Chapter 7: The Shamans
The sun danced upon Mohatu's pelt as he walked out of the main cavern. What a night. He had actually slept very well, even with the throbbing pain and tension that plagued him while he was awake. Last night, he had been a bit nervous about going to sleep in the same area as Nyamavu, for fear that she would slaughter him in his sleep. But outside a few glares, Nyamavu left him alone.
He looked off into the horizon, where the sun was rising. He sighed. It had been days since he had last seen his lands, or his pride. Homesickness fell upon him for the first time since he set off, and he let out a great sigh. He missed the Misty lands and the sparkling, plentiful water and the green, lush grass and foliage that they offered. He missed his pride, and their admiring, approving smiles. He missed his friends, and their usual light-hearted afternoon discourses. He missed his brother and his dry sense of humor. But most of all, he missed Mzungu. His heart ached for her ever since he had awoken and adjusted to his new surroundings, and she haunted his dreams all last night. How he wanted to just abandon the mission here and now, and go back to her. But he also realized that if this problem went unfixed, the trespassers would eventually eat the Misty lands bare, and that would affect Mzungu in worse ways than his absence.
"Good morning!"
Mohatu jumped, and whirled around to see Bashasha grinning at him. He let out a deep sigh, his heart pounding quickly and violently against his ribcage. "Bashasha," he sighed, "you nearly scared me to death!"
Bashasha laughed heartily and trotted over to him. "I'm sorry, Mohatu," she apologized, "I really didn't mean to scare you. What's on your mind? You look so distant."
Mohatu sighed again. He truly wanted to tell her what was troubling him. He longed to tell someone, anyone, but he knew that none of them would understand. Plus, it would be unwise to tell anyone of his mission until he was absolutely certain they were trustworthy enough to keep a secret; even then, it probably wouldn't be a good idea. "Nothing," he replied, shaking his head.
Bashasha drew closer to him. "You sure?"
No, I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything. I'm on a mission by myself, trying to breathe life back into this barren land so that my homeland won't wither away in famine. I haven't seen my home or pride or family for days. I miss my home. I miss my old life. I miss my mate. "Positive," he replied, forcing a smile.
Bashasha didn't seem entirely satisfied with his answer, but she chose to accept it anyway, as she turned away to inspect the horizon. Mohatu did the same. A few thoughts treaded in his head about what he should do next. He had already initiated the plan by arriving--very injured, but still in one piece--to the Wastelands. Now he had to find a shaman. But where to search? He knew nothing about this land, nor its inhabitants (outside the few lionesses that he had met). Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. Mtundu had never told Mohatu that he had to find the shaman on his own. If Mohatu could convince a local to lead him to a shaman, that would get the plan completed that much quicker. He looked at Bashasha through the corner of his eye, contemplating on whether it would be wise to ask for Bashasha's assistance. She could ask why?', prompting him to either tell her the truth, or lie. Just to be safe, he came up with a lie in his head, should the need to lie arise.
"Bashasha," he started, turning to the lioness, "would you happen to have a shaman in these lands, by any chance?"
After giving him a thoughtful look, Bashasha nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied, "our resident shaman, Hekima, is the only one that comes to mind right now. Actually, His Majesty banished him to live on the outskirts after Hekima refused to bestow a blessing upon he and his mate."
Mohatu's face lit up. "Do you think you could lead me to him?"
Bashasha drew her head back and gave him a skeptical look. "I really couldn't be certain. It has been awhile since his exile, so I wouldn't get your hopes up."
Though Bashasha's comment set him back a bit, Mohatu decided not to give up. It would be worth a shot to seek this Hekima out anyways. "Can you at least lead me to the outskirts?" asked Mohatu. "I just want to be sure."
Once again, Bashasha paused to think. She didn't seem to certain about the whole idea, and her tentative facial expression made him nervous. Finally, she nodded. "I suppose I could do that," she replied. "It will kill a few hours, at least."
