My Wild Beast-Chapter 78: The Call of Tayun (1)

To become Yiska, one did not need to be the strongest or the biggest. It was not a title passed down through blood, nor claimed through brute force. To be Yiska was to embody more than strength, it was to possess balance.

They had to be steady in the face of fear, grounded in chaos, and clear of heart even when the mind was clouded.

They had to be disciplined, but not cold. Fierce, but not cruel.

Above all, they had to choose the island—not themselves.

The trials were designed to strip everything away: pride, doubt, fear, ego—until only the core remained. And if that core was worthy, the island would know.

It is still unknown whether the Kairan, Gods of the lands, or Tayun itself, plays a role in choosing the next Yiska. A child born with the spiral is touched by destiny: a swirling spiral that mimics the winding path of a river. It twists inward like a current drawn deep beneath the surface, then arcs outward in a final sweep, like water surging toward its mouth where river meets sea.

Yoa bore this mark on the inside of his ankle.

Nova’s eyes shot to his right foot, and there it was, a blueish-grey mark in the shape of a spiral. From a distance it could look like a small birthmark, that was if anyone could force their eyes away from the mountain of muscles that he was, and pay attention to his feet. This close, she could see the mark perfectly. If he hadn’t told her what it represented, she would have assumed it was a tattoo of sorts.

"My parents took me to the healer, and he guided them to Chief Tamuari. I was one of seven born with the mark," Yoa explained as played with a lock of Nova’s hair between his thumb and forefinger. "We were put through trials that decided if we were worthy to bear the role."

Nova’s lips parted. After doing her own little version of their rite of passage, she could already assume that these trials were not child friendly, and Yoa was definitely a child at the time. He was only fourteen when he claimed that role!

With a gulp, she managed to ask him the first thing that came to her mind, wondering about these other... candidates. "You were one of seven... Were you all born in the same year?"

For some reason Nova didn’t think there might be others that could have taken on the guardian role. Why would she when Yoa’s body and personality could literally scream protector, guardian, tarzan-hero?!

Yoa shook his head. "No, but there wasn’t much difference between our years. All except for one..." He trailed off with a scowl.

Nova was about to ask who that might be and why he was scowling so much but then she remembered there would be no point. She only knew a few of the island’s habitants outside of the little trio she was growing closer to. Yoa continued before she considered voicing her thoughts.

"The Call of Tayun began when the oldest of the chosen became of age. Eight dances of the sun and moon passed the sky then it was my turn to partake in the trial of Wild Silence."

Yoa’s voice rolled low and steady, like smoke on the wind, as he wove the memory of his first trial to life.

Yoa chased after a butterfly as his mother, Zanari, hunted in the Marshlands. His father, Raokan, lazed in a tree above, legs dangling from a branch, chin resting on his paw as he watched his son with bright golden eyes. For the last journey of the moon, his parents had started taking him hunting.

Yoa had transformed into his jaguar form much younger than the others in his tribe, so while others his age were still being ’coddled’ as Raokan put it, Yoa was slowly learning the way of the Oncari. Even if his only prey so far had been the odd cricket or butterfly.

Yoa pounced, eyes twinkling with victory as he opened his paws, his ears flattening when the space between them was empty and the butterfly fluttered ahead of him.

Raokan shifted, remaining seated on the branch as Yoa huffed his annoyance. "Focus, son," his deep voice resounded in the small clearing. If his father had transformed back to his human form, then it meant his patience had drawn thin watching him fail capturing a butterfly.

Yoa released a long breath, his eyes sharpening on the butterfly’s movements. Tension drew his body together in a crouch, his back legs lifting only slightly, watching the butterfly land again. His backside began to wiggle...

Gotcha!

Yoa pounced. He clung to the side of a tree, paws on his prey. He felt it twitch once, twice, then he gobbled it down in one, relishing the taste of his first hunt and looked up victoriously, waiting to see pride reflect in his father’s eyes. Yoa’s lips dropped.

Raokan wasn’t there. Yoa looked around, searching for his father. The clearing was empty. Yoa’s heart began to thrash against his chest as panic clawed at him. He dropped to the ground, and instantly started running across the clearing, searching for signs of his father, climbing the arduous trees that grew forever, wondering if some prey caught his father’s attention.

