Ch 9 Hoghill Clan

      Hog Hill Clan



It was a lovely morning by the nearby watering hole, surrounded by lush vegetation, abundant during this season of plenty. However, the scene changes dramatically during the dry months. As the air grew scorching and rainfall was absent, the once thick, damp mud holes transformed into dry, desolate craters scattered across the savannah plains. During the rich good seasons, King Muck relished in the soothing coolness of the wet mud. The pools offered him and others a reprieve from the relentless annoyance of bloodsucking ticks and flies that tormented them each day. Unlike the male lions, who toiled to defend and provide for the pride, the King enjoyed a life of leisure. He had elders and loyal subjects to oversee the clan's well-being. His primary responsibilities consisted of mating, eating, sleeping, and occasionally addressing sensitive issues. Most of the time, it was the Queen who ruled alongside the clan's elders, ensuring everything ran smoothly.

That day, it was Queen Torlia and the elders who addressed Purk regarding his friend's need for support. Queen Torlia experienced a profound sense of guilt in her heart when they had to refuse that assistance. If anything were to happen to those lion cubs, she would carry the burden of responsibility with her forever. She prayed to the Elohim for their safe journey ahead. They sent the young lions out into the unknown. Moreover, no one seemed to notice the cubs were heading in the wrong direction. Queen Torlia had never ventured near the lions' territory, even though they have lived close by, they did their best to avoid the lion's pride. Purk, being the only one familiar with the area, was unaware of the proper routes to take. As a prince, he didn't need to concern himself with such matters; he believed those skills would come naturally to him when he became king. Purk discovered from his elders the responsibilities that awaited him. It was quite different from what he had anticipated. His interests leaned more towards the modern aspects of clan life rather than the traditional practices of the elders. Seven years earlier, a group of rogue warthogs had joined their clan, bringing with them fresh ideas and languages. The original elders, who had been present since the clan's inception, were hesitant to accept these newcomers, but the King granted them permission to stay. It was these rogues who educated Purk and his siblings in the new customs and the language of their kind.

Among the newcomers, nanny, Mama Willa, a warthog who served closely alongside the king and queen was favorable to Purk. As the days and months passed among their clan, she earned their trust within their family.  She had been assigned the responsibility of looking after the King's piglets. The little ones cherished her and consistently behaved well in her presence. Their mother was often busy attending to the lands, overseeing tributes, and participating in significant meetings with the elders, which left her with little to no time for them. However, Prince Purk enjoyed slightly more time with their mother compared to his siblings. While Purk's brothers and sisters typically relaxed with their father, King Muck, they also absorbed valuable lessons from Mama Willa.

Queen Torlia often took Prince Purk to the elders' meetings. During these sessions, he would listen, learn, and observe, absorbing the traditions essential for his future rule. Yet, Purk found the meetings utterly tedious and dreaded attending each one. As his ascension to the throne drew nearer, he realized that with maturity would come the ceremonial selection of his first mate and the new queen. As a young piglet he found this very alarming. Over the years, Purk became increasingly aware of his duties within the clan. He also experienced significant physical changes; as an aging male warthog, he began to notice transformations within. The boost in his testosterone made him attractive to many females around him, and he found it increasingly difficult to manage his own feelings. As the clan's annual ceremony of the First Mate approached, Purk felt a rising anxiety about the imminent choice he would be making.

Purk let his time in the clan unfold naturally. Navigating the challenges of his new adult body was difficult enough. A year had passed in the Savannah, and all three boys had grown into robust young males. It felt like an eternity since Zarda and Meeku last visited Hog Hill clan. Purk had grown into a formidable, muscular presence, reminiscent of his father. His impressive strength and courage set him apart from the other warthogs. Throughout his upbringing, he frequently joined the young tribute warriors on hunts and in fierce battles against rival clans, a pursuit he relished amidst his princely duties. Unfortunately for the queen, while her young Purk had matured, it also meant that she had aged out of her position.

  King Muck had aged; his once-dark charcoal skin had faded to a dull gray. His hair, once spiky and full, now revealed patches of baldness, while the remaining strands hung limply. In contrast, Purk was a striking warthog, the envy of his clan. Each day, his mother reminded him of his good looks, even as she herself grew old, weary, and frail. Soon, she would join Purk's father for a peaceful retirement, spending her days by the watering hole and nurturing the next generation of piglets. This simple life brought her joy, after a long and challenging reign. She took pride in her choices, except for one lingering regret that haunted her dreams. Not a day passed without her thoughts drifting to Prince Zarda and his brother Meeku. She could only hope for their mission to be successful. On a particularly memorable morning, Purk took a leisurely stroll through his clan's territory. Relishing a break from the hectic schedule of meetings, he suddenly spotted his mother staring wistfully at the horizon, her expression reflecting deep sorrow. Quietly approaching her, Purk leaned against her side to give solace.

