Two Brothers Under the Sun

Chapter – XXI

Battle of the Honey Cliffs

Dirisha Delta, West Bukuvu

The mouth of the Dirisha, where the river ends as it meets the Great Waters. A great patch of wetland full of little courses and islands. With so many fords, the tigers had no shortage of routes to invade. If they do, the crocodiles will fight back, and war will engulf the delta. Staying still in a single place would accomplish nothing.

Well aware of that, Basi walked across the dry shores, close to the furthest stream. His attention on the orange forms his eyes picked out from within the cover across the opposite bank. Makuu was exposed on the centermost island of the delta, ready to take on anyone crazy enough to traverse the swampy terrain for the chance to take him out. Of course, the rest of his float was on stand-by, hidden amongst the deeper streams and the foliage the last torrents had carried from upstream to the marshlands. Was that Berdan's plan? Have his warriors leap their way using the driftwood and try to keep themselves as far away from the angry mouths of the crocodiles the best they could? It would have been a cunning maneuver, definitely something Basi wouldn't put past someone like Shere Khan or his kin.

Of course, if they attempted the crossing while the pods' guards guarded the shore, then it would be suicidal either way. No animal in his right mind would try something like that.

So, why were they still here?

Basi got his answer shortly after; when the calling of a plover broke the quietness across the river.

"They fell back?!" Makuu questioned, face baffled.

"Yes, my king." Confirmed the small bird. "The tigers are heading back for the Cold Lairs."

Basi galloped to the island at full speed, only slowing down once he was right next to Makuu.

One of the nearby crocs snorted at the news. "Guess we scared them off."

"No, I don't think so." The Viceroy frowned and his brows furrowed as he turned his gaze back towards the opposing shore. Something was definitely off. "Why would they go back just like that?" A bit frustrated, he slowly walked to the edge, absorbing all this news as he peered at the spots where he had last seen the tigers. Sure enough, there was nothing there now.

Until another sound was heard.

Hippos and crocs alike turned in another direction, facing away from the tigers' side. A cloud of plovers tasked with watching over the other areas was flying fast toward the river delta. All at once, Basi stopped in his thoughts, shaken by a sudden flash of intuition while a stricken look came to his face...

"The dholes!"

###

Middle Lands, North Bukuvu, currently contested territory

From the jungle to the west erupted a great number of grazers. All running at top speed, none paying any heed to the others.

Few events had brought such fear to the jungle as the coming of the red dogs. Even the fiercest and largest bulls fled before the unrelenting onslaught of the vicious dholes, whose hordes were beyond number and flowed like a red boundless river. They fell upon their prey without much care, taking more than they could eat. This was no hunting, it was conquest. So they came, like a devouring tide. The red dogs advanced on the hundreds, ready to kill everything in their path. The herds were no game, just obstacles in the way of the clan's whirlwind of doom. Bundo had disrespected the Jungle Law the moment he had led his warriors away from their territories. His clan could ravage a hunting ground so thoroughly that the grass itself would be scarred and he was about to unleash that force upon the rest of the jungle without remorse. In fact, the thrill of the sport brought a smile to his face. Kill the panther, conquer the hunting grounds, and force the pachyderms to accept the dholes' presence like the tigers.

They ran over a forested area of thick trees that grew close together and stretched away southwestward, gradually growing thinner and thinner to within two miles of the river's gorge. From the last tree to the low scrub by the drop-off was open country, where there was hardly cover enough to hide the dogs. Tarzan and Simba moved along the trees' crowns, judging distances between branch and branch, occasionally climbing up a trunk and taking a trial leap from one tree to another till they came to the open ground, which the pair studied very carefully for a moment. Then they turned, picked up dhole's trail, settled themselves in a tree with an outrunning branch some eight feet from the ground, and sat still, Tarzan examined his new wooden fang, occasionally running a nail across it to test its' sharp edge, while Simba looked on more and more restless.

Soon enough, the dholes would turn up. And the boys would wait until then, for they had a part to play in Bagheera's plan.

"So... there is really gonna be a battle?" The lion cub asked, more out of concern than actual doubt.

Tarzan put away his sharpened fang and glanced at his friend. "I'm afraid there is no choice, Simba." The boy then gazed off westward. "And if that's the case, we're gonna have to be ready."

"Tarzan, aren't you afraid?" Simba asked tentatively. "Those dogs are dangerous."

