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Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

It wasn’t so much that she heard nothing; rather, she heard herself. Her breathing, calm and relaxed, and her heartbeat, just as slow and rhythmic. Soothing, and yet it felt strange. She couldn’t remember ever having experienced such silence.

She opened her eyes and everything was white, but it wasn’t so much that it blinded her; it was simply all white — the absence of any shadow. She saw no sky, but also no ceiling, no walls — simply nothing. Not necessarily unsettling; it was like thick fog, and yet it didn’t feel right, because even in the thickest fog, one could still perceive things.

She could sense things, too; she felt the floor beneath her back and she felt herself. She lifted her head and looked around. She saw herself, her body, naked and unharmed, but nothing else. She wasn’t cold, and her nakedness didn’t bother her, which felt a little strange, but not alarming.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that, as much as she wanted to worry about this situation, she couldn’t. She wanted to worry about this place — which was completely foreign to her — and feel uncertain, but she didn’t. On the contrary, she felt safe, secure. An incredible feeling of absolute safety and security flooded through her. It was as if she instinctively knew that nothing would happen to her here.

It was this feeling of safety that felt so completely wrong to her.

“Happened…”

she murmured quietly to herself. A good cue. She looked down at herself; something was different. She raised her hands to her face and examined them, her arms, and then her legs and feet; something was missing. But what? She tried to remember, but it simply wouldn’t come to her; it was as if she were reaching out for it, but the memory kept receding into the fog, almost as if it didn’t want to be remembered.

“Why can’t I remember?”

she whispered, rubbing her temples as she sat up very slowly. Now that she was sitting, she looked around again. She was in a room, that much was certain, but she couldn’t possibly gauge the size of this room. There were no contours; she couldn’t even see where the floor began or ended; even when she looked down, she couldn’t even see her own shadow.

“Where… where am I?”

she whispered, and her voice sounded as if it were wrapped in muffling cotton. There was no echo; the sound simply faded into nothingness. For a moment, she almost believed she hadn’t spoken the words at all, because her thoughts were so loud in this silence.

Very slowly, something like worry began to creep in.

“Hello?”

she asked, already a little louder, and this time she was sure she had spoken the words. Still, her voice had no echo, which felt increasingly strange. She took a deep breath and began rubbing her arms, something she’d done since childhood whenever she was worried or afraid.

She got no answer, and it felt as though the emptiness surrounding her was slowly beginning to crush her.

“H-hello? Is anyone there? I’m scared.”

She repeated her question, her voice trembling slightly. She looked around again, but still couldn’t see anything. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as her worry slowly turned to fear.

When the voice came out of nowhere, she jumped in fright.

“Don’t be afraid, Shirya, nothing will happen to you here.”

The voice sounded old, worn, but there was a warmth in it that immediately calmed her.

“Shirya?”

she murmured. Yes, that was her name, she remembered. Something like hope began to sprout within her, pushing her fear aside. She looked around again and tried to locate the source of the voice.

“Who’s there? Where are you?”

Shirya asked into the white void surrounding her. When she received an answer, the voice already sounded much closer.

“I’m here, with you.”

The voice sounded right behind her, and she was about to turn around when the voice spoke again.

“No, don’t turn around yet; I don’t want to startle you.”

It sounded very gentle, full of warmth and affection. Somewhere, the way the voice spoke seemed familiar to Shirya, but she couldn’t place it. When she finally sensed someone approaching from behind, ancient, deep-rooted instincts screamed at her to turn around or flee. However, she resisted the urge to turn around immediately, wanting to trust the one approaching from behind. Nevertheless, her breathing quickened in anticipation of what was about to happen. Hope and fear battled for dominance within her as she waited.

“Good child, please don’t be frightened now.”

said the unfamiliar voice sympathetically. What happened next caught Shirya completely off guard; the hand now gently placed on her shoulder from behind was covered in yellow fur with black stripes. Her eyes widened and she flinched, but the hand gently held her steady.

“Shh, my child, I won’t hurt you. I’m here to welcome you.”

whispered the tiger standing behind her, and she wanted to believe him. Very slowly, Shirya turned her head to look over her shoulder. The tiger she saw standing behind her was old; his fur was dull and graying, his face furrowed with wrinkles, and his yellow-green eyes looked tired, but his smile radiated an unexpected warmth and love. He just stood there, making no move to shift. It seemed as though he were waiting for the inevitable.

“Who… who are you? And where are we?”

came the predictable question from Shirya as she turned very slowly toward him. Curiously, she looked at the old tiger, who seemed to be standing in the void. He didn’t react immediately, but first lowered his paw and tilted his head slightly.

“In my lifetime, I was called the Great Khan; now I am the guardian of this space. It was I who made the pact with your ancestors that has now led you here.”

he explained, his voice sounding surprisingly soft for a predator of his age. Shirya looked at him questioningly, but then the memory hit her like a punch to the gut. She remembered how she had volunteered to be the tribute, how she had walked along the path and entered the Temple of the Tigers, how she had carried out the preparations for the ritual with Raya, and she remembered the sad look in Raya’s eyes just before she took her last breath. Unconsciously, she brought her hands to her chest, and tears welled up in her eyes as it all came crashing down on her.

The Great Khan closed his eyes and nodded slowly as he saw the realization in her, then he spread his arms and caught her before she could collapse. He pressed her gently but firmly to his chest as she began to sob, and he felt her face grow hot.

“Shh… it’s all right, child. You’ve made it; no harm will come to you here. You’re safe; I’ve made sure that no one who comes here through our pact has anything to fear.”

he whispered softly, stroking her back. He waited patiently until she calmed down. It took quite a while, and every now and then, just when it seemed she had calmed down, she would start crying again, her body shaken by sobs. The tiger held her close, pressing her to his chest; he gently rocked her back and forth and waited.

“Shh… my child, everything is all right. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

he finally said, once he was sure she had at least partially regained her composure, while he continued to gently stroke her back.

“I’d like you to meet a few people. Shall we go over there?”

he asked quietly, loosening his embrace slightly, but Shirya slowly shook her head and buried herself even deeper into his chest. The tiger accepted her decision, nodded silently, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her again. For the moment, she seemed to need the safety and support he offered her. Even when he lifted his head, she didn’t react, but continued to cling to his fur.

It wasn’t until a short time later, when their embrace was shared by other arms, hands, and bodies, that she fearfully lifted her head and looked around. They were surrounded by other tapirs, all crowding around them and embracing the two of them in their midst. Shirya recognized some of them from pictures that had adorned the walls in her home. They were her ancestors, all long dead. After a moment of uncertainty, Shirya let go of the Great Khan, and the tiger released her from his embrace, from which she was immediately drawn into the next one.

Unnoticed by the young tapir, the old tiger withdrew with a slight bow and finally vanished into the nothingness of the white surroundings.

“My child, why are you here already? Your time hadn’t come yet.”

asked an old tapirin, who embraced Shirya tightly and didn’t want to let go, but before she could answer, the old tapirin continued.

“No. No, don’t say it, I already know. I should never have made that pact. By the ancestors, look who has gone down that path — she’s far too young for something like this!”

Lima called out to the circle of tapirs present. She was close to tears as she held the weeping Shirya in her arms. One by one, the other tapirs joined the embrace, offering their warmth and affection to their young companion.

She had closed her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by her emotions. She felt safe, secure, and loved, and she was certain that nothing would happen to her here anymore…

… the Great Khan would see to that …

She stood before the large, ornately decorated door leading to the Great Khan’s chambers, her eyes closed, waiting for the right moment to open it. Even out here in the hallway, she could hear her companion enjoying himself with the priestesses inside. The muffled sounds, the giggling of the young tigresses who were currently with him doing things that were — at least for the moment — denied to her, stoked her jealousy and her arousal. She was not yet permitted to enter the chambers of her leader and partner, and it took a great deal of strength not to simply throw open the door and assert her claim to the Great Khan.

Like so much in their society, the act of mating — at least when it came to conceiving an heir for the Great Khan — was a process shaped by rituals and traditions. There were protocols to follow, timeframes and conditions that had to be met.

She was part of the Great Khan’s personal harem, a great honor bestowed upon her at a young age that had brought her family great prestige and privileges within Tiger society. Now she had been chosen by the High Priestess to conceive the next Great Khan, carry him to term, and then raise him. An extraordinary honor, but also a responsibility she wasn’t quite sure she was up to.

She was terribly nervous and constantly tried to calm herself down, but she couldn’t manage it. On the one hand, she was looking forward to spending time alone with her mate again; on the other hand, she was incredibly nervous — after all, this would be the first and most likely only time in her life that she would be allowed to participate in this ceremony — and, not least, she was also afraid. The dignity and responsibility that this mating would entail were a great challenge and would represent a burden not to be underestimated. She was still young, downright inexperienced compared to some of the other concubines in the harem. Ébano, for example, was a concubine who had already been part of the harem under the previous Great Khan and had experience in such matters.

It wasn’t as if she had never consummated the act with the Great Khan before, but this — this was different. Never before had she been prepared for anything as intensely as she had been for this night. A whole horde of priestesses had descended upon her and groomed her for her meeting with the Great Khan.

They had bathed her, ritually cleansed her, and spent hours combing her fur. She looked at her hands, artfully wrapped in colorful ribbons; they trembled slightly. From there, she let her gaze wander over her arms, which had been elaborately inscribed with runes of fertility and good fortune. Then she looked down at her body, over her breasts, which had been accentuated by the skillful binding with braided ribbons and then highlighted with runes in bright colors. She could barely resist the urge to touch them, and as her gaze slid further down, she saw the elaborate rune that the High Priestess herself had applied to her belly. It was beautiful and was meant to guarantee the success of this union. The priestesses hadn’t even spared her private parts. After shaving it almost completely, they had also adorned it with colorful ribbons. It was a strange feeling to be so completely exposed, for even though she was accustomed to appearing naked in the harem and in large parts of the temple, she still wore her fur and was thus always covered, especially since the other tigers did the same, but now… she felt strangely naked and vulnerable, a feeling only intensified by the emphasis of the artfully braided and tied ribbons. She would have loved to cover herself, but that was out of the question now. Finally, her gaze wandered to her legs, which had also been adorned with all manner of ribbons and runes.

