| S H E N Z I
the hyena’s belly is never full |
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It had been instinct that had driven her into isolation to begin with, for she was raw from her loss and raging, and more than even the air she breathed or the sustenance she consumed, she needed to be alone. Shenzi became a living shadow, appearing in the heart of the Dunes, and disappearing just as quickly, swallowed by the sands of the ever-changing landscape, and walking paths in the maze-like valleys of the great golden dunes, determined not to be found. As the days passed, however, what started as instinct devolved into something far more. No longer did she flee from the sovereign of these sands when he appeared (and so too, those he watched over and welcomed, when they stood as silhouettes in the distance) out of self-preservation. On the contrary, this waiting and watching and retreating became something that Shenzi could hold to. She had nothing and no-one to pull her from her grief, bar the persistent bay Teke. And it was his frequent appearances that distracted the hardy brown mare from her self-loathing and the worry that gnawed upon her healing heart. The last time she had seen Collision, he’d gone off to fight a war that he had not started, and truthfully, Shenzi feared that he’d been killed. The kindness and loyalty he’d given her, without asking anything in return, her faith in him did not waver. Surely, if he still lived, he’d have come for her? In some ways, the uncertainty of his fate was harder for her to bear than the loss of her second child. There was proof in bones that her stillborn had joined his brother in the long sleep that awaited all, and the burning anger Shenzi felt for herself blunted the anguish, softened its edges. (It was her fault. She should not have bowed to the whims of the majestic stallion who’d exiled her here. Never again would she allow herself to yield in such a manner, not to any man or beast.) As of late, she had not glimpsed the swift and slim ruler of these lands, and was beginning to wonder if he’d given up in his search of her. The Dunes were treacherous and unkind, and a lesser being would have perished by now. But Shenzi was fierce and there was fire in her that burned as hot as the sands ‘neath the midday sun. Different from the inhabitants of this land she may be in form, built for power over speed, lacking grace in her gait, she more than made up for that. Galloped like the fleetest of coursers. And she survived. Granted, she’d grazed on any meagre pickings of scrub that she came across, and more than once she had crept to the main oasis when it was unattended, to slake her thirst, before returning to the sands. It was there, near the edge of the waterhole where the sand was ever-moist underfoot that the shadow of the Akhal Teke finally fell upon her as she came to drink. Shenzi afforded herself a few moments to take the edge off her thirst, before turning her eyes to the russet king, something akin to respect glinting in her dark eyes. “Uliniweka nikingoja,” she teased, her Mother Language curling from her tongue smooth as water, exotic and lilting. The barb mare tilted her head, and twitched an ear. “Was beginning to think you never catch me,” she continued in the Common speech of these Islands, which didn’t sit quite so well in her mouth. “I am glad. A shame, if we had not met face to face before I left and did not return. ” Shenzi turned to drink again, one ear twisting back to remain focused on the stallion. Only after she was satisfied did she retreat from the water’s edge to stand facing the Teke. “This Game we played, been fun for me, o King, and I hope for you,” she said with a coy smile. One that was jagged at the edges, and layered with a promise of savagery, not unlike the laughing fisi in her Homeland, whose gaping jaws were crowded with teeth always ready to tear into flesh with a strength that ground bones into dust, leaving behind nothing of their kills. |