"Is something troubling you, Mother?" Purk inquired, concern lacing his voice. His tone was rich and warm.

Queen Torlia, did not glance up at her son; her eyes stayed focused ahead of her. She merely responded in a gentle tone. "Not my mind, dear son, but my heart. I'm thinking about Zarda and Meeku, wondering if they ever made it back home," she replied.

Purk perceived her emotions well. He too, had posed the same question repeatedly during his younger days and so forth. What he truly missed was the bond of friendship. Whenever he was with Zarda and Meeku, he felt a sense of liberation and normalcy, akin to being among his siblings. The lion brothers spared him from the relentless drudgery of princely duties. The burden of constant learning without fun, was burdensome to anyone. Purk promised himself that he would one day reunite with his friends, to share all the changes that had taken place within the clan. Quickly, Purk's mind shifted to the imminent events awaiting him. From the past to the future.

"I'm confident they're alright. Knowing Zarda, he and Meeku must be enjoying a fantastic adventure, nestled back with the lion's pride. However, the pride hasn't been spotted near our territory since the brothers last came by. I'm sure they crossed paths and relocated for their own safety. But let's put that aside, Mother; it's almost time for your successor to be chosen this week, after which my coronation to become King will occur," Purk said.

The queens' eyes beamed with joy, over towards her son, her face lighting up with a big smile. "Oh yes, you're completely right—how thrilling for you! I hope you choose a bride who is both brave and beautiful to be your queen. May she be just like me," Queen Torlia chuckled gently.

Purk felt a sense of comfort in his mother's support and chuckled contentedly. "Honestly, No one could ever take your place, mother, but I will search for a future queen who embodies honor," he responded.

"Aya lu, aya ameer," said Queen Torlia. In translation she simply stated, 'My love, my son.'

Purk nestled closer to his mother, filled with pride at being her son and the future King over the clan. The serene silence shared by the mother and son was interrupted soon by the sound of an approaching warthog.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty and Young Prince, but it's time to assemble the clan. The visitors will be arriving soon, and we don't want to be late," announced tribute Roz.

Roz one of the respected hog tributes in the clan's army. Had often proven his loyalty to the majesties. Roz had become one of Purks cherished friends and mentor. He was the most reliable warrior. Having grown up in service, he was well-trained in combat and dedicated to protecting his liege. Purk admired Roz's rugged appearance and steadfast loyalty to his family. With a fierce presence accentuated by a scar above his right eye— a reminder of a past conflict—Roz stood at the ready. He patiently awaited the Queen and Prince to conclude their conversation before leading them to the arena.

Reluctant to get up too abruptly, Queen Torlia gradually lifted herself from her seated position and stood proudly. She stretched a little before joining Roz. Meanwhile, Purk trotted alongside his mother, engaged in a light conversation, with Roz leading the way. The three of them could hear the loud crowd from where they were. This gathering would showcase all the clans from the surrounding area. As the host, the Hog Hill clan claimed the prime spots beneath the cool shade of an Acacia tree. The clan settled on the outer rim of the stone arena, while the King, Queen, and Prince Purk took their places on thrones crafted from stone in the center.

Tribute Roz cleared his throat to announce the arrival of the King, Queen, and Prince. The excited murmurs of the clan hushed as the royal family made their entrance. They sat in stillness, their eyes fixed on the sovereigns as they approached the throne. King Muck ambled forward with a slight limp, a testament to his age, while the Queen glided gracefully, her tail held high. Prince Purk followed, tall and robust, trailing behind his parents. The clans erupted with cheers, stomping their hooves and grunting in celebration throughout the arena.

A crowd of warthogs erupted in cheers as mischievous piglets misbehaved. Nanny Willa, the mother figure, engaged in playful wrestling with some of the King's own. The Elders sat straight-backed, whispering among themselves and critically assessing each move the prince made. The tributes stood rigidly like statues, their tusks held high in tribute to the King, positioned at both entrances of the arena. The Hog Hill kingdom braced itself for the arrival of the four clans from far-off territories.

The Clan of Ruff Tusk was at the forefront of the hog caravan, led by one of King Muck's oldest friends. To be honest, King Muck was eager for Purk to select their kingdom during the closing ceremony, but this event was driven by chance and fate rather than politics. Close behind Ruff Tusk was Clan Wimble, a modest group of well-mannered and polite hogs. Following them was the Clan of Hollow-Hoof, known for their contrasting reputation; they were avid party enthusiasts and famed for their lively celebrations, and no one wanted to miss their invitations. Finally, bringing up the rear was the Clan of Harvel.

Renowned for their success with natural resources, they had built quite a reputation. Harvel was the second-richest warthog clan, second only to Hog Hill. Zarda examined all four clans closely. He felt anxious again, as the neighboring clans approached. Deep down, he knew that one of his future wives would soon be entering his life.  His parents, meanwhile, were fully prepared for this moment.