She took a deep breath and smelled the beguiling scent of the blessed oils with which the priestesses had anointed her entire body, and whose ingredients only intensified her state. They were part of the ritual and were meant — much like the runes she wore all over her body — to ensure that this mating would certainly be successful. Her whole body tingled, and she longed to be touched. Only her extraordinary self-control prevented her from pleasuring herself right here and now, but she didn’t know how much longer that would last.

She felt unnaturally hot and cold at the same time, but since she was already naked, there was nothing she could do about it. She felt her heartbeat thudding in her ears in a rapid staccato, and her hot breath came in quick, choppy gasps, while behind her, her tail lashed left and right like a whip. Finally, she clenched her hands into fists and heard the ribbons around her wrists creak. She could no longer hold back; she had to see him now, or she would go mad.

When she slid open the door to the Great Khan’s chamber, it lay in darkness, just as it always did, but thanks to her excellent night vision, she could see him sitting on his throne. He was still surrounded by priestesses who continued to work on him, and they all seemed to be having a great time. It was true, the leader of the Tigers was a lover of simple pleasures, and being surrounded by young, pretty, and above all naked priestesses was a feast for him, but when he noticed that his chosen partner had entered his chamber, the priestesses were written off. He looked over at her with a relaxed smile and nodded before exchanging a few whispered words with the priestesses, who immediately let go of him. One by one, they rose and bowed to their leader until only the last one remained kneeling before him, finishing the anointing of his shaft, but she, too, finally rose gracefully and bowed. Before she could turn away and leave, however, the Khan gently held her back and looked deep into her eyes.

“It’s a shame you’re one of the priestesses, Rayas, otherwise I’d devour you right here and now.”

He whispered in her ear and pressed a small kiss to her cheek, then let the young priestess go. She watched the interaction with a strained smile. Normally, she was used to sharing her partner with the other concubines, and it didn’t bother her to see him with other women, but in her current state, it stoked her jealousy intensely. One by one, the priestesses passed her as well and bowed respectfully; as Rayas approached, she could clearly see how it glistened wet between her thighs, and she felt anger rising within her, but even with the young priestess, she kept her composure and thanked her for her work.

As the priestesses squeezed past her through the door, the young tigresses clearly had a hard time suppressing a girlish giggle.

Now that they were finally alone, she turned to the Great Khan and looked at him closely for the first time. He sat leaning back on his throne with one leg propped up on the seat, his arm resting relaxed on his knee, and he looked over at her with a smile. He, too, had been prepared for this night by the priestesses in the same way she had been. His body had been washed and cleansed and then anointed with the blessed oils; the priestesses had drawn the sacred runes intended to increase his strength, stamina, and fertility. They had adorned his body and limbs with colorful ribbons that accentuated his musculature. She let her gaze glide over the work of art that was her partner and leader.

She couldn’t quite suppress a grin when she saw that the blessed oils had not failed to take effect on the Great Khan either; his half-erect member lay on his thigh, and he ran his right hand over his chin before looking at her with an almost murderous grin.

“You look enchanting, my dearest Pecada Dulce. Come closer and let me take a closer look at you.”

Purred the Great Khan with sparkling eyes, as he straightens up on his throne and places his leg back on the floor.

Pecada returned her partner’s gaze, hesitating for a moment before finally setting herself in motion and slowly approaching him with lascivious steps. Her hips swayed with each of her elegant strides, and her tail twitched excitedly back and forth behind her. She had pulled her shoulders back, skillfully showcasing her bust, and playfully bared her teeth. She could see the lust in his eyes and how he beckoned her closer with a gesture, whereupon she seductively licked her lips.

The sight of him, the drug-laced oils, and her own arousal did the rest, ensuring that Pecada could do nothing but show him her desire. She wanted him all to herself.

As she was almost upon him, the Great Khan leaned forward, reached for one of the ceremonial sashes tied around her body, and pulled her toward him. She offered no resistance and took the final steps to the throne, where she stopped before him. Her hips were tilted slightly to the side, her arms crossed behind her back, which emphasized her already voluptuous breasts even more.

The Great Khan, who was otherwise rarely at a loss for words, was obviously speechless, for all he could do at that moment was gaze at the tigress chosen for him and savor her breathtaking beauty with all his senses. He let his eyes roam over her body, from her feet to her slender yet powerful calves, to her muscular thighs, over her flat stomach with its lovely little navel and her shapely breasts, and finally over her slender neck to her beautiful face, which he loved so dearly. She was more than perfect, and even more than that — she was ready.

Every Khan was given only one chance to father an heir. Such were the rules his ancestors had established to regulate the line of succession. Should a Khan fail to father an heir on this one night, a new Khan would be chosen from among his warriors after his death. His bloodline was one of the oldest and longest, having existed uninterrupted since the beginning of recorded history, and he would not break it. Tonight, the current Khan would father his heir.

He still held the sash in his hand as he rose slowly and elegantly from his throne and towered over Pecada. Even though his chosen one was not exactly small for her race, the Khan towered over her by nearly a head. His muscular build made her — rather athletic figure — appear almost slender, even though she wasn’t far behind him in terms of strength. He knew the effect he had on most others and enjoyed exploiting it. He was tall and powerful, he was intimidating, and he was the embodiment of death; no jungle dweller could match him.

And now he stood before her in all his glory, looking down at her. She met his gaze, and her desire for him grew with every passing heartbeat. Tenderly, he lifted his strong paws to her cheeks, leaned down toward her, and kissed her deeply.

Now there was no holding back, and as their tongues explored each other’s mouths, Pecada’s hands found their way across the Great Khan’s body. She let her more delicate hands glide along his flanks, following the lines defined by his musculature and feeling them move beneath his skin. He was warm, his fur was soft, and his scent — so primal and wild — combined with the blessed oils, aroused her infinitely.

Her partner, for his part, kept one hand on her cheek while the other slowly traced her neck. Her pulse quickened and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a pleasant shiver ran down her spine to the tip of her tail. She couldn’t help but begin to purr as his hand slowly moved over her neck to her back and from there downward, the Great Khan skillfully letting his sharp claws glide through her thick fur and across her skin. She responded to this new sensation by arching toward him, standing on her tiptoes, and her purring slowly deepened into a contented growl. Finally, his deft, curious hand reached the base of her tail and grasped the stubborn appendage, causing Pecada to gently bite his tongue. Her partner now growled as well, but let go of her tail and finally brought his hand to her firm behind, gripping it with gusto.

“Rrrrrrrreowrrrr …”

she protested after taking a deep breath, letting him feel her claws on his flank. Though it wasn’t really painful on either side, but rather a playful rebuke.

When he finally pulled away from the kiss, Pecada was still clinging to his lower lip, refusing to let go. Only when he guided his second hand down toward her butt did she release him, intercepting his arm midway to guide it to her waist. She held him there and looked deep into his green-yellow eyes.

“I know exactly what you’re up to, Khan, but that’s not happening today; today I’m the one calling the shots here.”

She whispered, surprised at how confident she sounded, and when no objection came from her partner, a mischievous grin spread across her beautiful lips. Now the Great Khan tilted his head slightly to the side and raised his eyebrows, but he still didn’t object; instead, he returned the grin and finally nodded.

“My Queen, I shall be at your service, just as you wish.”

He replied, his amusement clearly audible in his tone, before closing his eyes and nodding. Satisfied with his answer, she let her hands slide from his flanks to his chest, where they lost themselves in the hills and valleys of his muscles, and she licked her lips once more. An idea formed in her mind and her eyes began to sparkle as she removed her hand from his chest and pointed to the bedstead that dominated the room.

“Get on the bed, slave!”

She commanded him with an unshakable authority in her voice that brooked no objection and surprised even her, but once again the Great Khan did not contradict her; instead, he broke away from her and took a step back. He bowed respectfully before his chosen one and replied:

“Certainly, my mistress.”

It didn’t really sound submissive; they both knew she wouldn’t stand a chance if he didn’t play along, but for the moment he seemed only too willing to participate in the little charade. He turned elegantly and walked toward his bedstead with relaxed yet strongly accentuated steps. With every step he took, his tail swung elegantly back and forth, a movement that had an almost hypnotic effect on Pecada. She devoured him with her eyes, and it took all her strength not to simply leap after him and throw him down. When he reached the huge bed, he let himself glide elegantly onto the mattress and lay on his side, drawing his top leg up and thus giving her an unobstructed view of his Little Khan. He lowered his head slightly and looked at her seductively from below, out of the corner of his eye.

Pecada looked over at him, and the desire to finally feel him inside her, the anticipation of being filled by his manhood, made her shiver. He was a seducer, and he knew exactly which buttons to push to finally get what he wanted. And now he lay on the bed, naked, erect, and luring her with his body and his gaze. She was so aroused that she trembled, and she felt the heat running down her thigh. She wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer, but she was sure he felt the same way, if she was reading the glistening at the tip of his little Khan correctly.

With lascivious steps, she approached the bed, her hands gliding over her body and smudging the runes the priestesses had drawn on her fur in hours of painstaking work. She felt incredibly hot and cold at the same time.

“Do you like what you see, my queen?”

The Great Khan purred, making his little khan twitch for her, causing Pecada’s eyes to widen and her to let out a brief giggle she couldn’t quite suppress, but she quickly recovered and regained her composure. She flattened her ears and slapped her thigh with her open hand to command his full attention.

