Emily paced the confines of the Punishment Pit, her bare feet scuffing against the rough, uneven dirt floor. The pit was a crude, circular enclosure, its walls carved into the earth and reinforced with jagged stones that jutted out at odd angles. The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and the faint, acrid tang of sweat. Above her, at the pit's entrance some ten feet up, she knew the Beastmen guards stood watch, their silhouettes occasionally blocking the slivers of sunlight that filtered through the wooden grate covering the opening. Though she couldn't see their faces, she could feel their presence—stoic, unyielding, and utterly indifferent to her plight.
"Hey, can't you hear me?" Emily's voice echoed off the pit's walls, sharp and demanding. She craned her neck, squinting against the faint light, trying to catch a glimpse of the guards. "What's going on with the tribe? Is Ava's bird-rearing plan still going ahead?" Her words hung in the air, unanswered.
The guards didn't so much as shift their weight. Their silence was a wall, impenetrable and infuriating. She tried again, her tone softer this time, almost pleading.
"Come on, just tell me something. Anything." But the guards remained as still as statues, their gazes fixed on some distant point beyond the pit. Emily's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wasn't used to being ignored. Back in the tribe, her voice carried weight—her beauty, her cunning, and her connections ensured that. But here, in the Punishment Pit, she was just a voice shouting into the void.
Hours dragged by, each one heavier than the last. The sun climbed higher, its heat seeping into the pit, turning the air stifling. Emily's frustration grew, a simmering ember that flared with every unanswered call.
She was Emily, daughter of the Hippo tribe leader, one of the most respected strong beastmen. How dare they treat her like she was nothing? How dare they let her rot in this hole while Ava—stupid, idealistic Ava—paraded around with her ridiculous plans, winning the tribe's favor? The thought of Ava's smug smile made Emily's blood boil.
Just when she thought she might scream from the silence, the familiar sound of footsteps broke through her spiraling thoughts. Her mates—Gronk, Torin, and Bran—approached the pit, their heavy tread unmistakable. Relief washed over her, tinged with the sharp edge of anticipation. They always brought food and water, and sometimes, if she was lucky, news from the tribe. Today, she needed that news more than ever.
"Emily, dear one," Gronk said, his deep voice soothing as he lowered a woven basket into the pit. Inside was a wooden bowl filled with steaming stew—chunks of root vegetables and tender meat in a thick broth—and a water skin bag.
Emily grabbed the basket eagerly, her stomach growling, but her eyes were on gronk's face, searching for any hint of what was happening above.
"The tribe's still buzzing about Ava's plan," gronk continued, crouching near the edge of the pit. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back with a calloused hand.
"Some are excited about the bubu birds. They think it'll mean steady food, especially in the lean months. But others… they're not so sure. They worry it's too much work, or that the birds won't survive the winters."
Emily's eyes narrowed, her spoon pausing halfway to her mouth. "What about the Shaman? Is he still backing Ava?" The Shaman's word was law in the tribe, his visions and blessings shaping their decisions. If he supported Ava's plan, it would be harder to undermine.
Gronk nodded, his expression neutral. "He's still behind her. Says her ideas are a gift from the beast god, that the birds will bring prosperity. They're starting the plan today—building the bird house, bringing in the birds."
Emily's face twisted, a snarl curling her lips. "Prosperity," she spat, the word dripping with venom. "Ava's just a dreamer who got lucky. She doesn't know the first thing about leading. I'll show them all." Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. "I'll make sure her plan fails, and when it does, I'll be the one they turn to. Not her."
Torin and Bran exchanged a glance, their faces unreadable. They knew Emily's temper, knew the lengths she'd go to when her pride was wounded. Torin, the quieter of the three, shifted uncomfortably, his broad shoulders hunching. Bran, always the boldest, opened his mouth as if to speak but thought better of it. They'd learned long ago that arguing with Emily when she was like this was like trying to tame a storm, Instead, they tended to her needs in silence.
Bran refilled her waterskin from a larger gourd, while Torin passed down an animal skin blanket to ward off the night's chill. They lingered as long as they dared, updating her on the tribe's smaller dramas—a hunter's injury, a dispute over fishing rights—but Emily's mind was elsewhere, already spinning plans, plotting Ava's downfall.
Above, the tribe's settlement buzzed with activity. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows across the clearing where the beastmen worked. The air rang with the rhythmic thud of rock axes and the sharp crack of splitting wood as they constructed the bird house. The structure was taking shape quickly, its frame built from sturdy logs lashed together with vines, its roof woven from bamboo and thatched with dried grasses.
