The Blood of Two Kingdoms

The forest splits as bullets implode the bark. Beneath my paws, the ground thundering with the drumbeat of my stride was meant to get to safety. My chest burned with each breath. It felt like a sear of a flame, but I could not stop. Not when her scent lingered faint in the distance. Men came with their roaring thunder-sticks and the stench of smoke. I had no choice to find my love, heavy with life, staggering somewhere ahead of me and alone.

I am a cheetah. I was born for speed in the open plains where the grass and earth filled theses lands and the gazelles dart like lightning. But, I left the grasslands long ago when I chose her. A rhino named Ziomara - my opposite and forbidden. Her thick hide where I am thin skin.

Although our clans do not speak, yet when her eyes found mine at the watering hole, the world shifted. I never turned back. Now the weight of that choice pressed against the night, for she carried our child.

Men hunted her for the horn she never asked to bear. They did not know what treasure truly grew inside her: a halfbreed. Her nor my clan would ever accept this abomination - it is forbidden. However, my child was worth more to me than what these men hunt for.

Branches embed my flanks as I pushed through the undergrowth. This was no place for a cheetah; the forest closed in, stripping me of my one advantage—speed. But I had learned to adapt. Not only for us but for our family.

I had followed her into these shadowed places, where roots tangled the trees like snakes. Even light couldn't penetrate through the trees. I felt like night conquered the day. Now those lessons would saved me, for she needed more than swiftness. She needed a protector.

The men’s voices echoed faintly through the trees—harsh, laughing, cruel. All these poachers wanted was the ivory. They wanted to break her. I darted across a ridge and skidded to a halt. I watched them at a distance as I plotted for revenge. The air pierced the atmosphere with a stench of smoke. Suddenly, my ears caught the faint tremor of hooves.

My heart leapt. She was close by and I had to warn her not to come closer. I was my job to get us far away from these demons.

There she stood—her broad body glowing under moonlight, sides heaving with the weight she carried. Her horn, usually proud, drooped as she hid in the tall lush. I directed her to a cave I found while hunting to protect her. She stumbled, her strength nearly gone, but still she moved, climbed herself toward higher ground.

Shadows of men moved behind her without haste. Their rifles glinted, catching the firelight of torches. I had to deter them from her.

I dropped low, my muscles coiled. My whole body screamed to lunge, to sink my fangs into the nearest throat, but the time wasn't right. I was not built for men's war and their fire-sticks. I might be fragile but, I'll be damned if I watched her die.

I veered sharply, bursting into the open with a growl that tore my throat raw. My body became the blur the plains had trained me to be. I darted across their line of sight, scattering leaves, my tail flashing.

“Over there!” one yelled with excitement.

The forest thundered with shots, bullets shredding air. I zig-zagged with instinct older than memory; therefore, none of the bullets touched me. I pulled them away, leading them in circles through the undergrowth, buying her steps, breaths, and moments. I thought all of the men followed me until...

That sound split the night. Ziomara screamed—a low, guttural cry that will haunt me until the day I die. Luckily, she was still moving, wounded but alive. The bullet had grazed her hide. I thanked the spirits, then cursed them for not giving her wings.

Something inside me changed. I darted back toward her. I weaved through the roots and stones, so that I could hear her labored breaths. At last, I reached her side. She paused. Trembling, her flank streaked with blood. I pressed up against her, urging her to keep going. She grunted and pressed forward. But behind us, torches flared brighter. Fire hissed through the brush as smoke curled around the trees. Suddenly, from below came that dreadful cry that any prey wouldn't want to hear...

They unleashed the dogs.

Ziomara faltered, as her legs trembled. She wanted to turn and face them. I couldn't let her. She was not built for battle now. I snarled, pushing her up the path. Almost there. Just a little more.

Inside, doubt stirred like a serpent. Why are you fighting for - a rhino? Give up because this child, no clan would ever claim? My kind would call it weakness. Hers would call it taint. It would be hunted from birth, shunned, and cursed all at the same time.

And yet, when I thought of it, I felt only defiance to the clans. Let them judge. Let them sneer. This child would know love, even if only from Zimora and I, it was a love worth bleeding for.