Flashing her his best smile, Mohatu followed the pale lioness down the pridal rock and across the dusty ground toward the outskirts of the Wastelands.
"Here we are."
Mohatu gave a huge sigh of relief. He never imagined that the outskirts would be so far off when he suggested their trip. Had he known that it was a good hour's walk, he never would have followed through with it--at least, not until he was healed from his brawl with Nyamavu. His muscles and head still ached from his devastating fall, and his bones cried out for rest. Why am I putting myself through all this? he asked himself. He had traveled under the scorching sun for a full day to arrive, been battered to a great extent by a lioness he didn't even know, somehow got on that lioness' bad side, and trekked for an hour to arrive on the southern fringes of the land. "Thank gods," he breathed heavily.
Bashasha gave him a look of deep concern. "Are you alright, Mohatu?" she asked. She gave him a twice-over. "Maybe we should have waited until you had more time to heal."
It was never a boost to a male lion's ego to have someone suggest such a thing. They were meant to be--or believed they were meant to be--strong, brave, invincible leaders who could take any amount of abuse without so much as a groan. This nature embedded deep within him, Mohatu perfected his posture, puffed out his chest a bit and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine," he protested, "I was just getting tired of walking." Great, he thought to himself. I'm concealing myself. I'm starting to act just like my brother.
Surprised, Bashasha raised her eyebrows at Mohatu. "That's a bit awkward, don't you think? You're a rogue. Rogues walk all the time, don't they?"
Fabulous. He told a lie that would force him to lie to cover up another lie. Mohatu sighed inwardly. After this trip, he himself would probably not know the truth of all that had happened. "If they're trying to lose weight, yes," he replied smoothly. Bashasha giggled. Mohatu grinned, glad that he had enough humor in him to avert from an uncomfortable subject. "So, where is this Hekima of yours?" he asked.
Looking up, Bashasha replied, "There."
Mohatu followed her gaze up a stone wall that was about two hundred feet high. His draw dropped and he shook his head slowly in disbelief. He must have committed some great sin, recently, he assumed. Nothing else would prompt the gods to torment him thus. "We have to climb that?" he asked.
"There's a small cave up there, and that's where Hekima was last sighted," she replied. "It's only halfway up." She grinned at him and flicked her tail. "That is, if you think you can handle the climb."
That was certainly a blow to his ego. A lioness hinting that he was too weak to accomplish a necessary task. He growled at her a bit. Now he would have to do the only thing that could restore his grandeur--prove her wrong. He would have to climb. "Are you kidding me?" he asked with a scoff. "I could make it to the cave before you could even sink your claws into the stone." Bashasha raised her eyebrows, impressed by the challenge Mohatu was dealing her. Mohatu gave her a cocky smirk. "Watch and learn."
He boldly approached the wall, and stared at it for a minute. Silently, he begged the gods to permit him the grace and strength needed to climb the wall. With one last breath to settle himself, he crouched and jumped upward, latching his claws into the stone with a hup!' He paused for a moment, blinking in astonishment that he hadn't lost his grip and fallen to the ground. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Bashasha a few meters below him, with an equally surprised expression. Maybe he could win this challenge! Mohatu wiggled his eyebrows at her, turned back around, and began to climb. Lift paw, reach up, latch claws, repeat. Mohatu continued this process slowly enough to keep his balance, but steady enough to keep himself from looking as nervous as he was. Finally, he reached up and latched his claws onto a ledge. He reached his other front paw up and used his strong arm and pectoral muscles to lift himself over the ledge. He flopped onto his belly, panting hard. It had taken nearly all his energy to ascend the wall, but he made it. He proved Bashasha wrong. A smile fell onto his face as he panted vehemently.
After a few moments, he heard Bashasha nearing the ledge. It wouldn't do for him to lie there and pant in such a manner. That would expose even more weakness than if he had never climbed the wall to begin with. He slowly pulled himself into sitting position just as Bashasha came over the ledge. Breathing heavily, she met his eyes, and Mohatu grinned. "What took you so long?" he asked.
Bashasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, be quiet."
Still grinning, Mohatu got to his feet and turned around, seeing a small cave opening behind him. He slowly made his way to it, Bashasha following close behind. Mohatu groaned as he squeezed through the opening, that was just small enough to provide him with difficulty as he entered. Bashasha, however, was far leaner, and she was nearly on top of him as they proceeded.
"Hurry up, already!" she exclaimed. "What's taking so long?"
"Like you said before," Mohatu wheezed as he yanked his body through another tight spot, "I'm a bulky lion. I can't just glide through these spaces like you can--"
Suddenly, Mohatu stepped onto thin air, and began to fall. This fall was far shorter than his previous, and he hit ground much sooner. That didn't subtract much from the pain though. Forgotten wounds began to pulsate in pain, and Mohatu let out a moan.
"Mohatu!" Bashasha cried from above. "Are you alright?"
"Ohhh..." Mohatu groaned as he lifted his aching head from the hard ground. He looked up at Bashasha, who was standing on a ledge several feet above him, awaiting an answer. "Yeah," he replied. He rubbed his head with a paw. "Yeah, I think so. I'm alive at least."
Whack!
Mohatu yelped in pain as he felt a painful blow to the top of his head. His head dropped back to the ground, and he clenched his eyes shut in pain. What in the name of the heavens had hit him?
"Hekima!" Bashasha's voice exclaimed joyfully. She jumped from the ledge, landed gracefully on her feet and padded over to the mandrill standing threateningly over Mohatu, stick in hand. The mandrill, Hekima, looked at Bashasha, and suddenly, broke into a smile. "Bashasha!" he exclaimed. The brown mandrill embraced Bashasha, who was smiling from ear to ear. "It's been so long! How are you?"
"Oh, I've certainly seen better days," replied Bashasha, nuzzling Hekima's light brown mane'.
Hekima pulled away from her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked her over. "I should say so!" he clucked. "Look at how thin you are!"
Bashasha looked away, a bit embarassed by Hekima's comment. Hekima sighed, placed his hand under her chin and slowly turned her face towards him. "But I see the famine hasn't had any effect on your beauty," he complimented.
Bashasha beamed and giggled. "Oh, Hekima, you haven't changed a bit."
Hekima returned the smile. He then looked down at Mohatu, who was still laying motionless on the ground. "Who is this?" he inquired.
"Oh, that's Mohatu," Bashasha replied. Hekima bent down and looked Mohatu over. Bashasha continued. "He's a rogue who came to our lands a few days ago."
Hekima didn't reply. He circled Mohatu, pressing against some of his muscles, lifting his eyelids and inspecting his paws. "Hmm," he muttered thoughtfully, "awful big and muscular to be a rogue."
"That's what I thought, too," agreed Bashasha.
Mohatu emitted a low growl. He hated it when others talked about him as if he weren't even there. This mandrill didn't even know him. Who was he to judge King Mohatu? Suddenly, he ceased of his growling. Though he hated it when others judged him, Hekima had judged him right. Mohatu was no rogue. He was a king, who lived in and ruled the bountiful Misty lands. He was not what Bashasha and the others thought he was.
"At the risk of being hit again, I'd like to say hello'," grumbled Mohatu, peeking open an eye to look at Hekima.
Hekima chuckled. "Hello to you too, King Mohatu."
Mohatu's eyes snapped open as he lifted his head and stared at Hekima, wondering how on earth he knew. Hekima just gave him a knowing smile and winked. Bashasha cocked her head as she watched the two. "What did you say to him, Hekima?"
Hekima shook his head and waved his hand at her. "Nothing, nothing." He and Mohatu exchanged glances.
Bashasha let Hekima's comment slide, and she sat down. "Hekima, what are you still doing here?" she asked. "I figured you would have left a long time ago. What, with the famine and all."
With a toothy grin, Hekima spoke. "I thought you would ask that. I'm staying in this cave, because it's the most secluded and convinient place to train my apprentice. Too high for predators. Too much privacy to get him distracted by outside activity."
