Beneath The Canopy

Konata Cinderfell watched as his older brother traipsed lazily through the foliage toward him. From high on his perch, he observed his kin winding through roots and shrubs, his great, hulking form, muscles rippling under taught flesh, youthful in vigor, yet wisened in years, Vitrius drew near. His older brother stopped at the base of the great, ancient kapok tree, its trunk robust and everlasting; it was a pillar that seemed to soar beyond the sky, holding up the heavens themselves. Konata had decided it was far enough out of the way as to be a suitable place for this afternoon’s rest; his branch, wrestling near to the top as it was, still wasn’t far enough to escape the observant eye of his brother. Through shimmering emerald leaves jutting out from dainty stems, the verdant dance of the foliage looked like a starry night brought down from a grand celestial ocean, a duplication, a mirroring of the great cosmos beyond, one meant to be viewed up close by those earth-bound.

Cocking his head to the side, and without looking up, Vitrius admonished his younger sibling from down below, “The Waybound needs your help; we are behind on our preparations for this moon’s banishment. Come down and tend to your duties.”

Strong, bold, brave Vitrius, the so-called “golden child” of The Waybound, had been celebrated at birth. Both their mother and father rejoiced in how healthy and mighty of an offspring they had coupled to create. He was, in every way, the opposite of his brother Konata. Where Vitrius was fast, Konata lagged behind; where he was strong-of-will, Konata was timid and meek; where he was the grand protector of their kind—The Waybound—Konata was seen only as a pesky hindrance. These were their roles growing up, and he accepted it rather than fighting. How could he ever hope to hold a light to his brother’s awe-inspiring, selfless devotion to the collective? Konata had long since accepted this fact of life. Besides, it was much easier to lay about all day than it was to go hunting around, tiring yourself out in hopes of sinking your fangs into one of the little, four-legged, swift, deer-like creatures that sustained them.

Not hearing his brother move off, he opened one eye, peering down through the darker green tops of the five-pointed leaves. Still there. Vitrius wasn’t one to ignore duties, even though his title didn’t involve the oversight of such banalities; when it came to Konata, there was no task, menial or otherwise, that would escape his notice if the younger sibling abandoned it. A sharp twang of pain bloomed on his left foreleg; Konata glanced down, expecting to lick some bite from one of the many insects that buzzed about. There was none there, strange. He returned his attention to his brother, drawing in a deep breath; he could sense there was still a lot of moisture in the air; the sun hadn’t burned it away yet.

“The scent is still too strong in the air; let me be for a while longer. At least until the day’s odor is at half-strength. Then, I will see to the hunting and gathering to prepare for this moon’s migration.” Konata yawned, a vast maw stretching open to take in the thick, humid air of the jungle. Then, resting his great head back down on the kapok tree’s vein-like branch, he hoped his brother would just leave off today.

“Five great hunts, brother. You have padded underneath the verdant glow of our lord for five great hunts, yet still, you laze about. If I have to come up there,” Vitrius trailed off, seeing the threat of bringing Konata down himself as sufficient to send his brother scampering down the tree.

Konata knew his brother was gentler on him; his older brother didn’t lash out in rage when Konata slacked off, but upon hearing that he would come up the colossal tree and bring him down, Konata knew his brother was in no mood to be trifled with, not today. Scurrying down the hulking trunk, Konata landed gracefully. Despite his smaller size, moving with grace was still sometimes difficult. Forcing the effort, he shifted his bulk down from the sizable base of the trunk and onto the forest floor. First, his front two paws hit, then his back two; righting himself, he sat up to stare back into the judgement-filled eyes of his elder, and then Konata conceded.

“I shall see to the chase today,” bowing his head in deference, he glanced up one last time at his napping branch. Only able to see the pale, pastel-green underside of the bounty, each five-pointed leaf waving at him in farewell, he sighed. “I don’t know how you found me,” words muttered softly, still a sound loud enough to be heard by any Felidae, so fine, so attuned, was their hearing.

“I know you, brother,” Vitrius nuzzled his head into the side of his brother’s neck, a sign of affection amongst their kind, “and besides, you’ve been napping in that tree for the last two moons.”

Grumbling, “I should’ve known better; I will find a taller tree next time, then. Then you won’t find me so easily.” Konata strode onward to his destination, narrowly avoiding a nip aimed at his flank from the mildly irritated Vitrius.