The naked ape looked at him for a moment, then down to the ground below. "I admit I am kinda scared too." Said the man-cub, even as his eyes gazed around the open fields once more. Stopping only when they spotted the waterfalls to the east. "But we have to do this for the others, we can't just let them down. The dholes will take over if they aren't defeated."

It was funny to think, but the Falls were now his home every bit as much as the Wakalu was.

"Besides, we can take them on. We are big enough to fight them."

Tarzan tried to be reassuring, but an uneasy feeling was steadily building in his nerves. This would not be simple and the outcome, be it success or failure, would not be pretty. But they must try. Or else, the Commune will sing its death song before nightfall.

A little before midday, when the sun was very warm, Simba was the first to catch the distinguishable smell of the dhole-pack and soon enough he and Tarzan heard the patter of feet as dogs trotted pitilessly into the glade. They sighted the dholes chasing a huge group of grazers in the ford's direction. Even from the treetops, it was hard to say how many there were. At least a hundred. Good enough numbers for a great herd. Good enough to overrun this part of the jungle before sundown. And they would do so if the boys couldn't lure them away.

Simba, swallowing down a gulp with some difficulty, turned to the man-cub. "How are we gonna get their attention?"

"Like this:"

'PAWOO'

Bundo looked around, and his companions halted behind him, scores and scores of red dogs. Fully two hundred must have gathered in the ground below, but the boys could see that the leaders sniffed hungrily on their spoor, and proceeded to drag the Pack forward. Despite the danger now heading for the two of them, both cubs were somewhat relieved. If that hadn't worked, the dholes would be at Baloo's dwellings before dusk.

"You smell that?" one of the subcommanders asked the clan leader.

"Yeah," Bundo smiled, feral and wicked. "It's party time."

Tarzan and Simba watched Bundo's sharp bay head bending up to find them in the branches and the man-cub didn't resist giving him a wave. "Good hunting!"

Although still hesitant, Simba joined him. "Who invited you?"

"We don't need an invitation, this is our territory!"

"Your territory?" Tarzan 'asked' with a smirk. "Sorry but you guys took the wrong turn, this is the land of the Commune."

"Not anymore, this has become our territory by right of conquest," was the reply, and the dhole that gave it bared his white teeth. "Now take us to the panther."

Tarzan looked down with a smirk and imitated perfectly the chitter-chatter of the Bandar-log monkeys, well aware that the dholes had little love for King Louie's subjects. "You know, Bagheera told us that a pack of foul-smelling curls was headed this way." The boy revealed seeing the dogs bristling at his mischief. "He said they were so stupid any cub in the jungle could outsmart them." He laid himself comfortably on the high branch. "No, I think we are gonna stay right here."

"We will see about that. Troops, catch those insolent brats on the double." The Pack closed up around the tree trunk and Bundo bayed savagely, calling Tarzan a hairless ape.

For an answer, the boy stretched down one naked leg and wriggled his bare toes just above the leader's head. "You want us, come and get us!"

That was enough, and more than enough, to wake the Pack to stupid rage. Simba caught his tail away as the leader leaped up for it, and, surprising even himself, continued to twiddle his limb several times to tease the canines.

"Hey, Bagheera was right!" In spite of the seriousness of their situation, the little lion found himself enjoying poking fun at the dogs too. It helped they couldn't do much since they weren't good climbers. "You guys are nothing but a bunch of brainless lizard-eaters with fur between the toes!"

"I don't care how long it takes, catch those two pests!" Bundo growled again.

"Come down here and we starve thee out!" yelled the Pack, and this was exactly what the duo wanted. Tarzan just laid himself down along the branch, his cheek to the bark, his right arm free. He had just found out he had many little thorns under his tongue, and slowly and deliberately he and Simba drove the dholes from silence to growls, from growls to yells, and from yells to hoarse slavery ravings. They tried to answer their taunts, but a cub might as well have tried to answer the Khan in a rage; and all the while Tarzan's fang lay crooked at his side, ready for action, his feet locked around the branch. The big bay leader had leaped many times in the air, but the boy dared not risk himself with a blow. "Don't fight them unless you have to," was the last piece of advice he got from Bagheera before they separated. That was all they needed. The Pack would not go forward to Hakuna Matata Falls now till they had killed the two cubs or vice-versa. The boys saw the dogs settle down in circles with a quiver of the haunches that meant they were going to stay, and so both of them climbed to a higher crotch and took off.

"We give up!" shouted the two younglings.

