Short Story – The heir is sick

Long ago, an heir became sick; his feet were hotter than the mid-day sun. The baby’s blanket dripped sweat, and the queen sobbed until her tears drew river-like stains on her cheeks. As soon as the sun kissed the treetops, the witchdoctors instructed everyone not to sip any leafy tea until the satanic fever had loosened its grip over the heir.

The wind blew hot air, and the tearstained cows had sensed the worries scribbled on the faces of the herders. At the fireplace, a black dog relaxed with its belly upward and its legs in the air, faking a slaughtered calf. Suddenly, a child pointed his pink tongue at a black bird nesting between the prickly bush that made up the holy fire.