EPILOGUE

The dry wind hit him with the jealous fury of a spurned lover. Fleas accepted its resentment and moved on, following the tracks. It was the sixth day of travel in the savannah and he finally spotted the tribe on the horizon. Noticing the tents swaying in the heat reflected off the sandy earth, he drew strength from some mysterious place, perhaps his heart, and ran. Cubs he didn't know saw him and guided him toward the center, asking a thousand questions along the way.

The hyaenids gathered around him. Zeppel stepped forward with a crooked smile.

"You have grown."

Fleas dropped his belongings and ran to her, jumping up and hugging her. Zeppel took a few steps back, almost losing her balance. She was no longer a rigid mountain. She still had much more strength than him anyway.

"I guess it's not me who you want to see. She's over there."