Tarzan and Simba moved, Bandar-log and leopard fashion respectively, into the next tree, and so on into the next and the next, the Clan following with lifted hungry heads. Now and then one would fall to a lower branch, and the Pack would tumble one over the other in their haste to be at the death.

"I sure hope this works," Simba murmured while he kept his breath steady while running.

It was a curious sight—the man-cub and the golden lion on a race through the upper branches, and the frightful horde of dogs with their red coats all aflame, huddling and following below. When they came to the last tree, the man-cub took some garlic and rubbed himself and his companion all over carefully, much to the pair's own disgust.

To them, wild garlic smelt like something Baloo had dropped off after feeding on stink bugs.

On their trail, the dholes yelled with scorn. "Ape with a monkey's tongue, dost thou think to cover thy scent?" they said. "We follow to the death."

"We know! It's just the garlic smells better than you do!"

The boy shoot down their threats but pleaded inwardly, hoping what the dogs were saying was true and, of all the creatures in the Bukuvu, the one who had come up with a way to defeat the dholes would be his mentor, the wisest panther in the whole jungle. The pair then slipped down the tree trunk and headed like the wind in bare feet for the Honey Cliffs before the dholes even realized what they would do. The canines gave one deep howl and settled down to the long, lobbing canter that can outlast anything that runs. Tarzan and Simba knew their pace from the times they played Kasaba Ball with Lala, or else they would never have risked a two-mile run in full sight. The dholes were sure that the cubs were theirs at last. All the trouble for the younglings was to keep the Dhole Clan sufficiently hot behind them to prevent their turning off too soon. The duo ran cleanly, evenly, and springily; Bundo not five yards behind the two of them; and the Pack tailing out over perhaps a quarter of a mile of ground, crazy and blind with the rage of slaughter.

"Come on you all! Faster! Faster!" the duo teased their pursuers.

"I myself will tear out thy stomach!" yelled the leader in response, bounding his way around the roots of the trees.

Tarzan, as surefooted as the jungle cats he trained with, was the first one to see the destination. Never ceasing his bounding over the hurdles on the jungle floor, the man-cub called out behind him and the lion. "Hey! We're gonna go for a swim! Why don't you join us, you guys look like you could use a bath!"

"We have them now!" Thinking the cubs merely intended to jump into the river to escape them, the furious dholes kept chasing the boys as if they were rabbits; or better yet, a little ape and furball for them to chew on.

Tarzan turned to Simba, the two of them ever closer to the cliff. "Come on, Simba. It's our only shot!"

The Little People had gone to sleep in the early twilight, for the season of late blossoming flowers was coming to an end as the rain clouds gathered close to the edge of the jungle; but the moment the boys' first foot-falls rang hollow on the ground they heard a sound as though all the earth were humming. Then they ran as they had never run in their lives before, spurned aside one—two—three of the piles of stones into the dark, sweet-smelling gullies; heard a roar like the roar of the waterfall in a cave and within it a familiar voice calling to them from below "To me!"; saw the air grow dark behind them; saw the current of the Waingunga far below, and a flat, triangle-shaped head in the water; at last, going beyond their natural strength, the two younglings bounded up seven or eight feet clear of the ground, Bundo snapping at their backs in mid-air, and dropped feet first to the safety of the river, breathless and triumphant. There was not a sting upon either of them, for the smell of the garlic had checked the Little People for just the few seconds that they were among them. As hoped.

The boys had often, with Baloo's help, robbed bees' nests in the trees, and so they learned that the Little People hated the smell of wild garlic. Tarzan thus gathered a small bundle of it and had it tied up with a vine string before he and Simba went back to following the trail to the middle lands.

When they rose up, Pua's back was steadying them and things were bounding over the edge of the cliff—great lumps, it seemed, of clustered bees falling like plummets; but before any lump touched the water the bees flew upward and the body of a dhole whirled down-stream. Overhead they could hear furious short yells that were drowned in a roar like breakers—the roar of the wings of the Little People of the Rocks. Some of the dholes, too, had fallen into the gullies that communicated with the underground caves, and there choked and fought and snapped among the tumbled honeycombs, and at last, borne up, even when they were dead, on the heaving waves of bees beneath them, shot out of some hole in the river-face, to roll over on the black rubbish-heaps. There were dholes who had leaped short into the trees on the cliffs, and the bees blotted out their shapes; but the greater number of them, maddened by the stings, had flung themselves into the river; and, unfortunately for them, the Waingunga was hungry water.

That was when Bundo realized his predicament: they were trapped with the bees at the top of the cliff.

