CHAPTER 1: Mara

The second the plane dipped below the cloudline, Kili was almost out of his seat, straining against his seatbelt to take in every inch of the country now spread out underneath him. Of course, most of it was an inscrutable black mass, given that it was four AM Nairobi local time, but as the plane sank lower and lower, more and more was discernible by the pinprick light of streetlamps.

After the plane landed (amid a smattering of claps from the few passengers still awake) a lime green coach brought them to the International Arrivals. Kili was almost giddy with excitement as he filled in the visa form and handed over a handful of notes. The man with bloodshot eyes behind the counter, after requesting he lay the fingers and thumb of each hand on the fingerprint reading machine on the desk, handed him back his passport. Kili stared excitedly at his temporary Kenyan visa.

He waited forty minutes for his luggage, examining the advertisements eagerly on the walls: 'Safaricom welcomes you to Kenya!' accompanied by photos of smiling people. Kili recognised a Masai warrior in one of the posters and the phrase 'Hakuna Matata' on another. Kíli pondered what Safaricom was.

Outside in the refreshing air, Kili headed for a man holding an A4 piece of paper with 'Kirian Durin' printed neatly on it. The man took his suitcase, smiling broadly and introduced himself as Alex. He would be taking Kili to his hotel and driving him to the travel agency office when it opened in the morning.

They drove for around half an hour, Alex offering titbits of information about their surroundings as they drove. Kili drank in every mundane detail eagerly with his eyes and ears. Alex helped Kili check in and get his room key, then told him he would be back at ten to pick him up.

Kili sat down on the bed, too excited to sleep even though he knew he ought to. It was six am and he still had hours before breakfast would open. He showered, emptying both the miniature shampoo and conditioner bottles over his dark hair, which clung wetly to his shoulder blades as he set about exploring his room, staring out of the window, checking every cupboard and examining the pamphlets and flyers in one of the drawers. Eventually he settled for poring over his guidebook for the enth time, thumbing the already worn, dog-eared pages.

As soon as it was nine, Kili went down for breakfast, helping himself to a bowl of fresh fruit, a hefty serving of scrambled eggs, three pieces of toast, two sausages, a cup of tea with three sugars and a glass of fresh passion fruit juice from the buffet. Kili was so entranced by the tiny banana, less than half the size of the ones he was used to in England that he didn't notice the waiters and a few other guests staring at the vast amount of food he was putting away.

When he had finished licking the remnants of jam off his fingers, Kili went back to his room and waited impatiently for the minutes to tick by. At ten to ten, he dragged his suitcase down to reception and saw with delight that Alex had arrived early. Kili stared out of the window again for the duration of the drive; now the sun was up there was so much to see! It was like nowhere else he'd ever been before.

Eventually they pulled up beside a row of buildings, one of which bore a hand-painted sign (most of the signs here were hand-painted, Kili noticed) reading 'Tampani Travels and Tours' next to a logo Kili recognised. Alex gestured at the building and took Kili's suitcase out of the car before waving cheerily and saying goodbye.

Kili entered the building, dragging his case, and was waved over to a chair in front of a desk opposite a smartly dressed woman with a nametag reading Gayle. After asking his name and tapping the computer for a few seconds, she printed a few pages, stapled them together and handed them to him. She proceeded to explain the itinerary outlined on the papers for him (even though Kili had read, reread and practically memorised every detail of his trip about a week after booking it) and asked if he had any questions. Kili was bursting with them, but he knew they weren't the kind she would be interested in answering, so said no.

The woman rapped at a window behind her and called something in Kiswahili. Someone shouted back.

A minute later a white man with tawny blonde hair tied back in a loose bun so it was impossible to tell how long it really was came through the door on his left. He was wearing sand coloured shorts, a dark green polo shirt with the company logo embroidered on the top pocket and hiking boots. One look at this man's tanned skin told Kili he was someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He exchanged a few words with Gayle in Swahili, then held his hand out to Kili with a broad smile.

