The currents carried Jabari down the canal, separating him from his feral jackal brothers, who chased after him longingly. They began yipping anxiously to see him in danger, and Jabari yipped back, trying to grab a hold of something, anything! But it was of no use.

The currents carried him into the underground tunnel and daylight outside from when hot sandy deserts was extinguished. Swimming for his dear life, he couldn’t but let succumb to the currents as they carried him farther and farther, deeper and deeper in. Was this his end? Was this the hour he’d die?

The currents pulled him underneath, and he was nearly ready to embrace his defeat. But moments later he found a light up ahead, beaming through the water.

Something stopped him from being carried further, a grate of metal bars. Using it to climb up out of the water, the Jabari breached and gasped for air, coughing and climbing onto a stone floor. There he fell, lying on his stomach as he rested exhaustedly under the sunlight.

Once his breath was replenished, he looked up to see his surroundings. Bright metal coins shimmering in his gaze. Precious materials of gold, jet obsidian, jade, and jewels lined a cylindrical chamber. Sunlight blazed in from an open roof above. And standing in the middle of the room, Jabari was shocked to see a another jackal man. He studied the figure, who seemed made of smooth solid, and carefully carved stone, painted black as death itself, though his ears and eyes glowed with gold surfaces.

Jabari searched the room more, handling pieces of treasure, seeing spears and swords mounted on the walls. He had only a familiar concept of what everything was. He had grown wild, and for years, all he knew was living like the wild dogs in the desert, running with them, hunting with them, knowing them like family. But something about this room was unmistakably calling his memories to his origins.

Leaning down he saw a khopesh, blackened blades lines by a gold trim running down the center. This was especially familiar to him. He remembered seeing the khopesh before...and being held by another jackal man with fondness, who once owned this weapon. His fingers traced the blade, and he even cut his hand on its sharpness, letting out a yip of pain as he licked the small cut on his hand.

Jabari knew he should return to his jackal pack in the desert. But now something also called him to another home. Perhaps his first home.

Art and Text is by Ferroth https://www.deviantart.com/ferroth