Chapter 16: The Hyena’s Laughter

The jungle did not rest.

The cub had barely licked the last trace of blood from his muzzle when a sound echoed through the trees.

A sound that sent a strange chill down his spine.

Laughter.

Not the joyous kind. Not the kind he had once known in his past life.

This was sharp, hollow. Mocking.

It belonged to something that did not fear the jungle's laws.

The cub turned his head.

Glowing yellow eyes peered at him from the darkness.

A hyena.

It was not alone.

More eyes flickered to life in the underbrush, shifting, restless. The air filled with a musty, rancid scent—one he instinctively disliked.

His mother let out a low growl, stepping protectively between them and the carcass. His siblings shrank back, but the cub did not.

Something about these creatures unsettled him.

Not just their presence.

Their confidence.

Hyenas were not kings of the jungle. They were scavengers, thieves, opportunists. And yet, they laughed as if nothing could touch them.

As if the laws of the jungle did not apply to them.

The largest hyena stepped forward, its spotted fur illuminated in the moonlight. Its lips curled into something that wasn't quite a snarl but wasn't a smile either.

"Well, well… What do we have here?"

Its voice dripped with amusement, but the cub heard the undercurrent of hunger beneath it.

"A family feast?" the hyena continued, eyeing the remains of the boar. "Mind if we join?"

His mother growled louder.

"The kill is ours," she said. "You will not take it."

The hyena tilted its head, unbothered. "Ah, but we do love to share."

More laughter. The other hyenas crept closer.

The cub's muscles tensed.

Something about them—it was familiar. Not their scent, not their form.

Their nature.

They reminded him of men.

Not warriors. Not rulers.

But the kind of men who whispered in shadows. The ones who never built anything of their own but took from those who did.

The kind of men who smiled before they betrayed.

The cub's claws unsheathed. A low snarl rumbled in his throat.

The lead hyena's eyes flicked to him. It seemed amused.

"Ah, the little prince has fangs," it mused.

The cub didn't answer.

He wanted to kill this creature. More than he had wanted to kill the fawn. More than the boar.

Because this was not prey.

This was something else entirely.

But his mother moved before he could.

With a sudden, fierce snarl, she lunged—fast and merciless. The lead hyena yelped, stumbling back. The others hesitated.

The laughter stopped.

For the first time, the cub saw what they truly were beneath the bravado.

Cowards.

The hyenas slunk backward, their hungry eyes lingering on the carcass for a moment longer before they melted into the jungle.

The cub's heart still pounded as silence returned.

His mother turned to him. Her gaze was unreadable.

"You will meet them again."

The cub did not doubt it.

And when he did—

He would not let them laugh at him.