A hunter bursted from the shadows. His eyes caught mine. He froze, but only for an instant. Then the barrel lifted.

I sprang.

My claws dugged into his chest before the trigger was pulled. We tumbled into the brush. My fangs sank deep in his throat, and his scream ended in silence. Hot blood filled my mouth. I had broken the oldest law of my kind—never fight men. But tonight I had no choice. I was not only cheetah... Tonight, I was father.

I circled back, finding her climbing still. She had seen what I had done. Her eyes flickered with fear—not of men, but of me. Yet when I pressed my body against hers, the fear melted. She turned again, but this time she was in pain of motherhood.

The hounds came next. One lunging through the smoke. We met mid-air. Its teeth snapped at my throat, but I twisted as my tail helped with my balance - it missed. I was able to sink my claws into its side. We crashed to the ground in a storm of snarls. Its master shouted and that was the distraction. His master raised his rifle, and that moment gave me the opportunity to bite deep into that hound’s neck. It went limp. The hunter fired, but I was already gone. His curses followed.

Two men were gone but more remained.

Each kill slowed me, drained me, but each gave Zimora another heartbeat closer to safety. And then at last, I saw it - the cave. Ziomara staggered inside and collapsed on the stone. I followed, chest heaving, every muscle screaming. The air was thick with her blood—and something else. The child was coming.

And so were the men.

Their boots clanged on the rocks, voices echoing, "Mashambulizi!" (attack in Swahili) Rifles clinked as they reloaded.

I had had enough! No more running. I stood my ground at the entrance of the cave and hissed. I leapt forward with a streak of fury.

I struck the first man before his rifle rose. His body stumbled and rolled backwards breaking his neck against the trees. Another swung a torch, fire searing my whiskers, but I rolled beneath as I was taught by my mother, and I slashed his calf cutting the vital organs. He fell screaming. Shots cracked and bullets grazed. I was hit by one tearing across my hind leg. Pain lanced, but I fought on.

I weaved between the final two men standing alone. They were scared and panicked as they seen their partners being taken down my the rules of nature. Bullets pierced the air like rain. For every man that fell, my body weakened. And then—a bullet exploded through my ribs. I crashed to the ground, and my vision became a blur.

They cheered. Boots pounded closer.

I dreamt that Zimora showed me the power of a rhino. Then I rose as blood gushed down my flank. My body screamed to fall, but love screamed louder. I staggered forward, teeth bared. My heartbeat feared nothing, they hesitated—as if I were no longer animal, but something born of fire and shadow to guard the night.

Another shot rang out. My ears rang. My body faltered. Still, I lunged once more, claws raking a face, before I collapsed for the last time.

The stone pressed cold against me. My breath rattled shallow.

From the cave came a sound. Not of gunfire. Not of hounds. A cry. Small. Trembling. New. The men froze. Even the dogs fell silent. The cry filled the night, fragile yet unbreakable. I turned my head, forcing my eyes open.

Ziomara stood in the mouth of the cave, blood oozing at her sides. Her body quaked with exhaustion, but her eyes burned to destroy the men that attacked her family. But, at her feet lay our child - a female.

Not cheetah. Not rhino. Both. Its body was slender yet sturdy and strong, its skin faintly ridged. Its face, wet and wrinkled with birth, carried us both. Its cry was not only plea—it was threatening.

The hunters stared. Some muttered of omens, others backed away, torches trembling. They saw not prey but prophecy.

Ziomara lowered her horn and stomped the ground for the sign of an attack. The sound cracked like thunder. The men broke. They fled down the ridge. Falling, they dragging the wounded, leaving torches behind. Even the hounds ran away.

Silence fell, broken only by the child’s cry.

I tried to rise, but my legs folded under me. My vision blurred. Ziomara loomed over me, her horn pressing gently against my side. Her eyes shone with both grief and triumph.

I looked at the child and felt peace. The clans would not accept it. The world would hunt it. But it lived. And in its golden eyes, opening for the first time, I saw promise: speed and strength, hide and heart, love that defied all laws. I named her Qahira - meaning a woman who overpowers others and is always a victor.

My breath slowed. My chest was becoming still. The last thing I knew was my child’s gaze, fierce and bright. As I look at Zimora for the very last time and in that gaze, I ran forever.