It was a not-so-successful hunt. It started well enough—they had the water-hogs in their sights, close to cornering them under the cover of night. But then, Nya sniffed the air, and everything changed. The unmistakable scent of rot hit her, and she muttered “Wawayu.”

There were few things a huntress was allowed to fear, and this was one of them. All they could hope for was that it was coming for the hogs, not them. Their only advantage over the wailing ones was they were far from furtive - they wept and cried as they passed, and always left a trail of rotten tar-like flesh in their wake.

That was enough for Myrrha to call off the pursuit. She half expected Satha to protest that but found the young huntress uncharacteristically quiet. She supposed that there were fears even the hubris of youth could not mask. That and they were not quite as close to their prey as they were on the night she had challenged her mother; Nya had sniffed out the trail just before their final approach when nyawao typically kicked in. It was perfect timing. Myrrha had worried that letting Nya back into the hunts while her mind was still bent on her son’s recovery would make her a weak link, but it seemed she was as sharp as ever. She was a huntress of her tribe after all.

Still, Myrrha could not come back empty-handed, she had an extra mouth to feed after all. And so, they climbed atop the trees and spent the night picking up monkeys. They ended up with a decent haul, but monkeys were second-fiddle prey, and the tribe knew that. There would be no feast for them today. They hoped that the other cadres would be more successful.

As they packed up their haul of monkeys, Myrrha couldn’t help but notice how they reminded her of their captive – the round ears, the eyes, pretty much everything except the face and fur – in that regard he more closely resembled their own. She couldn’t help but think he was a monkey version of a felix, which made her tail perk in amusement.

“Something funny?” Nya winced. The mood was somber after the Wawayu scare and the thankless hunt. It also didn’t help that, aside from Myrrha and Satha, the rest were mothers, for whom there was nothing amusing about an underwhelming hunt.

Myrrha cursed herself for being caught off guard. She had to be strong, always vigilant. That was the life she chose; she couldn’t afford weakness—not now, not ever. She knew she should have kept the tail in check, but the thing seemed to have a life of its own. There were stories about little felixes whose tails ran away in their sleep, never to be seen again. When she was little, Myrrha even used to sleep gripping her own so it wouldn’t slip away in the dark. The memory made it perk up again, much to her dismay.

Still, an alpha does not back down. “No point in mourning failure.” She answered, casually lowering her tail, making it seem like it was done on a whim instead of to appease. “We won’t starve, we have beaten death for another day. That is what matters.”

“Yeah, decent enough, I count thirty-one monkeys once we get back home!” Dinka purred from behind.

“Thirty, the creature is to be kept alive.” Myrrha corrected without looking back. She knew Dinka did not share Nya’s distaste for the captive, but a bad hunt put anyone in a bad mood.

“I did not say to kill it, only to maybe take an arm, or better yet: a leg – it would keep him from running away.” She insisted, only half joking.

Myrrha did not merit her with a response. Sometimes silence was best.

Nya’s silence, on the other hand, worried her, she had expected her to second the idea of ceasing one of the man’s legs, instead, she remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead. It could mean compliance or scheming, and knowing Nya she would put neither above her.

Myrrha missed her friend. The blade had cut a rift between them when it slashed Thrawn, and now, it was like they were barely on speaking terms. She wished to address this, but as an alpha, she did not apologize to subordinates, not even her second. No matter how much she wanted to.

“We are here.” She stated with a sigh as they neared the tribe.

As usual, the kittens flocked to them, pleading for stories, but she could tell the disappointment in their eyes once they saw the monkey carcasses stuffed in their nets.

Myrrha only had eyes for one youth, though. “Iara!” She called out, moving towards her. Iara was still a kitten, having not had her first heat cycle yet. Because of this, she couldn’t be a huntress, but she was all but grown, so she aided on guard duty from time to time, which is why Myrrha quietly delegated her with keeping watch over the creature in her stead. The payment was her attention, something many female kittens craved as they neared the age to join a cadre. Nobody wanted to get stuck as a tribe-mother.

“How is he?”

