THE ONE THING I HAVE 1.5

The nightmare woke him screaming. He felt the dampness where he lay and realized the worst. He rolled around in the dry earth, careful not to wake the other cubs. The dirt formed a kind of paste around his wet fur and then broke up in a light shower of dust, washing away his insecurities.

Soon it was dawn. The warriors woke them with their usual kicks and led them in procession to the ritual circle. In the center lay the body of the orc Kkelea had killed. The other two were arranged around it, along with fresh bones and corpses of various creatures. The four matriarchs knelt before the corpse. There was Kkrya the Toothless, a somewhat elderly but highly respected hyaenid. Fátrwa the Silent Death, the smallest in stature, but an expert assassin; no one could notice her presence unless she wanted them to. Zeppel the Beast, the strongest of them all. She wielded two maces, each of which weighed more than a male hyaenid. And Fizkwik the Scream. His mighty voice summoned a mysterious magic that could fill the hearts of all warriors with courage.

"The red dawn, stained with the blood of our enemies, shines upon us with joy," Kkrya proclaimed. "For it heralds the rise of our most promising cub," he looked at Kkelea, she bowed outside the circle, "and greater is the joy I feel in my soul to know that this promise is none other than my daughter, Kkelea. Come closer.

The males began to drum as Kkelea, still crouching, stepped timidly over the barrier of bones and inert bodies. She knelt before her victim and waited.

"Receive the mark of a true warrior, along with the freedom and responsibility that comes with it," the Toothless plunged a claw into the orc's throat and drew a line across her daughter's forehead with its blood. The other matriarchs did the same. The drums grew louder and faster until they suddenly stopped. Fleas heard his throat swallow spittle. "Now take the death you have given into your mouth. Find a habit in the taste of another's decay, for it represents nothing less than your own life and that of the tribe."

Kkelea looked at the body for a moment before proceeding. She dug her claws into the orc's chest, digging like a mole into the earth until she found the heart, then ripped it out. The blood looked black, lifeless, and it wasn't dripping, it seemed like a heavy, gelatinous mass. She lifted it. The drums thundered again, and there were euphoric howls that sounded like human laughter. She opened her jaws and tore a large mouthful from him. Blood dripped between her teeth and down her forearm. It took her two more bites to fully absorb the alien decay, as Kkrya had called it. Fleas saw her strangely, more savage than usual. It was as if the blood in her mouth had summoned a part of her that was instinctive, natural, bestial. It showed in her heaving breath, in the way she licked her reddened claws, in her pupils dilated with exaltation. At that moment, she looked so beautiful.....

"Let the feast begin," Fizkwik howled.

The hyaenids swarmed over the three orcs and other non-thinking animals that had been hunted. Among them were some small ones like mice, some elusive ones like birds, and even two meaty zebras. When the big ones were finally full, it was the cubs' turn. They tore every last bit of flesh from the bones. The bigger ones fought and growled over the juiciest scraps. Fleas grabbed a rather large bone and moved quickly away before they could take it from him. He snapped it open with his teeth and began to slurp down the marrow. It wasn't much, but he knew he had to be content, that he couldn't fight for more.

Kkelea came over and sat down beside him. She still had that tantalizing smell of blood mixed with fervor, but he could see in her eyes that she was back to her old sweet puppy self.

"Take it," she tossed him a piece of meat, "I thought you weren't getting any.

He ate it without analyzing it. He then realized what i was: a piece of the Orc's heart. He looked at her quizzically.

"As I ate it, I remembered that I couldn't have killed it without you. I kept that part in my bracelet when no one was watching."

He was ashamed. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but it tasted so good. He wanted to apologize for his impertinence, but he couldn't say a word. She was expecting something. She looked away, disappointed. She stood up.

"You must know you're going to have to earn your place sooner or later. Stand up for yourself whether you're male or not."

She walked away. Those words are easy to say from a foreign mouth, a mouth dripping with the blood of a fallen enemy. But his arms were weak, his legs were weak, his jaw was weak. How was he different from the fleas that inhabited him when both could be crushed effortlessly? Even the dullest sense of smell could tell that she smelled of blood and he of urine.