"I'm Philip. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Kili." Kili shook the proffered hand and as soon as he let go, Philip gestured for him to follow him. Kili thanked Gayle and hurried after him. Philip led him to a storeroom at the back.

"So, camping. I'm guessing you didn't manage to bring any kit with you?"

"Only a sleeping bag." Kili did not mention he had stashed his favourite pillowcase in there as well, the one that smelled of comfort, the one he could fall asleep anywhere with and brought with him whenever he knew he would be away from home for a while.

Philip nodded and pulled two tents from a shelf, two pillows and a sleeping bag from another. He led them into a carpark and slung these and Kili's suitcase into the back of a long khaki green Land Cruiser.

"Hop in."

Kili got into the front seat and peered back at the long body of the car. It had three rows of seats.

"It's huge!" Kili exclaimed before he could stop himself. He was never very good at keeping his thoughts to himself.

"It's a safari vehicle. You'll see a lot of these."

"And… it's all just for me?"

Philip grinned. "Your mother wrote us an email a few days ago warning us to take care of you. We keep our promises."

Kili groaned and Philip laughed. "Trust my mother to ruin any illusions I had of independence…"

"You sometimes see matatus – mini-buses," Philip explained at Kili's questioning look, "They go around the parks too. These ones are great because the roof pops up so you can stand up and get the best view. You'll see when we get to the Mara." Philip started the engine. "So is this your first time in Kenya?"

Kili's eyes were irresistibly drawn, as usual, to the window. "Yeah," he replied. "First time out of Europe actually. Have you been here long?"

"I was born here. I've lived here all my life."

"No offence, but I was kindof not expecting you to be white," Kili said before he could stop himself.

To his relief, Philip laughed. "That's okay. There's not a lot of white people working for tour companies like this one, or at least not as guides anyway."

"Is that tough?" Kili asked.

"Nah. I love this job. At the beginning I got a bit of stick from the other guys, but then they found out I could speak Swahili and I give as good as I get. We're all friendly. Where are you from?"

Kili was a little taken aback at having a question thrown back at him. "England, nothing interesting," he sighed. "My name isn't really Kili, it's Kirian. They said when I was little I couldn't pronounce my 'r's properly so I used to call myself Kili. It used to be just my family that used it, but I quite like it and almost everyone calls me that now. Besides, what kind of a stupid name is Kirian." Kili made a face.

"Coincidence – my nickname is Fili."

"No way!"

"Philip, Fili – you could see how it came about. My dad came up with it, he has a rather annoying habit of being able to make up nicknames and make them stick over the years."

Kili grinned. "Fili and Kili – that is too weird."

"Very weird."

"Is it okay if I call you Fili?"

Philip glanced sideways at the lanky dark-haired boy. He guessed he must have been in his early twenties. He was lean and had a rather scrawny face, but his eyes were full of life and sparkle. As was his personality, apparently.

"Why not," Fili decided. "What the heck."

Kili's smile broadened and for a second Phil- Fili – smiled back, before Kili let out an enormous, sudden yawn.

"Your flight came in early didn't it? Have you not slept?"

"Wasn't tired til now," Kili told him truthfully.

"You'll want to take a nap now then while the road is still tarmac. You'll not have a chance of sleep once the highway turns to the dirt track," Fili said, grinning roguishly.

Waves of tiredness were suddenly washing over Kili. He nodded compliantly and settled his chair back a little before kicking off his shoes and curling up on the canvas covered seat.

…

The abrupt juddering of the car woke Kili some hours later and he jerked awake. His head had been thrown back, and he snapped his mouth shut, realising it was hanging open wide enough to catch flies. He also had the very self-conscious feeling he may have been drooling. He glanced subtly sideways at Phi – Fili! he reminded himself – and saw with no small degree of relief that he was staring straight ahead.

"Had a nice nap?"