"Troops, if you want to escape the bees, jump into the river!"

They jumped off the rock side to escape, knocking stones down onto the dormant bees, who roused up and attacked the dogs under the impression that the canines had come to attack their nests. The Little People wheeled and gathered then fell upon the wild dogs. Most of the clan couldn't withstand the bees' assault. Tarzan and Simba, arms gripped around the body of the old reptile, glided under the streams of the Waingunga, leaving the dholes to face the full fury of the Bee People.

"We may not stay here," Pua said, holding the boys fast till both had recovered their breath. "The Little People are roused indeed. Hold on!"

Swimming low and diving as often as he could, the crocodile and the two cubs went down the river, Tarzan never letting go of his 'fang'.

With his adrenaline faltering, Simba let out a gasped chortle while he looked over his shoulder. "So much for the big bad dogs."

"Slowly, slowly," said the crocodile to the two younglings. "One tooth does not kill a hundred unless it is a cobra's, and many of the dholes took to the water when they saw the Little People rise."

"The more work for us, then. Phai! How the Little People follow!" Tarzan sank again with Simba. The face of the water was blanketed with wild bees, buzzing sullenly and stinging all they found.

"Nothing was ever yet lost by silence," said Pua—no sting could penetrate his scales— "and we have the whole day for hunting. Hear them howl!"

Nearly half the pack had seen the trap their fellows rushed into, and turning sharp aside had flung themselves into the water where the gorge broke down into steep banks. Their cries of rage and their threats against the cubs who had brought them to their shame mixed with the yells and growls of those who had been punished by the Little People. To remain ashore was death, and every dhole knew it. Their pack was swept along the current, down to the deep eddies of the Waingunga, but even there the angry Little People followed and forced them to the water again. The trio could hear the voice of Bundo bidding his people to hold on and kill out everyone in the Commune. But Pua did not waste his time listening.

Fourteen days. Fourteen days it has been since that fateful day in the delta. Fourteen days of peace. Pua had exiled himself to the Upper stretches of the Waingunga River, ready to live out the rest of his existence in the lands of Baloo's Commune around Hakuna Matata Falls. Yet, things had been tense over the last few days, as the dholes brought stirrings throughout the north shore of the Dirisha. This, in turn, brought restlessness to the soul of the old croc. A warrior by nature, he felt at times as if he was bogged down, trapped in a life he had been sent into without closure. In his lonesome days, he continued to correspond with Bagheera and Basi from time to time. Even so, as the days passed, a feeling of longing started growing inside him; some desire to still have a purpose, to not waste away and die slowly without the satisfaction of accomplishing a great deed or giving his life in service of a noble cause.

As such, Pua was quick to volunteer his services to Bagheera when he heard the dogs had finally crossed the line back in that 'trial'.

Most of the clan was swept downstream. Even those who managed past the rocks, the first chance they'll have to reach dry land will be down at the ford, the same spot where Tarzan, Simba, and company climbed out of the river the first time they found themselves stumbling into the Honey Cliffs. Where their allies were stationed to strike out any stragglers they see.

Not too far away, on the shallow sandy banks of the Waingunga, the Commune's fighters waited for the most terrible foe they had ever faced. The currents would carry the enemy this way for sure and, though stung and weakened by the bees, the red dogs were still a formidable force. This was sure to be the biggest battle fought on this side of the Dirisha since the banishment of the tigers. Bagheera and Baloo peered around the beach for any signs of the invaders and of the two cubs, preferably not in that order.

"The jungle seems so tranquil, doesn't it Baloo?" contemplated the black leopard as the sound of the river current overtook their ears, no different from how it should be if this were a calm, ordinary day. The early cacophony had stopped but he knew the red dogs will be coming anytime soon, thus they awaited in alert to repel them.

"Can the boys really do it, Baggy?" Asked the worried ursine.

"Yes, I believe they can." Bagheera nodded his head. "I myself taught those two how to make their way through the canopy. They will lead the dholes here and then we can start phase two of my plan."

"Then I hope you are as good at making battle plans as you are at being a teacher, Baggy. Those dogs are vicious."

"I knew it, I knew this was going to happen," Timon complained as he came over. "Give them a place to stay and next thing you know, they want the whole jungle." The meerkat flinched at the distinct noise of the dholes' whistle. And so did the warthog.

"Oh, that sound gives me the heebiе-jeebies." Pumbaa shuddered as if had taken a dunk in a cold spring.

