#||drabbles||

The jungle would have been peaceful if it wasn't for a certain mancub's yelling and laughter as he struggled to emerge from under the panther's heavy head. They'd been playing wrestling and, as usual, Bagheera hadn't had to make much of an effort to pin the scrawny child under her heavy paw, making a show of yawning as wide as she could before lying her head on top of him, eyes gleaming with mirth as Mowgli kicked his legs in the air while his arms pushed at her neck to try and get her to move off.

"Keep doing that and I might just fall asleep for real."

Mowgli being very vocal with his frustration didn't deter her from shifting her body into a more comfortable position. As she did so, the mancub's hands began to wrap around her neck, opting to try and pull instead of pushing to see if he had a better chance that way. But his right hand stopped before it could fully wrap around her neck, resting over a bald spot under her chin, right over her throat.

The hairless, horizontal gash was small, barely the length of his middle finger, but the panther's fur was so thick that a sudden bald area stood out like a thorn in one's paw. Mowgli couldn't understand how he'd never spotted it before.

The mancub yelped as Bagheera tensed and abruptly lifted her head, lifting him along with her due to the arm he'd previously wrapped over her shoulders. She shook until he landed back on his butt. Bagheera muttered something about how they'd been away from too long and it was time for him to return to his pack, but Mowgli wasn't paying attention.

"What's that mark, Bagheera?" Green eyes focused on the mancub and quickly turned away, making Mowgli told his head in confusion at his usually very open friend's hesitation. "Is it a birth mark? There's nothing to be embarrassed about. My mother says I have one on my back that looks like a leaf, but I can never see it."

"It's not," Bagheera interrupted his rambling curtly, then sighed, turning her body back towards the boy. "Or maybe it is. It depends on how you see it."

Mowgli's confusion was visible. Bagheera could see the question in his eyes: how could something be a birthmark and not a birthmark?

An explanation was due.

Bagheera lied back down and, instantly, the mancub sat against her front leg, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"You remember what I told you about our man-talks?"

Mowgli nodded. "Yes, we keep it between us." his brow furrowed as he tried to guess what that and the bald spot would have in common. "Because the pack gets mad."

"Yes." Bagheera nudged her nose against the top of Mowgli's head as she thought on how to start. "This will be that kind of story. Like you, I was born among men, as was my mother, and her mother. But we weren't as lucky as you to find a pack that loved and raised us. Instead, we found greedy man who saw us not as living beings, but as playthings, and as they do with animals that they believe themselves to own, they put collars on us."

"What's a collar?"

"It's a hard thing that goes wrapped tight around the neck and can be tied anywhere to keep you from going far. It's very uncomfortable," Bagheera explained. "And sometimes harmful. This on my neck is the mark of the collar, I've had it since I can remember."

She lifted her chin, exposing her throat in a way that no one but Mowgli had ever or would ever witness her do so willingly. The mancub shifted closer, his hand slowly reaching up and fingers disappearing past the fur that surrounded the hairless gash. The skin he touched wasn't smooth, but uneven and rough as he dragged two fingers over it. His eyes widened as he combed his fingers down Bagheera's neck fur.

"That's not a birthmark," Mowgli concluded, his tone somber. "Will it go away? When I stepped on the sharp rock that one time we went to the river, it left a mark. But it went away." he jumped to his feet and balanced himself on one foot, showing the sole of the other where all that was left of the scar was a thin, lighter colored line. "See?"

Bagheera huffed in amusement as he wobbled and stumbled once his balance failed him. She shook her head. "It's the forever kind of mark."

"Oh..."

"No one in the jungle knows I carry this mark," Bagheera told him, meeting Mowgli's eyes. "No one but you."

Mowgli's eyes went wide, then they burned with determination. "I won't tell anyone." he stated, climbing on Bagheera's back and dragging himself closer to her shoulders, pressing his forehead against the top of her muzzle and looking straight into her emerald eyes. "Not even Baloo or Grey. This is our secret."

All creatures big and small respected her. Herbivores of all sizes moved out of her way when she passed, birds flew away when she filed her claws against their trees, other predators did their best not to cross her, vultures developed a nocturnal scavenging behavior because they knew that she was the most active at night. A living shadow moving in the darkness, the subject of any and all possible prey who attempted to sleep's nightmares.

