The Great Divide
The sight of a fresh banana instantly reignited the rivalry. Baraka reached for it with a polite, low grunt, showing respect to the patriarch. Bobby, true to his wild nature, simply dived headfirst.
“Mine!” Bobby cheered.
“We are supposed to share!” Baraka protested, grabbing Bobby by his pale ankle.
The two rolled into the dirt, a ball of black and white fur tumbling over the roots of the ancient oak tree. Mojo watched them with an expression of profound weariness. He had led patrols against rival groups, defended his family from predators, and survived harsh seasons, but nothing prepared him for the sheer, exhausting energy of two toddlers.
The crowd outside the glass had doubled in size. People were pressing their faces against the glass, pointing their glowing screens at the wrestling match. Bobby loved the attention. Every time he heard a laugh from the other side, he wrestled just a little bit harder, pulling funny faces and sticking his tongue out.
“They like me,” Bobby whispered, trying to break free from Baraka’s grip. “They want me to throw them more. I am the King of the White Fur!”
“You are the King of the Goofs,” Baraka retorted, locking his arms around Bobby’s waist. “If the keepers see you throwing things at the tall ones again, they won’t give us the sweet red berries tomorrow.”
The mention of the sweet red berries made Bobby freeze. His large, dark eyes blinked rapidly as he processed the threat. The berries were a rare delicacy, brought in only on warm afternoons.
“They wouldn’t,” Bobby whispered, horrified.
“They would,” Baraka lied smoothly, sensing he finally had the upper hand. “The tall ones in the blue shirts see everything……”