"Canines, that's one way to make me lose my appetite." Timon fared little better.

Yet, it was the next sound that made them freeze in place. Baloo and Bagheera too.

All across the rock face, one could hear the buzzing of thousands, millions of bees. When they swarm around the gorge, all of the jungle creatures steer clear of this area. That is, at least those who knew of them. These tiny bees were deadly. The force assembled on the sandbanks just had to look to the side to find what had been left of their last victims, who didn't know better. With the buzzing also came a signal:

The clan went after the boys. And the Little People came to welcome the clan.

The plan worked.

Now the true fight would begin.

Sokwe barked the order and everyone moved to their positions. They arrayed themselves in front of the King of the Mountain so he could head them off at the ravine as well as keep the invaders from passing through their defenses.

"Listen!" he shouted so all could hear him clearly. "The red dogs are coming this way! There will be lots of them so be ready." He looked at each animal in the vicinity of the river shore: the panther, the bear, the meerkat, the warthog, and the juvenile volunteers. "Those lawless canines will rip through here and hunt down any unfortunate creature in their path. Now we must stand together to stop them. It's better to die fighting than to die running away." He paused momentarily before continuing. "It will be a great battle, though many will not return." After solemnly tilting his head, he barked out loud: "What do you all have to say?"

"Let them come!

"We're not afraid of red dogs!"

"We accept the challenge!"

"If those pint-sized brutes want trouble, they can have it!"

"Can I go home?" *smack* "Ow!"

"Don't worry, Timon. You will be safe with Pumbaa."

Minus the meerkat, all those gathered cried approval aloud in one voice.

Bagheera didn't join them, his mind too concentrated on what might be happening upstream. He believed he had found the perfect strategy to even the odds against the dholes or, better yet, get the advantage over them. He had to thank the buzzing of the bees for their inspiration. The Little People, small as they were, have no fear when their hives have to be protected. They would surely be angered by small falling rocks... or dogs.

So the plan was born: have the yellow swarm from the Honey Cliffs fight the red swarm of the Dhole Clan.

Everything now depended on the Bee People. If they were angry enough, their stings would overtake the red dogs. Bagheera and the boys' other guardians silently appealed to the Great Circle that the bees wouldn't do the same for the pair that had lured (hopefully) the whole clan toward the river and away from the grasslands. The last thing Bagheera ever thought he would wish for was that his apprentices would be chased by a group of ferocious predators, be they dogs or insects. Still, he had to leave them back there and join the others here, where the gorge ends.

He chose to trust the boys with this. It HAD to work.

This was to be their greatest task as of yet.

Pumbaa gulped again at the sound of so many bees... then came a high-pitched war cry from within the pass.

Bagheera and the others who listened immediately snapped their heads to the gorge.

"I know that sound anywhere," Baloo whispered, a huge smile overtaking his face. The others recognized the man-cub's 'call' as well.

"It's the boys!" Timon pointed eagerly.

They saw the cubs turning around the next bend, floating on top of the old crocodile.

Tarzan waved at them as he and Simba came ashore. "Heck of a day for a swim, huh guys?"

The group shared a laugh before Pua spoke up to the leaders of the small army gathered in front of him.

"They come to the fight with eyes bigger than their stomachs," said the reptile. "The Little People will be going back to sleep shortly, they have chased us far. The fighting is up to us now." After exchanging nods with them, he addressed the boys. "Good hunting, Little Frog, Golden Lion, and remember the dhole bites low."

Pua then dived back into the river. He twitched a struggling dhole under water before the latter could open his mouth, and dark rings rose as the body plopped up, turning on its side. The dholes tried to turn, but the current prevented them, and the Little People darted at the heads and ears, and they could hear the challenge of the opposing force growing louder and deeper as the currents dragged them through the cliffs. Again Pua dived, and again a dhole went under and rose dead, and again the clamor broke out at the rear of the pack; some howling that it was best to go ashore, others calling on their leader to lead them back to Pinnacle Rock, and others bidding the crocodile to show himself and be killed.

"Dholes! Don't come any closer!" Bagheera cried out, his eyes falling on Bundo. "I will tell you only this once: remove your army from this land!"

Bundo, nostrils flaring, let out a mad roar. "Do you really think I am gonna turn away after all this?! I am not running off again, never!"

To that answer, Bagheera closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh.

"I see."

The dogs came nearer and nearer. They had been long in the water now and were swimming wearily, their coats drenched and heavy, their bushy tails dragging like sponges, tired and shaken but not enough to overwhelm their fury. A breeze came from behind the big cat, at the same moment that a bend in the river drove the dholes forward among the sands and shoals in front of the panther.

