Chapter2

Being dead was for the best.

I recovered from my daze, and a strange sense of relief actually washed over me. I wouldn't have to drink that medicine anymore. I wouldn't wet my pants, and I wouldn't make Mother angry again. Targo didn't have to stay trapped in his wheelchair pretending to be crippled, either.

As I thought about this, footsteps echoed from outside the den. I floated through the wall and saw Mother returning, pushing my brother. She walked slowly, one claw resting on the back of Targo's chair, while her other claw gripped a large chunk of bloody, fresh prey.

Targo stood up from the wheelchair and stretched his legs, his face full of reluctance. "Mom, how much longer do I have to sit in this? I don't want to pretend anymore."

Mother slammed the meat onto the stone slab, slicing it with a bone knife as she spoke. "Hold out a little longer. Your brother threw a tantrum about the medicine again this morning. I can see he hasn't realized his mistake at all."

Targo kept his head down, picking at his claws, and whispered, "Mom, back then Balen was just trying to make me laugh. Did you..."

Mother cut him off fiercely before he could finish. "How old were you then? What do you know! Balen was born a bad cub! He is totally cold-blooded! You just broke your leg and had to use a wheelchair for a few months, and he was hobbling around mimicking you. If you were truly paralyzed, wouldn't he have driven you out of the den?"

"You are just too kind. Your brother is vicious and lacks empathy. If I don't teach him a harsh lesson, he'd just get himself hunted down and killed when he grows up and leaves the den, and he'd deserve it too."

I floated off to the side, slowly lowering my head. So, in Mother's heart, I was that wicked of a cub. But it didn't matter, Mom. I was already dead. I wouldn't be a menace to anyone anymore.

Mother pushed Targo into the main hall of the den. Spotting the empty space, she furrowed her brow and shouted toward my tightly shut wooden door. "Balen! Balen?"

No one answered. Her tail gave a sharp flick. "That damn cub, sleeping in his nest again. He might as well die of laziness."

Targo hurriedly tugged at the hem of her leather skirt. "Mom, just let Balen sleep in there a bit longer."

Mother stopped cursing. She fished a piece of fresh meat wrapped in leaves from her leather pouch and handed it to my brother. Her voice suddenly softened like melted honey. "Targo, Mom got you the antelope hind leg you love most. Eat it quickly, don't let your brother see."

Targo took it, flashing his sharp teeth in a smile. "Thank you, Mom."

"If only Balen were half as obedient as you." Mother reached out and rubbed the mane on top of my brother's head, her voice light and tender. "Alright, take your time and eat. Mom will roast a big piece for you tonight."

My brother crouched by the stone slab, burying his head as he gnawed on the meat. Mother turned away to process the rest of the kill, humming an unknown tune.

Floating on the side, I watched the scene unfold. My chest felt as if a heavy stone had been jammed inside it. Mother had never hunted a piece of prey solely for me. She had never spoken a single word to me in that tone.

She truly hated me.

As the sky grew dark, Father returned. He stepped into the hall, scanned the room, and frowned. "Where is Balen?"

Mother tossed a dismissive reply from the inner room. "Laying in his nest."

Father sighed. He walked over to my bedroom door and knocked on the wooden frame. "Balen, come out and eat."

He called out twice, but no one answered. Frowning, he was just about to push the door open—

"Balen!"

Mother's furious roar exploded from the inner room. She stormed out, clutching a bulging leather pouch, and slammed it fiercely onto the stone table.

The mouth of the pouch spilled open, revealing handfuls of dry, crushed herb leaves. They were the dregs of the poisonous sap I had hidden away for a month—the medicine I had never truly swallowed.