Soft-packed dirt fell under gentle pad falls, the tender noises of the forest wrapping the brothers in its melodic chaos as they walked to the edge of the Place Without. Frogs jumped from rocks, eager to be out of the way, when they saw the pair of giants lumbering towards them. Birds alit from branches, not wanting to be caught in the jaws of the magnificent predators coming their way. The quiet rustle of the canopy, high above, shielded the pair from the sun’s heat, making the traversal of the forest less tiring than usual. Through the humid air, thick with hundreds of scent trails and odors from the plethora of critters and creepers that shared this domain with them, the brothers ambled along for some time in companionable silence.

“One day, Konata, you’re going to have to contribute more. I won’t be around forever; you’ll have to step up; The Waybound will look to you for protection.”

Catch-less days! Here it comes, time for the daily lecture on maturity, growing up, blah, blah… Konata rolled his head, loathe to hear this reprimand his brother bestowed on him so often.

Vitrius shouldered into him with all the force of a full-grown male Felidae, bashing him over before he could leap out of the way. Knocked on his side, Konata let out a low growl of anger, which was quickly cut short as Vitrius pressed one paw, claws extended, onto his little brother’s neck.

“You denounce your duty to the whole? Do you not have any shame? No kin of mine will ignore the needs of the many so blatantly.” The words came out like the venom of the many-colored snakes and spiders they used to watch out for as cubs.

Rolling over so his belly was up, Konata showed subservience to the words and rank of his elder brother, “I’m sorry, I know. I shouldn’t have said that; it’s just hard.”

“Hard? It’s hard napping about all day?” Vitrius pressed his paw into Konata’s neck harder, a deep hiss of a growl emanating from between bared fangs.

“No, no, not that. It’s hard,” Konata was embarrassed by these following words, never having admitted this feeling before, “being your brother. You’re always so perfect and strong. You always know what to do and what the right choice is. I’m just not like you.”

Hearing this, Vitrius let up the pressure underfoot a touch, “You don’t have to be like me, brother. Who you are is more than enough.”

But it wasn’t, Konata knew this.

“Get up; you’re a fine male, young and healthy; you’ll have no problem watching over The Waybound when I leave the forest, and my soul goes into the great verdant above.” Vitrius removed his paw and softly licked his brother’s head, “You’ll be a great protector one day, you’ll see.”

Getting all four paws back underneath him, Konata stood back up, then staggered a bit.

“I didn’t hit you that hard—” Vitrius’s words cut off sharply, a look of fear and horror spreading across his wide face.

Konata shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his submission. “What?” Then he followed his brother’s gaze back down to his left foreleg.

A stripe was floating off.

The Taker had come for him.

Konata watched the black bar drift off his tangerine skin, speechless. There were no words of comfort to be had; there was nothing either brother could do.

Maybe it’s better this way, thought Konata, not having to live up to the expectations of my brother, those towering heights that are only graced by the excellent or those with wings.

Maybe it’s better that I become Taken. Then, I won’t have to worry about falling or failing to meet the hopes and aspirations the rest of them have for me.

“Brother!” Vitrius surged forward in hopes of doing something to save his kin from the darkest of diseases their kind could ever suffer from; he caught himself and skidded to a halt—not a hair’s breadth away from Konata.

He knows. He can’t touch me, or he’ll get it too. He’ll die a Taken, just like how I’m about to.

The rest of his stripes began to float away now, a neat and orderly procession, moving up his left forepaw and onto his flank. The Taken came quick, without warning or alarm. The half-dozen or so of them that contracted this disease each year always died in the same way: they were dissolved until nothing remained.

Konata and Vitrius watched as the younger brothers’ stripes floated up and away, lost in the lush canopy above, joining the flying creatures in their dance across the skies. One by one, the stripes lifted up, away from the orange fur they had called home for five great hunts. The brother watched in silence at first, then when the Taken had made its way to Konata’s tail, the brothers realized they had moments left with one another.

Konata smiled at his older brother, the great, strong, proud Vitrius: “Guess I will be taking a nap after all.” Then, smiling, the Taken stole the last of his stripes. The small frame of Konata dissipated into orange dust, fleeing with his final stripe.

Vitrius let out a roar of such power and contempt that all the rest of those in The Waybound, far away and safe as they were, nestled up in The Within, heard it. The howl at the loss of a loved one. Then they wept, too, and the whole jungle wept with them. One more of their number was stolen from them by The Taken, one less that would survive to see the next great hunt.