Befal, the moment he returned, saw her.

  A young girl—older than him—baring her teeth, her blood-stained claws raised toward two boys as she roared loudly. At the very first glance, he recognized her.

  Kima.

  The strongest and largest child of the tribe.

  Though she had not yet reached ten years of age, she already took part in the hunts. Her body was larger, her muscles stronger. Her gaze was so piercing that it could pin any living creature in place, and she possessed a terrifying hunting instinct.

  The children always followed her with their eyes. They watched her with envy and longing, as the ground seemed to tremble beneath her feet.

  They called her the Future Jozma, and she was accepted within the tribe with respect.

  The boys exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders, and without a word changed their path and left.

  Befal stared at the girl, stunned.

  Kima, intoxicated by her victory, spoke:

  “They don’t even have the courage to fight… And they call themselves Anarikai. What use is a cowardly Anarikh?”

  She turned toward Befal, who had thrown himself onto the grass and was trembling with fear.

  “Pull yourself together,” she snarled. “Do you know where cowards belong? In Hisham’s stomach.”

  “How pitiful!” she laughed. “What’s your name?”

  Befal gathered himself with difficulty and whispered,

  “Befal…”

  The girl burst into laughter.

  “Oh, Befal… How could they give you such a name? You wouldn’t last a single hunt. They should’ve named you Hisham’s Food instead.”

  She turned her back on the boy, sucking the remaining pieces of meat from between her teeth. She washed her hands and face in the running water and, without a glance, returned to the others who now lay full and drowsy beside the remaining bones of the animal.

  When the sunlight weakened to its lowest strength, it was time to rest.

  The sun, which never truly set, cast its dim glow across the plain. Cranes settled gently atop the tall grasses and sang softly.

  Ashamed and restless from the events of the day, Befal lay on the cold floor of the hut. Beside him lay Etna, Ima, and his brothers and sisters. Large glow-worms that radiated warmth glimmered quietly within the mud-and-straw walls of the hut, heating the space.

  Befal turned from one side to the other, replaying countless answers in his mind. At times, he imagined striking his brothers with his sharp teeth. At others, remembering Kima’s scornful gaze, warmth rushed to his lips and his breath grew tight with shame.

  Etna, noticing Befal’s distress, whispered softly,

  “Rest a little, Befal. Tomorrow is a great day.”

  Befal turned his back to his father and said nothing.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Etna pulled him gently closer and murmured,

  “Would you like me to tell you the story of Anan Befal?”

  The boy turned instantly, eyes filled with anticipation.

  A smile formed on Etna’s lips.

  “You know that in Anarika, the Moons bring all children into the world only during the Season of Light, when everyone is awake. All… except one.”

  Befal said in surprise,

  “Etna, can anyone wake during winter? Is that even possible?”

  “Oh yes,” his father replied. “He came into the world during the longest nights of winter. He was the child of the Fifth Moon—her only child.”

  “He tore his way from his mother’s womb and emerged alone upon the frozen floor of the hut, while all others lay in deep hibernation.”

  Befal asked breathlessly,

  “Etna… what happened to his mother?”

  “She surrendered to her fate,” Etna said. “The child fed on his mother’s flesh and blood until the first shoots broke through the soil and the others awakened.”

  Befal whispered,

  “Eating one’s own kind…”

  Etna nodded.

  “Yes. The greatest sin.”

  “You must never harm your brothers or sisters—neither Ima nor Etna,” he continued. “Every soul birthed by the Moons and guided by the Moon of Fate must walk its path. To consume another’s flesh is to alter destiny itself.”

  His voice grew heavy with exhaustion, yet he went on.

  “He became Anan—the most defiled of the defiled.”

  Many believed he should be punished by Anarikan law.

  Befal asked quickly,

  “Given to Hisham?”

  “Yes. Hisham cleanses the body and sharpens the soul.”

  A council was formed. During the Months of Birth, they placed the child upon the wheat field for the final time, surrounding him with glow-worms so he could feel warmth and light once more before being cast into the frozen sea.

  They sang the Farewell Song:

  O child of ice and snow,

  Born amid the cruelty of the Moons,

  You fed on flesh to claim warmth,

  Now offer your body as sustenance.

  You stand in the rightful place of your fate,

  O magnificent Anarikan.

  At that moment, a great herd of Khamos arrived.

  With their towering legs, black bodies, white horns, golden collars, and crimson chests, they crossed the melting ice—messengers of the Moons.

  Their leader approached the child slowly, gazed at him with pale eyes as though it had always known him, then bowed and touched Anan’s face.

  Befal shuddered.

  Etna continued,

  “The elders understood. The Moons had spoken. He was chosen.”

  “From that day, he was named Anan Befal.”

  Etna’s eyes closed from exhaustion.

  “I will tell you the rest tomorrow… I swear by the Moons.”

  Befal slipped into sleep, the vision etched into his mind.

  The Saman began at midday. Women carried baskets filled with glow-worms, placing them around the corpses so that warmth and light could seep into the cold bodies one last time. They sang the Farewell Song again and raised their hands to the Moons.

  Then, each person took a piece from the remains—some a tuft of hair, some a fragment of bone, even a lost tooth. Usually, they tied these pieces to their fur garments, so the spirits of their ancestors and the dead would always accompany them.

  Next, they went to the sea, placing the corpses on ice that was melting beside the water. The ice slowly drifted toward the ocean, moving away from them.

  Across the ice, further beyond, a herd of deer dashed across the last melting sheets of ice. Befal pointed them out to Etna:

  “Etna, the Khamos have come!”

  Everyone turned to face the Khamos. The Jozma interpreted their arrival as a sign from the Moons.

  A few cranes and a small tiger cub had been the day’s prey. Everyone gathered for the meal, sinking their sharp, large teeth into the delicious flesh.

  Suddenly, a massive tiger attacked the gathered tribe. In one instant, it seized two of Befal’s brothers, who were sitting nearby, biting their heads off their bodies. The tribe froze in terror. Men rushed forward with spears, but the tiger, wild, greedy, and hungry, struck again, taking more women and children, tearing them apart with its claws.

  Befal’s legs went numb with fear. He sat helplessly on the ground.

  Women and the Jozma tried to guide the children toward the huts. Ima’s scream reached Befal:

  “Get up, Befal! Reach the huts!”

  Men attempted to drive the tiger away with spears, but it leapt again, hungry. It seized some children and women, ripping them apart.

  The tiger suddenly turned toward Befal.

  In that moment, Etna lunged from behind with his spear, driving it into the tiger’s eye before it could reach Befal. The tiger writhed in pain and anger.

  Etna lifted Befal from the ground, shouting:

  “Befal! Move toward the huts!”

  But the tiger’s paw struck Etna in the stomach, blood spilling from his lips. Befal screamed:

  “No… Etna… NO!”

  He ran toward Etna, but a strong hand pushed him back. Kima shouted:

  “Let go! You can’t do anything! Come with me!”

  And Kima dragged Befal away.

  Before they had gone far enough for the chaos to fade from sight, Befal looked back one last time at Etna. In Etna’s gaze there was neither fear nor sorrow—only acceptance of fate.