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THE INITIATION112Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgDrJM28Cuc
Two moons shine on a place, neither wrong, nor right.
I walk conversant with the night.
The songbird’s love-call speaks to me.
In the jungle, I will run free.112Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs2UWmYloxC
Beyond my awareness, the Mandragora arose from their slumber in unvanquishable number. Like caged animals alert to any evidence of freedom, they paced in anticipation of the Hunt Master’s call.
A terrifying symmetry, forged by the Leopard Goddess, emerged from the darkness. Her foreboding, razor-sharp claws extended into the soil, freeing the denizens from their mental prisons, well, except for one. The sullen pout plastered on Koshka’s face accompanied her newfound rude tone.
“How dare Terradon Prime’s deity inspire Yamanecko with such fiery eyes and the cunning to lead the slaughter yet not grant me such a wonderful gift!”
Beneath us, sixteen ravenous mouths salivated in obedience to their rumbling stomachs.
“Feed us!”
Each blooming one of them demanded a preference.
“I want therbasaurus.”
“No, I want white domdom.”
“No, I want hockerel fish.”
“No, I want gundum bird.”
“No, I want...”
She imagined them becoming more respectful at the unvoiced taunt she considered: “Stalk for yourselves…” When reality settled into her head, she, believed they just might venture out, unattended.
Instead, she used her I’m-in-charge-voice, interrupting the bottomless brood. “Enough, you will eat whatever you are given, and you will savor the kill.”
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[Across the Village]
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Under the light of Waphoon and Sephoon, I stretched out my aching muscles. Koska’s tongue glided across my lips to welcome me to the nighttime drama about to uncloak.
Sandwiched between the two soft-coated denizens, carnal fondling led up to suckling. Delight sparkled from my frond-mates as their experience of nursing me cascaded into delightful emotions.
Dusk lifted me to my feet, exhilarated, and ready to prowl. “What the heck! What’s in their milk?”
More like the Madragora now, a sense of alien transformation set in. Until this moment, I never pulsated with such exuberance. The need to pursue, well, everything, took hold of me.
A shiver ran up my backbone at Koshka’s next words. Unexpected, the blood coursed through my veins.
“Now, we track.”
The sensation disturbed and thrilled me. My pace accelerated to match my escort’s.
Koshka did not break her stride at first. “Today’s quarry basks near the waterfalls to the east.”
Then, like a sentry, she positioned herself predator-to-novice. “These four-ton tentacled omnivores flourish on the golden-striped anglefins spawning in the Zenhandua River.”
With her crimson glare narrowed to a point, she instructed me like one of her cubs.
“Please understand, Mandagral, we prize our mākutu, the charm with which we are born for life-prowess.”
“What do you mean?”
“Inspired Mākutu governs our spirits and our relationships with all creatures, as well as the jungle. Boundless mākutu connects us with the deities. Transform your little piece of Terradon Prime into silence and make your forceful body invisible to our prey. Every short-lifed creature around you must find tranquility in your presence.”
Conformity being the better part of wisdom, I grasped for a suitable answer. “One house fly imitation coming up.”
After they moved away, my idiotic attempts at the Mandragora’s mākutu, all my strained yoga poses, and weird sounds frightened the birds.
Thankful for the alone time to coddle my irritable behavior, I invented a shortcut.
“No doubt, I’ll find a mākutu store in Leopardmura.”
What-happened-next faded my humor. Not a single breaking twig nor a rustled leaf sounded an alarm. If silence could slay, the fatal encounter would need not occur. Transparent as ghosts, the Mandragora encircled their basking target.
A chill electrified my spine and my skin crawled. Unaware, the ostentaculi dunked their walrus shaped heads, using their octopus-like beards to capture the sluggish top feeders.
Yamanecko’s gaze sharpened with lethal intent. Like a winged harbinger of doom, she plunged from the precipice and dug into the neck of the aged male. The Mandragora dove with her, thundering their growls to frighten the others into the deep water downstream.
The ostentaculus toppled, followed by its gigantic grasshopper-like frame into a limp pile. The once tranquil landscape now traumatized me as the butchers tore off steaks and ribs into portable hunks. Blood sprayed everywhere.
The Hunt Master, Yamanecko, leaped on top of a high boulder and surveyed the aftermath.
“Scatter the entrails for the angelfins.”
Rushed to speak, Shimii bubbled up her complaint. “Hey, I wish we might conceive mandagrals someday.” Maow’s voice raised to a high pitch. “Brothers!”
Still bouncing around like a cub, Maow slipped into her dream fantasy.
“Let them do the dirty work, while I go back to my studies at the Historian’s Archive.”
Though Shimii’s mouth opened only a little, her eyes widened all the way as she exhaled loud enough for the others to react.
“Do you like your boring job, Maow?”
In retort, crossed her arms. “Didn’t your mommeo’s teach you, knowledge magnifies mākutu? Plus, today I commence instructing the Mandagral!”
Undistracted by her friend’ argument, Katinas’ eyes moved off into the distance.
“My bros and I would romp and help me hone my huntmaster skills.”
In a forlorn voice, the realistic teen sighed.
“Our youth and cuteness will never sway any of our elders from assigning us these nauseating tasks.”
