Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever Phoenix Sullivan (most popular novels TXT) 📖

~~~

I watch the sun set over the hills. When I was a cub my father would watch and smile as I slid down the slopes of loose dirt. Once he even did it with me. After five or six slides my dark fur would be covered in the tan dust and I would find my mother wherever she was and pretend I was a lion. “Roar,” I’d say.

Cape slowly spirals down and lands at my side. His breath smells of rotten organs. It does not seem right that such a vile creature has been given the gift of flight. If we had it, the men would never catch us, and we would swoop down and kill them as we wished.

I dig a little and drag the bison carcass – the bird’s reward — from the hole. Cape has his greedy little head in its gut before I let go. When his head returns to the world of the living it is draped in gore. He is so excited he bounces from one leg to the other. Disgusting.

“So tell me, Kerg, I understand scratching a sun on both sides of the rock, but how did you know that’s what the old beast would pick?”

I smirk. “Does anyone ever pick the blank side?”

He shrugs, and guzzles the bit of intestine hanging from his beak. “Still, to lose on purpose — what are you up to?”

I give him a ferocious look, reminding him that silence is part of the deal, then leave to be with my own kind.

“Oh, just one more thing.”

I slow down, but don’t stop.

“When is the crossing? I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

~~~

Low, dark clouds rumble toward us, a herd of bison trampling the firmament. Fear colors every face — bear and mammoth — and each time the sky flashes Kip pushes his face deeper into his mother’s fur.

Old Mother rocks side to side. “I don’t remember a sky as fierce as this. It’s almost as if it’s chasing us.”

I order the old bears, Bek and Grot, to come with me to attack the men. At Greta’s insistence, I take five young bears as well. Fires burn up on the ledges; they’re like bolts of lightning held in place by old wood and brush. Another gift I wish we had.

We begin our ascent. One of the young bears is transfixed by the flames. I nose him onward but say nothing. Familiarity with fear will serve him well when it is his turn to lead.

Halfway up the cliff I stop. “Wait here.”

My fellow bears look puzzled. Grot begins to speak, but I cut him off with shake of my head. I proceed up the rocky path on my own.

Pointed sticks stab the ground, as numerous as the pigeons that winter chases across the sky. Dirty smelling men block my path. One steps forward. Backlit by fire, he looks like a burning, evil spirit—which is what he is. Bear claws hang around his neck.

“Kerg,” he says with a smile.

“Pu’nah,” I say. I hear the stamping of mammoth feet begin in the distance. “So we have a deal. Only the mammoths.And only a few of them.”

Rain falls, hissing as it strikes the fire.

“Of course Kerg, a deal’s a deal.”

Through the wet smoke I smell another, and my lips pull back from my teeth. Pu’nah’s grin widens at my realization. Felos steps forward. A group of lionesses follows him.

“Felos!” I shout, hoping the other bears will hear me.

He ignores me and says to Pu’nah in a bored voice, “Are there more?”

“I think maybe one or two down the path.”

“Let’s make this quick, shall we? I’m starving.” Felos motions with his head, and the lionesses trot off. To me he explains, “An alliance. We don’t kill men, they don’t kill us.” He grins, showing more teeth than I have ever seen in one place. “Our victory feast is tonight.”

Felos’s belly bulges. The men have fed him. King of the plain, indeed. He rocks back slightly on his rear legs, preparing to spring. Men raise spears.

“You’re next,” I say. “The men will betray you.”

Just as I betrayed the mammoths.

Roars and snarls rise up from the slope as the lionesses find there are more bears than one or two. Felos shifts his eyes slightly and gives Pu’nah a look of concern. The sky groans with thunder.

Survival on the plain is mostly running and biting and screaming at storms. But there are a few things one needs to know. First among these is that you never take your eyes off your opponent.

I leap at Felos. He has a more powerful bite, but I am larger. I drive him over, managing to get my snout beneath his jaw, keeping his teeth away from my throat. I bite into his neck and give a sharp shake, and it is over. The men are smiling, spears down, not moving to help their ally. Perhaps it was their plan that we would kill each other.

I no longer hear the roars of lionesses and bears. They could be all dead. The men direct their smiles at me, some with raised spears. The puddle of blood I see before me comes as a surprise. It’s mine. Felos got a claw into my chest. Now I’m happy I killed him.

The ground shakes — not from the heavy thunder but from the footfalls of the mammoths. They are almost to the river. Men line up on the edge of the cliff and raise their spears. One man hurls his, and I hear the death whinny of a young mammoth who has gotten out ahead.

“Pu’nah wait!” I cry. “Let them go. Feast on the dead bears and lions tonight.” I hold out my paws. “Have these, the paws of the Dominant, to wear around your neck.”

He looks at me with mock pity. Loathing clenches my throat.

“I will have your claws, thank you.” He sweeps his arm in the direction of the charge. “We will have it all.”

I leap at Pu’nah, but men are