"Arghhhh"     The greaves clanged as he reached for the javelin across his shoulders. But the opponent was faster.     His eyes were like the prime of the hay; basked in anger and fixed demeanor. His lips cloven, chewing inaudible spells as a warthog bruises the earth with haughty hoofs as it skipped.      The expectation of all those who were present was to see the  Cod fall by the sword of that worn warthog; his opponent.     The call of the winds seemed to have a message for him       The charge met a shield, and worn warthog would try again.    The Cod at that moment was ready for all twould take him. The  only echo he could hear at the depth of his consciousness was Fight or die!!! <

       "Huuhoohuh..."       Yearning yawn! He was tired of being in the cave. He was tired of staring at those cold walls  that felt no iota of the trauma that'd enveloped his spree. He was becoming impatient. Many reasons were owed to the reason he decided to remain in the cave. He hadn't stepped out since he'd returned from the hampered hunt for lighter he went for the previous evening. Seeking for a lighter had led him to obtaining sundry other things. Things that'd helped him survived the malady nocturnal nature leased the jungle. He'd made the fire in the cave to keep the walls warm for that previous night. After eating he'd traced his fingers through the hollows cut by the chisel of time like a foiled furrow in the bosom of an isle. Then he'd succumbed to the clone of death that'd restored his wandering spectre.       He had no idea whose footsteps t

    "Now, see who professes to care. Hypocrite!"      He stood abruptly. He had been sleeping. After the futile search for the eerie but callous creature, he'd returned with what now he'd called either his partner or pet. He'd eaten and had consoled the cold floor of the cave. He had no idea who consoled who. Whether he consoled the land or the land did him, he couldn't be sure and never cared. All he cared about was the fact that he was still breathing and had a hide. He had wanted to be alone till death would catch up with him, but felon fate would also have his worn way. He'd fed the cub with the remains of the leopard he'd killed. But the cub growled heavily and in keen detest and would not eat it. Then did it occur to him that a leopard would never eat another leopard. He wasn't sure if that was the only the reason the leopard had growled at him in such manner. He knew there was more to it. He wished he could

       "Get them all to the Agora."       That was Ja Lia. The phrase was addressed to one of those gladiators who was given to undaunted reverence to the professed master. He wasn't as broad and hefty as Cyclops, but had his own pluses. He was quite the hefty also, only that his laps were shifted sideways, such that when he walked, it seemed as though he was going to collapse. Heavens knew how he'd been able to survive sundry battles with such odd two legs. In such a form. Probably he wasn't inflected with ill-luck as compared to the callous Cyclops. He left to prune the biddings of the marred master.      After the marred massacre of both the hefty gladiators and the defected, leopards that survived the malady were sent back to their hoods while the dead were boiled to commemorate the defeat of the cowards and incompetents. It was usually a rite to celebrate the

      "How many of you went?"       "A score and a half, Bìxîa."      "How many returned?"     " Five of us, Bìxîa"     "In what state respectively?"      "Three badly hurt, two Hale, Bìxîa."       Ja Lia beckoned to the black gladiator he had been observing closely recently and girded him in the following biddings, his eyes basked in ire and rage:      "Feed those three to the recently caught Leopards, they'd be famished. The three are of no use anymore. They'd be liabilities to this fort and I won't suffer that. Never! What resources is there to waste?"       T