‘Aa!’

The hunt leader stopped his ekwus. He dismounted. We drew together; our kolis leaped out to snap and snarl at the curling twist. The jungle. The beast. The hunter. The kolis. Us.

The animals of our long, wide home were honest and brave. Animals a manus could kill or be killed by with dignity. The wolf. The bison. The elk. The wise brown honey-eater whose name I cannot say.

The monsters of this ever-raining land slither and slink in the shadows and they steal a manus’ breath. Press it right out of him.

The hunter’s aksii came to his hand; flashed bronze in two arcing blows. The natr slipped back; the hunter stepped forward. Into a loose coil.

It tightened. The hunter fell; the natr rose. It cradled his body in a tree and shouts and stones could not get him back.