Tooth & Claw by Melody Hewson (classic literature list .TXT) 📖

Rotuk shifted his feet impatiently while he waited for his father to finish speaking. He didn't mind the rituals so much, but today was the day that he became a brun. It felt like forever that his father droned on about the responsibilities of adulthood. Standing beside him, Rotuk's mother wept proud tears for her oldest child. She would be repeating this ceremony for his sister next year, when it was her turn, but for now, it was all him.

“And now, my son,” His father said, nearing the end of his speech. “It is time for you to choose your pup.” Finally! The moment he had been waiting for! Just a few more minutes and he would officially be an adult and have his own pup to raise and to train. Anxiously, he stared into his father's eyes, waiting for him to finish speaking.

“This will be the first of many difficult trials for you. As you know, the hyolf is not a meek beast.” Rotuk's father puffed out his chest and thumped it with his fist. “They are fierce and wild at heart. They are proud and noble warriors. Just the sight of one is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the bravest soul. The hyolf and the ork are of the same heart. They are our brothers and our sisters!”

“Yes, papa.” Rotuk replied. Once he claimed his pup, he would leave childhood behind forever. Never again would he call his father papa. He would address him by name and they would face each other as equals. “I vow to honor and respect all of our people, those on two legs and those on four.” The ceremonial vow was spoken. The rites would continue. In the corral a few feet away, a group of newly weened pups fought over the last few scraps of meat on a kordox bone. The sounds of their fierce snarls and the snapping of young teeth was like a siren song in Rotuk's eager ears.

His best friend Gnargash had gotten his pup the year before. It had been a large black male, the biggest of the whole litter, and Rotuk thought his heart would burst from the unfairness of it. He had vowed to himself that he too would claim the biggest pup of the litter, and his pup would be even bigger and stronger and fiercer than his friend's. That would teach him to suddenly treat the youth as if he were still a suckling infant.

“Now remember, my son,” His father continued. “You must care well for your hyolf so that it will take care of you, but do not let your heart grow soft, for if you are ever found unworthy in the eyes of your hyolf, it will devour that soft heart right from your chest! Do you understand?”

“Yes, papa.” Rotuk replied solemnly. It was common knowledge that hyolf's were quick to turn on a weak rider, killing them without hesitation or mercy. As long as the rider could remain in charge and keep the beast's respect, they would remain loyal companions, but that loyalty vanished in a moment if they perceived any weakness. “I understand completely.”

Rotuk's father beamed proudly at the young ork before him as he pulled his dagger from his belt, which was nothing but a sash of braided leather used to hold a flat strip of cured hide that acted as a loincloth. Rotuk was forbidden even this amount of covering as he prepared to enter the corral. He was allowed no weapons nor even the smallest amount of protection from the snapping jaws of the hyolf pups except what defense he could mount with his own bare hands. And those hands were about to be injured. “Offer me your palms when you are ready to face your destiny and claim your place among your tribe.”

Setting his jaw and bravely looking his father in the eye, Rotuk held up both of his hands, palms up, waiting for his strength to be tested. The blade of the dagger fell and slowly slide across his upturned hand, slicing deeply into the fleshy part of his palm and going all the way across to his last finger before being lifted and doing the same with his other hand. During the entire process, Rotuk showed not the slightest sign of the pain he was feeling, not even the smallest twitch was allowed to cross his features. The blood flowed freely from his fresh wounds, pooling briefly in his palms before spilling out between his fingers and splashing to the ground in fat, round drops.

His father wiped the dagger blade clean on the hide before tucking it back into his belt and turning away to grasp the gate to the pen. Rotuk gave his hands a quick shake, sending more blood droplets flying, then balled his fists tightly. Inside the corral, the pups had already smelled fresh blood and had abandoned the bone. He would have to be fast. If he wasn't, they would devour him alive.

As soon as the gate was opened, Rotuk dashed inside, hunching his shoulders and speeding toward the rapidly approaching pups, who were attracted by the scent of his blood. This tactic seemed to disorient the youngsters and they all paused, watching him warily and wondering if they should be the ones running away. Still charging the confused pups, each nearly the same size as himself despite their youth, Rotuk quickly looked over the animals and made the decision of which one he wanted.