“Don’t get too big for your boots, slave. That’s not fitting for the likes of you.”

She hissed with feigned coldness that anyone would have seen through immediately, but much to her satisfaction, the Great Khan continued to play along and nodded submissively. She took another step closer and pointed at the bed.

“On your back!”

She commanded, putting all her authority into her voice. The mighty tiger on the bed reacted immediately and without any resistance. He rolled onto his back and now lay on his bed with his head turned toward her, looking at her devotedly with his yellow-green eyes. Pecada’s smile widened, for she enjoyed having a certain measure of power over him. She was all too aware that he was only allowing all this because it was a special night and she played a very special role in it; under normal circumstances, he would never behave so submissively toward her. The only one who enjoyed this privilege was the High Priestess, since she was the spiritual leader of their clan and, in theory, still stood above him.

Pecada now took the last few steps toward the bed and stood over her partner so that his head was practically between her legs. She offered him a sight that even the Great Khan could not resist for long, and she knew it. It was a testament to his willpower that he did not simply take her and drag her onto the bed to do whatever he pleased with her there. The mere thought of what he was capable of if she gave him free rein aroused her immensely. She waited an infinitely long moment until she heard the tearing sound emanating from the furs into which the Great Khan had sunk his claws and which were now falling victim to his mounting impatience. Pecada looked down at her leader… no, her willing slave, and saw how his member was painfully erect, pulsing in time with his master’s heartbeat.

She, too, could wait no longer, or she would finally lose control. The oils, his very own musk, his obvious readiness, and her own arousal threatened to completely overwhelm her. Trembling, she climbed onto the bed and stood over him.

“Show… show me that you truly deserve me…”

She demanded, her voice trembling with lust. Without waiting for his answer or reaction, she dropped to her knees. Only her exceptional self-control prevented the Great Khan from having his nose broken as her sex came to rest just a few millimeters above his nose.

“As you command, Mistress.”

He replied, placing his hands on her hips to steady her in that position. She felt his hot breath on her pubic mound, and that alone was enough to give her goosebumps. What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he finally begin?

She was just about to scold him when he finally lifted his head and ran his rough tongue over her delicate outer lips. It came so suddenly, and in her aroused state, the sensation was so much more intense that she gasped for air and then moaned loudly. He began to clean her crotch of all the moisture that had already seeped out from her innermost depths, and then traced it back to its source. He was so incredibly tender and careful as he slid the tip of his long, powerful tongue between her folds and ran it the length of her slit. Above him, Pecada tried to maintain her composure, but each of his skilled movements sent new shivers down her spine and caused her tail to whip wildly back and forth as she braced herself with her hands on his chest.

Cunnilingus was nothing new to her; both the Great Khan and the concubines among themselves regularly indulged in this method of satisfying carnal desires, and she was very fond of this practice as well, but it had never been as intense as it was this time. Every time his tongue began its journey anew, starting at the very back of her perineum and then through her valley of secrets, past the entrance to her secret temple, and back up to her shrine of delight, it brought her to the brink of madness.

He knew no bounds in his efforts to bring his chosen one to her first climax. Willingly, he sucked on her labia, made his way to her clitoris, and sucked and nibbled on it gently, while his strong paws held her tight so she wouldn’t simply fall over. Pecada accompanied the obscene, smacking sounds her partner was making with her own perverse sighs and moans. Her toes dug into the furs on which they lay, and her claws clung to his chest.

When he finally slid his tongue deep inside her and began to explore her love tunnel with it, she was done for. She tried to delay the inevitable just a little longer, but with every new movement of his flexible muscle, her moans reached new heights. The tigress arched her back, tensed her abdominal muscles, and her legs began to tremble wildly as she took one last sharp breath and held it.

The climax did not catch her off guard; it was a wave of pure bliss that she had seen coming long before it broke, yet it still overwhelmed her with its intensity. She nearly collapsed on top of the Great Khan, but his immense strength steadied her so she couldn’t fall off the bed. But as beautiful and as intense as it was, her climax rolled over her just as quickly, and she let herself fall onto the belly of the mighty tiger who had played such a pivotal role in it. Breathing heavily, she crouched on top of her partner and savored the afterglow of her first orgasm of the night, certain it wouldn’t be the last.

It didn’t take long for her to catch her breath; she had excellent stamina, and as she slowly came down from her high, she rolled off him and sat down next to him. She looked at her partner, whose face was completely drenched in her ejaculate; his short fur was practically glued to him, and she almost felt sorry for him — but only almost, because she knew how much fun he’d just had, too. She smiled kindly at him and beckoned him over.

“Come to me, slave, let me help you clean up.”

She whispered hoarsely, a request he was only too happy to comply with. He pushed himself up and came toward her on all fours. When he knelt before her, Pecada didn’t hesitate for a moment; instead, she took his face in her hands and began licking the wetness from his cheeks. She was eager, but managed to restrain herself enough to be tender. The Khan clearly enjoyed the attention, closing his eyes and letting her do as she pleased, while his hands found and caressed her flanks.

When she was finally done, he leaned back and looked deep into her eyes. She could see the pure, burning desire in his eyes, and she had to admit to herself that she, too, no longer wanted to wait to finally feel him inside her.

“Do you deem me worthy of you, Mistress?”

He finally asked submissively, and Pecada could not — and did not want to — deny him this question. She licked her lips lasciviously and ran her hands over her body, touching herself where he had used his tongue just moments ago. The fact that he was watching her, devouring her with his gaze and on the verge of losing his self-control, nearly drove her to the brink once more.

She could no longer put it off, and she wanted even less to delay it any further.

“Yes… yes, you are worthy of my body. Take me. Defile me!”

It was less a command than a pleading request, directed at the only tiger who could still satisfy her desire, and the Great Khan was more than ready to grant his chosen one this request. He grabbed her and pulled her down.

“Come here!”

He growled wildly; Pecada was unable to defend herself or utter more than a brief:

“Eeeep…”

before she lay on her back directly before him. Her legs were wide open, and her innermost temple lay just as open to the Great Khan. She buried her hands in the furs she lay upon and pleaded with her eyes for him not to make her wait any longer.

He didn’t need to be asked twice; instead, he grabbed her hips with both hands and lifted her onto his rock-hard member. Effortlessly, he found the entrance to her temple, and with a triumphant roar, he penetrated her in a single, smooth motion, stopping only when he reached the back wall of her tunnel. Once more, Pecada took a deep breath, only to exhale it with a loud moan. Being penetrated so violently was a sensation in itself, but one she had asked for, and she could accuse her partner of many things, but not of ever having disappointed her.

“Haaaarnnnnrrrrrrr…”

She growled and bared her teeth as he towered over her and flattened his ears as well. It was a brutal, painful start to the act that would shape the future of their clan, but she could not — and would not — bother with the usual niceties anymore.

“Get it on, now …”

She hissed at him as ancient instincts took over. She felt his claws digging into her hips and saw the determination in his eyes as he pulled his hips back, and she braced herself. When he finally began to ram himself into her with all his might, she welcomed him with open arms. She wrapped her strong legs around his waist and braced herself against the onslaught of his hips as best she could, while her partner used his brutal strength to keep her from slipping away from him. Each of his thrusts was accompanied by a wild growl and punctuated by a scream of primal lust. This cacophony was underscored by the rapid, rhythmic slapping of his pelvis, which, with every new thrust, collided with hers and set her breasts in motion.

Pecada felt the hides beneath her tearing, unable to withstand the heavy strain and her claws, but she managed to brace herself against his force for the most part, and yet she was slowly but surely being pushed across his bed by him. Her breasts bounced up and down almost painfully with every impact of his pelvis, and with each new thrust, he brought her a little closer to the abyss, both figuratively and literally. She tried to synchronize the contractions of her inner muscles with his rhythm, but the sheer amount of stimulation was overwhelming. She lost herself in her bliss, moaning, sighing, and screaming her pleasure, her pain, and her lust into the darkness of the room, while stars danced before her eyes and she slowly began to feel dizzy.

Finally, she let go of the furs, unable to resist his relentless storm any longer, and reached out her arms toward him. The Great Khan understood her without words, grabbed her arms, and pulled her up onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he placed one of his strong hands on her back and the other back on her hip. As soon as she was resting halfway securely on his thighs, he continued his work, lifting her with his immense strength and then letting her fall back onto his lap.

She acknowledged his renewed efforts by moaning loudly. She was on the verge of her next climax, and her muscles began to tense involuntarily.

“Hannnn… Beloved… soon… hrrrnnn…”

she managed to utter through clenched teeth, and the Great Khan nodded. Judging by the look on his face, he, too, was not far from giving her a gift.

“You… will… rrrrr… conceive… rrRRRrr… my son…”

he growled back, baring his teeth, before mustering his strength once more, lifting her with his hips, and then letting her fall onto his manhood as his claws dug into her hips.

With a strained cry of pain, she leaned forward and sank her teeth forcefully into his neck, which temporarily muffled her screams, but the Great Khan remained undeterred as he plowed his own path to climax.

She came a short time later, and as the wave of her climax washed over her a second time, she dug her claws into his back and tore him open with four long cuts on each shoulder, while her fangs left a deep bite wound on his neck. Her body reared up so violently against her powerful partner that they both nearly toppled over. At the same time, her internal muscles tensed so strongly that it likely wouldn’t have taken much for her to castrate him in the throes of her climax.

Her partner came almost simultaneously with her, and his climax was her equal. His final, triumphant thrust through her cramped love tunnel was so powerful that he thought he’d felt something give way in her hip. Much like his chosen one, he sank his claws into her flesh, leaving four long, deep gouges on each of her buttocks before announcing his climax to the world with a wild, guttural scream and simultaneously flooding her womb with his seed.