"Apprentice?" asked Bashasha, drawing back in surprise.
Just then, an adolescent mandrill hobbled into the room. This mandrill looked very similar to Hekima, only his fur was silver, rather than the brown fur possessed by Hekima. He gave a skeptical look to Bashasha and Mohatu. "Hekima, what happened?" he asked. "We were just finishing my lesson on meditation." He gave Hekima a pouty look.
Hekima laughed. "We also went over the importance of patience this morning, did we not?" he asked. His apprentice gave a great sigh. Hekima laughed again and smiled at Bashasha. "Teenagers. Bashasha, Mohatu, this is my apprentice, Rafiki. He will be a good shaman one day, but still has much to learn."
Rafiki rolled his eyes in typical adolescent-fashion. "Come on, Hekima! My lessons are almost over!"
"But part of being a shaman is learning from not just what your teacher teaches you, but what the world will teach you."
Mohatu blinked in suprise, and began to haul himself to his feet. He had expected the shamans to be lionesses, like he had often heard of in other lands. But mandrills? He had always seen mandrills and all other primates as irrate and extremely territorial, not to mention a bit slow-witted. How any mandrill could hold such a regal position was beyond him. Yet aside from his unprovoked attack upon Mohatu, Hekima seemed very wise and patient. He stared at Hekima. "You're a shaman?" he asked, eyebrows high.
Placing his hand on his chest, Hekima bowed respectfully. "That I am, young rogue." Mohatu squirmed in discomfort, realizing that Hekima probably knew full-well his true background. Hekima continued. "But as Bashasha already knows, I'm well along in years. As all living things are, I cannot and will not live forever. So, I am instilling"--he cast a sideways grin at the impatient Rafiki--"or at least trying to instill my wisdom into this young mandrill."
Rafiki scoffed, and Mohatu couldn't help but smile. He suddenly felt an intent gaze on him, and he turned to see Bashasha looking at him. Upon receiving his attention, she shyly looked away. Unsure of what to think of this, Mohatu turned back to Hekima. "Hekima, I have a request and I hope you can grant it," he started humbly. "Do you have any skills in weather manipulation?"
Hekima blinked, obviously not expecting a question of that nature. "Well, I did," he replied, "however, my skills have withered a bit with my age. Rafiki might be able to help you with that, though."
Mohatu looked at Rafiki nervously, who suddenly seemed excited that he might be given his first official assignment. Mohatu doubted that a mere adolescent could win such favor with the gods to get them to send rain. "Are you sure you couldn't do it, Hekima?" he asked, praying that Hekima would withdraw his earlier respond and help them.
But Hekima disappointed Mohatu by shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said, "all I can offer you is Rafiki's assistance."
Ignoring the obvious doubt that Mohatu fostered for this situation, Rafiki bounded over to Mohatu, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you need me to do, Mohatu?" he asked. "I know weather manipulation."
Mohatu was doubtful, but he hid this by forcing a smile. "I'm sure you do, Rafiki, and I'm sure Hekima has taught you well," he started, "but I'm not sure you could handle a task this great." The smile on Rafiki's young face began to fade, and Mohatu shook his head frantically. "Now now, I'm not saying you're not a good shaman, but it might be too much for you. Nothing personal."
Rafiki looked down. "You don't think I can do it."
Mohatu sighed. He suddenly felt everyone's gaze on him. He hated feeling like the bad-guy, but his faith in the young shaman was very insufficient. Rafiki, ashamed, trotted out of the room. Mohatu felt awful. He hadn't meant to kill Rafiki's pride and enthusiasm. Looking up, he saw Hekima giving him a dire look. "Mohatu, I understand that you may be unsure of Rafiki's ability to carry out a task," he said, "but I cannot do it for you. Rafiki is all you have. Take it or leave it." Mohatu looked at the ground, ashamed of himself. Hekima began to walk off. "I'll meet you at the bottom of the ledge at high-noon tomorrow. You can tell me your decision then."
