Ookami_kinrei_chan
Username: Ookami_kinrei_chan
Name of Pup:
I picked ‘Jibanza’, a Swahili name that translates to ‘To Hide Oneself’. I think this name may suit the pup, as her pelt is the colour of the earth. It would be easy for Jibanza to actually take advantage of her odd fur colour. She would be able, if threatened, to conceal herself quickly and efficiently among the rocks. She is also a very bright and cheerful young pup, but if something goes awry, she’ll usually be the first to run off, tail tucked between her legs. Jibanza also may (occasionally) use the nickname, ‘Ji’, or ‘Ban’, while she’s with other cubs or friends.
There is also a little twist at the end of the story about Jibanza’s pelt, and I think this could create a kind of sub-plot idea if the character of Jibanza is chosen.
Name Meaning: ‘To Hide Oneself’.
Prompt #: Two
Response:
Mother had told her to wait under the tree.
“Awww, Mum, do I have to?” Jibanza had groaned, rolling over on her back, “I’m playing a game of ‘Hide-and-go-Seek’ with Kiji right now!”
But the look in Chenza’s eye had been sterner than usual, and the words that had rolled off her tongue next made Jibanza aware that disobeying her was not an option.
“Ban, dear, please… it’s important.”
Jibanza, tilting her head to the side a little in confusion, was not familiar with her mother’s tone. It was much more solemn than usual, and it only had a slightly friendly undertone. Chenza’s eyes looked tired, too, and the little pup realised that now was not the time to protest.
“I need to go and talk with your brothers for a moment. Please, I’ll meet you over there,” Chenza gestured to an old, withering tree nearby, “Please stay put until I come back. Don’t do anything silly, Ban. I’ll be right with you.”
Nudging her mother’s nuzzle to show she understood, Jibanza made her way to the tree.
She wondered why her mother looked so pensive. She was usually very bright, and played a loving, motherly figure to the pups, yet tonight… she seemed so grave. Jibanza silently wondered what she wanted to discuss.
Soon, she would find out.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“One, two, three… one, two, three…”
Jibanza lay low in the grass. She had, while waiting for her mother, cornered a scorpion, and was now slithering through the grass on her belly, counting her every step in a low breath.
She had waited patiently for a while, but her puppy blood pounded inside her. It told her to play. It told her to tumble. It told her that she shouldn't, no, couldn’t sit still for any longer. Jibanza had been doing very well, indeed, but had finally budged. She had given into temptation… a scorpion had plodded up metres away from her nose, and it was just asking to be attacked. And so, she now slid towards it, pacing herself with every breath.
“One, two… almost there, three, four… just a little further…”
Truth be told, the young wild dog had never encountered a creature like the scorpion before. It was a peculiar animal… like a spider, it has eight legs protruding from it’s middle, but unlike the common African spiders Jibanza had often encountered, this ‘spider’ had a very long, curled tail and two very formidable looking pincers.
Did Jibanza really want to pursue such an odd animal? She tried to recollect the stories her mother, ‘Chenza’, often weaved in the nights... Chenza would often tell the children tales about the strange, African beasts that lurked about in the Savannah. Her brothers, ‘Neoni’, ‘Kiji’ and 'Kian', would often be intently listening to the stories, but Jibanza always found herself drifting to sleep under the spell of her mother’s words. Maybe Chenza had spoken about scorpions before, but Jabanzi had missed that lecture. Maybe she should leave the scorpion alone. Maybe she should seek advice from her family before she took on the scorpion, just in case she were to bite off more than she could chew.
Heck. Stop thinking so hard about it, Ban. Just kill it!
Tail wagging, and grinning from ear to ear, Jabanzi shook off the danger with a slight shrug. That scorpion was going down!
“Now,” she whispered elatedly, pressing her body as close to the earth as she possibly could in order to melt in with her surroundings, “It’s time I prove my worth. I’ll prove that I’m made of the same noble, daring flesh as those brothers of mine! I’ll make Mama proud of me… I’ll hunt!”
Her eyes glinted fearlessly, a newfound confidence swelling in her chest as she advanced towards the scorpion. It would move, it would expose it’s weakness soon, and when it did, Jibanza would be ready for it. Ready to swoop down and take it’s life, quickly and cleanly. The plan, to the young amateur hunter, was a concoction of pure brilliance!
She waited, breathing quietly, observant of the scorpion’s every move. The young wild dog would stay put, until the moment was right. She waited, patiently, biding her time. Waiting, waiting, waiting… the tension was gnawing at the youngster. If she blinked, the moment could escape her in a flash. An escape was the last thing Jibanza wanted, so she lay as still as a leaf, giving an occasional quiver as her muscles flexed.
Finally, the scorpion’s legs outstretched, scraping against the dirt. It then turned it’s back on her, and was still.
“A chance,” thought Jibanza, tensing as she carefully shuffled forward, “A chance!”
Now, she had seen the perfect opportunity. She had seen the scorpion crawling in the dirt, it's own back faced towards her, oblivious to any attack that may come from the behind. The creature would not know she was coming… she could pounce, concealed by the grass, onto the wretched animal and pin it down. Then, with a triumphant bark, Jibanza would grab it in her mouth and kill it.
The moment was right! It was time!
‘Go, go, go!’ Jibanza thought, her heart suddenly beating rapidly, almost leaping from her chest.
That’s when she leapt, sailing through the air, claws outstretched. She would’ve collided with the scorpion, had a large figure not stop her half way. It caught her in it’s jaws, mid-jump, and Jibanza fell to the earth below.