It took both of them a little while to come down from their ecstatic high. The Great Khan was the first to regain his senses. He still held his chosen one on his lap, tightly embraced and secure. It took him some effort to free himself from her embrace and gently lay her down on the bed in front of him. His breathing was heavy, and as the afterglow of his orgasm slowly faded, he began to feel the small love bites and scratch marks their lovemaking had left on him. He wanted to ignore them — surely they weren’t wounds one should simply ignore — but he was certain they would heal later without any further trouble. For the moment, there were more important things; his partner lay before him, still completely blown away. She was panting heavily and rapidly, her chest heaving with her short, shallow breaths, causing her breasts to jiggle in time with them, and the muscles in her arms and legs were still twitching occasionally. The evidence of what they had done together oozed sluggishly from her temple and dripped onto the torn hides beneath her. He smiled; she was more — so much more — than he had ever hoped for this night, and this night was more than he had ever hoped for… and the best part was, it wasn’t over yet…

Pecada lay on the Khan’s bed, alone with her own thoughts. For the moment, she was aware of nothing else but herself and her thoughts; and all her thoughts, all her senses, her entire being revolved around a single thing:

“He did it… he actually did it…”

It was impossible that she wasn’t pregnant after this experience. She had to be pregnant; it was simply impossible that this union wouldn’t produce the next Great Khan.

In her imagination, she danced, jumped, laughed, ran, and giggled, while in the real world her body slowly came back down from the cloud her partner had lifted her onto. But the strain of such a wild mating was taking its toll on her as well. She could barely feel her legs, while her back protested vehemently against any movement, and what had that tiger done to her buttocks?

As she slowly opened her eyes, she gazed into the loving face of her partner and leader. Carefully and tremblingly, she raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

“You… you have made your Mistress proud, slave.”

She whispered with a grin, which he returned.

“You have made yourself proud, Mistress,”

He replied, stroking her cheek in turn before lying down beside her and letting his hand glide very slowly down her side toward her belly, where hopefully a new life was developing. She placed her hands on his and interlaced them before leaning toward him and pressing her lips to his.

…

At the Temple of the Tigers, meals have always been shared. Even in the days before the Agreement, the hunted game was brought to the temple and eaten together with the other tigers. This strengthened the community and allowed the priestesses to focus entirely on their spiritual duties, while the clan’s warriors took care of procuring food. Nowadays, since it was no longer necessary for the warriors to hunt, the clan’s mighty fighters served as border patrols, securing the Tigers’ territory against outside intruders.

The communal meals, however, remained. Every tiger in the temple gathered in the great hall at sunrise and sunset to share a meal with their fellow tigers. It was still an important part of their community and was enjoyed by all.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; one tiger wasn’t enjoying his meal today, but it wasn’t because of the injuries he’d sustained during a wild night with his chosen concubine. No, it was due to a completely different cause, a cause that affected him far more deeply than the scratches and bite marks on his neck.

The Great Khan sat at his customary place at the head of the great table, flanked by his concubines, and stared at his plate. As his rank in the community demanded, the servants had served him the finest meat. That was not what had spoiled his appetite; the quality of the meat on his plate was beyond reproach, and he was certain it would be absolutely delicious, but he simply found himself unable to eat it.

He looked around the table. His concubines, his warriors, and priests — they were all relishing the food laid out before them, and he couldn’t blame them; on the contrary, he was glad they were enjoying it. But when he looked back at his own plate, he almost felt sick.

He knew only too well whose flesh, whose body lay here on the plates in perfectly portioned pieces, and he simply couldn’t bring himself to devour it. He took a deep breath and pushed the plate away from him before leaning back on his throne and running his hand over his chin.

He felt it immediately — it was like a burning sensation at the back of his neck, that feeling of being watched. When he looked around again, his gaze lingered on the High Priestess, whose blind eyes pierced his soul. Yes, she was blind, but still, nothing escaped her — absolutely nothing. She didn’t need to say a word to express her displeasure; her nod was enough, and the Great Khan understood.

He rose wordlessly from the table and left the great hall. On his way out, he felt not only the eyes of the old priestess resting on him, but those of the entire clan, yet he ignored the gnawing feeling and walked with quick, confident strides through the great portal leading out to the temple’s outer grounds. Now that all the other tigers were seated at their meals, the temple’s corridors were empty and silent; only the crackling in the fire bowls provided a nearly constant background hum to the mighty tiger’s heavy footsteps. He turned into one of the colonnades, which eventually led him to the large inner courtyard.

Slowly, he stepped out of the colonnade into the cool night air and took a deep breath. The priestesses and priests had already cleared the courtyard again, and nothing remained to remind him of the opening of the path three days earlier. He walked calmly past the flowerbeds where the priestesses grew the herbs and flowers they needed for the various rituals, letting his hand brush over the delicate blossoms. His thoughts drifted haphazardly from one to the next and back again, but eventually everything kept circling back to that one thing.

In the middle of the courtyard, the Great Khan finally came to a stop and gazed up at the starry, moonless night sky. His hands clenched into fists, and he could feel his sharp claws slowly digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to roar his anger, his frustration, and his pain into the night until he collapsed, hoarse, but he knew that this wouldn’t really help, but would bring only a brief moment of relief, if anything at all. And so he remained silent and waited for the inevitable.

He didn’t actually have to wait long, for he heard the unmistakable footsteps of the High Priestess as she entered the courtyard after him and closed the distance with small, slow steps. As soon as she approached him, the Great Khan knelt beside his elder in deep respect. Finally, she stood beside him with her eyes closed, her nose held high in the air to inhale the scent of the night. She took her time, but eventually she placed her delicate hand on his head and sighed.

“Rise, my son.”

She spoke gently, but even though her voice was, as always, full of love and confidence, the Great Khan did not fail to notice the worry in her; nevertheless, he rose gracefully and stood beside her.

“A wonderful night, isn’t it?”

It was a purely rhetorical question, the Khan knew that too, but she had to start the conversation with something, and he couldn’t contradict her.

“Indeed, a beautiful night. It would be perfect for a hunt.”

He replied, and she looked up at him. Her smile was full of understanding for the leader of the tigers, then she gazed into the distance, over the treetops of the jungle.

“I can certainly understand your state of mind, my child, but it is disrespectful to the tribute if you do not eat.”

The old tigress stated, though she did not sound angry or annoyed; it was more like a teacher explaining a particularly tricky task to a student. At that moment, his claws dug through the thick skin of his palms.

“I know, and I want to honor the tribute’s noble sacrifice, but how can I eat this girl’s flesh when I slept with her less than three days ago? I was the one who made her sacrifice possible in the first place. I was the one who ultimately sent her to her death. And I was the one who first gave her hope, only to send her straight to hell right after.”

He tried to keep his tone calm and measured, but his voice trembled with tension, and when he looked at his hands, blood clung to them, both symbolically and literally.

“Her blood is on my hands. Hers and that of hundreds of other animals!”

He almost screamed. On the one hand, he was beside himself with rage; on the other, he was so desperate that he wanted nothing more than to run away screaming. He trembled and tried compulsively to calm himself, but the High Priestess sensed her chieftain’s inner turmoil and placed her old, delicate hands in his. When the Great Khan saw this, he wanted to pull his hands away, because he didn’t want to soil hers, but she held him fast with astonishing determination. Startled, he looked at her, and her face wore a very serious expression.

“Nana?!”

He asked quietly, trying to gauge whether the High Priestess was angry or concerned. The old tigress took a deep breath before raising her voice. She still sounded calm and loving, but the Khan could clearly sense the anger within her.

“My child, calm yourself.”

She began, looking deep into his eyes.

“First of all, it was not you who sent her to her death; it was her own people. Her own tribe allowed her to walk the path, the way of all flesh. For them, it was a simple and convenient solution that suited them all too well. She came to us of her own free will — she emphasized that repeatedly — and the tribes also know what happens if it turns out that one of the tributes did not come to us voluntarily. So don’t shoulder this guilt; this guilt is for someone else to bear. And as for the blood on your hands, my son, we are carnivores, we are hunters. We are the embodiment of death. Blood sticks to all our hands, for in order for us to live, another must die — there is no way around it. That is how nature intended it. We have simply found a way to minimize the suffering,”

She explained, and he felt like a toddler who had to be taught the fundamental laws of the jungle. He wasn’t stupid; of course he knew that for them to have meat to eat, another animal had to die, but why did it suddenly feel so wrong coming from her? He wanted to say something in reply, but the High Priestess beat him to it.

“It’s different when you’ve never known the animal whose meat you’re eating. It’s simply consuming an anonymous piece of meat, but when you know the animal whose body you’re consuming. There is a reason why only selected priestesses and priests participate directly in the rituals. When the animal you eat has a name, a face, a story, then it is a completely different challenge to take part in the meal.”

Her voice was full of compassion as she looked into her leader’s eyes, and the Great Khan could feel her searching within him.

“You are a good leader. You show compassion, even toward your enemies. You care for your family, and you keep the ancient traditions alive — traditions that have ensured that everyone living here in the jungle can lead a much better life than ever before.”

She assured him and reached up to stroke his cheek.

“What happened to Shirya is tragic, and it was never meant to happen. The spirit of the agreement had always been that the elderly and the weak would walk the path. But it has happened, and we cannot undo it. And precisely because it was you who made her sacrifice for the community possible in the first place, you should consume her flesh. This is your opportunity to thank her for her sacrifice, so that it was not in vain.”

The Great Khan rested his head against the High Priestess’s delicate hand; it felt good to share the burden for a moment, and when she felt the tears running down her hand, the old tigress smiled.