“Fine.” The girl said. “Kept trying to bark at me, I think he was begging or something, I don’t know. He refuses to eat though…”

“What? Still?”

“I brought him a bit of water hog that the others hunted, but he kept staring at it confused.”

Myrrha sighed, yet another problem to fix. “Did anybody give you any trouble?”

“No, Tara tried, but matriarch turned her away.”

Myrrha nodded, satisfied that it seemed she would at least know some peace. “Thank you, Lyra, I will take it from here.” She said tapping her on the shoulder before moving to the hut that served as the man’s cell.

Her ears perked as she approached, detecting the sound of rope stretching, likely stemming from the men’s feeble attempts to break free on his rare alone time. He stopped just before she entered.

The man stood, cowering against the wooden pole to which he was tied. She had tried telling him that she wouldn’t harm him for days now, but the message never really came across. Giving food to an enemy was the surest way to make a friend – or so claimed the mantra, but it did not seem to work with him. “I heard you are not eating. I don’t understand, you seemed to feed on the tribe mother’s gruel when you were asleep just fine, why not fresh prey?” She asked as she untied her hair “Anyway, I brought you this.” She tossed the dead monkey at his feet.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The man looked at it and then back at her, his face wrinkled in disgust.

Her tail twitched “It is for eating.” She demonstrated munching with her mouth “Even an animal would get that, why not you? I would understand if you just refused to eat your kind – some tribes feel that way – but the water hog seemed just as bad to you. Why?”

He barked something unintelligible. She did not know why she even bothered, or why the man even bothered, only that they both did.

“You can’t die, you know? Not until I have some answers.” She moved closer, her tail wagging impatiently. “If you don’t eat, I will just have to stuff it in your mouth. I know you’re hungry, I can hear your stomach growling from outside.”

He barked some more, pointing to the dead monkey and then himself before crossing his arms in denial.

She sighed, cracking her neck before moving forward, tearing off a bit of monkey flesh on her way to the man “I warned you.”

He tried moving away but the rope kept him close; Myrrha easily bodied him, gripping his arm behind his back and pinning him to the ground with a thud, indifferent to his inconsequential wriggling. “Now open your mouth!” She commanded but did not wait for a response, prying his mouth open and shoving a bit of furry meat inside, only for him to gurgle and puke it out.

He kept at it, and tears sprouted from his eyes as he wept and begged. Then, just as she was about to try again and force his mouth closed this time, she recognized a “No” between his sobs. It sounded more like another monkey imitating speech, but it was there.

She stopped, surprised. That was the first word he ever said, or rather the first in a language she could speak. This at least was something: communication, even if only in its simplest form. “You can speak then?”

He barked again, or rather whimpered - it was hard to tell, either way, it wasn’t an answer, and she should punish him for it. Except his cries gave her pause. Staring at him, coughing on his own puke in the ground, she found his helplessness brought her no joy. She should not feel this way, she knew. She was an alpha of her tribe, power in the flesh, a huntress, and a warrior. And yet, she could not bring herself to choke him out for answers, not like this.

And so, she clicked her tongue and lifted her knee from his back, allowing him to crawl away as far as his binds allowed. She stood, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself “Fine, humor me. Why ‘no’?”

The man gasped for air, quivering as he fumbled onto his two feet while spitting out whatever remnants of monkey were left in him, mostly fur. It took a while, but as soon as he recovered, something jolted in him, and he desperately tried to make himself understood. He pointed to the monkey and then to the fire outside, again and again as if his life depended on it.

“Fire? You want… fire?” Myrrha voiced, tilting her head.

“Fire,” he repeated after her with the same monkeyish accent as he pointed at it.

“Yes, that is fire, what do you want with it?”

He pointed to the monkey, picking it in his arms and extending it in the flame’s direction. It took a couple more tries, but Myrrha eventually grasped his intent “You want to throw food into the fire? I don’t understand.”

Yet he kept insisting, to the point she started growing impatient once more. “Fine! We can try but wait until people start going to sleep, and you better not waste food. And let me make myself clear: if you try to run away, I will catch you and feast on your legs. Are we understood?”

