The young male dropped into a crouch, his tail sweeping against the grass behind him as he waited. He was barely out of cub hood, but thin as a rake and dotted with cruel marks that would one day become scars. There was a wild, feral look about him, as if he might go berserk at any given moment. His body was tense, his whiskers splayed and for a brief moment he froze; inhaling deeply.
Where was she?
He took a small step forwards, aware of his master's eyes on him. The huge lion was a dark shape against the twilight sky, his eyes slithers of green. Tu-Bana did not like the scrutiny that was in that look. It held only malice and disappointment. The adult was not expecting much from his apprentice that day. Well, then, Tu-Bana would just have to prove him wrong. Perhaps that would bring surprise to the stoic lion's face. He had spirit, if nothing else, and that had served him well so far.
Thankfully, Wakala chose that moment to strike and in seconds the body of the jackal launched straight at him. He rose up to meet her and they went tumbling down in a flail of angry limbs. His teeth found her neck and gripped down hard; his reward: her blood. It ran hot in his mouth and urged him on, evven as he felt a gash open up in his stomach. They fought for dominance, biting and clawing for all they were worth and then he saw an opening. The juvenile launched on it within moments, ramming his head straight against her armpit. She went down and he followed her falling motion and pinned her to the ground, pressing his paws against her.
Panting, he saw the acceptance in her eyes and, with a warning growl, released her. She had been given orders to not hold back - to kill him if he failed - but he was not to hurt her so badly that she couldn't do her job. She did not have to fear a fatal wound from him.
"Again!" His master barked.
"But, Master, I--" He had turned and dared a look at him and the jackal was at there again, knocking them both to the ground. He'd made a mistake and turned his back on her...he would be punished for that, later. This time they played the evasive game, running circles around one another, waiting for their opponent to lose patience or slow down. Tu-Bana was almost caught that time and she tore out a section of his ear with her teeth, snarling like a mad thing. Shaking, bloody and exhausted, Tu-Bana managed to win again, perhaps by sheer luck alone, his jaws around the scruff of her neck. She wriggled in an attempt to get free but he applied a little more pressure and she went limp; accepting of her fate.
He dropped her with a little more care than one might expect and turned, once more, to hear the lion's words: desperate for some sign that he was pleased.
"Leave us, Wakala." The lion spoke and the jackal obediently took her leave, scrambling wearily back to the safety of the den that she shared with Tu-Bana. An act which meant he could never slip into a deep sleep: always having to be on the alert in case she attacked him when he was vulnerable.
"Now you will fight me and prove how far you have come."
Tu-Bana spat blood onto the ground and raised himself up. He was still small compared to his master; skinny and half-mad. There was no way he would win a duel against him. He would one day become strong but he knew that his strength would always pale compared to his teacher's. So what did his master have to achieve by this? Was he thinking that he would kill him now? Had his wins not proved he was getting better?
But if he expected Hala to hold back he was about to be surprised. The lion launched at him, smashing him in the side with a huge paw. The act sent him flying and the lion was there again, knocking him back the other way. Tu-Bana did not stand a chance, though he did (on a number of occassions) attempt to make a comeback. Each attempt only had limited success and his victory was always short-lived. And then, when he was just about ready to cry for death, the lion stepped back and glowered down at him. Tu-Bana did not expect any praise for that poor show and he did not get it. His legs trembled as he tried to remain upright.
"You have a lot to learn, apprentice."
And then he was gone and the juvenile collapsed onto his side, trying to let the pain wash over him; wishing for the comfort of unconsciousness. He must have been worse off than he had feared because, a moment later and he felt something nudge against his shoulder. Wakala had returned and he had not even heard her coming. He smiled sadly up at her and asked: "Are you here to kill me?"
"No, Master. Quiet yourself now. I'm here."
And she began to clean his wounds even though she had wounds of her own to tend to. Theirs was a strange relationship and though he knew that she had orders to kill him (and would if given the chance) he considered her a friend. She listened to him and she knew what he went through on a daily basis. It made life easier, knowing that there was someone there by his side who understood.
She was not happy, either.
"Do you think he will ever be proud?" He asked softly.
"I do not know, Master. I do not understand him at all. He pushes you hard but perhaps because he knows you have the potential. The harder he pushes you the better you become. In his own way, perhaps this is his way of showing his pride."
He said nothing more to that, wondering whether she was right and that perhaps the lion was proud of him. If only he would just say the words. It wouldn't be so hard, would it? To say that he was coming on well in his training. That soon he'd be old enough to stand strong and alone against their foes.
And maybe on that day he'd see the pride in his master's eyes.
/fin