The wind too was on the Commune's side.

'BOOM'

A powerful explosion sounded off across the canyon, with a cloud billowing from the shore to the river, obfuscating the attacking dogs. Their cries of panic were heard from within the smelly cloud. Timon and Pumbaa emerged triumphantly to join Bagheera's side; the warthog snorting like a bull.

Timon, who was riding on top of his head, looking like a General, inhaled deeply. "I love the smell of Pumbaa in the morning."

"Charge!"

The defenders flung themselves at the shore, threshing and squattering through the shoal water, till the face of the Waingunga was all dark and torn, and the great ripples went from side to side, like bow waves from a giant piece of driftwood. Bagheera led the rush, slicing and biting as the dholes huddled back together and rushed up the river beach in one wave.

When the dholes meet the opposing force on the shore, it was like the crashing together of two gigantic waves. Then the long fight began, heaving and straining and splitting and scattering and narrowing and broadening along the red, wet sands, and over and between the tangled tree roots, and through and among the bushes, and in and out of the grass clumps; for even now the dholes were two to one. But they met warriors fighting for all that called these lands their home, and not only the big, strong, deep-chested, white-tusked gorillas of the Great Troop, but the anxious-eyed bucks —deer, antelopes, and zebras alike—fighting for their females and incoming offspring, with here and there a yearling tugging and grappling by their sides. Spacers, such as them, swoop their hoofs and crowns from above or swing their heads at the flank, while a dhole, by preference, bites at the belly; so while the red dogs were struggling out of the water and had to raise their heads, the odds were with their opponents. On dry land the dholes swarmed; but in the water or ashore, Baloo's claws and fangs came and went without ceasing. The Three had worried their way to his side. Pumbaa, crouched between the bear's knees, was protecting his stomach, while Bagheera and Sokwe guarded his back and either side or stood over him when the shock of a leaping, yelling dhole who had thrown himself full on his back bore him down. For the rest, it was one tangled confusion—a locked and swaying mob that moved from right to left and from left to right along the bank; and also ground round and round slowly on its own center. Here would be a heaving mound, like a water-blister in a whirlpool, which would break like a water-blister, and throw up four or five mangled dogs, each striving to get back to the center; here would be a single stag borne down by two or three dholes, laboriously dragging them forward, and sinking the while; here a yearling would be held up by the pressure round him, though he had been killed early, while his father, crazed with dumb rage, jolted over and over, waving, and passing on; and in the middle of the thickest press, perhaps, two opponents, forgetting everything else, would be maneuvering for the first hold till they were whirled away by a rush of furious fighters. The battle waged on with neither side giving quarter nor gaining the advantage. It was a Valley of Death in the shadow of the Honey Cliffs.

Tarzan and Simba observed from a tree fork and a wide branch respectively. The sounds of the battle, the screams of the dying, and the shouts of the wounded played out like a terrifying chorus for the two cubs who had never experienced a battle like this before, rendering them immobile. The entangled mess of monkeys and pythons in the Siege of Monkey City was too chaotic that the boys could barely get a clear picture of the fight.

Now, atop the trees behind the battle lines... they were watching from the best seats on the beach.

"So this is what war is like," Tarzan thought grimly as he watched the scene. Simba was utterly catatonic.

Then a distant wail startled the man-cub out of his trance.

Timon.

The terror in the meerkat's voice prompted Tarzan to shoot down from the branches like an eagle. He quickly outdistanced from the tree's side to find his friend. What he saw once he had finally spotted the mongoose sent a cold chill through his body, for an enemy had cornered him by the rocks.

The naked ape did not hesitate... he leaped upon the red dog, managing to put him on a full nelson. Thus beset, the dhole writhed and twisted before finally rolling himself on the ground with its attacker. Tarzan managed to escape the gaping jaws of the canine and they soon separated. Tarzan was now staring face-to-face with the snarling hound. His stance almost faltered until he remembered his last fighting lesson with Bagheera, "always be on your guard and be aware of what's going on around you." He frantically shook his head, that's what he wanted, he couldn't back down now! Figuring instinctively that there would be no better time than this, the man-cub let out his yell, not so intimidating for the enemy until he saw the wooden fang coming over the boy's shoulder, so he lunged forward to meet the hairless ape.

The man-cub stabbed his enemy, his breath heavy as sweat dripped down his face.