“It is up to you to honor her sacrifice and, thereafter, to ensure that such a sacrifice will no longer be necessary in the future. The next full moon marks the anniversary of the pact’s signing; perhaps it is time to renew the agreement. Invite the representatives of the tribes to a meeting, just as your ancestor once did. Forge a new pact.”

She demanded, and her voice had lost none of its firmness. Her protégé carefully removed her hand from his cheek and stood up to his full height again. His expression was serious and his ears were pinned back as he stared beyond the walls of his temple into the green ocean of the nocturnal jungle.

“You are right, I am a fool. Of course I will honor her sacrifice, as is the custom, and I will renew the pact between our species. And as surely as my ancestors help me, they will accept this new pact, or they will not leave this temple alive.”

There was something dark in his voice as he spoke his promise, and the High Priestess nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, sometimes even you must acknowledge who and what you are, though I will not tolerate a massacre in these sacred halls.”

The old priestess explained, and the Great Khan ground his teeth before looking down at her.

“A massacre will not be necessary; of that I am absolutely certain. Too many of them still fear us.”

It was more of a growl than spoken words, but she nodded contentedly before turning back toward the temple with an inviting gesture.

They walked back into the great hall together. The temple’s corridors were still deserted; the others were likely waiting in the hall, unwilling to leave the table until their leader had returned and finished his meal.

They were one big family; they ate together.

His tension was palpable as he sat back down at his place. He hadn’t even settled into his seat before he felt Pecada’s hand on his thigh, and she gave him a knowing nod. A brief smile flitted across his lips as he squeezed her hand and gave her a quick glance, then his gaze drifted down to his plate. The meat of the tapir, whose innocence he had taken less than seventy-two hours ago, still lay there, waiting for him. He hesitated, but he knew it was important to honor the sacrifice; if he didn’t do it now, then everything would have been in vain.

The small muscles in his face twitched beneath his skin and his lips trembled as he raised his hand toward the plate. Again, he felt the hand of his chosen one gently pressing against his thigh. She couldn’t support him openly, but this way she could show that she was there for him. Finally, he took a deep breath and picked up the meat from his plate.

“I honor your sacrifice. The sacrifice you willingly made for the community. May your nobility teach me humility. I consume your body so that your soul may find peace in the afterlife. Your flesh will strengthen my body so that I, in turn, may protect your family. No sacrifice will go unanswered."

His words, spoken in silence, were echoed by everyone in the hall.

When he finally bit into the meat, tears streamed down his face and he swore once more:

“I will end this.”

The very next day, he sent messengers to deliver his summons to every tribe under his authority.

The Great Khan invited all the animals of the jungle to a gathering. The occasion was the renewal of the pact between the herbivores and the carnivores.

His messengers made it clear that this was by no means a friendly invitation; it was a summons, the disregard of which would entail severe consequences. The Khan made it unmistakably clear that he would personally ensure that those who failed to attend this meeting would be the next to end up on his plate. The herbivores’ envoys were to be expected at the temple three days before the next opening of the Path.

“The Great Khan places great importance on your presence. Especially at the next opening of the path… No, I’m afraid I must insist… But of course we will guarantee your safety… Do not worry… So may I add you to the guest list, yes? What was your name again?”

“Matari, son of Lima.”

It was the evening of the third day before the path was to open.

All day long, the clan had been preparing themselves and the temple for that evening’s gathering. The hall had been set up for the herbivore delegations, and the Great Khan’s warriors had donned their regalia for their special task and left the temple together with the priestesses.

They lined the path leading up to the temple, but unlike usual, today they carried not only the obligatory torch but also their full battle gear, including their weapons, and bright, vivid stripes had been painted onto their fur.

Tonight’s procession would be a very special one and fundamentally different from the usual ones.

The herbivores’ emissaries had been herded into the small clearing where they usually received the tributes who voluntarily came to them via the Path of All Flesh; then the tigers had forced them to put on the black hooded cloaks. Once they were all cloaked, they were compelled, under threat of punishment, to walk the path in silence, just as the tributes would do three days later. The clan’s priestess, a tall, energetic tigress, strode silently ahead along the path, past the ranks of her fellow tigers. An atmosphere of tension and fear prevailed, for unlike usual — when the tigers lined the path in neutral garb with quiet respect — they seemed aggressive that evening and exuded an aura of naked and undisguised menace. The herbivores followed the priestess closely, and most of them felt very uneasy about the whole situation.

They had been assured beforehand that nothing would happen to them, but now that they were surrounded by tigers who made no secret of the fact that they could attack at any moment, most of them were no longer quite so sure. This feeling was further intensified by the fact that the warriors did not follow the procession to the temple as they usually did, but instead extinguished their torches and retreated into the jungle, growling, as soon as the priestess had passed them. The sight that met the herbivores’ eyes was both beautiful and frightening, for the glowing war paint remained visible for a moment longer thanks to the glow of the nearby torches, until finally only the reflective pupils of the tigers could be seen in the dark jungle before they, too, vanished.

Left behind were frightened herbivores, who pressed closer to the priestess and the light, while behind them the jungle sank into darkness. Before them stood the Temple of the Tigers, this monumental structure that was also completely shrouded in shadow that night.

When they finally arrived at the temple, some of the emissaries were already at the end of their nerves, and only the pressure of the group kept them from simply collapsing. That evening, the procession was received at the main gate by the captain of the guard, a massive warrior whose arms and legs were covered with the scars of countless battles, whose ears were frayed, and whose left cheek was so disfigured by a scar that it looked as though he were constantly baring his teeth. He stood on a ledge above the gate, looking down at the arriving delegations through bloodshot eyes. His disapproval was clearly visible and audible as he gave the order to open the gates. Even as the massive wooden gates of the temple were being opened, he turned around again and disappeared from the platform without waiting for any reaction.

Soon the guests were led through the temple’s hallways, with the priestess remaining silent and the corridors flanked by the Khan’s warriors. None of the warriors moved, but their mere presence and the constant threat they exuded were enough to keep the herbivores on high alert the entire time. It was nerve-wracking, and they felt as though they were under constant surveillance, not to mention that something was constantly moving in the background that they couldn’t quite put their finger on. It always remained just out of sight, in the shadows and behind the columns, always there and yet invisible. It was as if something were hunting them, creeping up on them. There were these subliminal sounds — the scraping of claws on stone, the quick footsteps of bare paws on hard ground, the soft growl of a hunter with its prey in its sights.

When they finally reached the large portal that still separated them from the hall, many of the herbivores were on edge. Some of them were visibly trembling, while others kept looking around, and still others tried to seek shelter within the herd.

The priestess, who had led them all the way — from the small clearing where they had been herded together, along the path and through the temple, right up to this ominous double door — simply stopped in front of the closed gate and stood motionless. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened, and the herbivores slowly grew restless. Just before the mood threatened to turn sour for good, however, she finally turned around and raised her voice.

“Honorable delegates, as soon as the gates to the hall are opened, I would ask you to hand your cloaks to one of the priestesses. In the hall you will find a table and chairs; please take a seat. The Great Khan will join you shortly.”

She explained calmly, while behind her the doors opened and two more priestesses flanked the entrance to a large hall. There was a moment when the delegations stood uncertainly in the hallway, waiting for the first brave soul among them, but eventually one of them plucked up the courage to approach one of the priestesses and hand over his cloak. He then hesitantly entered the hall beyond the portal, and, encouraged by his example, the others gradually followed to lay down their cloaks as well.

The hall where the meeting was held was vast, with ceilings at least eight meters high and spanning more than twenty meters from wall to wall. Columns lined the high walls, and fire bowls were placed between them to illuminate the hall. A large table had been set up in the center of the hall, at which all the delegates could certainly find a seat, and at the other end of the room stood a stone throne on a pedestal, carved from the same stone as the temple.

Furthermore, huge stone tablets leaned against the hall’s columns. They all appeared to have been coated in red paint, except for one, whose surface had been kept white. Curious, one of the tapirs approached the tablets. Only upon closer inspection could one see that they were not simply painted red, but inscribed. After a brief examination, the female tapir let out a scream and stumbled back from the slab, bumping into her companion. This drew the attention of the assembled envoys.

“There… there’s her name…!”

She stammered, pointing at the stone tablet, whereupon her companion also took a closer look at the tablet. He recognized a few names that seemed quite familiar to him, but before he could examine them further, he was startled by the loud voice at the other end of the hall.

“Welcome to the Halls of Memory.”

When the animals turned to see who had just greeted them, they saw the Great Khan standing beside his throne. Like his warriors, he too wore his full battle armor, including his war paint and weapons. He was an imposing sight, and even though he was by no means the largest among his warriors, he was certainly the deadliest of them all. His green-yellow eyes stood out sharply against the death mask painted in black as he let his gaze sweep over those present. At his side stood three of his concubines, dressed in simple yet elegant robes. He visibly relished the effect he had on the herbivores present before handing his spear to one of his concubines, taking a few steps toward the delegation, and opening his hands in a welcoming gesture.

“In these halls…”

He began solemnly, turning once around to address the hall as a whole.

“…we commemorate the dead, not only of our tribe, but of all tribes who have laid down their lives in this temple.”

He gestured toward the slabs scattered throughout the hall.

“The names of our warriors who fell in battle to protect this temple and our community stand alongside the names of those who died of their own free will to preserve our pact.”

He continued, turning back to the herbivores present.

“They will all never be forgotten. They will all be honored and passed down for all time, from generation to generation. Carved in stone and sealed with their blood, so that they may never be forgotten.”

And though he spoke softly, his powerful words echoed through the hall for a long time. He slowly took a few more steps toward the table in the center of the room and gestured for the delegates to take their seats at the table.