"I guess." Kili rubbed his eyes and sat up. "I see what you mean about the road."

"It like this the rest of the way. About three hours."

Kili didn't mind; he actually strangely enjoyed the bone-rattling ride, body swaying as the car lumped over potholes and rocky gravel, swerving around the worst of the dips in the road. It reminded him of one of those machines in the gym that you stood on which vibrated violently, to supposedly release the tension in your muscles he guessed. He knocked his head a few times against the window and he pretended Fili hadn't noticed, though the tiny smile Fili was clearly trying to suppress told him he had.

Kili pulled his camera out of his rucksack, with the intention of photographing some of the countryside around them, red earth and dusky grass studded with yellow-trunked fever trees and spiny acacias, stretching on for miles to touch the foot of swelling purple mountains on the horizon.

"That's a decent camera," Fili commented, glancing over interestedly as Kili checked he had the right lens.

Kili perked up. "I'm hoping to become a wildlife photographer," he said proudly. "That's why I came out. This is my first real expedition, you could say."

"Ah, that explains it. I wondered why you were staying so long. Two weeks is a long time, most people only come for a few days, then move on to somewhere else, like the coast or something." Fili looked almost approving, slowing down the car so Kili could take a few shots.

"I'm counting on you to provide some good photo opportunities."

"No pressure…"

Kili pointed up at the sky. "Look! It's a plane! My god, it's tiny!"

Fili could have laughed at his enthusiasm. "Have you seen this road? Most people fly to the Mara. I have to admit, I was a little surprised you chose the drive."

"I'm on a bit of a tight budget," Kili mumbled. "Hence the camping."

"Ah."

The rest of the drive passed in amicable conversation. By the time they arrived, dusk was on its way and they hastily set up their two tents and unfurled their mattresses and sleeping bags. Fili had also brought what he called a mess tent – essentially a gazebo with three sides closed and one side open. He said it would serve as a kitchen and promptly pulled out several bags of food. Kili gaped and Fili said he'd pulled into a supermarket while Kili was sleeping. Kili blushed.

"The restaurant is down there." Fili pointed. Kili looked confused. "Do you want me to walk you there?" Fili added. Kili's face dropped.

"Aren – aren't we eating together?" Kili asked, crestfallen.

Fili paused. Usually, the guide didn't eat with the clients – and that was fair enough of course, when people came on holiday they didn't need a stranger hanging out with them, eating with them, being around them constantly. And with most clients, he'd had enough of them during the day to not want to be hanging around with them all night too. But then again, people didn't usually come here on their own. Kili struck him as brave, coming out here to pursue a dream career all on his own, having never been out of Europe before. And he and Kili had been getting on so well, it seemed a shame to disappoint him.

"If you want me to, I guess," he replied.

Kili smiled, which only brightened during the course of their lively chat over dinner, but the smile slid off his face at the end of the meal when he saw the bill. The food had been good, but he didn't think it had really warranted that much…

Fili didn't miss the expression on Kili's face as he carefully counted out his portion of the bill, leaving some extra as a tip.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "This place is overpriced anyway. We can do our own cooking, if you want. Although I have to tell you, I'm a guide, not a cook, so you'll be giving me a hand in the kitchen," Fili added as a warning.

Kili looked relieved.

…

"Kili Durin, this is your wake-up call. It is six thirty and it is time to go on safari."

Kili suppressed the desire to groan. "You weren't kidding when you mentioned early starts," he muttered.

"Kili Durin, this is your wake-up call. Are you alive?"

"Yes," he called, reluctantly unzipping his sleeping bag and sighing as he felt the heat flee from his body, replaced by cold air. He stumbled outside, still in his flannel pyjama bottoms and a hoodie.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

Fili looked up. "Good morning. It's a kikoi."

"A what?"

"Like a sarong. And before you ask, yes it is manly to wear one." Fili twirled. It was basically a rectangular piece of fabric, with fringes down the short sides, and a stripe along the bottom, which Fili wore wrapped around his waist like a skirt.

