Very early the inayofuata morning, I was woken rather abruptly kwa Scar as she tossed and turned under the blankets. For a moment, I alisema and did nothing, hoping it would cease on its own. It didn't. After a few minutes, I reached out and gently rubbed her head, hoping to calm her down. Instead, what happened was her eyes snapped open and her jaws clamped down on my hand almost hard enough to puncture the skin. Fortunately, it didn't, and once she had come to, she released my hand with an apologetic whine.
I took my newly liberated hand and scratched behind her ears. Her eyes closed and a smile stretched across her face as I scratched.
"Babe?" she alisema out of the blue.
"Mhm?" I replied.
"Wanna hear a story?"
This took me a bit kwa surprise. I suspected the offer had something to do with Candu's hivi karibuni demise.
"Sure, hon. I'd upendo to hear a story."
* * *
*Jasper, 2 years ago*
A lone red mbwa mwitu crouched at the edge of the clearing. Its eyes were locked onto a lone caribou grazing out in the middle of the field. It seemed entirely oblivious to its impending doom as the red-furred mbwa mwitu crept silently closer. Even when she stepped upon a branch and broke it, her quarry didn't respond. Then, with a flash of movement, the mbwa mwitu broke from hiding and sprinted towards the huge animal. But, instead of fleeing as would have been expected, the caribou, a large buck, turned towards the onslaught, lowering its antlers and charging.
The mbwa mwitu noticed this definitive change from the norm and did her best to change course, but to no avail. The buck caught her in the side with his antlers, scooping her up into the bowl formed kwa the points. She did her best to wrap, upangaji pamoja her paws around the antlers, but the caribou bucked and reared, throwing her down to the ground. She slumped to the ground, apparently defeated. Her eyes closed, resigned to her fate.
They snapped back open at the sound of another mbwa mwitu barking and snarling at the caribou, attempting to drive it away. With the added insistence of a hard bite to a foreleg, the animal relented and cantered away. The newcomer, a short, stocky gray fur, manyoya with light colored eyes, stood over her, checking to see if she was alright.
Seeing that she was not, he crouched down and pulled the red fur, manyoya onto his back for the trip back to her home, her den. The she mbwa mwitu passed out from the pain of the attack, and when she woke, she was nyumbani in her personal den, alone. From that siku on, whenever the two came together, there were tender smiles and kind looks and gestures exchanged.
* * *
*My home, present time*
The conclusion of the story left my eyes slightly glazed with tears. It was a surprising story, for I had never known that she had known Candu as zaidi than a hunting rival.
I hugged her, feeling the soft fur, manyoya on her belly and the slightly coarser fur, manyoya on her back. She put her paw on my chest and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. In them, I could see that she was going to be okay.
I took my newly liberated hand and scratched behind her ears. Her eyes closed and a smile stretched across her face as I scratched.
"Babe?" she alisema out of the blue.
"Mhm?" I replied.
"Wanna hear a story?"
This took me a bit kwa surprise. I suspected the offer had something to do with Candu's hivi karibuni demise.
"Sure, hon. I'd upendo to hear a story."
* * *
*Jasper, 2 years ago*
A lone red mbwa mwitu crouched at the edge of the clearing. Its eyes were locked onto a lone caribou grazing out in the middle of the field. It seemed entirely oblivious to its impending doom as the red-furred mbwa mwitu crept silently closer. Even when she stepped upon a branch and broke it, her quarry didn't respond. Then, with a flash of movement, the mbwa mwitu broke from hiding and sprinted towards the huge animal. But, instead of fleeing as would have been expected, the caribou, a large buck, turned towards the onslaught, lowering its antlers and charging.
The mbwa mwitu noticed this definitive change from the norm and did her best to change course, but to no avail. The buck caught her in the side with his antlers, scooping her up into the bowl formed kwa the points. She did her best to wrap, upangaji pamoja her paws around the antlers, but the caribou bucked and reared, throwing her down to the ground. She slumped to the ground, apparently defeated. Her eyes closed, resigned to her fate.
They snapped back open at the sound of another mbwa mwitu barking and snarling at the caribou, attempting to drive it away. With the added insistence of a hard bite to a foreleg, the animal relented and cantered away. The newcomer, a short, stocky gray fur, manyoya with light colored eyes, stood over her, checking to see if she was alright.
Seeing that she was not, he crouched down and pulled the red fur, manyoya onto his back for the trip back to her home, her den. The she mbwa mwitu passed out from the pain of the attack, and when she woke, she was nyumbani in her personal den, alone. From that siku on, whenever the two came together, there were tender smiles and kind looks and gestures exchanged.
* * *
*My home, present time*
The conclusion of the story left my eyes slightly glazed with tears. It was a surprising story, for I had never known that she had known Candu as zaidi than a hunting rival.
I hugged her, feeling the soft fur, manyoya on her belly and the slightly coarser fur, manyoya on her back. She put her paw on my chest and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. In them, I could see that she was going to be okay.