On the cliff top, my stomach convulsed with no sign of relief. Self-imposed shame reduced me to a pitiful wretch in this foreign world. Mortified, I squirreled behind a shrub, and fixated on the Mandragora.
Below, the teens clamped down and drug the foul-smelling guts backward, into the waves. Within minutes, the water churned into a boiling mass of fins. Calming myself took determination.
“Breathe! Shut your forest-green eyes and meditate.”
In a couple minutes, I reclaimed my composure from the effects of the blood bath.
“Now, how does a guy not let anyone catch him with his pants down if he does not own any?”
Like a flying squirrel, I plotted my trajectory, bounding along the sturdy petals to soften the fall. Each gentle collision delivered me safe to the bottom, where I began to heave a tentacle twice my weight skyward.
On the way up, I tried in vain not to look back. The waters ran red while the Mandragora bathed to prevent their bloodstains from matting and tangling.
Down the beach, Poonai, the scrawniest savage, chose to drag a two-hundred-pound flank roast. Every effort contorted her face.
“By the will of the Goddess, I will do this if the strain kills me!” The exertion of dragging the dismembered carcass drained the strongest of the Mandragora.
At the rear of the caravan, Poonai kept a wary eye on a countless pack of scavenging dograls searching for fresh hunting grounds.
The hypnotic effect of their four threatening pupils made them formidable predators. Like vultures, they circled, ready to seize the coveted meal from her. Each of their growing number poised to overrun her if she wearied.
Against all odds, she roared.
“Despite all those eyes, you cannot recognize another predator, mangy critters. Bloody wounds will adorn your final minutes if you close in on me.”
The dograls licked the tusk-colored hair around their mouths into the shape of fangs, like those of a much larger carnivore. Driven by famine, their skin clung tight, constricting their abdomens. Thick necks and arched backs braced them as they prepared to shake Poonai senseless.
Far ahead of Poonai, the cub’s drooling saliva welcomed me. The cooks, Kedi an Ikati glanced over their shoulders at me with disgrace in their eyes and crinkled whiskers. Pumping their double-lung accordion bellows, they heated the embers to the precise temperature. Disenchanted, they turned away from me with a humbled consciousness only second-class citizens understood. In a moment of clarity, however, their scorched coats and my unstained, immigrant fur pulled us together.
“Dear Mandagral, we share a kindred spirit, you and I, said Kedi. The thought of ending life churns our innards.”
My new friend’s endearing words distracted me.
“How charming, Kedi, I love the way you emphasize the word, ‘we’ by expounding, ‘you and I’ at the end.”
“This common manner of speech eased our boredom by annoying your predecessor’s sense of grammar. Ah, the wonder of teasing him until he stomped off brought us heartfelt laughter.”
The embarrassment perspiring from her downcast face spurred her to action.
“If I may make a suggestion, err on the side of appearance.” With an artist’s wrist, she brushed her fore paws across the blood-red flesh. Haphazard swipes dried into war paint down my biceps and across my back.
“Battle smears suits you. A crimson badge of prowess will infer ferocity upon you. Claim the second step along your journey to mākutu.”
“All right, stalking while unseen and unheard, a sanguine baptism... what’s next?”
“One of your predecessors dubbed this part, acquiring ‘the bloodlust’.”
“Such a dark title suggests hostility, Ikati.”
With a relaxed posture, she turned toward the waterfall.
“The two-thousand-year-old sage neared his natural death. The smoked jerky will sustain us for two cycles of the moons. Decades ago, we took over the culinary drudgery, which we meat-eaters once rotated.”
Disgruntled, Ikati lashed out.
“Though their hearts burst with joy because they never miss the pursuit, they still view us with condescension. What a tragic irony!”
Like a seer, Ikati revealed the current events at the Falls.
“The heavy vapor rinses the blood-red sand, while the calves backtrack to resume their feeding this cloudy night. Mesmerized, a few Mandragora still stand on the shore, open-mouthed, until the blood vanished.”
To level the playing field, Ikati tossed the twitching end of the suctioned feeders to the drooling offspring. My fallen angelic friend drifted her elegant tail into my grasp. With a sly smile she traced the path to her place in treetops.
Now hidden from public view, she pleaded with agonized tears. “Indulge my primitive urges, Mandagral. In so doing, you will allow me to reflect on the water’s surface with hope.”
The time the feast took to grill passed in rapture. Every aspect of her attractiveness rivaled the next: enchanted dark opal eyes, a Jamaican voice, and curves like a mountain trail.
“Intrepid Mandagral, If I stomached the hunt, they would crown me monarch.”
My wingless angel echoed our mating throughout the valley to counter her perceived shortcoming.
“Can the hunters compete with my intimate mākutu?”
With this subtle ruse, she shifted the leers of Leopardmura to herself. Thus, she captivated me.
Later, by the cooking fire, I raised my right paw. “I vow I’ll never forget your understanding.”
In a fit of self-consciousness, I sought out Kiisu.
While she groomed my tousled mane, the Innocent One, tried to comfort herself with my optimism, despite my shortcoming.
Out of nowhere, a spark of a recollection attempted to break through the barrier in my mind.
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