“We have gathered here today to renew the pact that our ancestors made over two hundred years ago.”

he concluded and waited until the herbivores had spread out around the table and taken their seats. When everyone had finally settled in, one of the delegates was about to speak, but the Great Khan beat him to it.

“Surely you are all upset about the way I had you brought here, and you are frightened and shocked. This was done intentionally and on my orders.”

Explained the leader of the tigers as he watched the first delegates try to protest, but he cut them all off.

“It was my wish to convey to all of you the feeling of constant fear with which all your ancestors lived every day. To live in a time when they were surrounded at all times by hunters who could strike anywhere and without warning. The feeling of complete powerlessness against a superior opponent.”

He continued, folding his arms behind his back.

“In the time before our pact, before the war that pushed us to the brink of the abyss, there was only this fear; it ruled their days and their nights. Anyone chosen by one of the many carnivores back then was mercilessly hunted and devoured. There was essentially no escape until our ancestors, weary of all the death and suffering, made this pact that gave us back our lives.”

He concluded and approached the table very slowly, but before he reached it, a voice interrupted.

“We all know that; we don’t need a history lesson. We know very well what this pact means for us — after all, we make a sacrifice every two weeks. We didn’t need all this fuss.”

Following the angry voice, the Great Khan spun around and fixed his gaze on the tapir, who was still pointing an accusing finger at him. A predatory grin spread across the mighty tiger’s face, and he beckoned one of his concubines to him; she approached with elegant steps and handed him a dark package. Carrying the package in front of him, the Great Khan walked toward the tapir who had just rudely interrupted him, and it was obvious that he was furious.

It wasn’t until he was practically standing right in front of the tapir that the latter could make out what the tiger was holding in his paws. His eyes widened and he gasped for air. If he could have turned pale, he probably would have, while the leader of the tigers slowly and relishingly unfolded the carefully folded pelt he was carrying. The markings on the skin, the spots and stripes in the fur, and the arrangement of the scars made identification incredibly easy. He fixed the tapir with a downright murderous glare and held the pelt before his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“This is… was your latest tribute. A young, healthy calf, still unmated and completely inexperienced. It would have had a long, fulfilling life ahead of it, could have started a family and sired offspring, if you hadn’t sent it to its death.”

He snapped at the herbivore, who was intimidated for the moment but was already taking a breath to contradict him.

“Oh no, don’t give me that. She chose this voluntarily — of course she did, otherwise we would never have accepted her as a tribute — but it would have been your duty to dissuade her and find a suitable candidate. The pact was never intended for the young and healthy to walk the path. Quite the contrary, the old, the sick, and the weak were to come to us via the path and keep the pact alive through their sacrifice for the community. That was the spirit of the agreement; that is how nature intended it, and you send your future down the path so we can devour it? How sick is that?”

Meanwhile, the Great Khan roared his hatred at the tapir, his words thundering through the hall as the tapir before him grew smaller and smaller. When he had finished his first tirade, he snorted contemptuously, turned away from the tapir, and carefully laid the pelt he still held in his paws on the table, then placed his paw upon it.

When he heard the tapir breathe a sigh of relief behind him, something snapped inside him, and he drew his dagger with such speed that no one could react before he had turned back, yanked the tapir from his seat, and hurled him against the pillar behind him with a blood-curdling crash. Even as the tapir collapsed, the mighty tiger was upon him, dragging him back to his feet, lifting him nearly a foot off the ground, and pressing the blade of his dagger against his throat. Wild, untamed rage burned in his eyes as he bared his teeth and snarled at the defenseless, writhing tapir.

“Do you even know her name? Who she was? What fears she endured until we granted her the peace she undoubtedly deserved for her courage?”

Growled the Great Khan, fueled by the hatred he felt toward these cowards who would rather send their children to their deaths than die themselves for the community. The tapir in his claws stammered something unintelligible, but couldn’t really get any words out.

“Say her name!”

He roared when he received no intelligible answer and brought his face closer to the tapir’s. He pricked up his ears and listened, feeling both his claws and the blade of his dagger slowly digging into his victim’s skin.

“Sh… Shirya… her name was Shirya…!”

Stuttered the tapir, clearly at the end of his rope, but the tigers' leader nodded grimly. It took a great deal of self-control not to kill the tapir right then and there, and to break the pact as well.

“Right… her name was Shirya. You’d better never forget that name, because it just saved your pathetic life.”

He finally growled and let go of the herbivore, who collapsed to the ground like a wet sack. He looked at the pitiful heap at his feet for a moment longer with utter disgust before turning away. He wiped his blade on his arm and sheathed it again, then let his gaze sweep over the assembled delegates, who had fallen into a state of shock.

“All of you. All of you sitting here are unworthy of the pact our ancestors agreed upon for the good of all! You have all either forgotten the meaning and purpose of this agreement, or — what is far worse — twisted it into a perverse game, and you’re even proud of it.”

He shouted at them and spat as the revulsion turned his stomach.

“This agreement, this pact, once served to ensure our survival without having to hunt you, and in return, we drove out the other carnivores and secured the borders. You live in a peace and prosperity that no other herbivore community has ever been allowed to experience. The price for this peace was and is that every species pays us a tribute at every full and new moon. One damn tribute.”

He continued, stepping up to the table again, where he then slammed his fists down so hard they left dents in the wood.

“It was never the damn intention of this pact for you to turn it into a beauty contest. For years, ever younger animals have been coming down the path, lured by the comforts and privileges for the families of those who sacrifice themselves for the community. Young, strong, and healthy animals, with their whole lives ahead of them, throwing themselves to the blade so that the old, fat, and decadent among your kind can continue to wallow in their prosperity? You are such a wretched, spineless, cowardly pack — you disgust me!”

The Khan spoke himself into a rage, and at a signal from him, his warriors stepped out from behind the columns and surrounded the hall. His eyes were now bloodshot, and in his boundless fury, he hurled one accusation after another at those present.

“It is a bottomless disgrace! You are a disgrace! If your ancestors could see you like this…!”

He screamed, the veins on his neck and forehead bulging, causing even his concubines to flinch. He looked around the hall and took another deep breath, pointing to the tablets scattered throughout the hall.

“My respect goes out to the many tributes who have walked this path, even though they knew what awaited them in the end. Without exception, all of them walked this path with dignity and in honor of their ancestors.”

He seemed to calm down a little; at least he wasn’t shouting quite as loudly anymore.

“We can no longer change the past; what has happened has happened, but I will change the future of this pact.”

He added once more in no uncertain terms, further emphasizing his statement by slamming his fist down on the table with all his might before turning away from the herbivores and striding toward his throne. His tail lashed behind him, and his heavy footsteps sounded like ominous drumbeats before he turned back to the delegates. When he finally sat down on his throne and leaned back, one could already see a certain unease spreading among the herbivores present. Resting his elbows on the high armrests of his throne and folding his fingers in front of his face into a perfect Scholars’ Cradle, he glared across at the table and waited. Let them stew in their own juices for a while and ponder his accusations.

As he had already expected, it did not take long before the quiet murmurs among the envoys turned into lively whispering and finally into an open discussion, with each clan accusing the others of being to blame for everything. The situation escalated rapidly, and some of the warriors were already ready to intervene, but were held back solely by the Khan’s gaze; only when the first delegates rose from their chairs, openly accusing their colleagues of treason and calling for a lynching, did the Khan raise his hand, and one of his warriors raised his thunderous voice:

“Silencium!”

His roar was like a clap of thunder and instantly silenced the crowd, though its echo still reverberated through the hall. All eyes first turned to the warrior, whose lips were still twitching, but who was slowly falling back into line with the other fighters; then those present looked to the Great Khan, who was still seated on his throne. He had by now lowered his hands and was gazing grimly around the room, while standing beside him was one of his concubines, her body adorned with all manner of ribbons and bows. She carried a parchment scroll and handed it to her leader, who accepted it with a silent thank you and kissed her hands before she withdrew once more into the shadows behind the throne.

Slowly, the mighty tiger rose again from his throne and approached, with slow, measured steps, the table where the delegates had been arguing just moments before. Without exception, their eyes were fixed on him and the scroll he held prominently before his body.

“This is the pact our ancestors made, which they signed with their own blood because they were well aware of its gravity and the consequences that would arise from it, and so that it might endure forever. Now I stand before you, and I doubt it will even survive this hour.”

He declared quietly, though none of the anger had left his voice, as he reverently unrolled the scroll on the table. The characters were faded but still legible, and the signatures at the end of the important document were easy to decipher.

“Just look at yourselves — even in the face of your enemy, you are still at odds. You would rather betray your neighbor than make a sacrifice yourselves. You don’t even know how I intend to alter the pact, and already you are arguing over who is to blame for this misery. Well, I can tell you who. HE …”

The Great Khan shouted, pointing at the tapir he had nailed to the wall just minutes ago, which instantly tried to hide behind the others.

“… Matari, son of Lima, is the one who brought about this dilemma by letting his own daughter walk our path. His own flesh and blood. A calf, barely old enough to seek a mate, inexperienced in every way. She had not the faintest idea what exactly awaited her on the path of all flesh, and yet she walked it bravely and with dignity. It is because of her that we are gathered here. She was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”

He explained, though something else seemed to mingle with his anger. As the herbivores now turned toward Matari and a certain tension began to build, the Great Khan took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Before the rest of you pounce on him — I could just as easily have pointed at anyone else here, for we have received tributes from every one of your tribes that would fit Shiry’s description. This will change effective immediately.”

He added this before any of the other herbivores could interject, then drew his dagger once more and, without hesitation, cut deeply into his own forearm. He then rammed the dagger deep into the tabletop and showed the wound to the shocked delegates, some of whom gasped loudly. His blood ran down his arm, leaving a distinct trail of blood on the granite floor, before he gathered it in his hand and turned demonstratively toward the parchment on the table. A water buffalo rose from his chair and reached out his hand toward him, his mouth already agape, but the Great Khan remained unimpressed and defiled the document that sealed their way of life with his blood.

