The dark sky was still tinged red by the time the lone lioness reached the copse of twisted, dried old trees. A dangerous place, perhaps, for one to come alone, but not for Mchawi who feared nothing. What had she to fear when she had so often been the cause of it?
Her paws led her across the scorched, dry earth; pads worn by the constant travelling since leaving those infernal lands behind. They thought they had seen the last of them…but they hadn’t. They’d be back someday and she’d make sure they suffered.
In any case, she had come here to this place for a reason. The trees held secrets. Many secrets. But they wouldn’t remain so for long. She could see them – even now – their eyes glinting like diamonds in the dark. She knew what waited and watched there, afraid but curious. She curled back a lip and snarled, turning that snarl into a roar that echoed off of those trees. A second later and the harsh caws of the ravens rippled through the twilight.
A smile crawled its way across her face.
Some took flight, others crashed about the canopies, their noisy wings bringing up such a clamour that she winced, her ears ringing. And then, as she had hoped, one lone raven broke free from those ghastly trees and landed a few paces from her, tipping its head from side to side. It was curious but certainly not afraid.
“Well, I was hoping to find you here.” Mchawi sneered. “What a waste of your wings, to stay in one place. Stupid bird.”
--
The raven gave an angry shriek and, without warning, leapt into the air, wheeling straight at Mchawi’s face. Talon’s tore at the air only centimetres from her muzzle before veering up to safety again. This raven certainly had some courage.
Or maybe it was just stupid, as the lioness had said.
It came to land again, in almost the exact same place it had taken off from, and wheeled to face the feline, feathers flustered, eyes angry.
“What are you doing back?” She demanded. “Where’s my brother?”
--
Mchawi’s teeth had clipped the air but had missed feather and bone. She supposed that, had she caught the raven, it would have been somewhat a disaster. She’d come here to specifically find this bird and to kill her before she’d even had a chance to talk would have been…
…a mistake.
Her claws dug into the parched earth at the other’s rude response. This was why she had preferred her brother. He had been all too willing to obey. This female was stubborn and proud.
“Dead.” She replied with no emotion in her voice. “He’s dead.”
--
For a moment the raven looked shocked, her green eyes widening. Her beak opened and closed soundlessly, wings loosing their tension so that they drooped like wilting flowers at her sides. Clearly she had not expected to hear that. Clearly it would not please her.
She shrieked in her loud, uncaring voice and fluffed up her feathers in anger.
“Dead? DEAD?! What do you mean, dead?! How? Did you do it? Did you kill him?!” She pointed an accusing wing-tip straight at Mchawi’s snout.
“Tell me!”
--
“Why would I kill a loyal servant, Moma?” Mchawi replied in a bored fashion. She would never let it show, but she had actually grown fond of her little slave. He had adored her as no one else had and she missed him and the advantages he had brought. To have a slave with wings and far-sight across land had been more useful than she could have ever imagined. And now – with it gone – she’d begun to appreciate how much the little dark-feathered bird had done.
“No. I did not kill him. He died at the claws of an enemy of mine.” She did not mention that she had been there at the time and that she had abandoned him to death.
“But he served his purpose. He did not die in vain.”
--
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Moma shrieked. “He died to save you and your pitiful life?” The raven shook her head fiercely, fluffing up her wings. “And that’s why you came all the way back to this colony? To tell me that? How thoughtful of you.” The sarcasm dripped from her words.
“Then go. Get out of here.” She turned her back, crossing her wings in front of her chest. An action that proved her fearlessness and…her stupidity. For only a fool would turn its back on a lion.
--
Mchawi, growling with frustration, leapt straight at the raven, pinning her to the floor, crushing the air from her lungs. She took a great pleasure from it, glaring down with her piercing eyes as the bird struggled frantically to free itself.
“I could tear off your wings, raven.” She growled. “Don’t turn your back on me.” She dug her claws into the feathers, taking delight at the snapping she heard in response. The raven, beneath her paws, cried out – in pain and fear – and went limp in her grasp, clearly accepting her fate.
“But, I will not. Not this day. Your brother was good to me. He loved me and I him. There are not many I trust in this world. Only one, in fact, now that Nondo is gone. My own brother, Msiba, is the last. However, I am willing to trust another.”
--
“Why?” Moma gasped, her heart thudding against the dry, hard earth pressed firmly against her. She tried to move her wings again but they were well and truly pinned beneath Mchawi’s weight. She hadn’t lost the use of them yet, but if Mchawi had damaged important feathers, it could be a long time before she flew again. The long stretch of waiting for them to grow back would be a terrible thing indeed.
“Why do you need another slave?” And even though she was in such a dangerous situation, she could not bite back the words that boiled forth.
“What do you plan to do next?”
--
“Your brother saw sense.” Mchawi scoffed. “Strange how, hatched from the same clutch, one could be so smart and the other…” She trailed off, knowing that Moma would understand what she was getting at.
“I have ambitions if not a plan, but something draws near. I have seen glimpses of it. And it shall be a grand thing indeed, raven. Will you so willingly turn away such an opportunity? Would you choose to stay here in this rotten place, festering with dull-witted members of your own race? Or, like your brother before you, will you choose a life in which you can achieve something?”
She blinked, smirking, finally stepping back to allow the raven up.
“The choice is yours alone.”
--
“Why come back here? Why me?” Moma demanded, coughing as she pulled herself up, hopping a good few paces away so that she could turn and regard the lioness without fear of being pinned again.
“I did not know you long but it was long enough for me to tell you have no love in that shrivelled heart of yours. You do not come with intent of healing my sorrow by distracting it with some grand adventure.”
She snapped her beak sharply together and paused to regard her tattered wings sombrely. As far as she could tell there was no permanent damage, but a couple of feathers had been broken or damaged beyond repair. She’d look rather scruffy for a while.
“If I stay here I could rise to become queen!” The raven insisted.
--
“And lead that bunch of scruffy fools cowering back there in the trees? And the ones long gone, their lungs strained from their fearful screams? You can do better than that, Moma.”
Mchawi backed off a few paces and let her wily, cunning face avert slightly, looking off towards the horizon.
“Your little brother lived with honour. Died in honour. You were angry because I chose him over you. Don’t pretend otherwise. I know the look of bitter resentment well and it showed clearly in your feathered little face that day. You wanted to be chosen but you were not. And now that I come, asking you to join our cause, you turn it away out of spite.” She curled a lip. “And, because of that, you will remain here in this place for the rest of your life. Wasting your wings. Scratching out your honour.”
--
“Don’t pretend to understand me!” The raven shrieked! “I have wings, as you say, and I could leave whenever I want. And I’d be better off alone than tied to some ground-dweller!” She shrieked, flapping her tatty wings with rage and thus reminding Mchawi why she had chosen the more agreeable Nondo over this little spit-fire.
He had been much more agreeable. Much more able to listen and take orders.
“That’s it. Just you walk away. Don’t come back!!”
--
Mchawi had turned to walk away, but she did look back, scowling over a shoulder at the angry little raven. “A ground-dweller who will rise to become a queen herself. To be bonded to a queen, raven, would make you a queen yourself. You’re status would rise above even lions.”
She growled. “Think about that, little bird.”
She paused, her green eyes narrowing in her gaunt face. “I will be in the area for three days. After that I will be gone.” And as she moved out across the parched, dusty earth, she could not help but allow that dark, malicious smile spread its way across her face.
Moma didn’t realise it yet, but Mchawi had already won this battle.
/fin.
