arrow, drawing the bow until his shoulder creaked, and then acquired a target. There was a painted dog standing on the right of the encampment, closer to the river. His first arrow had caused confusion at the wicker man, but this watcher was still unsure of what was going on, and therefore, did not move. He raised the bow slightly and then released the sinew with an audible twang. He could not follow the arrow's path, but when he saw the painted dog crumble together, knocked backwards and not getting back up, he knew it had found its mark. He reached for the next one, another hunting arrow. Karruh had prepared a few of her people, marshalling them at the wicker man, and Conor took aim, not at the bear, but the lynx standing beside her, bringing the feline down into a crumpled heap. Hunting with a bow was second nature to him. He had been taught at an early age, when the bow was even larger than he was, and now, using the longbow he had made himself from yew, he was even deadlier.

Next arrow. Next target. He spotted another painted dog moving from the wicker man to the camp, drew the bow, with the last hunting arrow nocked, and then released, but the painted dog just kept running and he cursed under his breath. It had missed him.

War arrows then. Heavier, less range, but more likely to bring down their opponent on the first strike. So far, he had been lucky. three arrows had found their mark, one had hit Karruh but not struck her down, the other two had felled two of his enemies. He was now down to three arrows, and Karruh was moving up into the clearing with a branding torch, beside her two minions. They were closing in, and they had the light. Eventually they'd spot him.

He nocked the war arrow, aiming for the wolf carrying a branding torch, and bringing him down. They were so close he had heard the sound the impact made, the wolf crumbling with a yowl.

His shoulder hurt but he knew he needed to keep going. He had to keep going. Next arrow.

Next target, this time the last of Karruh's brigade, crumpling over in a heap as the arrow struck him in the neck, gurgling in his own blood which flowed from his mouth as the arrow smashed his throat.

The bear raised the torch high and roared, a deafening, ear-rending roar that made Conor's heart miss a beat, yet with cool, focused hands he reached for his final arrow. Karruh was advancing, sweeping the clearing with her torch, and while behind her, he saw the shaman drag the form of Kuveli towards the wicker man. He drew, and then realized - this was his last arrow. His final chance. His eyes hung on the shaman for a second, gauging the distance, and then he heard Karruh roar out again

"I CAN SEE YOU, MORIGNA NEKS!"

He cursed, levelling his bow at the bear, who was closing in, fast, her burning torch raised high.

Maybe a second... maybe two... she would be upon him and tear him to shreds. He drew the bow, feeling the pull make his shoulder burn, then, aiming higher, let the war arrow fly.

His aim was true.

The arrow impacted with a satisfying thud, Karruh somersaulted over herself, the branding torch flying into the grass, and then came down not five paces in front of Conor, dead, broken arrow sticking out of her right eye.

The hyena let go of the bow, and then, cramming his axe between his teeth, vanished into the dark forest towards the river.

~~~

Kuveli yelped, kicking with his good leg as he was dragged along by the scalp. He thrashed with all the strength that hadn't been sapped by wounds and alcohol, but the shaman dismissed it with unusual strength for his frail build.

"Sohwl, take this child's strength in unlived seasons. Bring down the Moon Mother. Khd-mehns!" He howled, taking something from his belt and raising it towards the wicker man. Before Kuveli could get a good look at it, the two cultists took him by the arms again, tying a rawhide cord around his waist. Kuveli looked up to see that it led all the way to the head, and he knew exactly what his fate was to be.

With a nod the cultists separated, one putting a footpaw on Kuveli's chest and grabbing hold of the cord. He barked something in the strange tongue at the other cultist, who began to tug on the other end of the cord with grunts of exertion.

And slowly they began to rise. The cultist standing on Kuveli's chest began chanting quietly to himself, something about the moon, the sun, and fire. Kuveli was sick of it, if he got out of this alive, he'd quite happily crawl inside the lavvu for a week so he would not hear another, single cursed thing about the sun, the moon, and fire. If he got out of here. And as he rose higher and higher, the rawhide cord creaking under their weight, the distinct certainty of his imminent doom became overwhelming.

Then they reached the head, and the cultist stepped off of Kuveli and onto the giant wicker man's shoulder. He made a gesture, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing, before he opened the face of the wicker man. Kuveli hadn't noticed the strips of leather acting as hinges until the cultist had begun shoving the little fox into the head.

It was a cage, Kuveli had realised too late, not that there was much he could do about it either way. The cultist shut the wicker gate and fastened it shut with birch bark cording. Then he jumped back onto the rawhide cord and slid back to the ground, leaving Kuveli alone on his perch, the acrid stench of smoke beginning to fill his nostrils.

He looked off into the distance, hoping for more arrows to rain down, but as he saw Karruh and her minions sweeping the empty clearing, his heart sank.

And then they began to fall one-by-one. Kuveli saw in the flickering light the arrows that pierced their bodies. One-by-one, clutching the wound as their body convulsed, their eyes rolling back into their head as their spirit was lost to the night forest, to search for the next world.

Kuveli knew only one person so skilled with a bow. Even the horse archer Lentavohi who raised him couldn't compare to them. As the name came to his lips, he felt his spirits rise and a glimmer of hope deep in his guts.

Conor had come.

