It's hottest around midday, with the sun drifting lazily across the open blue sky. Light engulfs every inch of the deciduous woodlands from the mountain slopes and down into the valley below, but even in the shadows cast down by the trees, heat lingers. The canopy is full of song as hundreds of birds flock through its leaves, a few perching on branches every few feet while keeping a keen eye on the tigers passing through below. Since the fall of spring, after the month of the Phoenix overthrew the month of the Frog, she had brought with her plentiful riches of vegetation, fruits and beauty, and other wildlife that followed. But all good things must meet their end. The month of the Phoenix is nearing its end as the once beautiful and flourishing landscape shrivels and browns under the scorching heat of the sun. It has been weeks without rain, and the days continue to remain hot and dry.
The tigress slows after catching her children watching the birds, no longer following her lead. "Focus, all of you," she says. Dæv'yièl, the oldest, breaks first before his sister Ayn'jièlah, murmuring a quick apology as they both hurry back to her side.
"Don't let them distract you from our lesson. Let's keep moving." When the smallest of the group doesn't respond, the tigress makes a low rumble in her throat loud enough for the blue cub to hear. Startled but aware of her mother's presence again, the cub quickly rushes to her mother's side. She sighs, "Cry'stel, you need to stay with us and no more distractions. You can't allow yourself to be thrown off by the calls and movements of the birds overhead. Only listen to them if danger is coming, otherwise, keep one ear clear and shut out the rest."
"I'm sorry," Cry'stel responds quietly, her stance sinking low to the soil while her ears lay flat against her head. The tigress brushes her forehead against her cubs', nuzzling her cheek.
"It's alright, little one." She says, "Just stay close to me and all will be well. Come now."
"How much further, mama?" Ayn'jièlah asks.
"Not long now. We must find a place downwind from the herd that is close enough to rest until the heat passes, but not too close. We don't want to startle them too early."
Another hour passes before the group settles down at a chosen spot beneath the shade of large trees to wait out the heat. Even being close to the Northern waters of the Silver Sea, the mountains block the cold winds from seeping in. The tigress sinks into a shallow pit in the ground, dug out by her own paws to cool off while she rests. Without questioning her methods, both siblings mimic her actions, carving out a shallow pit for themselves to rest in. Cry'stel finds a spot close to their mother and attempts to dig into the hard dirt.
Ayn'jièlah kicks up parched soil too close to her brother, leaving a dust cloud to smother over his dark pelt, in his ears and nostrils. An unsettling growl compels Ayn'jièlah to stop digging and turn around to find her brother glaring. Dæv'yièl approaches fast and both siblings began circling one another, "Move your pit pest. You're not digging near me."
"No, you move. I started digging here before you did and I am not going to stop," she huffs and pushes past him and back to her pit, nearly knocking him over. Without thinking he lunches forward and nips at her tail.
Ayn'jièlah whips around clearly caught off guard. Slight panic erupts within her as she practically hisses out the word, ending in a growl, "Hey!"
Her ears fall back when he lunges again, growling right back, challenging her to make another move while making sure to show all of his sharp teeth, "Keep pushing me like that, and I'll do worse than just bite."
The tigress quickly intervenes with a hard tone to match an irritated face, "If you two are going to act harshly with one another, then you can stay right here and watch over your sister while I go hunt. Would you rather have that now?"
"No," they both mumble. Neither sibling makes eye contact with her as she towers over them like an angry god. She puffs out her chest, exposing long teeth that have long been used to tear and bite. Seeing her children's timid gesture, she swallows her annoyance. After a few profound breaths, the tigress continues, "Then I suggest you both stop fighting like cubs. If the two of you want to join me for this hunt, then you need to get along and cooperate. Else you will both starve out on your own, or worse. Understood?"
"Yes, mother." Both siblings respond simultaneously, although Dæv'yièl is harder on his words. One glance at his sister boils his blood, but just like his mother, he swallows those heated emotions best he can, for however long it takes to overcome them. Ayn'jièlah always seems to be mimicking her brother to no end, or even just the smallest of her actions trigger a wave of anger within him, and she notices it. Still, she continues doing it anyway despite her brother reacting more hostile than any of the previous times before.
"Now one of you go grab your sister, please. She's distracted by the birds again," The mother sighs after noticing the azure cub had wondered after a flock of small yellow and white birds. "They'll be a problem if we aren't careful," the tigress murmurs to herself. If a raptor sees her wandering far from her kin, it'll only take a second or two before she is carried off in its sharp talons.
