The Breeder leaned against the wall of the cavern near the bottom of the path. These ridiculous Warriors; they tired her with their strutting and fighting over who would cross next. The Old Hunter had fought his way through. Not one of the rest to attempt the crossing since was worthy. The hive had dumped their mangled flesh outside the cavern. It wasn’t even fit feasting. No Kafla would take the previous failures into themselves. She huffed as Warriors and Hunters argued over who would enter the circle and how previous combats finished. Fools. She would be next. She knew exactly how to make it happen, by controlling the circle from the start.
Humming began as the time approached, first one gravelly voice, then another until every throat, including hers, picked up the drone. The mass of bodies moved in a slow circular motion, like a great whirlpool of deformed flesh. An eye opened near the path and the bodies shifted back from it as they continued around. The Breeder slipped through the mob, making her way to the edge of the widening circle. She saw no other non-combatant doing so. The rest were battle-hardened, scarred, and fortunately, all male this time. As if by an unseen signal, they all stopped moving and humming.
There was a hesitation as the Warriors sized each other up. In that pause, she stepped sinuously into the circle. Looks of bewilderment crossed the mangled and misshapen faces of the Warriors and Hunters. Grunts of surprise and whistles of disdain came from the gathered mob. The Breeder swayed her hips as she went and exposed her multiple breasts. She released her pheromone-laden musk and moved around the circle. She growled at one, nicked another with her nails, each movement designed to entice, to arouse. As she made the circuit, she fixed the most powerful Warrior in her mind then sauntered to the center. She tore off her lower covering and settled back on the ground. Propped up on her triple-jointed arms, she exposed herself to him.
In a near frenzy of passion, he charged forward and mounted her. She bit his shoulder, drawing blood, then spit it into the air, bathing them both. She felt him spasm as he released his seed and stood with a roar. He thinks he conquers, imbecile. Quickly, another took his place, and soon a writhing mass closed in on them, each vying for position. Fights broke out among the circled combatants. She relished the mayhem and sent out a throbbing call, Come to me, all who are strong, and I will carry your pups to the new hive. The fighting intensified, punctuated by breaking bones and cracking heads. Male after male mounted her. I will be their Mother-Queen. I will rule this new world!
At last, she stood as another male exited her body. Some growled, driven mad by their lust. She covered her torso protectively, and the Warriors who had spilled within her rushed to form a protective force. She bared her fangs as they made their way to the path, then she climbed it alone. Their feet marked her pace, and soon she stood above them on the ledge. She watched as the roiling black mass formed in the air, wisps and tendrils floating at its edges. She had watched every attempt and believed she knew their error. It seemed to her that this was like giving birth. It was not a matter of force but waiting for the right time.
The mob watched her, their humming intensified, and she waited. It grew to a near deafening pitch, and still she waited. The volume started to lose its force and, bit by bit, lowered. She peered at the mass, hoping the moment would be evident, then, there it was. The edges started to ease together, and as they did, the blackness appeared to thin. For a few seconds, it became almost translucent, and she simply stepped through.
She stood in the bright morning light of another world, shocked at the ease of her passing; then her instincts kicked in. The Breeder dropped to the ground and skittered to the underbrush nearby. She could hear the thrumming call of a Tracker, but that was a Hunter’s concern. The Old Hunter’s burrow must be nearby. Safety, I must find it.
She shoved further into the thicket and sniffed the air. Nothing. Wriggling into the leaves and debris, concealing herself, she sniffed again — again nothing. Time passed as the light arced, creeping across the gray above her. Then the wind shifted and she sniffed once more. There it is. The sweet smell of ripening flesh wafted to her slitted nostrils, and she marked the burrow’s placement easily.
How nice of The Old Hunter to leave supplies for her. She settled in and waited for darkness to fall.