Yoa slowed to a stop, sitting behind a tree, the shade obscuring him from any predators. His kind might be the ultimate pred- pred-ate.. predator, but he was still a cub and the featherbrains can eat baby jaguars for breakfast. He would wait here until either of his parents found him.

If he followed his father’s scent it might cause him more aggro showing up mid-attack. They’d taught him to be patient so he could do that. He could wait here until then.

Gradually his posture rounded, head drooped, ears flattened as the day wore on. The sun passed across the sky, filtering through the leaves, shadows shifting to its cycle. The cub lay down, chin on his paws, a mixture of confusion and disownment weighing heavily on his chest.

Had something happened to them? Or had he really been left in the jungle to survive by himself?

Questions swarmed his mind about the disappearance of his parents, but when night fell and fear trickled into his limbs, Yoa sprang into action. This jungle could swallow him whole if he let his thoughts fester any longer, or he could bare his teeth to the dark, like the jaguar he was, and fight for the breath in his lungs.

The first few days, Yoa learned his way around this part of the island, familiarising it. He knew he wasn’t on Oncari land, the scent of his tribe would have created a path for him to follow. So, he paid attention to the jungle instead.

Yoa hid behind bushes and trees, still, the only movement from the slow rise and fall of his chest where he breathed as he watched other animals, the routines, their habits. He listened to the sounds of the forest, how it shifted with the passing mood, or the approach of another predator, or how the wind changed before the storm.

When it was clear, butterflies and crickets wouldn’t be enough to survive on, Yoa turned his attention on bigger prey. Prey that was preferably easier to catch than one that could outrun his tiny legs.

Tiny wasn’t quite right. They were stocky and looked too short for the rest of his body. His mother always said he would grow into it all like his father.

Thoughts about his parents were forced to the back of his mind while he fought to survive. Maybe when he grew into Halfform, he could think about his parents and the fate he was dealt with now.

Yoa preserved his strength, watching and waiting, figuring out when it was best to strike his chosen prey. The bugs had provided enough energy to hunt, but he still needed to be cautious. There were plenty of chances he could have sprung forwards and claimed his meal, but the stakes were high. If there was a slight chance it could go wrong, then he would have burned what little reserves he had to take down a bigger animal.

He licked his lips in anticipation, but his father’s teachings kept his hunger and impatience at bay.

Yoa’s paws pressed into the earth, feeling the vibrations of the creatures unknowingly moving closer to the young beast hidden in the shadows. His heart leapt at the clear opening, making it the perfect attack. He burst through the bushes and lunged for the capybara’s jugular, sinking his canines in quickly, and thanking him internally for this chance to eat.

He did not hunt again. The capybara’s meat was enough sustenance to keep him going, and he left the rest for the birds and bugs, who had their place in the jungle just as he did. After that, he was confident in his skills, as young as he was, to survive.

Seven sunrises passed since he’d been abandoned and accepted this fate before a familiar figure appeared from the distance. Yoa didn’t race to him, the wild had already settled into him to trust even the chief of the tribe he’d been raised in.

"Congratulations, Yohuali." Chief Tamuari nodded encouragingly at him. "You passed the Trial of the Wild Silence."

Trial?

Chief Tamuari gestured for Yoa to follow him, his features were warm as he took in the state of the young jaguar cub who had yet to shift back into his human form. Yoa followed him but at a distance, lingering near the shadows like he could disappear in them if this was some sort of trap.

Then the paths he’d grown up with on Oncari land thrummed with golden light, showing the way back to Prime Hollow. The moment his paw crossed the border into Oncari lands, his parents appeared. Zanari sprinted to him, ignoring the chief’s warnings about Yoa’s wild trait.

She crashed into him, hugging him to her chest, crying. This was a woman that was always calm and composed, but now her tears soaked through his fur, apologies pouring from her lips without pause. Raokan gathered them both into his arms, and when they had all calmed, he began to tell Yoa about the role Tayun had marked him for—if he passed the trials he was expected to face.

This was the Call of Tayun, and Yoa had to answer it, whether he lived or died by fate’s hand.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is free(w)𝒆bnov(𝒆)l