But Bagheera was a cub once, a long time ago.

Before Mowgli, before the wolf pack, before the jungle, she was a cub, and she was born among men to a father she hadn't met and a mother who she'd been with for only a short while, but from who she'd heard stories of the jungle, of trees and birds and animals of all kinds, all of them living together and free. That had been her mother's gift for her cubs, a story if a wonderful world instead of a name; or so she thought.

Her world wasn't at all like that.

She was taken from her mother's side  before she was old enough to remember if she'd been given a name. Her world was surrounded by metal, smells both sickeningly sweet and just sickening, loud noises, and humans of all shapes and forms that came to see her: the main attraction; there were also the flashing lights for a while, when man would pay to hold her like she was their cub and take a picture of the action, then put her back. She'd be passed from man to man, sometimes even to mancubs, until she stunk of them, so much so that all the tongue baths in the world couldn't rid her of their scents. Until some man pulled her tail and she clawed their arm in retaliation, she wasn't brought out of the cage ever again after that.

As she grew, she became less cooperative, and man became less kind. She'd go days without being fed, some days when it'd been a long time since they'd last slipped the tray in her enclosure but her attitude hadn't improved, they'd bring out a whip, it burned as much as the red flower when it hit her skin. Scars lost within the thickness of her dark fur, their presence unknown to all but her, a reminder of man's cruelty.

Then came a night she wouldn't easily forget. Four days into her most recent starvation punishment, she leaned heavily against her cage's door and the lock attached to it rattled in a way that reminded her of the dying noises of an exhausted ox that had once pulled the carriages and cages from one location to another without as much as a shirt break. It pushed her to stand, filled her with a determination and strength she hadn't known she possessed.

She hit the lock with her paw once, twice, then one last time and watched it crash to the ground, the door creaking open before it swung when she pushed out, running as past as her legs would take her.

She ran, as fast and as far as her weakened, starved and beaten body could take her; and then some more, until she collapsed, panting in lungfuls if air. First out of necessity, then out of shock because for the first time in her life, she didn't smell the sickeningly sweet man treats and the disgusting beverages, neither did she hear the awful noises they called music, or the shrieks of their mancubs; or see the blinding flashes of light that came from their photography device.

All there was was the jungle. Just as peaceful and beautiful as her mother had once described it oh so many moons ago, when she clung to the story of trees surrounding everything, of the animals of all sizes all living together in peace, of the freedom she'd only ever seen man have, despite being too young to remember even her own name.

Bagheera had only heard rumors. In the jungle, gossip spread as fast as the red flower during dry season, especially if you knew where to ask. From the jackals she'd heard man and Shere Khan in the same sentence and not much else. But they sounded pretty sure of what they were telling her.

Man had come to the jungle, and they'd burned Shere Khan. It was the tiger himself who confirmed this information. Not directly, but his pain and anger could be heard all across the jungle, birds that would have otherwise long since settled for the night flew away and apes fled to farther trees whenever his roar echoed through the trees, even other predators avoided the stripped beast's path, afraid that crossing him would be enough of an excuse for him to take his frustration out on them. Bagheera, as reckless as she could be, didn't dare seek him out when he was in such a rage.

In times like these, it was better to give him time for his anger to subside thank to approach him.

Luckily, she didn't have to, not when even the vultures avoided him and so, she was able to approach them for answers, for they followed Khan as loyally as his own shadow.

Most were hesitant or straight up refused to disclose any information involving Shere Khan, it wasn't a secret that he wouldn't hesitate to kill an animal if he believed them to have wronged him, those were some of the carcasses the vultures fed on whenever allowed. But Chil wasn't like the other vultures, either she was braver or stupider, and so she spoke until a nearby howl sent her and her fellow scavengers flying away.

Only Bagheera remained when two of Akela's wolves emerged from the over-watered thicket.

"Panther," the largest of the two spoke with respect and caution, both keeping a comfortable distance from her, which she appreciated. "Akela requires your presence in Seeonee hills. It is an urgent matter."

