The way things are

Minka stared at the packed dirt ceiling, listless. She had slept in, and she knew it, but she didn't seem to be able to move. That's what she told herself, anyway. She heard footsteps and managed to turn her head to watch her mother step tentatively into the room.

"Are you ok?" She whispered, avoiding her eyes. A couple of years ago, her mother would have called her by her family nickname, Minnie, which they knew irritated her. A family tradition. But not any more. Now they seemed to be afraid that the irritation would lead to anger, and the use of any form of name seemed to have dropped.

"Hmm" Minka replied, her voice hoarse.

"It's nearly time for training. You should get ready" her eyes widened slightly as she realised how much like an order that had sounded. She darted out the room.

Minka stared at the ceiling again for a few seconds, then called out; "Mum"
Her mother came back, staring at a space near Minka's shoulder.

"Mum. Look at me" Minka growled, trying to keep the hurt and frustration out of her voice.

Her mother took a fleeting glance into Minka's eyes, deep green against deep green, glowing softly in the darkness of the room, before scurrying out of the room again.
Minka heaved a huge sigh and stumbled to her feet, fighting the urge to attack something, to kill. Suppressing a sharp yelp, she unclenched her fists quickly, as she felt the pain of her thick, dark claws digging through her pale fur and into her pallid palms.

"Calm down" She told herself. "Getting angry only means you'll do something you regret, and then it would serve you right."

She strode out of the room with forced calm, brushing away large plant roots from the ceiling and upper walls. She walked past the room where she knew her father would be sleeping, past her mother who was gutting a large deer with her bare hands. The smell of the blood was so tempting that she stopped dead in her tracks, but, remembering that she had to learn to fend for herself, and how scared her own mother was of her, she climbed up and into the open air.

It was a cold night, and Minka grinned and shuddered as exhilaration rushed through her, and her knees threatened to give way.

She surveyed her surroundings. The ground was carpeted with stiff, coarse bushes, which the wind raced through, causing a sinister rustling sound which mingled with chilling wailing howls in the distance. Tiny yellow flowers could be seen poking up through the harsh, knotted grass, the fact that they were almost hidden from view more than made up for by their beauty and honey-like fragrance. She stooped down to pick one, but withdrew her hand sharply; even the most tempting rose has thorns.

She turned to her right and looked down the steep slope, her lustrous green eyes easily discerning the earlier ones who were already gathering in wait of their night's training. In fact, they glowed so brightly against the murkiness of their surroundings that to Minka they seemed like they gave off a light of their own, like a gathering of giant fireflies. She could smell the blood lust from here, saliva, sweat, and the very atmosphere had alerted her to their distant presence the moment she exited he burrow.

Then, the best bit, Minka looked up into the sky. It was strewn with stars, far brighter and larger in number than those waiting to train below, stretching out as far as the eyes can see, surrounding her as if waiting for the right moment to attack, as if to prove that she was theirs, however far she may run. Minka turned to behold more, but then she saw the moon. It was about twice the size her hand, at first glanced it seemed to be silver, but the longer you looked, the more you thought you could see a red gleam to it, but you were never quite sure. The sheer majesty of it was almost overwhelming.

Minka dropped to her knees as if in worship, a feeling rising in her chest as if something was trying to pull her into the sky, threw her head back, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and howled. A small animal fled from nearby, its shape disguised by its speed. The thrilling unearthly note echoed through her bones for a full four minutes before she stopped, gasping for breath, and opened her eyes, viewing the world with a different mood.

She sniffed the air, almost drooling with hunger, and then bolted through the undergrowth, hunkering down on all fours for speed. A terrified rabbit speeded through the bushes, sheer terror widening its eyes as it scrambled over roots and hummocks. Minka pursued it in an almost relaxed fashion, enjoying the sport, before leaping onto it and crushing its throat in her powerful jaws, savouring the pleasure she felt as she finally tasted flesh and felt thick, warm blood oozing and beating into her mouth, just for a few more seconds...

She got back onto her feet, casually throwing the rabbit up in the air with her teeth and caught it by the back legs in her hand so that the blood would drain out through the fatal wound on its neck. She sat on the top of the hill and tore off sections of the rabbit's fur and separated the intestines from the rest of the body almost without needing to think, still reluctant to join the others.

While gnawing on the rabbit's recently-separated hind leg, Minka regarded the increasing crowd in the valley. Try as she might, she couldn't discern her best and only friend, though she knew her eyesight was not the problem. Jan was usually one of the first to arrive. She was likeable and eager to please, but the fact that she, like Minka herself, still lived with her parents, made it impossible for most people to even want to acknowledge her.

You see, creatures like Minka and Jan were meant to follow certain...rules. Once they became fully grown it was expected that they would kill their parents. It was The Way Things Are. Of course, the parents would usually put up a fight, but nevertheless they expected it to happen. It prevented weakness in the community.

Minka felt panic begin to swallow her from the chest outwards. Yes, it was normal for the parents to be killed, but Jan was small, subservient, she didn't like to harm others, an attribute that was rare in their species, to say the least. If Jan tried to fight and couldn't manage...

Trying her hardest to fight off hysteria, Minka once again dropped to all fours, this time fleeing in the direction of Jan and her parents' burrow, all the time the same thought echoing through her head;

What if she's dead? What if she's dead? What if she's dead? What if she's dead?

Seeing a few of the larger bushes that differentiated Jan's home from all of the others, Minka ground to a halt.

This didn't feel right.

Cautious of what sight would greet her when she drew nearer, Minka sniffed the air. It didn't smell right, but it smelled familiar. She had smelled it when a former friend had turned up to training covered in blood, raving and gloating about how easy it was, and how weak and pathetic her parents had been. That smell had been there as well when there had been a fight partway through training. One of them had been seriously injured, and had staggered away into the darkness, never to be seen again.

Minka suddenly realised. It was the smell of blood. Not the everyday smell of rabbit or deer blood, but beast blood, like her own.

Minka crept forwards without wanting, no longer feeling the ground beneath her or the wind against her, her heart pounding and her thoughts thrashing in time with it:

What if she's dead? What if she's dead? What if she's dead? What if she's dead?

She saw the pool of blood first, then slowly began to register who was lying in it...

What if she killed them?
What if she killed them?
What if she killed them?
What if she killed them?