Nothing halted the man-cub's hand this time, unlike that strange power that prevented him from bringing down his fang upon the downed antelope. But it still felt as if something inside of him commanded that he warded off that dhole, thus allowing him to deliver the fatal thrust. He had never killed anything other than bugs. He had barely tested his fang against flesh. Yet, it was different from when he fought the buck. But why?

He glanced at his teacher, who currently had a dhole on either flank and his jaws closed over the loins of a third; and then he saw Sokwe, his teeth set in the throat of a dhole as he tugged two unwilling beasts forward so the yearlings could finish them off. Only one dared to join the dogs in the water; Pua the old croc leaped to action, waging his own private battle against the dholes, attacking from below while the warriors of the clan came from above to snap their teeth all over his plated body. But the bulk of the fight was a blind flurry and smother in the dark; hit, trip, and tumble, yelp, groan, and worry-worry-worry, round him and behind him and above him. As the sun wore on, the quick, giddy-go-round motion increased.

A dhole leaped towards the man-cub; but before his teeth had found the boy's flank, Pumbaa's tusks rammed him on the side, and a quagga stallion took what was left.

"Noogie, noogie, noogie!" Baloo had one arm wrapped around a dhole's neck and the other he rubbed harshly on the dog's head, far more uncomfortable than the noogies he subjected Tarzan and Simba to. Finally, he hammered the canine with a fist, tossed him aside, uprooted a small three with ease, and used to haul away a bunch of dogs with a single blow.

A sound came from the plains behind the battlefield. The wildebeest arrived in a single file, following along the well-trodden trails. Their leader, a huge and ungainly animal with a shaggy black mane led them forward. Their herd charged head-to-head; bigger than the others on the shore, it resembled a mighty dark wave coming upon the red dogs. They broke stride, fell back, and attacked again. They came in at full force, eyes and horns aimed straight for the dholes. Kicking up the soil beneath their feet as they heaved the hounds into the air. Ironic, since the chances of victory looked brighter now thanks to them.

"This is what I call a swinging party." Baloo snickered before he too charged against the dholes, the log still wrapped under his arm. "Ho-ooo!"

"Yeehaw!" Reinvigorated, Timon and Pumbaa did the same.

"There is plenty for the both of us, may the best ape win!" Sokwe sent a smile in the man-cub's direction as he raced to rejoin the fray. "Ugani Bundolo!"

Tarzan felt the rush to action overtake his body once again. Soon, he too vanished into the battle zone, chasing the grownups' trail of destruction. The dholes were cowed and afraid to attack at this point, but they did not yet dare to run away. Tarzan felt in his bones that the end was coming soon, and contented himself with striking the dogs' heads as they retreated back into the beach. The yearlings were growing bolder; there was time now and again to breathe and pass a word to a friend, and the mere flicker of the wooden fang would sometimes turn a dog aside.

The afternoon gave way to evening. Dhole after dhole was slinking away from the dark and bloody sands to the river, to the thick jungles, upstream or downstream as he saw the road clear. Little by little their cries died away.

The fate of the jungle had been decided: their clan had lost.

After one or so hours, Basi arrived and took stock of the losses, not an easy task since most of the surviving victors had collapsed around the river shore in exhaustion. They were all there, silent, husky, and dry, but still with eyes sharp as a man's fang. The sun was beginning to sink. Of all the Pack of two hundred fighting dholes, whose boast was that this would be their jungle and that no living thing could stand before them, not one would be returning to Pinnacle Rock to carry that word. Things around the western plains would soon be as quiet as they were before the Dry Season. Herman, the wildebeest leader, had sent a runner to deliver the news of victory to the mothers, the youngsters, and the calves of his herd whom he had sent to a safe place away from the battlefield for their protection. Since Baloo had saved Lara, his mate, from Bundo's clan, the gnu leader was more than glad to lend the defenders his horns and fighters for the great battle.

Bagheera, who had never called for such bloodshed, was bleeding from a score of flesh wounds. Fortunately, his bone had yet to be cracked and thus he kept wrinkling his bloodied nose as he searched near the river, claws bared and worn out.

But he wasn't looking for dholes.

"Pua! Where are you?!"

"I'm over here."

From under a mound of nine dead, rose Pua's head and forequarters, and Simba, who happened to be the closest to where he was, dropped beside the old croc. The mighty predator didn't move even as he allowed his eyes to wander around the battlefield.