As if the night couldn't get any weirder, now the Seeonee pack wanted her of all animals around? Bagheera couldn't remember a time when her presence had been wanted in Seeonee Hills, much less required by no other than the leader of the pack himself.

She was too curious about what Akela could possibly need from her to refuse.

Following the two wolves through the jungle reminded her of times when she'd chased them —and so many others— with malicious intent, times she'd rather forget but that Bagheera knew she had to own up to. She'd caused a lot of harm in the jungle, things she nor anyone could restore to how they'd once been. The way the pack members parted out of her way while glowering at her dark yet spotted hide as she reached Seeonee hill left it clear they hadn't forgotten either.

She paid them no mind, her gaze focused ahead as she easily made her way to the rocks, until she spotted the entrance to the wolves' den. Never had she been this close to it. There was an strange scent just outside said entrance, but it was hidden by the many wolves' own scents. The fact it'd rained recently didn't help, the entire place smelled like wet dogs.

"Akela," she greeted when he emerged from the den, his expression one of collected concern. "I was told you required my presence here. What do I owe the pleasure to?"

Akela merely motioned for her to follow with his head, which allowed Bagheera to realize from the way his neck moved just how tense he was. She hesitated only for a moment before following the pack leader into the den, where the strange yet familiar scent was even stronger.

It wasn't until she saw it that she realized why the scent was familiar: a man– a mancub to be more exact, lied against Akela's mate, Raksha. The mancub had its face half buried into the wolf's white fur, a far away look in its eyes as its stared towards a wall, though Bagheera doubted it could see anything with its man eyes. Or she would have, if she hadn't been busy recoiling.

"Have you gone mad?!" she snapped, and would have roared if she wasn't at a disadvantage considering the reduced space and the amount of wolves she could hear eavesdropping just outside the den. Still, she turned to Akela with bemusement and outrage. "I thought you wolves smarter than this. Whoever it was with injured Khan and you stole their cub? You bring a mancub this deep into the jungle and it will only be a matter of time before its family comes looking for it!"

"That won't be a problem," Raksha spoke, standing from where she'd lied with her most recent litter and the mancub, taking a step forward to stand over it protectively. "Shere Khan has made sure of that. You've clearly heard the news."

That didn't reassure Bagheera at all. If anything, it made the situation worse. If this mancub was even loosely related to whoever was responsible for the striped beast's injury, it was only a matter of time until Shere Khan found out and decided to finish what he'd started. She doubted a wound, no matter its severity, would slow him for long given the roars he'd been letting out to signal his rage.

"We need your help," Raksha continued, seemingly reassured by her own words. "I'm aware of your... past involvement with man. Surely, you realize you know better than anyone in the jungle how to care for a mancub, you are our best option when it comes to an advisor–"

"If you care for this mancub's well-being," Bagheera interrupted the wolf mother coldly. "You'll lose it as far away from this jungle as possible."

"It wouldn't survive," Raksha retorted. "You can't possibly ask me to abandon him!"

"Then kill it quick, before Shere Khan finds it."

She didn't give either wolves the time to get another word in, turning around and stalking her way out of the den, letting out a deep growl that scared the wolves that hadn't been quick enough to get out of her way into retreating. None of them dared go after her, knowing better than to overstep the panther's boundaries.

All except one.

Baranyi's slow, heavy steps followed after her as she made her way down the hill. He'd been the one who, despite his old age, had dared to approach her when she'd first arrived to the jungle and brought only chaos and death, to explain to her the laws they lived by despite her proneness to attack any and all who came near her. If she was alive on this day, it was because of him. She owed him at least a moment of her time, and to stop walking away when she heard his breath become irregular.

"I was starting to believe I'd have to bite your tail to get you to stop," Baranyi joked, though his voice lacked any humor as he caught his breath. "So you've seen the pack's most recent addition with your own eyes. What do you think?"

"It won't stand a chance out here," Bagheera was quick to state. "The best they can do is make sure it doesn't suffer."

There was a moment of silence in which Bagheera mulled over her own words and how cold they'd sounded even to her own ears. She wasn't like this, not usually, but humans put her on edge. She'd gone through so much because of them and was affected by it even after getting away from them; to have one in the jungle, even if it was a cub, worried her more than it was healthy.