Thud!
Cringing, snarling slightly, Jibanza turned to face her attacker. She stopped, hesitated, when she saw who the mysterious figure was.
Silky smooth fur, tinted with a bold orange. Vibrant, blazing golden eyes. The adult wild dog’s frame was strong and confident, and her brightly-coloured fur stood out against the blackness of the night. The figure was a familiar one to the young pup.
“Mo…mother!”
Chenza leaned down, gripped Jibanza by the neck and carried her gently over towards the tree. Once there, she plodded the youngster down and looked her firmly in the eye.
“Ban…”
Jibanza could hear her mother’s voice riding the wind, barely a whisper. She strained to hear her mother, creeping forward a little.
”Yes, Mother?”
“Scorpions are dangerous, Ban. You could’ve been killed.”
”I could’ve been kil- … what?! No, it was alright. It had it's back to me. It couldn't see me, so I could've..."
"Scorpions sting with their tails, Ban. If you had touched it... who knows what could've happened! You could've been stung..."
"I was just hunting, Mother. I just wanted to make you prou -“
“Make me proud?! Haven’t I told you about scorpions in my stories, Jibanza? Did I not tell you to stay put?! Really… what did you think you were doing?”
Jibanza looked upwards, her eyes locking with Chenza’s. Their eye colour differed greatly, yet the two wild dogs both shared the same gaze. They both sat the same way, moved the same way, shifted glances the same way. If Jibanza was orange, maybe she’d look the spitting image of her mother, too.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” she whimpered, quivering a little. Her voice shook a little, and notes from her speech seemed to become lost in the wind, “I…I just… I wanted to play… and I wanted… I just wanted to…”
Chenza’s eyes softened. Leaning down, she licked Jibanza’s nose, silencing the pup with a warm embrace. Jibanza’s chin quivered dangerously, drawing some small, salty tears, but she felt much better having her mother nearby. Chenza’s warm breath beat against her cheeks, stopping her tears mid-flow. Her mother’s presence was enough to dry the rivers that ran down Jibanza’s cheeks.
“Now, Ban,” Chenza said, smiling sadly, “I don’t want any more tears. I need to talk to you about something. Something that’s very important. It might hurt to speak of it, but I feel that you’re old and mature enough to act responsibly. Do you mind if we talk of it?”
Jibanza rubbed her nose against her mother’s muzzle, then stood by herself, trying her best to muster all the strength she could.
“Of it..? Of what, Mother?”
“Ban… you’re unique. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do. Everyone is unique,” Jibanza stared quizzically at Chenza, not exactly sure what she was talking about, “Nobody in this world is the same as another, right? To think so, Mother… that’s just… silly! Isn’t it?”
Chenza sighed, smiling at her daughter with sad eyes.
”I know, Ban, I know. But you… you are really… really…” she paused, trying to find the right word, “…special.”
Jibanza lowered her gaze, staring at the earth below her. She shifted the earth, nervously, with her paws. Now she was starting to realise what her mother wanted to speak about.
“This is about my appearance, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Chenza nodded, “It is.”
The two wild dogs sat in silence for a moment. Neither one wished to speak out, in fear of saying something that would hurt the other. A breeze picked up, and the grass in the savannah that surrounded the two rustled, gently, in the wind. Both mother and daughter listened to the rustling of the grass, and calmed.
“Hear that?” Jibanza smiled, “It’s the grass, singing. I love it when the grass sings.”
Chenza nodded, breaking into a sad, yet beautiful, smile.
“I do, too. It really sets the mood, doesn’t it?”
“Did the grass sing like this when you met Father?”
Chenza almost choked. What was this girl of hers doing, bringing up her father all of a sudden?!
The pup smiled, sensing her mother’s shock.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ask about him. I won’t delve so deep into the past yet. But… mother, do I look like him?”
“Look like who…?”
“Father.”
Again, that dreaful wave silence swept over the two. But the silence didn’t last as long as it should have, and Chenza responded to Jibanza in a whisper.
“Yes, Ban. You’re the spitting image of him. He was the same, coloured like the earth, melting into his surroundings. Just as you do… it’s incredibly hard to see you when you play ‘Hide-and-go-Seek’, isn’t it? And those eyes, Jibanza, those wonderful, violet eyes,” Chenza laughed, though this kind of laugh almost tore Jibanza’s heart in two, “Whenever I look at you, I see your Father's eyes staring right back at me.”
“But I’m Jibanza, not Father.”
“That’s right. You’re Jibanza. I know that. I really, really do.”
Nothing more was said after that. A shooting star streaked through the sky, overhead. The pup stared at it, eyes widened, and after a while, Chenza got to her feet.
“Well, we can’t keep your brothers waiting, can we, Ban? Let’s head back, shall we?”
Jibanza nodded, grinning, then bounded forwards, trying to follow her brother’s scents. Chenza trotted alongside her, and they ran, mother and daughter, into the night.
‘At least I’m not the oddball I thought I was,’ Jibanza thought to herself, ‘I do belong.’
However, sleep would not come easy that night. The young pup couldn’t help wondering about her father. Who was he? Why had he left Chenza to raise the family all by herself? Didn’t he care about them?
Maybe one day, she’d have to risk hurting Chenza and ask, to find out these things. Jibanza dreaded that day.
Finally, Jibanza fell into an uneasy, fitful slumber.
’Father... there’s so much I don’t know about you…’
