The CactyringeKonta was awakened one stiflingly hot morning by two sharp taps on the shoulder. Today was supposed to be a day of rest for him while the other hunters of the tribe were out foraging, and he had decided to sleep just slightly later than usual. To be woken up by a fellow tribesman was sure to mean that something was wrong.
He turned to find his mate, Kontala, kneeling beside him. One look at her heat-flushed face and Konta could tell that something was amiss. Her eyes were wide and impatient, and before Konta could try and figure out what was going on, she had already started dragging him to his feet. He put a reassuring hand on her own before pulling her grip from him. No matter the urgency of the situation, he couldn't run out into the intensity of the Summer Sun without a