Even as his bloody paw rested on the parchment, an agitated murmur rippled through the herbivores present, while the water buffalo — accompanied by a heavy sigh — let himself fall defeatedly back into his chair.

“None of us are worthy of this pact. We tigers, who accepted the tributes without questioning whether this was all in accordance with the agreement, just as you, who let your own future run down this path without hesitation. None of us can save this pact anymore; it has long since been too late.”

He announced this with astonishing calm, took the blood-soaked document, and flung it across the table toward the herbivores, who recoiled from it almost in panic, as if it were poisoned. Meanwhile, the Khan looked at his paw, where his blood was pooling, and waited until it was almost completely filled before using the blood to stain his face and the fur on his chest red.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, and shock was written in them; at the same time, they were so spellbound that none of them could tear their eyes away from him for even the blink of an eye.

Satisfied with the reaction his act had provoked, the Great Khan leaned his hands on the table, leaving large, blood-red imprints behind.

“The new pact we will all forge here tonight will reawaken the original spirit of the first agreement.”

He declared in a conspiratorially low voice, looking at each of the delegates along the table.

“From this day forward, only those who have already fulfilled their duty to their community will walk this path. This means that only those animals that have sired or brought at least one offspring into this world shall walk the path of all flesh. Furthermore, the animal must no longer be able to serve its community due to weakness, illness, or old age, and finally, the animal must have communicated its wish to the community in advance, and the community must have agreed to it. Then, and only then, will we accept a tribute as suitable in our temple.”

He continued as the richly adorned concubine approached the table with another parchment.

“Should these three simple rules be willfully disregarded or otherwise circumvented, I will personally drag the leaders of the respective tribe into this temple and execute them before everyone’s eyes. We will no longer accept tributes if they do not comply with the rules, but rest assured, we will know how to procure other tributes.”

By now, his words were nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but he was absolutely certain that everyone in the room understood him perfectly.

“We’ve already had to make an example of one of your tribes once; for your own sake, don’t let it come to that again.”

The blatant threat he had just uttered was understood by everyone present, but for the moment, no one dared to say anything against it.

The concubine stood before a still-clean section of the table and unrolled the parchment, on which the text of the new pact was written once more in both the clan language of the tigers and the official language of the jungle. The Great Khan turned to his concubine, dipped one of his claws in his blood, and signed the contract. When he was finished, he almost smiled before stepping back from the table and looking out at the circle of delegates again. For a moment, nothing happened, then one of the water buffaloes cleared his throat and raised his voice.

“So we have absolutely no say in this matter?”

It was more of a statement than a question, and the Great Khan turned to face the agitated buffalo. Even while seated, the buffalo was taller than the Khan, but he was old, fat, and unarmed; he probably wouldn’t even have stood up before the tiger had already ripped his throat out. The Khan’s white teeth flashed beneath his blood-stained mask as he pulled a downright murderous smile across his lips.

“A say? A say!? Your say is limited to saying ‘yes’ and ‘amen’ and hoping that I don’t decide to restore the old order.”

With outstretched arms, he walked slowly toward the buffalo, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake.

“Tell me, mighty buffalo, how many of your children have been killed by predators? How many from your community have been killed in their sleep at night by an unseen murderer? And tell me, how many of your kind have managed to grow as fat and old as you?”

He asked as he circled the table. One by one, the herbivores stepped back from him until he finally came to stand before the buffalo, where he placed his bloody paw on the giant carnivore’s chest and stared intently into its eyes. The buffalo froze briefly before the leader of the tigers beat him to the answer.

“Correct!”

He whispered, using his immense strength to shove the buffalo backward against one of the pillars, then pointed to the plaque bearing the name of his tribe.

“But maybe you want to change that and be the first in over two hundred years to have your name added to the list of those who, starting tomorrow, will once again fall prey to my hunters. That would be something — let’s see just how fast a water buffalo can run.”

He growled and turned away from the buffalo in disgust before turning back to the others with a grin no less aggressive.

“Or perhaps you want my warriors to return to what nature once created them for? Hunting and killing, survival of the fittest! Nothing could be easier — come forward and tear up the parchment. Or sign the pact with your blood, just as your ancestors did.”

He offered, pointing to the document on the table.

“I’m giving you exactly this one chance to agree to the pact. Do it, and do it all of you, because you’re all in this together, or starting tomorrow, my warriors will be on the prowl again.”

He threatened, baring his teeth, before turning away from the table with one last glance at the parchment and his now-dried signature and stomping back to his throne. His concubine placed a few more quills next to the document and then followed her master with elegant steps. Her hips swayed with each of her accentuated steps, and she let her tail swing back and forth in time while the Great Khan settled onto his throne. She approached him and sat on his knee, took his arm, and began tenderly licking the wound clean.

Slowly, the mighty tiger closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the backrest, while he began to growl softly and with pleasure. There were not many concubines whom he would allow to tend to his wounds in public, but Pecada enjoyed a special status.

At the other end of the hall, at the delegates’ table, there was great agitation; some of the herbivores, especially the tapirs and the water buffalo, were beside themselves. They felt exposed and humiliated before the rest of the community. The heated discussion between them and the rest of the envoys only served to highlight once again just how divided the herbivores were among themselves. This time, too, it didn’t take long before open accusations and insults flew back and forth, and the few among them who openly advocated for signing the pact — even in its current form — were mercilessly torn to shreds. Within moments, absolute chaos reigned at the delegates’ table, and one of the water buffaloes had meanwhile laboriously pried the Khan’s dagger from the wood and was now threatening an okapi who had openly and vociferously spoken in favor of signing the pact.

The Great Khan watched the lively, chaotic commotion at the table with growing confusion and finally shook his head before turning his attention to his concubine, who was still busily and devotedly licking the blood from his fur. Gently, he lifted her chin and looked into her beautiful eyes.

“Let it be, Pecada, we’ll take a bath together later. We don’t want you to ruin your stomach with all that paint.”

He whispered softly and gave her a little kiss on the nose. Her smile helped him relax a little, and as he began to tenderly stroke her belly, she leaned against his strong chest.

“Why are they so stupid?”

She asked softly, closing her eyes to the chaotic scenes at the delegates’ table, wishing she could also shut her ears off from the noise. The Great Khan took a deep breath, gently stroked her cheek, and shook his head again.

“I don’t know, I’ve never understood these herbivores. They are so numerous that they would simply overwhelm us if they ever really pulled themselves together and allied against us, but that will never happen again. The only time they managed to resolve their differences and animosities was when they faced the combined might of all the carnivores of the jungle, and even then it only worked to a limited extent. They lack a charismatic leader. They’ve become fat, lazy, and decadent. Well, regardless, their disunity is to our advantage, and we’ll make use of it.”

He whispered this into her ear with a purr, but a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

When he looked over at the table, he could see one of the capybaras approaching the throne reverently, head bowed. It stopped a few meters from his throne, sank to its knees, and crouched before the ruler. It had lowered its head to the hard granite floor and stretched its hands forward in a posture of absolute humility and submission. Pecada gave a slight nod to her partner and leader and stood up to take her rightful place at his right hand. Meanwhile, the mighty tiger sat up straight on his throne and looked at the envoy crouching before him, who was trembling all over. It seemed as though it had already cost him all his courage and strength just to venture as far as the throne.

“Calm yourself and speak to me. What do you want?”

The Khan’s voice was surprisingly calm, and he sounded almost understanding, though he couldn’t quite keep the annoyed and enraged undertone out of his voice. The capybara seemed to calm down a little, raised his head, and stammered:

“S… sire… please… d-do something. T-this shouldn’t end this way. I beg you, put an end to t-this madness!”

Following the envoy’s hint, the tiger looked over at the table and nodded grimly. At a hand signal, his mighty warrior stepped forward again.

“Silencium!”

He roared once more, and again his thunderous cry had the desired effect; the herbivores instantly paused and fell silent. And not a moment too soon, for the buffalo had already raised the dagger high above his head and was pressing the okapi down onto the table with his other hand. The lust for murder was clearly visible in his bloodshot eyes, while sheer panic was written all over his opponent’s face.

“No one, absolutely no one, kills in my house unless I give the explicit order to do so!”

The Great Khan made this clear, and his words hit their mark, for the buffalo immediately lowered the dagger and let it clatter onto the table. With his eyes closed, the Tiger shook his head as if he didn’t want to believe it, and took another deep breath before slowly rising from his throne.

“Just look at yourselves. What is this supposed to be? What are you up to? Do you want to make my job easier by killing each other so my warriors don’t have to do it? Perhaps I should take you to the ritual chambers so we can at least get it right the first time.”

At a nod, his warriors stepped forward two paces, while he accepted his spear from one of his concubines and then likewise closed the distance to the delegates. Suddenly, the herbivores’ freedom of movement was significantly restricted. Again and again, the Khan shook his head ever so slightly, incredulous at what was unfolding before his eyes.

“Are you really that stupid? So stupid that you think you can achieve anything with this? I have no interest in your insignificant squabbles. You’re welcome to go outside and bash each other’s skulls in if you think that’s the right thing to do. If you ask me, you’re welcome to kill each other in the shadows, just because some tribe claims a territory for itself and another has already settled there — what does that matter to me? It doesn’t bother me in the least, not for a minute. Do whatever you want out there.”

The sarcasm in his voice was biting, and with every sentence he spoke, his voice grew quieter.

“But you will now sign this pact, and you will do so without grumbling or arguing, for my patience is at an end. If I do not have every tribe’s signature on this document before even the first of you thinks of leaving these halls, that tribe will be the first whose bodies will fill my pantries."

