April Anomalies A-Z: Jackal

I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of owls.  Job 30: 29

He yelped up the moon using the ancient calls known only by his tribe.  This was his privilege and his duty – though why the regular calling up of the moon should have been entrusted by the First Father to such a tribe of tricksters and malcontents as the Jackals was never understood by the other tribes.  Why had the duty not been entrusted to ones such as the Owls?  Or to the Elephants, who were both solemn and sage?  Or even to the Lions who were kings and princes over most everything else in the First Father’s creation? 

But the First Father, in his wisdom, had given that sacred duty to the Jackals.  And he gave to them, and them alone, the magic calls necessary to bring up the moon.  And, for the most part, they had not failed the First Father; they had kept the sacred trust.

His name was Tann, though sometimes he was called ‘Ochim because he was one of the doleful creatures.  But few would dare use that name in his presence.  

When he’d howled the moon up over the horizon and sent her safely on her journey across the sky, Tann set out himself, to prowl and to hunt.  His strong legs carried him quickly over the sand and rocks.  The calloused pads of his feet kept his motion silent, stealthy.   He could read the scents in the cool nighttime breeze.  One of the Ibex had come past hours before. A few Hares were nearby but not worth the effort to chase.  Not when there was… yes… he sniffed again… blood.  Something wounded. Something already dying. Tann barked once in excitement before letting it trail off into a muted whine. He did not want to draw others to his kill.  He ran now, following the odor of blood.

For the most part Tann and his fellow tribe members had kept their sacred trust and had called up the moon for her nightly course across the sky with the necessary regularity and precision.  But the Jackals are tricksters and devious too, so there had been a number of occasions when they’d used the incantations and songs given to them by the First Father in order to manipulate the moon as she travelled.  On a few occasions they had sent her off course, giving her a song filled with bad directions.  The Jackals would do this in order prolong the night and to give themselves more time at the hunt.  But they knew that the other tribes would complain to the First Father if they were caught misusing the secret moon songs, so they did this infrequently and only when they were convinced they would not be noticed.

But as Tann cut his way across the rocky plain he wasn’t thinking about the moon or her nightly trek across the sky.  It would be hours before he would think of her again.  As he ran he had only one thought: meat.    He would soon be eating meat, meat and blood. The carrion was close.  And fresh.

It was an Antelope, a young one that had fallen off a rocky ledge and snapped its neck.   Tann snapped his jaws the few of the Vulture tribe that were already encroaching on his dinner.  They squawked angrily at him, but flapped away, fearful of his teeth.  He pushed his snout into the carcass and began tearing out hunks of flesh. 

Later, after he’d eaten his fill, Tann loped back towards his cave, satisfied and filled.  He would sing another song for the moon to guide her towards morning.

This is part of April Anomalies A-Z, a creative writing exercise and not intended to be an altogether accurate picture of the creature described above.  .