Then, it's as if a standoff began between the two siblings with ether refusing to move until the other breaks off first. Their little pissing match had been driving the mother tigress mad especially around mealtime when she couldn't even leave the den without them erupting into a bloody fight. It's been like this for weeks now. Every morning the mother tigress leaves the cave den at the lower parts of the cliffs while her three children are still fast asleep to do her morning trails. And every few days in the evenings she'll leave again to hunt if her unyielding children would let her. The one solution she thought of when both cubs neared the age was to only take her eldest to accompany her on her hunts while the other was left to watch over her sister so that they'd both had time away from one another. Their fighting seemed to occur less often because of this until today when Ayn'jièlah practically begged her mother to take her out hunting too. She made them promise not to fight and they agreed. Now the tigress's patience is running thin.
"Oh, for the sake of the stars you two… Cry'stel?" Her mother calls again, this time a bit louder earning bright blue eyes to dart her way. Both siblings continue with their digging at a farther distance without further conflict, while the tigress deals with her youngest cub.
Cry'stel stutters a response as her eyes flicker from the birds above and back to her mother standing on the hill, "S-s-sorry." Finally breaking eye contact with the birds, she makes her way back to their resting spot. The tigress lays back down in her hole, watching the azure cub retreat to her partially dug pit. She slowly makes two paw strokes before the tigress calls out to her, "Come here, little one."
"Try to stay focused on following us, Cry'stel. No more distractions until we arrive at the hunting grounds, ok? Can you do that for me, my love? I promise I am not angry with you but do listen better. I know the birds are beautiful and I know you want to follow them, but I assure you after we eat you may have your little adventures."
Cry'stel nods, a small smile forming into a toothy grin, "Yes mama."
"Here, rest with me for now. I'll wake you when it's time to move again." Cry'stel stretches out beside the tigress and after a while, the other siblings settle without further conflict. However, the tigress is the last to drift off to sleep as the pace of her thoughts around her smallest child is slow to ease. Not wanting to leave Cry'stel alone back at the den, she had decided to bring her along considering her child's fast development and sprouting curiosity about the unseen world. Thanks to Sayda and her sister Yùrlynn, the azure cub would not have come this far. Even if she is still small, she can eat the prey the mother tigress brings home. Nonetheless, they still have time before the leaves wither and fall before they will have to make the journey back across the mountains to the Northlands. For now, a journey to the hunting grounds will be a test to see if she can manage the distance as well as learn as much as she can about the dance of the hunt. She hopes it will be enough time for her.
The tigress wakes her children before dusk to continue moving toward the hunting grounds. They pass over a low stream which has been the same stream the mother has crossed every day since their arrival. Since it hasn't rained for a while, the water has become shallow. The mother dips down into the flowing water and crosses first. Upon crossing, Cry'stel slips on the mossy rocks, but before the tigress can react something strange takes place between the water and her daughter just as she stands back up on all four paws. The cub bats at the water curiously as if to her the water is alive. She even let out a growling hiss when the water splashes her hindquarters making her whole body jump at the contact. Though the stream has a moment of fast currents before suddenly calming to a gentle pace. She tries to convince herself that it's nothing to worry over, but she could have sworn she had seen something unusual happen. Instead, she decides to let it go only to be grateful her daughter is alright. She steps into the stream to retrieve her overly stimulated cub who continues her attempt to attack the water.
She places Cry'stel down with a small chuckle, "Calm yourself, child, before you tire."
"But mama the water bit me!" Cry'stel whines but no such wounds exist on her tiny frame.
"The stream has no teeth and is far too shallow to do you any harm. The rocks though can be a bit much with all that moss, but I think you'll be alright. Now get up, I did not bring you along only to have you grow tired and wish for me to carry you the whole way."
Immediately Cry'stel jumps to her paws and runs ahead of her mother with eagerness to see the hunting grounds she was promised. "I'm not tired mama! I've got four strong legs!"
"Good. You'll need them." She smiles and begins walking ahead with her children following at a reasonable pace. Cry'stel and her oldest daughter fall back a few paw steps, continuing to walk together in harmony while whispering to one another. Dæv'yièl walks farther ahead, nearer alongside his mother. She leads them through a well-traveled path that she has taken for two in a half month without much worry. It may not be the exact path her mother had taken, but change is a part growth. It is how one survives out here, and how her kind adapts, how all life endures. A familiar scent crosses her nostrils that does little to make her nervous. The sister wolves had traversed over her trails earlier in the morning, but she knows well that they are harmless to her and her cubs. Such as she and her offspring are no threat to them.