The beastmen moved with purpose, their furred bodies glistening with sweat, their clawed hands deft and precise. The tribe's excitement was a living thing, pulsing through the crowd that had gathered to watch. The bird house was divided into two sections, each designed with care. The first, the layers' house, was a cozy space lined with soft straw and small, enclosed nests. This was where the bubu birds—small, dark green creatures with fluffy feathers and gentle dispositions—would lay their eggs, providing the tribe with a reliable source of protein. The second section, the breeding house, was larger, its floor scattered with more straw and dotted with low perches. Here, the tribe would house the female birds alongside two carefully selected males, chosen for their vigor and health. The goal was simple but ambitious: to breed the birds, grow their numbers, and secure the tribe's future.
As the final beams were set in place, the hunters returned, their arrival heralded by cheers and clapping. They carried wicker cages filled with bubu birds, their soft cooing a gentle counterpoint to the crowd's excitement. The birds' feathers caught the sunlight, shimmering like polished jade. The hunters moved with care, their faces beaming with pride as they transferred the birds to their new home. In the layers' house, the egg-laying females clucked softly, settling into their nests.
In the breeding house, the females and their two male companions explored their space, their movements cautious but curious. Ava stood at the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. Her dark hair was tied back, and her eyes sparkled with quiet pride. She'd spent months planning this, studying the bubu birds, consulting with the Shaman, the tribe leader and putting the idea in the tribe's peoples minds.
Now, seeing the hen house complete and the birds settled, she felt a surge of hope. If the tribe cared for the birds properly—feeding them, protecting them from predators, keeping their enclosures clean—the bubu birds could transform their lives. No more lean winters, no more reliance on unpredictable hunts. This was the beginning of something new, a step toward self-sufficiency.
Back in the Punishment Pit, the mood was far darker. The guards stood at their post, their eyes scanning the surrounding forest. One of them, a grizzled beastman named Ruk, nudged his partner, Talon, and nodded toward a nearby bush. "What was that?" he whispered, his ears twitching. The leaves had rustled, a movement too deliberate to be the wind.
Talon frowned, his hand tightening on his spear. "I don't know. Let's check it out."As the guards moved toward the bush,
Emily's sharp eyes caught the shift. Opportunity flared in her chest, bright and fierce. She leaned forward, her voice a hushed, urgent whisper. "mates, come quickly.
"Kael, Torin, and Bran, who had been lingering just beyond the pit's edge as usual, hesitated. They exchanged a nervous glance, but Emily's tone left no room for refusal. They crept closer, their movements silent, their eyes darting toward the guards, who were now prodding the bushes with their spears.
"What is it, Emily?" Gronk asked, his voice barely audible.
Emily's eyes gleamed, her whisper sharp and commanding. "Listen carefully. I want you to ruin Ava's bird-rearing plan. Either Steal some of the bird food—replace it with dirt if you have to or Sabotage the enclosure, weaken the supports, let the birds escape.. or better still; get some of the poisonous berries from the Dark Forest. Sprinkle them around the enclosure, mix them with the feed. Make it look like the birds are dying from some curse or disease. But really, it'll be the berries. Do it quietly, and don't get caught."
Her mates' faces paled. Torin's jaw tightened, and Bran's eyes widened. They knew the Dark Forest's berries—small, glossy, and deadly. Even a few could kill a bubu bird, and the tribe would never suspect foul play. But the risk was enormous. If they were caught, the Shaman's wrath would be merciless.
"What if we get caught?" Torin asked, his voice shaking. "The Shaman won't forgive this."
"You won't get caught," Emily hissed, her eyes burning with certainty. "Be smart. Work in the dark, when the tribe's asleep. And spread rumors—whisper that Ava's plan is cursed, that the beast god is angry. Turn the tribe against her. I want Ava discredited, her plan in ruins. Do this, and I'll make sure you're rewarded when I'm out of here."
The mates exchanged another glance, their reluctance clear. But Emily's will was a force of nature, and they were bound to her by loyalty and fear.
"Okay," Kael said finally, his voice heavy. "We'll do it."As they slipped away, melting into the shadows, Emily leaned back against the pit's wall, a cruel smile curling her lips. She could almost see it—the birds dying, the tribe panicking, Ava's dreams crumbling. Soon, Ava would be the one in the pit, and Emily would rise again, untouchable.
The guards returned, their search yielding nothing but a startled rabbit. They glanced into the pit, seeing only Emily, her expression now one of perfect innocence, her eyes cast demurely down. She sat quietly, her heart racing with anticipation. The fate of Ava's plan—and the bubu birds themselves—hung in the balance, and Emily held the strings. All she had to do was wait.