Jinjiz hopped from talon to talon as if encouraging the cat and babe to feast. With bits of flesh still in his jaws he swung his head back and forth, back and forth, allowing the gnawing of his teeth to assume the rhythm and grinding of the leathery skin and hard shell of the now dead beast. He gave the brave cat and her cub the softer inners. It was now her cub, her child, her baby. She had earned that right or taken it. As Jinijz watched he could see that the new hatched one had made the choice almost as much as the cat.
Jinijz cawed again. This was a calmer low toned note that was held for a few minutes. It was intended to inform the cat that he would be right back. Opening his wings Jinijz used his thick lower legs to push away from the feeding and up into the air. His flight was unsteady. He limped to the right toward the side of his injured membrane. Pain shoot through his side and he let loose a small screech. It was not loud and not long but leaked a bit of his discomfort. Clumsily he landed on the ledge where his bag of eggs sat. Breathing hard Jinijz used his left talon to move the bag and check the contents.
He looked back to the feeding and the two who were taking their fill. Off in the distance he could see the movement of grasses. It was a slither as if water was shaking the twigs. The dead meat called more. Jinijz should take hold of his bag and leave. One egg was placed. He saw it alive. No more was needed. Or was it?
Something in this place. Something in the air. Something in the blood of the new kill awoke something deep inside Jinijz. For the first time Jiniz felt the small ting of doubt or question. Should he leave the cat and her new one? As he watched the sleek hunter tear and share the meat of their kill he saw a motherhood he had not expected. Could she help all these survive? An instinct filled him with the rightness of her place. He fell from the sky. She was there. The egg hatched. It was her's.
Jinijz took the bag in his mouth not trusting the pain in his wing to hold it. He leapt from the ledge and glided down resting his talons next to the open belly. He carefully lowered the bag and then sang. Bird like in the music his notes repeated over and over. It was his call, the song of Jinijz. He sang his name Jinijz, as it was sung in worlds of old. He sang it over and over. It was Jinijz introductions. And in his mind he was binding the cat to him.
Jinijz kept singing even as the feeders arrived. On the ground large forms slithered toward the exposed meat like large worms. They made no sound and did not seem to acknowledge Jinijz or his voice. They swarmed toward the corps. Jinijz did not find a threat in the squiggles but he did not feel they should be by the young one. With talons ready he changed his song to sharp caws again and began to pick the feeders up and toss them away. He stood beside the feeding cat, the mother and her baby, like the protector, picking up bothering invaders and throwing them away.
They still came. The call of food too strong for them to disregard. But Jinijz diligently kept them somewhat at bay until his new pack feed as much as they could. He would wait until the cat told him she was done. While picking the worms up Jinijz began to sing his introduction sone again. Over and over, Jinijz. Jinijz. Jinijz.