Dæv'yièl bites back a growl, sounding the least bit happy about crossing the sister's scents, "Why do we have to share the hunting grounds with them? Isn't this our side of the valley?"
"There is no territory to claim here, son. We share the valley, and because it is the law of the North to remain kind to those who are helpless. We helped keep the sisters and their cubs alive so that your sister may live."
A ghost of a growl emits in her son's throat just low enough for only the mother to hear, "That cub is not my sister."
"Hold your tongue, Dæv'yièl," she snarls, "She may not be your sister in blood, but we are all she has. Survival in a land already made cruel is better fought together than end up lost and dying alone in the ice and snow. Do you ever wonder why the North is seen as the kingdom of ghosts?"
Dæv'yièl hesitates under his mother's stern glare without an answer.
"It is because that same law was broken many years before your grandmother was born. That same law that kept the peace between the tribes before the war from the Eastern Forests farther into the dark south tore its way into the Northern Kingdom, bringing along with it a disease of greedy nature. The tribes turned on one another after the King's blood had spilled onto the thinning lake, along with his Queen and heirs. With that truce broken my son, fear, disease, and greed plagued the North until the land was dying. Until the spirits of the fallen got so angry, they used that anger and pain to attack every single intruder that treaded through Northern soil without mercy and without kindness. In those days, son, not even the cold or starvation would be the issue that killed you, but the vengeful spirits seeking to turn the snow red. The war had dwindled, leaving the North in a place vacant of life, but what remained had learned to live on. What is remembered has been passed down to every generation because it was that law that kept the peace. It has kept all who remain in the Northlands alive. And to those who still ignore the old laws, you best keep your distance from them, for they are not as kind or forgiving as your mother. So, if you wish to keep your head and your tongue, I suggest you consider our laws more closely before you speak ill of your adopted sister or of anyone who is in need of saving."
The dark cub avoids his mother's eyes, continuing not to answer her. She only huffs and turns to her cubs who've fallen behind, "Let's keep moving."
Cry'stel and Ayn'jièlah share a glance at their mother before quickly catching up. The rest of the journey is spent mostly in silence as neither one of the older siblings speaks. Their mother, of course, is thankful for the silence as she can now concentrate on tracking her prey. She hasn't caught another scent of them that would help indicate how far away they are. She's had trouble tracking them before since the herd is constantly on the move and knows this valley just as well as she does. The prey she's hunting has migrated to the valley to give birth to their young, and come the season of the Black Bull, she will follow them back up to the Northlands just as her mother had done for years. So far, they have been keeping a well-hidden distance from the mother tigress. She wonders if the sisters have had any luck tracking them today. If they aren't grazing in the first meadow nearest her den site, they may be farther away in the other meadow where the river curves and bends. They could also be at the lake that faces the south border, but she knows the sisters have claimed a den site near there.
Unlike her siblings, Cry'stel is having a tough time staying focused and staying on her mother's tail. There is just so much movement and sound going on all around her, not to mention the variety of newer smells. Everything has become a distraction to the little blue cub. She just can't help but stray.
Ayn'jièlah takes notice of her sister falling behind again as her eyes lock onto a small sand-colored rodent scaling the treetops over to her right. Not wanting her to fall farther behind, she slows her pace and levels herself beside Cry'stel once again while their mother isn't looking.
"Are you excited?" Cry'stel flicks her attention at her sister, leaving her maw partially open in a toothy grin. Ayn'jièlah holds a toothy smile of her own and Cry'stel's eyes glance over to both her mother and brother silently walking ahead.
"Won't mother yell at us again for walking together?"
"That's not why she called to us. You are walking too slow again."
"Oh…"
Quickly Cry'stel begins to race up past her, but Ayn'jièlah bolts and paws at her flank causing her to slow down, "Wait," she says. "I need to tell you something."
Both siblings slow to a normal walk speed again, and Cry'stel keeps her eyes tense between her sister and her mother, "What is it?"
"You know how mama told us that we'd be watching the hunt from the tree line?"
"Yeah?"
She leans her head closer to her sister's ear, and murmurs under her breath, "What if we take part in the hunt instead?"