"If you say so," Kili mumbled. He was intrigued however.

Fili handed him a cup of tea. "We can eat breakfast on the road once we've found something nice to look at. There's a thermos, hot chocolate, coffee, more tea."

"Sounds amazing." The hot tea was helping him to wake up, and as his brain clunked back into full alertness, Kili's usual excitement started to bubble. He was about to go on his first safari ever, take photos of the animals he'd only read about in books and seen in documentaries. He could barely believe he was about to experience this firsthand, one of his lifelong dreams coming true.

The sun rose over the blue hills in the distance, its rays illuminating the plains with orange. It was a beautiful light, Kili thought, and his heart leapt into his mouth as he caught sigh of his first bit of wildlife – some giraffes silhouetted beautifully against the early morning light. Next to them grazed a small group of pale brown antelope.

"Those are impala," Fili told him. "A bachelor group. Only the males have horns."

"And what are they?" Kili asked, pointing to another group, smaller with black stripes on their sides above their white stomachs and short swishing tails.

"Thompsons gazelle. I'll be testing you on all your gazelle at the end of the two weeks, so I hope you're paying attention. I call it the antelope challenge."

Kili tried to commit all the animals to memory as Fili reeled them off – but by the end of the day there was almost too many to cope. He had heard of most of these animals, but some were completely new to him: like the tiny dik-dik, with their bottomless liquid eyes; topis, recognisable by the black smear on their flank that looked almost like an artists charcoal thumbprint; and eland, the largest antelope in Africa.

It was just after their first sighting of a lion (a lone male, stalking off into the bush to nap for the hottest hours of the day) that Fili hit a rock on the road a little too enthusiastically and swore as he felt air rushing out of the tyre.

"Bugger, gotta change the tyre." Fili huffed and pulled off his smart work polo, fetching the tools out of the back. Kili got out and watched him. He switched his camera to the film setting.

"And here, we have the Spotted Philip," he stage-whispered, taking inspiration from David Attenborough.

"Oi, watch who you're calling spotty," Fili called in a mock grumpy tone. He pulled a Tarzan pose for the camera, pouting his lips and flexing his muscles. Kili laughed.

"See how it attends to the strange metal box it has built for itself – such a piece of technology requires much care and affection, similar to that it pays to its young…"

In almost no time, Fili had replaced the useless tyre and they were back on the road, Kili almost rocketing out of his seat with excitement when they caught news of a cheetah sighting on the walkie-talkie radio fixed to the car stereo.

…

By the time they returned to camp in the evening, Kili was elated. He had already taken over two hundred pictures, and was glad he had brought extra SD cards.

"Tomorarow, we'll head to the river and see if we can catch any of the crossing," Fili told him.

Kili had read about the crossing, seen it in documentaries, and he was almost beside himself at the thought of witnessing it with his own eyes.

It turned out the crossing wasn't quite as action-packed as television would have had him believe. They waited for several hours to see if the milling wildebeests on the other side would brave the steep bank and the roiling waters, to no avail. As they drove down the river, they saw many carcasses, bloated and whitening, floating downstream. Some were beached on the shallow parts of the river, and splayed, stiff, legs sticking up in the air ungainly.

"On TV, they always emphasise how the crocodiles lie in wait for the wildebeest in the river," Fili said quietly. "But in reality, most of the wildebeest just drown. The crocs don't even need to catch one. Look."

Their car was parked at the top of the river's high bank. They had a good view of the brown swirling waters and the grisly bodies in it. What looked like a sinuously moving log was drifting in the direction of one of the corpses. Kili realised it was a crocodile as it opened its mouth and began tearing at the beast's skin with its lethal-looking teeth. Once it broke the skin, it began pulling out its stringy entrails.

"Charming."

Kili decided against capturing the moment with his camera, and they moved on.