Somehow, it seemed like he did.

And so, she took a seat cross-legged before him, and as the night went on, slowly but surely, the tribe retreated to sleep, leaving the cracking bonfire all but deserted as the two approached.

“Well, here you are.” She threw the monkey carcass back at him once they were before the fire. “What now?” He had better not be wasting her time.

The man swallowed, then sheepishly made a distinct gripping notion with his hands, which Myrrha recognized immediately. He wanted his shiny knife.

Myrrha had been in possession of both shiny sticks since she took the man in. Now, he asked for them. She thought about it, pondering the risk, but reasoned that if she disarmed him once with little effort, she could do it again; besides, she would be lying if she said she was not at least curious of what was to come. And so, she unlatched the shiny knife from her waistband and threw it at him.

The monkey-man grabbed it and started pelting the monkey. This was a use she did not imagine for the shiny stick, her people typically used their claws, but as sharp as they were the result was seldom very clean, to the point most just opted to bite in and spit out the fur as they ate.

Even with the blade, the man did a subpar job pelting the monkey, nevertheless, he placed it next to the fire and she could smell the flesh slowly burning. “Hey, what did I say about- oh, it smells good.” She approached, leaning in for a sniff. “What are you even doing?”

He barked something.

She rolled her eyes “Do these yaps actually mean something? Or are they just sounds? Do I- do I sound the same to you?” She made a speaking motion with her hand while pointing to herself.

He stopped, processing what she was asking of him and weighing the risks before mimicking the same talking motion, pointing at her and spewing a “Miaow.”

“Miaow?” She repeated, tilting her head to the side, but as soon as the word escaped her lips, the man burst out laughing. Myrrha blinked “What? What is so funny? What does it mean? What did you make me say?”

But he just kept laughing, his fear dissipating in a tidal wave of humor.

Myrrha did not know what to think, much less react. She opened her mouth, wishing to yell, to chastise, even punish him for the perceived mockery, after all, she was a huntress of her tribe, power incarnate, not a subject of ridicule. And yet, instead, she felt her tail perking up and a faint purr humming in her throat. “So, this is how I sound? ‘Miaow’? Well, you don’t sound too good yourself, all you do is bark: ‘bark-bark-bark’.” She mimicked and he chuckled too.

She missed this, just laughing. She missed her friends before they became her subordinates. She missed just letting go like that from time to time. She wondered why she allowed herself to lapse around him, maybe it was because she did not perceive him as a threat, even though by all rights she should. Nevertheless, just for a moment, she allowed herself to slump her shoulders and chuckle. It was all in the name of communication, she justified.

Meanwhile, the fire crackled steadily until, finally, the man carefully lifted the cooked meat from the flames, setting it on the ground. She could now see the hunger where there was once disgust in his eyes. Myrrha had to admit it smelled nicer than the raw meat she tended to consume, although the reason for cooking still eluded her. Then again, all is well that ends well and it seemed he was about to eat.

But just as he was about to munch in, he stopped, stood, and nervously offered her a monkey leg, his arm shaking, but his eyes betraying hope.

Myrrha’s ears perked. “For me?”

He nodded.

She thought about it. She had watched the preparation from start to finish and hunted the monkey herself, so at least she knew there was no poisonous root or killer mushroom there. Nevertheless, she hesitated. Moments before, she had pinned him down, nearly suffocating him, and now, he offered her food. True, he could be simply trying to curry favor with her, but still, sharing food was nearly sacred – an offering of trust and peace. Refusal would be safer.

Yet, despite her hesitation, she took it from his hands, sniffed it, and bit in. It was different, softer, almost peeling off the bone - she barely had to chew. Ordinarily, they only ever boiled meat to make broth for the infirm, never to eat it like this. She supposed she preferred the taste of a fresh kill, but this was good too.

He did not wait much longer before feasting on the rest of the meat, soon enough, only bones remained, and both sat in surprisingly comfortable silence.

Then, he stood before her, took a deep breath as if stilling himself, and pointed at his chest. “Juan.”

To which she did the same “Myrrha. My name is Myrrha.” Her tail perked.