"The sky is dark, little one, are you sure?" The ungulate's voice was soft and smooth, cautioning but not forbidding.

Dhryn nodded eagerly, stifling a yawn. "One more story?"

Naya didn't need much convincing, but she paused to make the gnoll cub think she was really weighing her options. "alright," she relented with a warm smile, obscured by the flickering shadows of the fire, "one more."

"You've met the Vark tribes that live in the east, yes?" Naya asked without waiting for an answer, "A hundred tribes, clans, and families, each as alike and as different as the zebra's stripes. You can't walk a hundred paces into the woods without meeting one, it seems. You might wonder how there got to be so many, while other races like the Indovu are few and far between.

"Well, let me tell you the story of Kuqala, the first Vark. Long ago, when the gods walked the earth, there was a little boy named Kuqala, who lived in the forest by himself."

"Where were his parents?" Dhryn interrupted

"He didn't have any, " Naya answered quickly, "He was a child of the woods, with skin like ferns, ears like a bat, and teeth sharp as lions' claws. The beasts of the forest did him no harm - the buck and doe grazed peacefully by his side, the hare ate red berries from his hand, and the wild birds sat still on the boughs, singing songs as he passed under the branches. No mishap befell the boy - if night fell and he found no shelter, he laid down on the moss and slept until morning."

"Didn't he get cold?"

Kuqala was a child of the woods," Naya repeated, "He was never too hot nor too cold, nor too hungry nor too tired. The forest provided him with all he needed to live a good, happy life. One day, when he was chopping wood for a fire-"

"How did he chop the wood? Why did he need it?"

"He made an axe from stones, sinew and wood, silly little one," Naya answered with a slightly condescending tone, "As I said, the forest provided him with all he needed. But while he was chopping wood, he met a sow, crying with great sorrow. 'Kuqala Kuqala,' she cried, 'my mate is gone, carried away by a wolf! Woe is me! Whatever shall I do?' 

"Wait," Dhryn interrupted again, "The sow talked?"

"Of course she did," Naya replied, "All animals could. Most still do, if one knows how to listen. Perhaps if you knew how to listen you might actually hear how the story ends before sunrise, hmm?"

Dhryn shrank back into his seat and said nothing.

"Kuqala thought about the sow's distress, and wondered what to do. 'If your mate is gone,' he proposed, 'then I shall be your mate until you are happy again!' The sow thought about this - the two were very different, after all - she walked on four legs while the boy walked on two. Her flesh was coarse and bristly while his was smooth and hairless. But what harm could it do, the sow thought? So she took the forest child as her mate, and they lived together for a full year. She taught him tenacity and courage, and he showed her a love and affection that she never dreamed possible, culminating in a litter of piglets. But-"

"Piglets?" The gnoll cub repeated, "How is that possible?"

Naya grinned, though her expression was still hidden by the shadows of the fire. "It's a story, child," she reminded him, "Anything is possible. If you think that Kuqala making piglets with a wild sow is strange, you should hear what happens next!" She waited for Dhryn to interrupt her again, but he was silent.

"The piglets were not wild piglets like their mother, but looked like Kuqala! The wild sow farrowed four babies, each with two arms, two legs and big tusks and flat noses like the sow, and three of them had hairless skin the colour of clay. But one of them, a girl child, had skin the colour of coal. She was born dead, but opened her eyes as soon as Kuqala looked away. 'Kuqala, Kuqala,' she hissed, crawling on the ground towards him, 'do not waste your time with these base creatures when I can offer you so much more. Take me, use me, give yourself to me and I will show you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams!"

"The baby talked?" Dhryn blurted.

"I'm getting to that," Naya retorted without skipping a beat, "No sooner had the newborn spoke, than Kuqala recognized the child as a demon, a spirit of utmost evil. Kuqala was tempted, but the forest had so far given him everything he needed and wanted. He knew that If he took her offer that the forest would never accept him again. 'Never,' Kuqala replied, 'You are not of this world, you have no power over its people!' and then he and the sow ran away with their three children, who the sow raised as her own. But this is not where our story ends. The next year, Kuqala was running through the woods when he was approached by a she-wolf!

'Kuqala, Kuqala,' the she-wolf cried, 'My mate is gone, carried away by a bear! Woe is Me! Whatever shall I do?'

"Does Kuqala take the she-wolf as a mate, too?" Dhryn asked.

Naya nodded. "Yes," she replied with a smile, "He did. Kuqala took the she-wolf as a mate. She taught him guile and cunning, and the two built a beautiful den where he gave her a litter of pups. But . . ." She trailed off, this time waiting for him to interject.

"But they were all like him, right?"

"Yes!" Naya praised, "Very perceptive, little one. The she-wolf had a litter of four pups, but they all had two arms and two legs, just like Kuqala. And each of them had long, pointed ears like their mother. And three of them were grey-green, like jade stone. Except for one."

"Did one have dark skin?"

"Naya nodded. "There was another girl, born still, with skin as black as ink, who started to move as Kuqala and the she-wolf tended to the other three. 'Kuqala Kuqala,' she hissed, standing on her legs like an adult, 'do not waste your time with these base creatures when I can offer you so much more. Take me, use me, give yourself to me and I will show you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams!"

Again, Kuqala was tempted. But he knew that if he took her offer he would be cursed forever. So he defied her again, and threw her out of the den and into the snow and cold."

Naya waited for Dhryn's inevitable commentary, but the gnoll cub was silent and attentive, waiting for the next part of the story.

"The next year," she continued, Kuqala was drinking from a stream when he met a massive bear, sobbing on the other side. 'Kuqala Kuqala,' she sobbed, 'my mate is dead, carried away by hunters! Woe is me! Whatever shall I do?' And you probably can guess what happened next, can't you?"

"Kuqala took the bear as a mate!" Dhryn answered.

Naya nodded. "And then?"

"And then they had four cubs together, and they were all like Kuqala, with two arms and two legs!"

"Except . . ."

"Except one that had black skin and was a girl and was dead but came back and said 'Kuqala Kuqala, take me instead' or something, right?"

"Right!" Naya nodded again, "after they built a den to rest for the winter, the she-bear was delivered of four cubs, all with two arms and two legs and smooth skin the colour of dark moss. Except for one, a girl with skin as black as pitch, who was born silent and unmoving. But this time Kuqala knew who she was, and he would not fall for her tricks. She beckoned him, but the sow had taught him courage. he told her 'no.' She beckoned him again, but the wolf had taught him guile, and he turned her words back on her. She beckoned him a third time, but the she-bear had taught him charisma and presence, and he commanded respect. The world had given him everything - food, shelter, community, and purpose, and he was no longer tempted by her offer. When she knew this, she realized her power was as nothing, and she fled for the last time. Kuqala lived a long and prosperous life, living among the forest creatures and siring more children than anyone can count. We know them today as the Vark - similar yet different, thanks to the different animals that Kuqala encountered on his travels. For all we know, Kuqala may be out there still, leaving Vark in his wake like footprints."

"But that's not really what happened, is it?" Dhryn pried, "Where did the Vark really come from?"

The ungulate gave the cub an impish smirk. "Maybe the spirits will tell you in your dreams," she replied, "Which means you'll never really know unless you go to sleep."

As the cub shuffled over to the pile of rough hides that served as his bed, Naya paused to reflect. The story she told was very old, and had obviously changed through generations of retelling, and each species tended to have their own version depending on how much they hated the Vark - the particular version she shared this night had been passed down to her by a long-lived Indovu priest - but she was pleasantly surprised at how much truth remained, even after all these years.