The Huntress at Sunset

7. Leaving the Pride

Llasani failed to keep her word. The long day drew on into a long night and on through to the late afternoon of the following day. Nengwalamwe repeatedly tried to slip away but each time Llasani called him back. It was his fear of his father rather than her sensuously furred body that kept him beside her for all that time.

For a while soon after sunset he felt drained and tired. He then decided that as he had no choice he might as well make the most of it and he began to set about his task with new relish and vigour. If this was what the lioness wanted then that was what she was going to get.

His mind turned to wondering why she had bothered to do all this. What did she really want from him? If she was after his cubs, and she was adamant that she was not, then there were much simpler ways to have gone about it. Was she trying to get at his father by turning him against his own son? Why - because he had rejected her? That seemed unlikely. So, what was it that drove Llasani? And her sister; what was that all about? It wasn't even as if Llasani was enjoying Nengwalamwe's efforts much, she grew increasingly impassive. Eventually he decided she must have wanted him to take the initiative all along. His father told him: "Take charge, you're the lion: always lead, never follow." So what she had really wanted all along was for him to get on with it and take her like a real lion should.

As hour after hour went by Nengwalamwe's rough and forceful attentions began to become tedious and increasingly uncomfortable for Llasani; not that he much cared.

He rose stiffly from her and instead of rolling over she got up from the bared earth and walked forwards, carrying on away from him without looking back. She had gone some five or six lengths before he called to her:

"Hey, Llasani! Come back here. I haven't finished yet!"

She stopped and looked back at him blankly before turning and walking away again.

"You had enough already? I'm just getting into it," he growled after her.

She walked on in silence, but he went on, "What's wrong with you? You've never had a lion as good as me have you?"

Llasani stopped abruptly and slowly turned back to face Nengwalamwe with a fixed and deadly expression.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that! Yes, I've never had a lion like you. When I'm through with you you'll never have any lioness again," her voice grew colder. "You won't even breathe again."

"Hah! You can't touch me Llasani! I'm a real lion, better than my father and don't you forget it!" He felt smug, knowing that Llasani was no match for a strong male. She ran off without another word between them. He watched her run for a few seconds before setting about washing her scent from his lower fur. He felt that he had handled the situation pretty well, all things considered. He had taken on Llasani at her own game and had won.

He could now run back home. He was fast enough; he could get to his father before Llasani. He could tell him that she had made the whole thing up - or could he? The powerful scent of a lioness hung about him; as he licked he realised that it would not wash off. It would linger on his fur for a day at least. His confidence wilted and his desperation grew with each increasingly frantic lick at his hindquarters. No matter what he did the smell clung to him; it would betray him and lead him to his death. Could he deny being with Llasani? The scent was subtly different from that of the lioness who had initiated him into lionhood; it was stronger and had a fruity, smoky acidity. It was as distinctive a scent as any he could recall - it could only be Llasani's.

His tail swished as he saw his situation stretch away like the Kolata. He knew he could not return to the kopje of rocks clenched in an almost encircling bend of the Kolata River that he called home. He was sure to meet his father if he did. Nengwalamwe did not just respect his father, he feared him and with good reason. Everyone knew where they were with Nengwala. The great Nengwala had an opinion about everything, and voiced it often. Even when he was wrong, which was also often, no one dared question his word. Nengwala was the king of the Upper Kolata and everyone remembered it. He did not remind those who forgot, he made sure they could never forget again.

This deepened Nengwalamwe's desperation into panic. The Lower Kolata plain was not safe for this son of Nengwala. Nowhere else was safe: there was too much of the surrounding prides' blood on Nengwala's paws for any them to welcome his oldest son. The only way was to go south-west to the mountains, but that chilled Nengwalamwe's heart almost as much as the prospect of being torn apart by his own father. His choice was simple but stark; stay in Kolata and be killed by his own father, leave home and be killed by the surrounding prides' males or run to the mountains and maybe die in the endless void.

'Surely? Most likely? Maybe?' he thought. 'Maybe is about all I have left. Maybe I'll live up there in the hills. Maybe I'll find out why they're so white. If I stay here I'll be dead in a day. If I run to the other prides I'll be dead before the moon changes. If I go now to the hills I may stay alive long enough to get my own back on Llasani, maybe...'

He turned to face the hills and the distant mountains beyond and ached to roar out his frustration. He knew that his time to leave the pride should have come a long time ago but life in Kolata had been too good for Nengwalamwe. He had often walked out over the roughlands with his brother; they had talked for hours about escaping to the hills. It had all sounded so exciting as they lay in the sun together. Nengwalamwe promised Talashi over and over that he would never leave him alone. They would be together forever as brothers. Now the prospect drew darkly over him.

The time for talk was over. The time for action had come. Blinking and breathing deeply to force back the urge to roar, he stepped forward. He tried not to hesitate. His father had told him no lion would ever dare hesitate. "Don't think: do. When you do, don't stop. Never look back." He walked forwards, intending to break into a loping run. Ahead lay three or four low smooth rocks, set deep into the plain. He knew he had to run round them as he could see the summits of the mountains over the top of the rock.

He rounded the farthest rock and began to open his stride onto the thin strip of open ground beyond. He heard the unmistakable sounds of another, lighter, lion behind him. Extending his claws, he swung round and roared powerfully, intending to show Llasani that he wasn't afraid of her threats.

The young lion he saw before him stood his ground bravely, pulling back and down onto his forepaws in surprise.

"Whoa! Nengwe! It's me, Tashi!"

Nengwalamwe stood firm, his sides heaving.

"Tashi? What are you doing here? I could have killed you!"