The sun danced upon Mohatu's pelt as he walked out of the main cavern. What a night. He had actually slept very well, even with the throbbing pain and tension that plagued him while he was awake. Last night, he had been a bit nervous about going to sleep in the same area as Nyamavu, for fear that she would slaughter him in his sleep. But outside a few glares, Nyamavu left him alone.
He looked off into the horizon, where the sun was rising. He sighed. It had been days since he had last seen his lands, or his pride. Homesickness fell upon him for the first time since he set off, and he let out a great sigh. He missed the Misty lands and the sparkling, plentiful water and the green, lush grass and foliage that they offered. He missed his pride, and their admiring, approving smiles. He missed his friends, and their usual light-hearted afternoon discourses. He missed his brother and his dry sense of humor. But most of all, he missed Mzungu. His heart ached for her ever since he had awoken and adjusted to his new surroundings, and she haunted his dreams all last night. How he wanted to just abandon the mission here and now, and go back to her. But he also realized that if this problem went unfixed, the trespassers would eventually eat the Misty lands bare, and that would affect Mzungu in worse ways than his absence.
"Good morning!"
Mohatu jumped, and whirled around to see Bashasha grinning at him. He let out a deep sigh, his heart pounding quickly and violently against his ribcage. "Bashasha," he sighed, "you nearly scared me to death!"
Bashasha laughed heartily and trotted over to him. "I'm sorry, Mohatu," she apologized, "I really didn't mean to scare you. What's on your mind? You look so distant."
Mohatu sighed again. He truly wanted to tell her what was troubling him. He longed to tell someone, anyone, but he knew that none of them would understand. Plus, it would be unwise to tell anyone of his mission until he was absolutely certain they were trustworthy enough to keep a secret; even then, it probably wouldn't be a good idea. "Nothing," he replied, shaking his head.
Bashasha drew closer to him. "You sure?"
No, I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything. I'm on a mission by myself, trying to breathe life back into this barren land so that my homeland won't wither away in famine. I haven't seen my home or pride or family for days. I miss my home. I miss my old life. I miss my mate. "Positive," he replied, forcing a smile.
Bashasha didn't seem entirely satisfied with his answer, but she chose to accept it anyway, as she turned away to inspect the horizon. Mohatu did the same. A few thoughts treaded in his head about what he should do next. He had already initiated the plan by arriving--very injured, but still in one piece--to the Wastelands. Now he had to find a shaman. But where to search? He knew nothing about this land, nor its inhabitants (outside the few lionesses that he had met). Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. Mtundu had never told Mohatu that he had to find the shaman on his own. If Mohatu could convince a local to lead him to a shaman, that would get the plan completed that much quicker. He looked at Bashasha through the corner of his eye, contemplating on whether it would be wise to ask for Bashasha's assistance. She could ask why?', prompting him to either tell her the truth, or lie. Just to be safe, he came up with a lie in his head, should the need to lie arise.
"Bashasha," he started, turning to the lioness, "would you happen to have a shaman in these lands, by any chance?"
After giving him a thoughtful look, Bashasha nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied, "our resident shaman, Hekima, is the only one that comes to mind right now. Actually, His Majesty banished him to live on the outskirts after Hekima refused to bestow a blessing upon he and his mate."
Mohatu's face lit up. "Do you think you could lead me to him?"
Bashasha drew her head back and gave him a skeptical look. "I really couldn't be certain. It has been awhile since his exile, so I wouldn't get your hopes up."
Though Bashasha's comment set him back a bit, Mohatu decided not to give up. It would be worth a shot to seek this Hekima out anyways. "Can you at least lead me to the outskirts?" asked Mohatu. "I just want to be sure."
Once again, Bashasha paused to think. She didn't seem to certain about the whole idea, and her tentative facial expression made him nervous. Finally, she nodded. "I suppose I could do that," she replied. "It will kill a few hours, at least."
Flashing her his best smile, Mohatu followed the pale lioness down the pridal rock and across the dusty ground toward the outskirts of the Wastelands.