The azure cub gasps, causing her sister to paw swipe her, "Hush little Azu. Let us practice stalking and using our legs." Ayn'jièlah looks her sister up and down while humming. "You need to grow faster. You have little legs," she giggles.
Cry'stel snorts but ignores her sister's comment. Instead without a word, she pretends to be on the trail of something remarkably interesting. She sniffs deeply at the ground after halting abruptly. Ayn'jièlah stops too with confusion washing over her face and goes to investigate.
Ayn'jièlah sniffs profoundly at the ground but smells nothing unusual. "What are you doing?"
"Don't you smell it?"
Ayn'jièlah eyes her sister suspiciously, "Smell what?"
Without warning, Cry'stel bolts under Ayn'jièlah's legs and high tailing it through the trail.
"Hey! Come back here!" Ayn'jièlah roars unable to contain the laughter bellowing out as she chases after her. They bolt around the mother tigress and Dæv'yièl who both snarl at them. Quickly the pair fall back behind them, giggling softly to one another.
"Ok, little Azu, let's practice stalking for real this time."
"Right, stalking."
Eventually the mother tigress comes to a brief pause, as the scent in the air changes when the wind picks up. They are downwind from the herd, and her speculation proves true as they move closer to the meadow with the twisting river. The tigress remembers one of her mother's old tales of how the meadows in the valley were at one time covered thickly with broad-leafed trees. When those trees fell, light poured onto the forest floor, and grasses, wildflowers, and other fast-growing plants quickly sprouted leaving enough open space to welcome the herds of Grey Hides that came seeking refuge after the great fires. By now the scorched lands have recovered and even with the newly rich soil and flora, the herds still come to this valley.
The meadow itself, which at the beginning of the season had been filled with rich and lush grasses, now holds a dullness to its once green color as the summer sun had stripped away its vibrancy with each passing day deprived of rain. The sudden absence of wind leaves the area in a state of stillness as a herd of enormous deer spends their time grazing among the ground vegetation. This is the same deer species that travel between the Northlands and to the far east of the mountainsides. These beasts are named differently by each of the tribes that live in the North, from the Glaceran Stag to simply being identified by the color of their grey hides. They are one of few relics from a time when the North still flourished with life and with grace.
Not only are these beautiful creatures massive in size but graceful in their movements. Bulls hold crowns at times even longer than the length of their bodies and for good reason. Predators would think twice about attacking something so massive with a set of equally large and dangerously sharp antlers. Luckily cows don't possess such weapons, and in this herd, there is only the lead bull, and a few spikes, leaving the rest to be cows and their calves. As the mother tigress exchanges the plan to her oldest, she leaves her two youngest cubs on the tree lines to watch the hunt.
A set of brilliant yellow eyes belonging to the young male cub strike through the woody shrubs of a cluster of bell-shaped flowers that keep him well hidden within its thick leaves and branches. Its beautiful and vibrant scarlet flowers are still flowering, and its strong sweet scent helps aid the tiger in concealing his scent from the lead bull. Dæv'yièl scours the herd at a distance to the west for a suitable target. His body arches low to the forest floor, leaving his claws to sink in and out of the earth as a method to keep himself grounded and calm. He's wavering over the right moment to bolt as his mother's warning from earlier leaves him feeling nervous. She had warned him to stay clear of the lead bull and if he were to charge straight for the male cub, then he is to run in the opposite direction until the bull stops chasing him. If it became too dangerous, she told him to abandon the hunt because it is better to be smart than to be foolish.
"It's suicide to attempt killing the lead bull. Our claws and teeth are no match for his crown. Aim for a spike or a weakling cow but leave any of the new calves alone. A calf won't feed all of us today."
As brave and determined as he was before to participate in the hunt with his mother, Dæv'yièl can feel his heart racing faster and faster each time he gets ready to bolt out into the grasses, but each time hesitation prevents him from doing so. The young tiger is nervous and for once he wishes for his twin sister to be at his side as annoying as she can be. She had always acted without thinking about the situation first which Dæv'yièl thought was irresponsible. But if she were here with him now, she would have already bolted, and he would have chased after her angrily. At least in that thought he would have been running. His legs feel stiff, an immovable stone that is impossible to bend lose from the soil. He needs to abandon this weight that holds him down and start the hunt so that his mother can strike. He is the starting piece of the dance between life and death, so why can't he bring himself to move?