Surviving Zombies Was Easier Than Raising Beast Cubs

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: We find brother.

Nahla knew something was wrong before the sun climbed fully over Riverbone.

At first, she thought it was only the crying.

The two black panther cubs had cried when Swanly left, and that was normal enough. Their mother had gone into a rotten death place with the White Snake, their father had followed her, and their little hearts were too young to understand promises properly.

But then Nahla counted them again.

One cub was pressed against the fur wall with his little arms crossed and his golden eyes full of angry tears.

One cub was curled near the empty sleeping place, sniffling into the fur Swanly had touched last.

One cub was missing.

Nahla’s heart dropped.

She turned at once.

”Little one?”

The eldest lifted his head.

His face was wet, his small mouth tight with stubborn hurt.

”No little.”

Nahla stepped toward the back of the cave.

She moved slowly at first because cubs hid when they were upset. They crawled under fur, behind baskets, inside shadows, and sometimes into places no grown beast would imagine because children were soft-bodied disasters with paws.

She checked under the sleeping furs.

Nothing.

She checked behind the food skins.

Nothing.

She checked the medicine corner.

Nothing.

Her hand tightened around her walking stick.

”Second cub,” she called, sharper now.

No answer.

The smallest cub’s lower lip trembled.

”Brother?”

Nahla’s chest tightened.

She turned toward the cave entrance and saw Tilla approaching her with her recovering cub held carefully against her side. The young mother’s face still looked tired, but there was more color in it than before. Her own little cub watched the world with weak, curious eyes.

”What happened?” Tilla asked.

Nahla’s eyes moved past her.

”Did you see one of Swanly’s cubs outside?”

Tilla stopped.

”No.”

The eldest cub stood up quickly.

”Find brother.”

The smallest scrambled to his feet too and nearly tripped over his own little hide skirt.

”Brother gone?”

Nahla did not answer him because the truth had already begun to claw at her.

She walked outside and looked along the root path.

Riverbone was waking slowly after a terrible night. Males dragged water gourds toward the cooking pits. Females gathered bitter leaves near the shelters. Guards stood along the wall with tired faces and weapons already in hand.

No small black-haired cub.

No tiny panther body.

No trembling ears hiding behind roots.

Nahla turned back to Tilla.

”Stay with these two.”

Tilla’s eyes widened.

”You think he wandered?”

”I do not know yet.”

That was worse than saying yes.

Tilla swallowed, then nodded quickly.

”I will stay.”

Nahla pointed her walking stick toward the eldest and smallest.

”You two do not move.”

The eldest’s small chest puffed.

”We find brother.”

”No.”

”We big.”

”You are little enough to fit inside a water basket.”

The eldest looked insulted.

The smallest began crying again.

Nahla’s hard face almost cracked, but she forced it still. If she softened too much, she would panic, and panic did not find lost cubs.

She left them with Tilla and began searching.

She checked the empty dens first.

Then the root wall.

Then the meat-sharing ground.

Then the washing path.

Every few steps she asked someone.

”Did you see the quiet panther cub?”

”Did a small black cub pass here?”

”Did anyone see Swanly’s second child?”

Each answer came back wrong.

No.

No.

No.

No one had seen him.

No one had heard him.

One guard said he had seen Nahla holding all the cubs earlier, but Nahla knew that was not true. She had held the eldest and smallest while Tilla distracted them. The second had been quiet enough that everyone assumed he was near someone’s leg, under someone’s arm, behind someone’s body.

That was the danger of quiet cubs.

They disappeared without making the world notice.

By the time Nahla returned to Soren’s cave, the eldest and smallest were both crying again.

Tilla sat on the floor with them, her recovering cub beside her. She had put small pieces of soft meat on a leaf, but the two panther cubs had not touched it.

The eldest sat stiffly with his fists pressed to his knees.

The smallest had his face buried in Swanly’s fur and was hiccuping.

Tilla’s own cub pushed a piece of meat toward them.

”Eat?”

The eldest turned his face away.

”No eat.”

The smallest shook his head against the fur.

”No brother.”

Tilla’s cub blinked, then pushed the meat closer with weak determination.

”Good meat.”

The eldest’s eyes filled again.

”No good. Brother gone.”

Tilla’s face twisted with helpless pain.

Her own cub had nearly died days ago. She knew that wild terror in the chest, the kind that made food useless and words too small. She wanted to comfort them, but they were Swanly’s cubs. They smelled like fear, mother-loss, and panther pride.

She reached toward the smallest.

He pulled away at once.

”No.”

Tilla’s hand froze.

Her cub looked at her, then at the crying panther cubs.

He crawled closer and tried to touch the smallest’s foot.

The smallest kicked lightly without looking.

”No play.”

Tilla’s cub pulled his hand back.

His eyes lowered.

Tilla’s throat tightened.

”He only wanted to help,” she said softly.

The eldest’s little face crumpled at once.

He looked at Tilla’s cub, then at the meat, then at the empty place where his brother should have been. His anger was too small to know where to go.

”Brother not here,” he whispered.

The smallest lifted his face from the fur.

”Mama not here. Papa not here. Brother not here.”

His mouth trembled so badly the words broke apart.

”No more.”

Tilla covered her own mouth.

For one moment, she could not speak.

Nahla entered then.

Both panther cubs jumped up.

”Brother?” the eldest asked.

Nahla stopped at the entrance.