"Here we are."
Mohatu gave a huge sigh of relief. He never imagined that the outskirts would be so far off when he suggested their trip. Had he known that it was a good hour's walk, he never would have followed through with it--at least, not until he was healed from his brawl with Nyamavu. His muscles and head still ached from his devastating fall, and his bones cried out for rest. Why am I putting myself through all this? he asked himself. He had traveled under the scorching sun for a full day to arrive, been battered to a great extent by a lioness he didn't even know, somehow got on that lioness' bad side, and trekked for an hour to arrive on the southern fringes of the land. "Thank gods," he breathed heavily.
Bashasha gave him a look of deep concern. "Are you alright, Mohatu?" she asked. She gave him a twice-over. "Maybe we should have waited until you had more time to heal."
It was never a boost to a male lion's ego to have someone suggest such a thing. They were meant to be--or believed they were meant to be--strong, brave, invincible leaders who could take any amount of abuse without so much as a groan. This nature embedded deep within him, Mohatu perfected his posture, puffed out his chest a bit and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine," he protested, "I was just getting tired of walking." Great, he thought to himself. I'm concealing myself. I'm starting to act just like my brother.
Surprised, Bashasha raised her eyebrows at Mohatu. "That's a bit awkward, don't you think? You're a rogue. Rogues walk all the time, don't they?"
Fabulous. He told a lie that would force him to lie to cover up another lie. Mohatu sighed inwardly. After this trip, he himself would probably not know the truth of all that had happened. "If they're trying to lose weight, yes," he replied smoothly. Bashasha giggled. Mohatu grinned, glad that he had enough humor in him to avert from an uncomfortable subject. "So, where is this Hekima of yours?" he asked.
Looking up, Bashasha replied, "There."
Mohatu followed her gaze up a stone wall that was about two hundred feet high. His draw dropped and he shook his head slowly in disbelief. He must have committed some great sin, recently, he assumed. Nothing else would prompt the gods to torment him thus. "We have to climb that?" he asked.
"There's a small cave up there, and that's where Hekima was last sighted," she replied. "It's only halfway up." She grinned at him and flicked her tail. "That is, if you think you can handle the climb."
That was certainly a blow to his ego. A lioness hinting that he was too weak to accomplish a necessary task. He growled at her a bit. Now he would have to do the only thing that could restore his grandeur--prove her wrong. He would have to climb. "Are you kidding me?" he asked with a scoff. "I could make it to the cave before you could even sink your claws into the stone." Bashasha raised her eyebrows, impressed by the challenge Mohatu was dealing her. Mohatu gave her a cocky smirk. "Watch and learn."
He boldly approached the wall, and stared at it for a minute. Silently, he begged the gods to permit him the grace and strength needed to climb the wall. With one last breath to settle himself, he crouched and jumped upward, latching his claws into the stone with a hup!' He paused for a moment, blinking in astonishment that he hadn't lost his grip and fallen to the ground. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Bashasha a few meters below him, with an equally surprised expression. Maybe he could win this challenge! Mohatu wiggled his eyebrows at her, turned back around, and began to climb. Lift paw, reach up, latch claws, repeat. Mohatu continued this process slowly enough to keep his balance, but steady enough to keep himself from looking as nervous as he was. Finally, he reached up and latched his claws onto a ledge. He reached his other front paw up and used his strong arm and pectoral muscles to lift himself over the ledge. He flopped onto his belly, panting hard. It had taken nearly all his energy to ascend the wall, but he made it. He proved Bashasha wrong. A smile fell onto his face as he panted vehemently.
After a few moments, he heard Bashasha nearing the ledge. It wouldn't do for him to lie there and pant in such a manner. That would expose even more weakness than if he had never climbed the wall to begin with. He slowly pulled himself into sitting position just as Bashasha came over the ledge. Breathing heavily, she met his eyes, and Mohatu grinned. "What took you so long?" he asked.
Bashasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, be quiet."