~~~

The hyena, axe in his jaws, slid into the water without fear. Now, the Hedker were in his world, the dark, and here, he reigned supreme. He lost his footing for a moment, managing to break his fall with his paws, before sliding into the river's icy embrace. He pushed away from the stones of the bank and let the current carry him, rapidly, past the wicker man. He could not feel the ground under the feet, but he swam, as quietly as he could, without splashes, towards the bank, the current trying to pull him away. His paws scraped over the stones and, after a moment of fighting against the wet pull, he hauled himself, dripping, up on the bank. Quietly, he crept up towards the encampment, his axe in his right paw, his muscles tense.

The first of the many Hedker was the painted dog he had missed earlier. He was nervous, giddy, walking around the camp, and Conor intercepted him behind a shelter, savagely tackling him to the ground and before he could utter a scream, crushing his skull with a heavy blow from the axe. Brain and blood dripped from the sharp flint as he rose up. He had seen three of the cultists, together with the shaman, worrying around the wicker man, which meant that there would be perhaps five or six here in the camp.

Quietly, he raised himself above the shelters, looking around. Another cultist had moved over to the circle of torches and was conversing, hurriedly, with another, pointing at the field where Karruh lay.

Silently, keeping to the shade of the shelter, Conor crept closer and then, with a savage war-cry, launched himself at the two.

The first one fell immediately under his axe, the second one raised a spear, which Conor managed to catch at the head with his paw, using his strength and determination to yank the jackal close to him, his axe catching the man in his neck, digging deep, blood spurting over the hyena. He yowled, and Conor managed to dislodge the spear from him, twisting it around and ramming it into his chest, a fountain of blood erupting and spewing over the hyena's wet fur.

Conor moved to the middle of the fireplace, looking around, and then heard a yell from the wicker man

"STOP HER!" he heard the voice of the shaman and then, suddenly, someone launched himself at Conor from one of the shelters. The hyena sidestepped the attack, bringing his axe around in a wide arc, digging it deep into the assailant's belly, ripping the fur open, blood cascading out, the cultist slumping up against the ground, yowling in pain.

The hyena stepped over to the fire, pulling an ember from it, and launching it at one of the shelters, the fire flaring up, and a yowl being heard from inside.

Meanwhile, at the wicker man, things were getting hectic. Two cultists had reached for their spears, and positioned themselves around the shaman, while the third had reached for his torch, holding it to the leg of the enormous statue, attempting to set it alight.

Conor heard a scrabble from another shelter, then something burst from it, attempting to flee towards the border of the forest, but the hyena had caught up quickly, sinking his axe into the nape of the man's neck, bringing him down.

He turned towards the wicker man, and then advanced, slowly, axe raised, body covered in blood, a taunting smirk on his face. He looked at the two cultists with spears and then yelled

"I have come for you, Hedker! I am Conor, last of the Ngahiji, and I have come for you!"

~~~

Kuveli shook at his wicker cage, smoke pouring through the floor now as the fire engulfed the wicker man's legs. He stuck his muzzle through the gaps and drank the clean air.

"Conor!" He yelped, voice trembling as he heard the wicker structure creak as the legs disintegrated. It was only a matter of time before it came crumbling down into the inferno below. In desperation Kuveli tried to gnaw and tear at the birch bark cord with his teeth, only able to take small chunks out of it. This wouldn't be fast enough, he had to find another way out!

"Hurry up, I can't breathe in here." He shouted again, watching as the hyena slew cultist after cultist, becoming smothered in their blood. He saw the hyena's smirk, the blood glistening in the moonlight. It reminded him of the brutality in which the cheetah had been slewn, yet... It did not evoke the same terror. He had seen Conor's bloodlust, not like that of cultists, he used his madness to help people, but destroying others deemed lesser.

It seemed wrong, but where Conor and these cultists were from, it seemed all too normal.

Kuveli punched the wicker walls, frustrated. He wasn't going anywhere fast. He needed a way out, right now, lest Conor was too late.

