Chapter 37
"Humility"
I am a traitor
The pack collected around me again now that the immediate danger from friend and foe alike was gone. I glanced at each of them. The fact that they did not bolt at Sumar's explosive intrusion showed me they had experienced far worse. But it did not change the fact that there were still many dangerous creatures close by. Bears and cats and others that would not hesitate to blame them, destroy them, or take advantage of their weakness and confusion. It was how they managed to control the Mighty Hena this side of the valley thus far. There was no power without a pack. It had been so long since these Hena felt such connection that they did not know what to do with themselves.
I did not know what to do with them either. As an ally of the Forests, I should have let them die in the dragons' fire. They were not my true pack. They were likely obstacles, if not enemies of my comrades on the other side of the valley. I never paused to consider what I would do if I came across a rival pack. Very little about this assault was planned because very little was known. Such grand schemes were beyond me. So I stayed with what I knew or did not know in this particular case.
"What happened to the packs this side of the valley?" I boldly and broadly asked while glancing between the others.
The pack focused on me as if hearing the dying squeals of a Ring Tail hatchling. Most Mighty Hena were poor with words, so the use of them immediately elevated my rank. I would have preferred another speak out first exactly for this reason, but some Hena went their entire lives without speaking. I wanted information, not status. If I were to make it back to the grasslands in the midst of war, I would need more than the stars and a steady trot. This was enemy territory. These Hena knew my identity. Naphtali Doom Seer told them so. They could change their minds and turn on me. They had more than enough time to realize how old I was and how young they were. One of them moved closer.
Was it a challenge?
I did not know and yet I did not protect myself, just like the fire in the fortress, in the Great Cave with the Ring Bears, and in the grasslands with My Man and his rifle. One day, such trust would cost me.
Just not today.
The approaching Mighty Hena kept his head down. His tail was low, but not tucked. Both ears remained folded in a relaxed, purposefully submissive posture. He was the one with the marks on his head that were so long the tips extended below his eyes. It made for a striking expression when looked upon from the front. Such a glance easily intimidated the weak hearted. It was probably the reason he kept his eyes down and head slightly turned. He moved like Mahakah, thought like Sahrahsahe, and felt like Omega. All of which made me trust him. At once, the Spirit about me shifted from Alpha to Mother which eased the tension between us.
"They killed our Alphas and Primas and Betas," the brave Mighty Hena said.
He spoke of the council's rule. A unified pack posed a threat to the cat's tyrannical monarchy. Disposing of any opposition early on ensured the Mighty Hena's compliance.
"They made us fight first," he went on.
Which meant the Mighty Hena were the first to die. By their own brethren no less. The cat's probably relished in the irony.
"We are few. Scattered."
His loneliness and distrust and despair still carried a wounded edge. War took a great toll on all. The others probably shared his sentiments. The best way to gauge their Spirit and mindset and temperaments was with a howl. I was curious to see if they had ever done so. These Hena were stragglers. Survivors. Those that lost too much too quickly. Not one resisted answering my call. Many were surprised at the sound of their own voices, but howling together solidified their commitment to this rough little pack.
I could not leave them just yet. They were not ready. They were asking for guidance. I had no choice as Mother but to help them. The Spirit of the pack suffered greatly because of this war. It mattered not what side of the mountain I stood on. Packs would always fight against one another for food or territory or rank or mate, but none of that was possible if the pack itself did not exist. In this way, I could finally bring about a little bit of balance, even if I myself was already forsaken.
If the Spirit asked it of me, then I must help these lost Hena find themselves even if it meant reinforcing forces that could later threaten the authority of the Pack of the Forests, or grasslands, or riverlands. And the best way to do that was through the hunt. So, I called the others to attention, signaling those I felt most capable to the front. Using my tail, eyes, ears, and posture, I alerted them of our new mission. To find and hunt down the rest of the council, especially those too cowardly to square off against the dragons.
It was no easy feat.
We stumbled into more dragon battles, lost trails as soon as we picked them up, and encountered sporadic pairs or groups of enemies too strong for our growing teamwork. We learned to switch opponents with the dragons and summon them at our howl. They were much more fit for the task and became obsessed with the summons when they inevitably lost track of the enemy from the air or in the dark. Using our numbers, reputation, and endurance, we ensured our enemies' retreat by continuing to instill chaos within their camp. We herded them into dead ends and nipped at their heels, howling and yipping and making such a fuss everywhere we went that neither the dragons nor our opponents knew where we would strike next.
For many days and nights, we kept them on the tips of their paws to make them think the fight in the valley had fallen out of their favor and found its way up to them. These darkened creatures refused to remember that most of these Mighty Hena were once their own. They were bound by pride and selfishness and greed. Not purpose. They did not think to join forces and trust and collaborate and communicate to find the truth. That never realized we were just a bluff. Instead, they fell to instinct, that which they were most familiar with. Each according to their own species.
Their difference divided them. The bite of the Mighty Hena had no such distinction and it would not tolerate such false pretenses when it came to matters of the pack in any form or fashion. This council would become lost just like its fortress. It's history warned of such lessons, but without a Mother, I suppose they had no one to tell such stories. It was a pity. They might have survived if they listened to a few simple words from a lowly Hena.