Still grinning, Mohatu got to his feet and turned around, seeing a small cave opening behind him. He slowly made his way to it, Bashasha following close behind. Mohatu groaned as he squeezed through the opening, that was just small enough to provide him with difficulty as he entered. Bashasha, however, was far leaner, and she was nearly on top of him as they proceeded.
"Hurry up, already!" she exclaimed. "What's taking so long?"
"Like you said before," Mohatu wheezed as he yanked his body through another tight spot, "I'm a bulky lion. I can't just glide through these spaces like you can--"
Suddenly, Mohatu stepped onto thin air, and began to fall. This fall was far shorter than his previous, and he hit ground much sooner. That didn't subtract much from the pain though. Forgotten wounds began to pulsate in pain, and Mohatu let out a moan.
"Mohatu!" Bashasha cried from above. "Are you alright?"
"Ohhh..." Mohatu groaned as he lifted his aching head from the hard ground. He looked up at Bashasha, who was standing on a ledge several feet above him, awaiting an answer. "Yeah," he replied. He rubbed his head with a paw. "Yeah, I think so. I'm alive at least."
Whack!
Mohatu yelped in pain as he felt a painful blow to the top of his head. His head dropped back to the ground, and he clenched his eyes shut in pain. What in the name of the heavens had hit him?
"Hekima!" Bashasha's voice exclaimed joyfully. She jumped from the ledge, landed gracefully on her feet and padded over to the mandrill standing threateningly over Mohatu, stick in hand. The mandrill, Hekima, looked at Bashasha, and suddenly, broke into a smile. "Bashasha!" he exclaimed. The brown mandrill embraced Bashasha, who was smiling from ear to ear. "It's been so long! How are you?"
"Oh, I've certainly seen better days," replied Bashasha, nuzzling Hekima's light brown mane'.
Hekima pulled away from her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked her over. "I should say so!" he clucked. "Look at how thin you are!"
Bashasha looked away, a bit embarassed by Hekima's comment. Hekima sighed, placed his hand under her chin and slowly turned her face towards him. "But I see the famine hasn't had any effect on your beauty," he complimented.
Bashasha beamed and giggled. "Oh, Hekima, you haven't changed a bit."
Hekima returned the smile. He then looked down at Mohatu, who was still laying motionless on the ground. "Who is this?" he inquired.
"Oh, that's Mohatu," Bashasha replied. Hekima bent down and looked Mohatu over. Bashasha continued. "He's a rogue who came to our lands a few days ago."
Hekima didn't reply. He circled Mohatu, pressing against some of his muscles, lifting his eyelids and inspecting his paws. "Hmm," he muttered thoughtfully, "awful big and muscular to be a rogue."
"That's what I thought, too," agreed Bashasha.
Mohatu emitted a low growl. He hated it when others talked about him as if he weren't even there. This mandrill didn't even know him. Who was he to judge King Mohatu? Suddenly, he ceased of his growling. Though he hated it when others judged him, Hekima had judged him right. Mohatu was no rogue. He was a king, who lived in and ruled the bountiful Misty lands. He was not what Bashasha and the others thought he was.
"At the risk of being hit again, I'd like to say hello'," grumbled Mohatu, peeking open an eye to look at Hekima.
Hekima chuckled. "Hello to you too, King Mohatu."
Mohatu's eyes snapped open as he lifted his head and stared at Hekima, wondering how on earth he knew. Hekima just gave him a knowing smile and winked. Bashasha cocked her head as she watched the two. "What did you say to him, Hekima?"
Hekima shook his head and waved his hand at her. "Nothing, nothing." He and Mohatu exchanged glances.
Bashasha let Hekima's comment slide, and she sat down. "Hekima, what are you still doing here?" she asked. "I figured you would have left a long time ago. What, with the famine and all."
With a toothy grin, Hekima spoke. "I thought you would ask that. I'm staying in this cave, because it's the most secluded and convinient place to train my apprentice. Too high for predators. Too much privacy to get him distracted by outside activity."