"It was a magnificent battle." Pua paused on his words. He had been silent for a long time, only his jaws were closing and closing as his life ebbed. He caught the panther approaching at the corner of his eyes. "Bagheera, old friend." He gasped for a second, giving enough time for the big cat to get in front of him. "The jungle owns this victory to you."

"We all did our part, including you, Pua."

"Thank you, but all I did was what you told me."

"And because of that, we won."

Pua's body shuddered again.

"The bone is cracked!" Simba realized in worry. "Don't worry, Pua. You're gonna be alright. I know you are."

"We beat the dholes, that's what counts." He replied. Tarzan walked over to them, crouching down to the reptile's level.

"It was good hunting." Pua glanced at the new arrival. "And thou, Little Frog?"

"I'm fine, I killed many." The man-cub replied, his tone quiet. He and Bagheera exchanged a heavy look.

The crocodile then glanced at the lion cub. "Little Golden Lion, once I saved your life. Now with that trick with the bees, you've saved half the jungle." Aware that he would never hunt anymore, the elder leaned against the little lion. "H-help me up. Can thou raise me to my feet? I also was a beast of the jungle." The cat's paws ran along the side of a fallen dhole whose hindquarters were hiding the bulk of the great reptile. Simba hitched a breath when he felt the cracked bone beneath Pua's rough skin. Tarzan, meanwhile, took the terribly scarred head on his knees and put his arms around the torn neck. Their fellow warriors made a circle around them.

"My battle brothers, come closer," Pua called to them. His body steadily grew weaker and weaker whistle his strength withered. Very carefully and gently, Bagheera lifted the bodies aside to open some space while the cubs raised Pua to his feet, the man-cub had both arms around him, and the elder drew a long breath before he picked up his words: "Hear me, I'm leaving by the wish of the Great Circle and the jungle shall claim my body for its grass. As brief as my time with you may have been, my Battle Brothers, know that my spirit will always swim with you." His words gathered the strength his body needed so he could carry his speech, lifting and lifting, and ringing his voice far across the river, till it came to the last bellow: "Good hunting!"

Then the croc shuddered, his head dropped, his body shook itself clear of the manling, and he lay still.

Not a moment too soon, Tarzan and Simba sat down on the beach, careless of anything else. The man-cub with his head on his knees. They sat through it all till the cold wind passed through the ravine, and Bagheera's wet, red muzzle was dropped between the two of them, Tarzan drew back to show the gaunt body of Pua.

As well as the tears overflowing his eyes.

The teacher looked sad. "Try to understand, you two." He tried to keep his usual composure, despite how heavy his head was feeling too. "You've got to be brave like Pua was."

He said that, but Simba couldn't stop his paw from rubbing against the unmoving body of the crocodile. Nonetheless hoping for a response that would never come.

"Now, now. I know how you feel." Bagheera forced a smile, trying to give solace to both his students and himself. "Pua had a long, rich life and now he must rest. I know it's hard, but remember what I taught about the Great Circle, every life has an end. Even for those who we care about." Others approached them, Baloo, Timon, Pumbaa, Sokwe, Basi, and Herman among them. Not a single soul wasn't despondent at the croc's death. "This is the last and most important law of all, the jungle is eternal but those who live in it are not." He looked at each animal gathered around and sighed before continuing on. "But you must remember: "Greater love hath no one than he who lays down his life for his friend." He gazed upward, the darkened sky sending his own tears of grief. "When great deeds are remembered in this jungle, one name will stand above all others. Our friend, Pua the crocodile."

Pumbaa was openly crying and sobbing at the panther's words. "He's crackin' me up."

"The memory of Pua's sacrifice and bravery will forever be engraved on our saddened hearts." Bagheera put his right paw over his chest, swearing he would never forget his friend.

"Beautiful," Baloo said between his tears; nodding by his side, Basi and Sokwe had similar expressions.

"This spot where he fell will always be a hallowed place in the jungle, for there lies one of nature's noblest creatures." A shaft of sunlight illuminated Pua's body amidst the rainfall.

Timon, heart stuck in the throat, sniffed as well. "I wish my mother could have heard this."

His Ma did love requiems. And now, so did he.

"To die with honor in battle; there is no better end for a crocodile. A glorious end, worth of a good leader." The leopard's tears now leaked freely. "And a good friend."

"Courageous One, may you rest in Peace."

Pua died in silence, with a smile on his face and his body surrounded by friendly allies.

His hunt has ended.

There was no more to say.

So they all sang the Death Song of the Crocodile.