…

He was still having a hard time telling the difference between Grants and Thompsons gazelle, but he could point out most of the others with ease.

Every night before he crashed in his tent, he looked through the day's photos, deleting the unnecessary ones, reliving the day with glee.

For the first few days, Fili wore his shorts and official polo on safari. But Kili had taken a liking to Fili's kikois and asked if he could borrow one. They looked a right pair in their tshirts and kikois, munching on biscuits as they perched on the roof of the car, watching a pack of about ten lions lazing on the grass-covered dunes. Not far away was a herd of apparently unsuspecting zebra. Fili recognised this behaviour – the lions were planning a hunt. He knew it would make a fantastic photo, so he stopped the car and they watched and waited.

Soon their conversation, which had seemed to be non-stop all day, turned to family. Kili had told Fili about his mad uncle Frerin, an avid traveller who mostly seemed to reside these days in Australia (though with Frerin, it was hard to tell) who had been intensely jealous when he found out Kili was coming to Kenya. Fili had already told him about his mother, living in London with her new partner, and his sister, Tauriel, mostly known as Tory, who was also living in London, having just finished university.

"You never talk about your dad," Kili said suddenly.

"I've never heard you mention yours," Fili deflected lightly.

"My dad died when I was thirteen," Kili said softly.

"I'm so sorry," Fili replied quietly.

"It's okay. He'd have loved it here." Kili met Fili's eyes and smiled to show he meant it.

"Do you mind me asking – how did he die?"

"Pancreatic cancer. He had it when I was little and it came back. We knew it was coming. But still a shock, of course."

"Of course," Fili repeated.

"Kind of fucked up my exams, but I scraped through and managed to get my A-levels and go to uni."

Fili tried to change the subject but Kili cut across him before he could speak. "So where's your dad?"

"He lives at Naivasha – it's a lake a few hours north of Nairobi. But I don't see a lot of him," Fili said shortly.

"By choice or by chance?" Kili's tone sounded light. Fili licked his lips and thought before answering.

"Sometimes my dad can be a racist twat," he said finally.

"Ah."

"He's very conservative. We don't get along that well. He's old colonial stock and that makes me sick."

"I see."

"And he kept telling me it was my fault he and my mum split up."

"I'm sure that's not true," Kili assured him quietly.

"Oh, I know it's not," Fili replied contemptuously. "I wasn't surprised when it happened, I was more surprised that my mum stayed that long. I just wish he didn't take it out on me. And as I said, he's very conservative, so telling him I'm gay went down like a lead balloon too."

Fili's heart stopped for a second as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. He couldn't believe he'd just said that to a client, and even if he and Kili got on well, that didn't change the fact they'd only known eachother a few days – but Kili just chuckled lightly and said, "I can imagine."

There was a short silence. "Anyway, he used to own a rose farm but he basically left that to my uncle Bilbo when he came out here to live with us. Now he travels a lot. At least I can avoid him for most of the time," Fili finished.

"Didn't you say you had a sister?"

"Yes." Fili made a face.

"Is she here too?

"No. She went with my mum to England when they split up. We still saw eachother loads though, every Christmas and I used to spend half of the summer there."

"Is she older or younger?"

"We're twins, actually."

"Twins?!" The way Kili reacted it was as if he'd never heard such a thing before. "That's so cool! I'd love to have a twin!"

"Everyone thinks its cool until they've got one. Then they realise how annoying they are." Fili grimaced again and Kili laughed.

"I haven't got any siblings. I've always wanted one." Kili sounded wistful.

"We fought like cats. I think they were almost relieved when she decided she wanted to go with mum and I wanted to stay here."

"Why did you?"

Fili shrugged. "I just – I didn't want to go to England. My home is here, even if it does mean living with my dad." Fili looked pensive and he stared across the low grassy dunes at the lounging lions. There were a few cubs with them; they seemed more awake than their adult counterparts, batting eachother over the ears as they wrestled playfully.