"Apprentice?" asked Bashasha, drawing back in surprise.
Just then, an adolescent mandrill hobbled into the room. This mandrill looked very similar to Hekima, only his fur was silver, rather than the brown fur possessed by Hekima. He gave a skeptical look to Bashasha and Mohatu. "Hekima, what happened?" he asked. "We were just finishing my lesson on meditation." He gave Hekima a pouty look.
Hekima laughed. "We also went over the importance of patience this morning, did we not?" he asked. His apprentice gave a great sigh. Hekima laughed again and smiled at Bashasha. "Teenagers. Bashasha, Mohatu, this is my apprentice, Rafiki. He will be a good shaman one day, but still has much to learn."
Rafiki rolled his eyes in typical adolescent-fashion. "Come on, Hekima! My lessons are almost over!"
"But part of being a shaman is learning from not just what your teacher teaches you, but what the world will teach you."
Mohatu blinked in suprise, and began to haul himself to his feet. He had expected the shamans to be lionesses, like he had often heard of in other lands. But mandrills? He had always seen mandrills and all other primates as irrate and extremely territorial, not to mention a bit slow-witted. How any mandrill could hold such a regal position was beyond him. Yet aside from his unprovoked attack upon Mohatu, Hekima seemed very wise and patient. He stared at Hekima. "You're a shaman?" he asked, eyebrows high.
Placing his hand on his chest, Hekima bowed respectfully. "That I am, young rogue." Mohatu squirmed in discomfort, realizing that Hekima probably knew full-well his true background. Hekima continued. "But as Bashasha already knows, I'm well along in years. As all living things are, I cannot and will not live forever. So, I am instilling"--he cast a sideways grin at the impatient Rafiki--"or at least trying to instill my wisdom into this young mandrill."
Rafiki scoffed, and Mohatu couldn't help but smile. He suddenly felt an intent gaze on him, and he turned to see Bashasha looking at him. Upon receiving his attention, she shyly looked away. Unsure of what to think of this, Mohatu turned back to Hekima. "Hekima, I have a request and I hope you can grant it," he started humbly. "Do you have any skills in weather manipulation?"
Hekima blinked, obviously not expecting a question of that nature. "Well, I did," he replied, "however, my skills have withered a bit with my age. Rafiki might be able to help you with that, though."
Mohatu looked at Rafiki nervously, who suddenly seemed excited that he might be given his first official assignment. Mohatu doubted that a mere adolescent could win such favor with the gods to get them to send rain. "Are you sure you couldn't do it, Hekima?" he asked, praying that Hekima would withdraw his earlier respond and help them.
But Hekima disappointed Mohatu by shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said, "all I can offer you is Rafiki's assistance."
Ignoring the obvious doubt that Mohatu fostered for this situation, Rafiki bounded over to Mohatu, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you need me to do, Mohatu?" he asked. "I know weather manipulation."
Mohatu was doubtful, but he hid this by forcing a smile. "I'm sure you do, Rafiki, and I'm sure Hekima has taught you well," he started, "but I'm not sure you could handle a task this great." The smile on Rafiki's young face began to fade, and Mohatu shook his head frantically. "Now now, I'm not saying you're not a good shaman, but it might be too much for you. Nothing personal."
Rafiki looked down. "You don't think I can do it."
Mohatu sighed. He suddenly felt everyone's gaze on him. He hated feeling like the bad-guy, but his faith in the young shaman was very insufficient. Rafiki, ashamed, trotted out of the room. Mohatu felt awful. He hadn't meant to kill Rafiki's pride and enthusiasm. Looking up, he saw Hekima giving him a dire look. "Mohatu, I understand that you may be unsure of Rafiki's ability to carry out a task," he said, "but I cannot do it for you. Rafiki is all you have. Take it or leave it." Mohatu looked at the ground, ashamed of himself. Hekima began to walk off. "I'll meet you at the bottom of the ledge at high-noon tomorrow. You can tell me your decision then."