~~~

The hyena was ready as the two came, pre-empting their strike. He rushed at them, rolling down under the spear of the first and came up within his guard, striking him against the nose with his elbow, feeling cartilages crunch and pain spike down his arm, He then reached for the second attacker with his axe, which just glanced off his spear, chipping the hardwood. Conor shoved the first cultists backwards, and then moved in. the other cultist extended his paw, gripping the hyena's axe, grappling with him, and Conor stretched out his neck, opened his jaw, and then, viciously, closed it over the other man's muzzle, crushing it in his powerful hyena bite. He tasted blood, and it felt good.

He tossed the now gravely injured man aside, growls and scream arising from his ruined face, and then turned back to the first, gripping his spear and pulling him in for another blow of the axe, tugging the spear form his now dying grip as the axe split his skull open, blood and brains pouring out.

Conor reached for the spear, twisting it around, and then, with an enormous heave, tossed it at the last man, who had just set the wicker man alight, and pushed him back against the flames. He emitted an ear-splitting howl of agony and then, burning, collapsed on the ground. The flames were licking up the wicker man now, and Conor turned, eyes glittering, to the last man alive in the encampment. Growling, he pushed the shaman over, making him land on his back, and the golden jackal staring up at him with a mixture of fear and hatred.

"Hyena" he spat upwards, and Conor growled, reaching for the old man's tail, and, with one strike of his axe, he severed it at the root, blood spewing forth and the jackal yelling in pain.

"Remember, when you leave this place that the Ngahiji still stand guard against your treachery, monster!"

He reached for his tail, and then looped it around the jackal's neck and fastened it tightly, before turning to the wicker man.

The statue was burning, and Conor could hear Kuveli's cries from up above. He knew there was little time. The left side of the creature was almost completely alight but the right side was still only burning in places. Launching himself at it, he started to climb, the smoke biting in his eyes and nostrils, the fire making him feel uncomfortable. He was glad his fur was soaked and he was wearing his soggy leggings.

Climbing up higher, he finally reached the shoulder of the statue, ripping the birch-bark cord apart with his axe and opening the lattice door to the head, reaching inside, and pulling Kuveli out with one strong paw.

"Got you now!" He said.

~~~

Kuveli lay in the swirling, choking smoke. There was no other way out, no matter where he looked or how hard he tore at the bindings. He could feel the intense heat beneath him, licking at his fur, hungry like the wolf in winter.

And then a paw was extended to him through the smoke, sandy in colour with black spots, bony and covered in scars. It grabbed Kuveli by his toga and dragged him out of the smoke. The fresh air hit him like the trampling hooves of a horse. He coughed, eyes in searing pain from the smoke. He could barely see through blurry, swaying vision, yet he knew, without a doubt, who the sandy-coloured spotty blur was who flung the little fox onto his back. He knew by the smell of carrion and sweat, of blood and of his soul. He knew by the feeling of his short, coarse fur. He knew by the feeling of warm muscle and sinew twitching beneath the skin.

"Conor..." He wheezed, throat dry and stinging worse than a thousand bees. The little fox wrapped his arms and legs around the hyena, vaguely gesturing with one paw towards the rawhide cord that had brought him up here.

Then he felt the wicker man falter, their footing shuddering as the legs disintegrated to ash. It made his stomach drop as the great figure began to lean and buckle under its own weight.

~~~

There was no time. The smoke stung in Conor's nostrils and made his eyes tear as the wicker man tilted.

There was only one chance. The figure was constructed on the bank of the river, and Conor gripped Kuveli tightly, whispered a silent prayer to the mothers in the sky, and then took a great leap off the figure, soaring across the bank, and then impacting hard into the dark water.