His voice was now nothing more than a hoarse whisper, and everyone in this hall who knew the Khan well enough knew that the quieter he became, the more dangerous he grew. However, apart from his warriors and concubines, none of those present knew him nearly well enough to realize this. Pecada had already noticed the small signs of an impending outburst — the slight twitching at the corners of his eyes, the hair on the back of his neck standing up just slightly, the constant opening and clenching of his fist, and his deliberately calm breathing — and had signaled to one of the warriors.

Meanwhile, none of the herbivores present knew anything about these signs; they wouldn’t even have known what to look for. Even the tapir, who was just about to speak up again, was unaware of the danger he was in.

The only reason his spear didn’t pin him directly to the stone pillar was that one of the Khan’s warriors was quicker and threw his massive body between the tapir and the Khan’s spear. The warrior was struck in the shoulder and nearly pierced by the weapon, but he didn’t even flinch before setting the tapir back down on the ground. When he finally turned to face his leader, the pain was visible in his eyes, but nowhere else.

The giant warrior bowed silently to his leader and retreated into the ranks of his clan members, where he was immediately supported by another warrior. Meanwhile, the tapir stood still and motionless, his brain likely still processing what had just happened.

At the same time, the leader of the tigers stood in the middle of the hall, his throwing arm still slightly raised, breathing heavily. Pecada took advantage of the moment of absolute silence and cautiously approached her partner from behind, placing her hand on his shoulder. When she then spoke, her voice was soft but urgent.

“As you can see, our warriors take their duty so seriously that they would even protect a herbivore from their own leader, risking their own lives in the process — even when said herbivore clearly enjoys causing trouble. We tigers, too, have our volatile sides, even though we go to great lengths to suppress them around you. But now I would truly prefer that you sign the pact so that further demonstrations like this are not necessary.”

She urged gently, yet with enough firmness to nip any objection in the bud. Even as her voice echoed through the hall, she slowly and carefully turned the Great Khan toward her and looked him in the eyes. The mighty tiger was literally trembling with rage, and it took several heartbeats before he had calmed down enough to return her tender, benevolent gaze.

“Did you see what they forced me to do?”

He whispered just loud enough for his words to carry to the table, though the herbivores still did not stir.

“I should just… all of them…”

He began, but stopped mid-sentence when she placed a finger on his lips. There was a sternness in her gaze that made him falter before she glanced briefly at the warriors. As silently as they had come, they retreated back into the shadows behind the columns and finally out of the hall. They would take care of Brutus, bring him to the priestesses; he would survive. When she returned her gaze to the Khan’s, his eyes were noticeably calmer, but she knew it was now time to bring this meeting to a diplomatic close. She would put a stop to this typical male macho posturing and seal the pact now.

She placed her hands on the Great Khan’s cheeks and looked deep into his eyes. They understood each other even without words. Even as she looked at him, he began to growl softly, a low, continuous growl that spread to the delegates.

“My esteemed envoys, if I may ask you now? The Great Khan is feeling… a little under the weather, and I would truly prefer it if we could seal this agreement now. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him calm.”

Now her voice sounded significantly more energetic, and her eyes sparkled as her smile revealed her fangs, accompanied by her partner’s persistent growl.

The herbivores hesitated for a moment longer, but then, one by one, they began to sign the pact. Using the dagger, they inflicted a small wound on themselves, then took one of the quills to sign with their blood. This took place in complete silence, broken only by the Khan’s growl and the occasional stifled groan from one of the delegates when they cut themselves. Finally, Matari and the water buffalo stood before the parchment, which, save for their names, already bore those of everyone else. When their gaze fell upon the dagger and the quills, they hesitated, but eventually they too took the blade and signed the treaty that would ensure their continued peaceful coexistence.

With that, the official part of the gathering was over, and Pecada gently stepped away from her partner to address the delegates. With all due respect, she thanked the envoys for their understanding, and at a nod, the great portal was opened once more. With a slight bow, she bid farewell to the herbivores and entrusted them to the capable hands of the priestess, who was already waiting for them at the portal. The priestess wore a simple white robe and was flanked by two tigers whose fur had been completely blackened. She received the delegations with a slight bow and, with an inviting gesture, cleared the way through the temple’s corridors. As the herbivores followed her through the labyrinth of the tigers’ official residence, the atmosphere was now completely different. The tigers now lining the corridors were dressed in beige robes and carried only the torches that illuminated the path for the temple’s guests. The weapons, the war paint — all of that had vanished, just like the constant, underlying feeling of being hunted. To most of them, the path out of the temple also seemed much shorter than the path in, but that had to be an illusion, right?

When they finally reached the main entrance of the temple complex, the path into the jungle and away from the temple was brightly lit. The delegates’ sigh of relief made the guards at the main gate grin, but they managed just barely to keep from bursting out laughing as the priestess bowed deeply before the herbivores and finally dismissed them into the night.

None of them knew how close they had come to absolute disaster, for as soon as they were out of sight, the two black tigers vanished silently into the shadows of the jungle to summon their companions, who were waiting in the herbivores’ camps to kill the leaders’ families should the negotiations have failed.

The Great Khan stood behind Pecada, by one of the large windows — if one could call the openings high up in the temple that — and they gazed out over the treetops of the jungle toward the horizon, where the last light of the sunset was just fading. He pressed himself close against her and lovingly stroked her large baby bump, which had grown over the past few months. Full of pride, his strong hands traced her curves and felt the delicate movements of the new life growing inside his chosen one. He growled softly as he gently pressed his muzzle against her neck and began to nibble on it lovingly. His efforts were rewarded with a soft giggle, and she tilted her head to the side to grant him better access. His hands wandered beneath her baby bump, and he used his strength to take the weight off her, at least for the moment, which drew a sigh of relief from her.

They both knew that, so close to her due date, they shouldn’t be sleeping together anymore, but he could show her his love in so many other ways, and she appreciated it.

“They are opening the path.”

Pecada whispered as she saw the points of light spreading along the path. The new pact between the species had briefly caused a stir after its introduction, and during the first opening they had had to discuss things a bit, since some of the sacrifices did not quite correspond to what they had agreed upon in the treaty, but thankfully this issue had been resolved without further bloodshed.

“I know…”

The Great Khan murmured softly, his hands now slowly moving upward again and tenderly cupping his lover’s swollen breasts. He began massaging them gently while continuing to nibble at her neck. Pecada moaned softly as he kneaded her sensitive breasts and surrendered to his caresses. She enjoyed the increased affection she had been receiving from him since she became pregnant. Though he wasn’t the only one showering her with attention; the other concubines of the harem were devotedly caring for her. There was no jealousy in the Khan’s harem; they had all been happy when the High Priestess had chosen Pecada. From the day her pregnancy was confirmed, the others had been falling over themselves to help her.

Since the tigers had promised not to multiply further but simply to maintain their numbers, pregnancies and births had become rare, and only a few were lucky enough to be chosen. Even if one of the tigresses was chosen by the priestesses, it was by no means a guarantee that she would be allowed to conceive her offspring with her chosen partner. Since the tigers followed a strict eugenics policy that required only the best, strongest, and healthiest among them to mate, personal preferences were rarely taken into account. This also meant, however, that the act itself was often ill-fated, and the resulting pregnancies were usually very emotionally taxing.

Ultimately, however, success proved them right, for their tribe was stronger, faster, larger, and healthier than any other tribe of their kind had ever been.

Pecada’s pregnancy had also been decided upon based on these criteria, even though her partner had already been chosen beforehand. After all, the Great Khan was granted only one chance to father an offspring. She was special in every way.

Pecada smiled and savored the goosebumps slowly spreading across her entire body as her partner gradually nibbled his way further and further up her neck until he finally reached her jawline. She shuddered at the pleasantly ticklish sensation his teeth created on this sensitive spot and eventually began to giggle. Reflexively, she pulled her head back and turned toward him, only to be embraced by him immediately. Before she could even tell him what a mischievous fellow he could be at times, his lips sealed hers, and he kissed her tenderly. She did not resist but surrendered to his strong arms and returned the kiss passionately.

It was two weeks later, on a starry new moon night, when Pecada gave birth to her child in her chambers. The Great Khan was at her side, supporting her as was the custom, while the priestesses, under the supervision of the High Priestess, oversaw the birth of the next Great Khan.

Births, even under the best circumstances, always carried a certain risk. So many things could go wrong, but the priestesses — at least the High Priestess — were experienced in these matters, and they had taken into account everything they could possibly prepare for.

And so, the birth itself proceeded without any complications at first. The next Khan was born alive and apparently healthy and lively, and his little sibling also came into the world without further problems. Twin births were not uncommon among the Tigers and were generally regarded as a good omen, especially if both children survived.

But the fact that the leader of the Tigers had sired two daughters as his successors — that had not been part of the plan. His eyes brimmed with pride and happiness when his offspring were presented to him, and when Pecada finally held her daughters in her arms, she wept tears of joy.

It meant, however, that he would be the last Great Khan of his bloodline, for his eldest daughter would take one of the warriors as her mate, who would succeed him in office.

This would bring an end to one of the longest unbroken bloodlines, but he didn’t care at all, for he was overjoyed.

Later, while mother and daughters slept blissfully after the birth and the little one’s first tongue bath, the Great Khan climbed to the highest peak of the temple pyramid with a torch and shouted his joy into the night sky.

“I am a father!”

Sometimes the price we are willing to pay for something good is very high.

And sometimes what we receive in return for that price does not seem good enough.

We don’t always have a choice, but are forced to take what is offered to us.

And when we do have a choice, it’s not always easy to decide what’s best.

Only one thing is certain:

In the end, we pay the price

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edit by

El Poyo Diabolo

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El Poyo Diabolo