Her face was still strict.

Her eyes were not.

”I did not find him.”

The smallest made a sound like his little heart had fallen out.

The eldest stared at her, frozen.

Then he shook his head.

”No.”

Nahla came closer and lowered herself slowly, old knees stiff, one hand braced on her walking stick.

”I searched the nearby dens.”

”No.”

”I asked the guards.”

”No.”

”I checked the washing path.”

”No.”

The eldest’s voice grew louder each time, as if saying no could drag his brother back into the room.

The smallest crawled to Nahla and hit her knee with both tiny hands.

”Find him.”

The blows were weak.

They still hurt.

Not her body.

Something worse.

Nahla placed one hand on his head.

”I am trying.”

Tilla looked up, pale with worry.

”Where did Swanly go exactly?”

Nahla’s hand stilled on the cub’s hair.

”The Rot Nest path.”

Tilla’s eyes widened.

The air in the cave seemed to drop.

The eldest stopped crying.

The smallest stopped breathing for half a second.

Tilla whispered, ”What if he followed them?”

Nahla’s face went empty.

The thought had been circling the edge of her mind like a vulture, but hearing it aloud made it land.

The second cub had been quiet.

He had been clinging to Swanly before she left.

The fur bundle had been near the wall.

Swanly had lifted it herself.

Smoked herbs had been packed inside it.

The cub was small enough.

Too small.

Nahla closed her eyes once.

When she opened them, they were sharp again, but her fingers around the walking stick had gone white.

”He could not have.”

But her voice had already lost strength.

Tilla swallowed.

”He loves her too much.”

The smallest began to cry again.

”Brother go Mama?”

The eldest stared at Nahla with huge golden eyes.

”Brother find Mama?”

Nahla could not lie fast enough.

That was answer enough.

The eldest’s face broke.

He rushed toward the cave entrance.

”I go too.”

Tilla caught him before Nahla could move.

The eldest fought her with both tiny arms.

”Let go. Brother there. Mama there.”

”You cannot go,” Tilla said, voice shaking.

”Papa there.”

”That is why you stay.”

”No.”

The smallest tried to follow him, but Nahla wrapped one arm around his little body and held him against her chest. He struggled for two breaths, then collapsed into sobs against her old hide dress.

Nahla looked toward the outside path.

She could not send anyone.

Not there.

Not after night.

Not when infected moved through the drowned forest and even Soren had gone with Raku, Kael, and Swanly because the path was too dangerous for ordinary guards.

Sending a search party now would only feed the Rot Nest more bodies.

The knowledge sat in her chest like a stone.

If the cub had followed them, then he was either already found by Swanly, or already in danger so deep Riverbone could not reach him.

Nahla’s throat worked.

She had been given two cubs.

Not three anymore.

Two.

And she had still failed the missing one because she had not thought a quiet child would be brave enough and foolish enough to hide inside his mother’s things.

Tilla saw the guilt crossing Nahla’s face.

”It is not your fault,” she said.

Nahla’s eyes snapped to her.

Tilla held the eldest tightly even as he cried against her shoulder.

”He was quiet. Everyone thought he was with the others. I thought so too.”

Nahla looked away.

”That does not bring him back.”

”No,” Tilla said softly. ”But blaming yourself will not bring him back either.”

The recovering cub crawled forward again.

This time he picked up the soft meat and placed it beside the eldest’s knee.

”Eat. Brother come.”

The eldest sniffed hard.

”No hungry.”

The little sick cub looked confused, then sad.

He pushed the meat closer.

”Eat when sad.”

The smallest lifted his wet face from Nahla’s chest.

”Brother eat?”

The recovering cub nodded with the serious confidence of a child trying to heal grief with meat.

”Brother eat too.”

The eldest wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He looked at the meat for a long time.

Then he picked up the smallest piece and held it.

He did not eat.

But he held it.

Tilla’s eyes filled with tears.

Nahla looked at the two panther cubs, then at the path outside, then toward the distant trees where the Rot Nest waited like a mouth.

Her chest felt tight.

She pressed the smallest closer and spoke in a voice low enough that only the cubs heard.

”Your mother is clever. Your father is strong. If your brother reached them, they will tear the forest apart before they let it keep him.”

The eldest looked up.

”Promise?”

Nahla’s mouth tightened.

Old healers did not make promises to frightened children unless they could pay for them.

But the cubs were shaking.

Their mother was gone.

Their father was gone.

Their brother was missing.

So Nahla lied with her whole old heart.

”I promise.”

The smallest hiccuped.

”Mama come?”

Nahla stroked his hair.

”Yes.”

”Papa come?”

”Yes.”

”Brother come?”

Nahla looked at the cave entrance again.

The rain had begun outside.

Cold drops struck the mud beyond the root path.

She held the cub tighter.

”Yes.”

The eldest crawled closer to her at last.

Tilla let him go.

He pressed against Nahla’s side, stiff at first, then trembling.

The smallest clung to her front.

Tilla’s recovering cub leaned against the eldest’s knee and quietly placed another piece of meat in his hand.

No one played.

No one laughed.

No one wanted food.

But after a while, the eldest took one tiny bite.

The smallest watched him.

Then he took one too.

Nahla sat between the two cubs and kept her eyes on the entrance.

She would wait.

She would watch.

And if Swanly came back without the second cub, Riverbone would hear an old healer scream.