At the last minute, he turned away from the group and dashed around to the edge, attempting to circle around behind them and narrowly missing a snapping jaw that would have torn into his leg. Once their prey began acting like prey, the instincts of the hyolf pups came quickly, and they gave chase, snarling hungrily as they snapped at his heels. They were all hungry, not having been fed since they were taken from their mother's side, and the strange two-legged animal was already wounded. Surely he could not be too much trouble.

Another close call sent Rotuk tumbling to the ground in a swift roll, then scrambling desperately to his feet, snatching up the knawed kordox bone as his only weapon. One of the pups leapt at him, jaws wide, and he swung the bone like a club. The knotted end struck the pup on the side of the head and sent it whirling away to the side where it collapsed and did not rise again.

Two more of the remaining pups charged him, but quickly turned away to fight with each other as they came too close. Rotuk watched his pup closely. She was a large red-coated female with a white stripe on the top of her short, boxy muzzle and both of her front paws looked as if they had been dipped in fresh milk. She watched him back with fierce and cunning eyes, learning from the mistakes of her more reckless brothers. She would be the hardest for him to claim, which meant she was the only beast for him. He would have her or die by her bite.

Once again he rushed the group, swinging the bone threateningly to scatter the pups, then darting between them. Once past, he swiftly turned around and managed to bring up the bone in time for it to be caught in the jaws of one of the pups that had been going for his neck. The weight of the animal knocked Rotuk onto his back, forcing the breath from his lungs in one great gush and leaving them burning with the need of a replenishing breath. The scarred bone ground deeply into his wounded hands and the claws of the hyolf tore at his bare skin while the beast's weight threatened to suffocate him. To survive, he was forced to ignore the sharp and throbbing pains, setting them aside like an unusual word puzzle, to be scrutinized later. Already the others were closing in, circling the fighting pair and preparing to fall upon the struggling ork at the first opportunity, already fighting amongst each other over who was to take the first bite.

With a growl, Rotuk lifted his legs and kicked at the pup's unprotected underbelly, sending it leaping off of him with a yelp. He scrambled quickly to his feet again, clobbering another overly-eager pup on the head with the bone as it darted in to bite his arm, then backed up against the wall of the corral. The pups followed eagerly, although they kept a wary distance, circling him as best they could and growling with frustration at their inability to surround him.

Occasionally, Rotuk jabbed out with the bone to keep them away, always keeping a wary eye on the red female. She was creeping closer by increments, waiting for one of the others to distract him a moment before moving herself. It was a clever strategy and Rotuk admired her for it, reaffirming his decision to claim her for himself. Hoping to draw her in, he turned his back on her as he charged one of her siblings.

He was glad when she accepted his invitation and leapt, intending to land on his back and crush his fragile spine in her strong jaws. Instead, the young ork swung around and jammed the flute of the bone in her mouth, then stepped aside, letting her land on the ground instead. He then jerked the bone back hard against the back of her jaws, grabbing the other end in his free hand and swinging her around to put her body between himself and the other pups.

The hyolf struggled angrily, her sharp teeth beginning to crack the heavy kordox bone, but Rotuk knew he had won. With a cry of victory, he grabbed the pup's scruff if his own teeth and shook his head vigorously, using the method of an adult hyolf to chastise a pesky youngling. The struggle stopped almost at once and the female's ears folded back by instinct. “You are mine now!” Rotuk shouted as he spit out the mouthful of skin and course fur. “I am forever your master! Obey me now and protect me from your brothers!” The pup's submission acquired and his claim made, Rotuk released his grip on the bone, letting it fall from the pup's jaws.

Rather than immediately accepting his command as he had expected, the female's head snapped around, her mouth closing on one of the ork's hands, her teeth pressing tightly against his skin but not yet breaking it, although his blood dribbled freely onto her tongue. Her cunning eyes turned to his, staring her challenge. If he flinched or showed any hint of fear or uncertainty, his hand and his life were forfeit.

Rotuk stared back, his eyes narrowing and his lips pulling back from jagged teeth in his own growl of challenge, but the female was not intimidated. She continued to study him with her intelligent gaze and Rotuk began to feel as if he were being dissected in her mind, each layer peeling back until the very core of h is being was exposed to her. This was not a creature that would be intimidated or dominated. She would be his equal or his murderer.

The young ork felt his heart