"He sent me to boarding school when I was eight. Said he couldn't cope."

"When you were eight?!"

"I hated it there. Unsurprisingly. But I still stayed when they offered to move me to some boarding school in England. I met someone there in my last two years of school." A rueful smile spread across Fili's face, and he seemed to be full of memories. "Realising I was gay was never a revelation to me, I kind of always knew it. I've never been with a girl, never felt the inclination. I think he was the same. We kept it a bit hush-hush but it was the first time I'd ever been happy at that school."

"What happened to him?" Kili asked.

Fili wasn't sure what was making him tell Kili his life story. He trusted him, he supposed. And Kili seemed genuinely interested.

"He went to uni so we broke up. We parted on good terms though. It was just the thought of long distance was a bit too much."

Kili smiled at the happy ending. He peered out with his binoculars, frowning at the lions. One had appeared to have gone to sleep, lolled onto one side, basking in the sun with its eyes closed. Maybe they weren't going to see a chase after all.

"I think we'd better get going," Fili said. "They aren't doing much. And it's five o clock, it'll be dark and the gates will be closing soon."

Kili reluctantly agreed. They headed back in the direction of the exit. The car seemed to be struggling, and suddenly they heard a clunk and the car jerked to a stop.

"Dammit." Fili tried the engine; the car sputtered and made another loud clunking noise before growling into life. Fili frowned. "That doesn't sound right."

He got out of the car and peered underneath it. He swore. "Shit. Axle's cracked."

"Oh shit." Kili didn't really know what that meant, his knowledge of cars stretched very little beyond his little Fox at home. "Can… can you fix that?"

"No. We'll need a mechanic. And this thing will probably have to be towed out of here." Fili grimaced and thumped the bonnet with his fist. "I'll call the rangers."

When the rangers arrived, they confirmed Fili's suspicions that the axel was cracked and therefore unsafe for driving. They said they would head into the nearest town and see about getting a mechanic.

Fili waved down the next safari vehicle that passed them and asked if they had an extra seat. Luckily, they did, and Kili grabbed his rucksack and climbed in.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I have to stay with the car, at least until the mechanic gets here," Fili told him. "I'm going to call my agency, and they'll send another car for you in the morning, alright?"

Kili cooked some eggs on toast and ate by himself that night. The next morning, as promised, a Tampani vehicle trundled into his campsite to pick him up. It already had a group of Chinese tourists and Kili realised he'd been spoilt to have a whole car for himself. That day they saw a good amount of game, although the other tourists' fancy cameras with their fancy accessories and foot-long lenses made him feel slightly inferior.

When he was dropped off at the campsite that evening, he was surprised to see Fili already preparing dinner, dressed in his usual kikoi and a tshirt. He looked a little tired.

"Fili! You're back!" Kili beamed. "Thank goodness, I didn't think I could put up with sharing a car any more – I'm quite spolit. What happened with the car?"

"Mechanic didn't turn up til morning," Fili grunted. "I had to sleep in the car."

"Oh no!"

"It's fine, not the first time that's happened." Fili seemed a bit grumpy, probably from lack of sleep, Kili thought. He patted his arm.

"I'll make dinner tonight, you just chill."

Fili gave him a grateful smile and flopped down into a chair while Kili busied himself on the gas stove. Unfortunately, his skills in a campsite kitchen were no match for Fili's so he settled with putting some water on to boil for pasta.

He glanced over at Fili again, and was surprised at the brooding, moody expression on his face.

"Is… everything okay?" Kili asked, trying not to sound too worried as he upended a jar of pesto onto the pan of drained pasta.

"Hm?" Fili roused himself from his reverie. "Uh, not really. Manchester United lost again."

Kili made a disbelieving sound that sounded like a cross between a choke and a cough. "Men," he muttered, plonking a bowl of spaghetti in front of each of them and tucking in.