"Now, my memory might fail me. But I remember thinking the same thing about someone else once," Baranyi started with a tone that Bagheera didn't like. She gave him a question look. "I believe it was you. Back when you got here, I'm sure your memory of that is much clearer than this old wolf's"

Of course she remembered, and the old mutt did too. He was doing this on purpose, trying to compare her situation to the mancub's, putting her own words against her. The worst part was that it was working, because Bagheera was far from heartless and, in a way, she knew what it felt like to be in the mancub's position: alone, separated from all that she'd known, a stranger in a strange land.

Damn Baranyi.

"You wouldn't have stood a chance, either, had we not given you one."

"Only you gave me a chance," Bagheera corrected. "Or have you forgotten how many times your pack attacked me?"

"Not as many as you chased our scouts, but perhaps more than we should have given your lack of knowledge of the law," Baranyi conceded. "So don't consider this a favor to the pack if you don't wish to, consider this me asking for a repayment to my kindness, because I saved your life and surely a mighty panther such as yourself doesn't enjoy the thought of owing her life to some old wolf."

Bagheera wanted to say that he was giving himself too much credit, that she would have been able to find out her place in the food chain sooner or later and would have calmed her violent and hungry behavior towards... well, every other animal that walked the wilderness, on her own. But she was smarter than that, she knew it would have taken too long, longer than the animals of the jungle would have allowed her senseless hunting to continue.

She owed him her life and he was asking for her help keeping a mancub alive in return. This did not feel like repaying a debt, it felt more so like punishment.

"I despise you," she growled, turning back and heading towards the hill once more.

Her steps were fast, too fast for Baranyi to keep up with, but he was still close enough that he barked at the other wolves to let her through when they understandably felt that her sudden and quick return was threatening. But they respected Baranyi more than they feared her, and so she found herself in the den once more, approaching the mancub.

The fur in Raksha's back stood on end and her lips curled back into a snarl as Bagheera approached.

"I am not stupid, Raksha," Bagheera stated. "I wouldn't attack one of your pups in your own den– or ever, for that matter."

The recognition that the mancub was hers seemed to reassure the wolf mother enough to let Bagheera approach and breathe in the mancub's scent, it smelled healthy enough, and was surprisingly lacking any injury that would provide proof of the close encounter with Shere Khan, or of whatever amount of trekking through the jungle had let it to run into the wolves. This mancub was lucky. It reached out for her face, attention caught by silver whiskers that stood out against her dark fur, at first it only touche the sides of her muzzle, then Bagheera hissed in warning when the short fingers grew bold near her whiskers, watching it retreat it's weird little hairless hands.

"What can we feed him?" Akela asked with the concern and frustration of a father with little to no knowledge of the young in his care.

Bagheera exhaled in defeat at the situation, taking a step back and away from the wolves' litter. "Fruit. Mangoes, bananas, anything you see the chimps eat is safe for him," she told her, her gaze going from Raksha to Akela. "Don't feed it meat. Man can't eat it like we do, they become ill." she watched the mancub as it lied with the wolf pups, curling up in a way that almost made it– him, look like them, with the clear difference of the size, the lack of fur, and the body that resembled more that of an ape. A very ugly one. "Maybe bugs could be a replacement, I'm not sure. Some man eat them. Anything else you need to know?"

"That was our main concern," Akela told her, his expression having softened into one that showed relief. "Thank you, Bagheera."

"Don't mention it," Bagheera was quick to say. "And make sure your wolves don't mention it either. If Shere Khan finds out, I don't want to be at all involved."

When Shere Khan finds out, would have been a more correct wording, but Bagheera didn't want to be the pessimistic one. Either way, this wasn't her problem, she wouldn't let the mancub become her problem.

And thanks goodness he wasn't her problem, because Bagheera could already tell it would be a handful. It didn't last long lying down with the pups, crouching in a position that seemed to be mimicking the way the wolves sat, but made him look like a completely different animal.

Bagheera huffed in amusement and slight disgust cause she'd almost forgotten how ugly mancubs could be. "He looks like a frog." she turned to leave the den.

"He really does look like a frog," Raksha said behind her, thoughtful as she added a single word: "Mowgli."