4. Missing Daughter

Jambir followed Kesho deeper into the forest, a growing fear in his heart. They hadn’t been able to talk these past few days, for Jambir had been sent on a thousand different missions. He repeatedly told himself that he’d manage, he just needed to be patient.

He focused on the positives: he had met Misha twice! She’d walk near the fences with her wicker basket, hoping to collect some food of her own. Each time Jambir noticed the basket was nearly empty, and yet Misha’s smile was no worse for it.

Now Jagu was finally deep in conversation with the Asha Tribe about “adult matters”, which allowed Jambir to escape duties.

“You really must sleep more,” Kesho said. “Bags underneath your eyes. You’re slow as a chicken. Or, well, chickens are quite fast actually …”

“As if I can help it!”

He’d instantly agreed to Kesho’s plan to teach him to hunt and fight. If he could survive in the wild, he could flee the Jagu Tribe anyway. But the further he strayed from the safety of the camp, the more his paws wanted to turn around.

Kesho’s presence was no help, for Jambir did not see him as a strong and impressive person anymore. In Kesho’s missing arm he saw the defects of the prince and princess, who could talk and talk, but never actually had to fight in their lives. Jambir would surprised if the prince even knew how to do so.

Yes, Kesho had a fighting spirit, but did he have the means to execute it?

“There,” Kesho whispered.

“Where? What?”

He turned Jambirs head toward a green and yellow tree behind them. “A bird. In the tree, left branch.”

“Oh! Yes! I see it.”

A paw shut Jambir’s mouth tight.

“Step one is to never betray your presence with loud yells.”

“Oh—hmm—so—hmm—rry.”

“Step two is to explore your surroundings. Find the bigger dangers. Other predators watching the bird, who wouldn’t mind adding you to their dinner as well.”

Jambir followed Kesho in a circle around the base of the tree. He felt gangly and silly. As if each footfall would notify the bird or cause him to stumble.

“Step three is to pick the best position for the attack. For when you attack, you only have a flash, a heartbeat, to kill the other creature with all your might. You’re too slow? You doubt? You’re wrong? That bird has flown.”

“Then why do we attack flying creatures?” Jambir complained. He remembered the Asha Tribe also containing some bird members and didn’t understand how they lived together.

“Not everybody is lucky enough to conquer a river and catch helpless fish from above. Who don’t fight back.”

Jambir looked sour. “Shouldn’t we give that bird a fair chance then? How would you like it if a huge bird came from above, out of nowhere, and suddenly ate you?”

“Yeah, really annoying. And that’s why you need to be the first and the fastest!”

Together they climbed to a low branch. Kesho as elegant as a monkey, Jambir with more luck than skill.

“Ready?”

Jambir nodded but said: “Of course not.”

“Now!”

They both jumped to the higher branch, followed by sounds of breaking branches and crackling dead leaves. Dust, mud, and ripped leaves stung in Jambir’s eyes. Was that the bird? Struggling and flapping their wings?

He closed his eyes and held on with all he had.

The branch disappeared from underneath him. He fell to the floor, though the impact was softened by a pile of leaves.

The bird pressed against his chest. But it still moved! Jambir panicked and threw the bird away, to which Kesho responded with a disappointed look.

Until he realized it was no bird at all.

It was a piece of wood with a drawing of a bird, realistic enough to fool Jambir. Blasted Asha Tribe with their creative inventions!

“Really?” Jambir said, irritated. “A fake bird? I’m too weak for a real animal?”

Kesho shrugged, a gesture that almost made him fall over. “It’s a game. That’s how you learn skills before you really need them. You wouldn’t throw somebody who has never touched water into a raging river, right?”

“I can think of many instances in which the jaguars did exactly that with a Gosti!”

“And how did that end?”

Jambir fell silent.

Kesho pushed the fake bird in his arms. “Congratulations, you caught your first bird. Next time, I place it on a higher branch.”

Next time. Slowly, both tribes realized they might be sharing this space for longer than they imagined. Some liked it, others still fought for a hole in the fence to walk through.

“Thank you,” Jambir said, looking away.

“Well, it’s not that hard to draw a bird and—”

“For being a good friend.” Jambir cried, fully turning away, as if afraid he’d be punished for showing emotion.

“For as long as I can remember, I do nothing but work all day. Collecting food for the thick fat king. Do what they ask, get punished, you have no choice. Only because they have food and you don’t.”

Kesho stepped closer, placing his only arm on Jambir’s shoulder. “And now I teach you to hunt and survive, so you can free yourself of those chains.”

“I’m hopeless! I’ll never have your dad’s muscles!” Kesho cringed. “Or, erm, yours. And how will I ever impress Misha?”

“Misha?”

“Maiden. I said maiden.”

“Practice is all. We’re only stronger because we move a lot and play a lot of games, as opposed to laying on the ground commanding others, like some fat king I once heard about …”

Jambir thought about this. “Not everything is practice.”

“Why?”

“You’re missing an arm. All practice in the world will not grow it back! And I … maybe we are a different species of Gosti. One that cannot become as strong. We have the same ancestor, but evolved in different ways.”

“So?”

“So maybe jaguar slave is the best I can achieve.”

Kesho’s face flashed red as he spoke with barely contained screams. “Nobody should be another creature’s slave, however … weak they may be. And that’s why, Jambir, we must execute our plan—and quickly.”

“You … truly consider attacking the Jagu Tribe?”

“I’ll mention it to father. I know how to convince my tribe. Stay alive a little longer. Will you manage?”

Jamber sighed and nodded.

They passed through the northern border. A jaguar and a deer from Asha spoke to each other and greeted them. Mixed groups sat scattered across camp, talking, trying to magically make fire appear, or sharing food. All children participated in the largest game of hide and seek ever played thus far. The prince and princess also wanted to join the games, but were yelled at by the other jaguars, who explained that they were a useless waste of their time.

Farshar pounded the earth as he fled Jagu’s hut, white-hot with rage.

He made a beeline for Kesho and pulled his son close.

“Where is Misha? We’re leaving. Now. We’ll break those fences ourselves.”

“Calm, calm,” Jagu said, struggling to keep up. “No rushed decisions. And must I remind you what we’ll do if you break our fences? Our property?”

“Misha? Misha?”

The entire Asha Tribe stirred. Murfa mentioned she left on her own to collect more food, like each day before, as their own food had run out. Even though it had been unsuccessful each time, for the entire area had been stripped bare.

Farshar’s wife—Helera—joined the family and screamed her daughter’s name in all directions.

“The hotheaded girl went hunting on her own, I’m sure,” father grumbled.

Helera comforted him. “No, no, she wouldn’t be that foolish.”

The Asha split into four groups, searching north, west, south, east. They cursed and yelled to start their search for Misha. Kesho wanted to join, but needed twenty attempts to grab his spear, delaying him too much.

Jambir’s heart nearly burst. He wanted to join too, but several jaguars already pushed him back in his place, which, this time, meant flying head first into the ice cold river.

Last he saw was Jagu who sneaked after Kesho and then blocked his path.