Despite the fact that he was prepared, Kuveli was ripped from his paws and he struggled momentarily against the water pressing down on him, but with quick strokes, burst through the surface. His paws felt through the water, and finally, they found Kuveli, dragging him through the surface of the water, and into Conor's arms. The hyena struck for the shore, swimming, and finally dragging both their bodies out on the bank, breathing out, the excitement of the fight making Conor giddy, the waters of the river having washed the blood from his fur. He turned to Kuveli and smiled

"You all right, little one?"

~~~

"Y- Yeah" Kuveli nodded weakly, "I think I'm alright." The little fox sprawled out on the bank of the river, breathing a sigh of relief. The water had washed the soot from his eyes, its cold embrace sobering him up, at least a little.

Looking back towards the camp, Kuveli watched with Conor as the wicker man creaked and groaned, fire licking-up the neck and encasing the head. Wood bent and snapped, rent apart before the figure came crashing down, blown toward the camp by a firm wind. Work of the moon spirit, perhaps, to remove any evidence that mortal people had tried to upset the balance. Perhaps it was just a cruel coincidence.

Then they saw him, silhouetted in the fire just like when Kuveli had first seen him. Drenched in his own blood, quivering with rage, stood the sun shaman. In one paw he clutched a necklace tight, and in the other was his auroch mask. And that's when Kuveli noticed his face, his horrible face, burned down to the blackened muscles. The little fox felt nauseous seeing the bare, exposed muscles twitch with an incomparable rage.

The shaman, Hestr, despite it looking like he might jump across the entire river and rip their throats out, simply took a few steps back. Then he charged forward a couple of paces and launched the necklace across the river.

It landed in the mud and clay with a wet thuck. A necklace of amber and the little teeth of a child. Like the two necklaces Kuveli wore. Something in him screamed not to pick it up, but his fascination was too great.

Conor got up, and Kuveli followed as the hyena stepped towards the sun shaman, until he was standing with the water lapped at his feet. Kuveli had gripped around his scarred back, hugging against the hyena's scruffy fur, pressing his face against Conor. Without the hyena... he would be burnt to a cinder now. He used his body to support him, keeping weight off his broken ankle.

Conor growled, the sight of Hestr's face making even him swallow, but he opened his maw, and shouted across the river, his voice loud and clear and powerful. The voice of a Ngahiji.

"I have let you live, Shaman, for one simple reason, so you may go to your people, and tell them that this land, much like the plains and the sand sea, is haramu for the Hedker! You are driven from these lands."

The man roared, almost as if the word has hit him, and stared at Conor with a look of pure hatred, but said nothing, his muscles twitching.

"I... I loved her too" he said, the burning flames of the ruined wicker man illuminating the scene, then he dropped the auroch skull, and turned around, blood still dripping from the stump of his tail, and then leaving, into the dark forest, away from them.

The wicker man, and now the camp burned, the flames licking at the dark, night sky, and Conor turned to Kuveli, his eyes gentle again.

"We should get my things, and then get back to camp and your brother." He said quietly

"What..." Kuveli stared as the shaman wandered into the woods, a dumbfounded look on his face. "Was he talking about mother?" He muttered to himself as Conor got up and began to climb the bank of the river.

"Mother?" Conor turned his head to look at the little fox, "I thought you never met her." He said, extending a paw to help the little fox up, supporting his shoulder so he did not have to lean on his broken ankle.

"No, I didn't." Kuveli sighed, taking Conor's paw and leaning on the hyena for support. "But-"

"It sounds like he has." Conor interrupted, a penetrating look in his eyes. The hyena could sense it too, the emotion Hestr spoke with, passionate like how big brother spoke of him.

"Don't tell Sakara about this. I... He has enough to worry about with those eye people and hunting for us." Kuveli forced a chuckle as they reached the top of the bank and the edge of the forest. They stopped and turned to look at the camp one last time. The fire burned bright, the shelters of grass and turf simply turning to ash. "I wouldn't hear the end of it if he found out." Kuveli mumbled, enamoured by the beautiful flames, and the subtle stink of roasting meat. "All because he'd worry his little baby would get hurt. I wish he'd see that I'm not a baby any more."

Conor grunted, putting an arm around the little fox and pulling him close. His grip was firm, but not angry. The warmth of his body reminded Kuveli of the fire and, instinctively, he pulled away from the embrace.

"When I was your age it was tough, I wasn't loved by many people. That's how it was for a boy hyena. And Sakara went through so much to protect you, he's nearly lost you so many times. Please understand, when he talks down to you it's because he wants to protect you. Just like me." Conor's face softened into a smile. He didn't smile often, but when he did, it made Kuveli smile. The hyena always seemed like he was in pain, and those special moments when he seemed happy always felt so good. Then the hyena turned back to look at the fire, grimacing.

"I think you've seen enough for tonight. Let's go home."