Talashi drew himself up and pulled himself forwards a pace. Nengwalamwe rumbled a deep warning and Talashi stopped, dropping his head submissively. "Where's Father?" Talashi felt puzzled and stared back. Nengwalamwe raised a paw and growled. "Come on Talashi, where's Father?"

"Hey, what's got you all up tight?"

Nengwalamwe growled again, louder and longer, baring his teeth.

"OK, OK, he's out running after some lion from the lower pride that came sniffing after Llasani." Nengwalamwe raised his paw higher.

"Honest Nengwe, he won't be back for ages. What were you doing back there anyway?"

"Nothing!" he snapped, shaking his head agitatedly. He let his paw drop back to the ground.

"Yeah? It didn't look like nothing. I guess I had better tell it to father and ask him what he thinks you were up to. Say Nengwe, you smell like Llasani."

"No Talashi! You've got to keep quiet about that. You mustn't tell anyone!"

"Right," said Talashi smiling. "What's it worth?"

"Don't you mess me about Talashi."

The brothers heard a call from his father, and close; too close. Nengwalamwe's agitation grew with the thought that his father might be coming to sort out his sons.

"So Nengwe, what'll you do?"

"I'll run to the hills. It'll be just like we always said it would," said Nengwalamwe excitedly.

"Yeah? Great, which way we going?"

"Not we, Tashi - me. You can't come with me."

"But Nengwe you promised. Don't you remember?" Talashi seemed desperately disappointed.

"Tashi, this isn't cub talk any more, this is real. I've got to get away; I've got to get out of Kolata now, forever."

"You mean you're not going to come back? Not ever?"

"No Tashi, not ever."

"But you promised you'd take me with you when you left the pride. You promised!" Suddenly Talashi turned away from his brother and broke in to a run towards the trees at the far edge of the grassy strip.

"Tashi! What are you doing?"

"I'm going to tell Dad what you were doing with Llasani."

"NO! NO! Talashi, don't do this," shouted Nengwalamwe as he sprang after him. He was a much stronger runner than his younger brother and within a few strides he closed to less than a length. He pushed his head against Talashi's springing side briefly. He dropped back as the younger lion surged away with strengthened thrusts of his long hindlegs.

"You lied Nengwe! You promised!"

Nengwalamwe pressed forward again.

"Stop Tashi!" He suddenly struck out at his brother's closest hindleg, attempting to break his run.

Before Nengwalamwe's paw made contact, Talashi threw his head round, glancing back. For an instant he seemed to smile, and then his head whipped up, taken violently from his brother's gaze. Almost as quickly as it had gone it was back, crashing down to the ground. He cried out in pain as his head hit the dry earth with a crack before bouncing up again. His forequarters crumpled under his chest as his momentum carried his hindquarters high over his shoulders in an arc over Nengwalamwe. As he rose, the fur of his haunch caught in Nengwalamwe's outstretched claws, the flesh beneath dragged. Nengwalamwe felt a stinging pain on his back and a sharp crack on his pelt. Thrown off balance, he crashed into his brother, turning him round still further. A branch, covered with the dry grass that had overgrown it, rolled to a stop close by.

Talashi laid still, his eyes open and staring. Nengwalamwe pulled his own paws from beneath him as gently as he could. They were covered with dull purple blood that flowed easily from a paw's width flap of flesh, skin and fur in Talashi's haunch. His sides stilled. Gone was the joyous bounce of the curve of his back. His ungainly legs lay twisted beneath him. Nengwalamwe sniffed and stared intently at his still brother.

"Tashi? Come on, you've got to get up, we've got to go home."

Talashi showed no sign of movement, indeed little sign of any life at all. Nengwalamwe ran his nose over his brother's cheek, sniffing the blurred form and feeling for movement with his whiskers. Then he licked his brother's neck with the tip of his tongue, but there was no response from the still warm flesh below. "Tashi, please, cut it out. Stop playing, come on, please. I didn't mean it. "

A richer, louder sound reached his ears: a lion's roar. "Father!" He nuzzled his brother's lifeless form urgently. "Hey Tashi, I gotta go!" The sound came again. "You look after yourself," he said as he lurched away. He knew his brother would be all right; one and a half year old cubs couldn't die, they had all their life ahead, just like Nengwalamwe. Prey died, young cubs died, old lions died but young lions lived for ever, everyone knew that. Talashi had just been playing. Hadn't he?

Nengwalamwe ran from the rocks and on down the gentle slopes that lead down to the Kolata River. He jumped it cleanly, even in the height of the rains it was no more than a couple of lengths wide. He had never bothered to jump it before. He had always simply waded across, taking a single stride over the pebbly gravel bed. He enjoyed the cool feel of the water on his paws.

He ran on up the opposite slope. The grass grew profusely there, though now it was thin and crack-stalk dry. At the top of the slope he saw a low grass covered bank, a bank often used by his mother and her sisters as they sunned themselves in the morning heat. He slowed to a walk and tried to recover his breath. He hoped Talashi was going to be all right, but the more he thought of his still body the more it reminded him of a gazelle freshly brought down by his mother.

As he neared the foot of the bank he glimpsed what he had been expecting. There, set against the grey of the mountains, was the friendly, caring form of his mother. Her ears, tipped with a ring of deep, rich brown, showed plain against the white peaks and brilliant sky above. She lay still but awake, whether his pawfall had woken her or not he couldn't tell. She sniffed at her son through a smile.

"You've… been with a lioness haven't you?" she said quietly.

Nengwalamwe didn't know whether to smile proudly or hang his head in shame.

"Yes mother," he said, nodding weakly.

Melakwe drew in the scents from her son's fur.

"I knew it would be soon. Who was it? Was she someone I know?" She smiled knowingly, then she sniffed him again and her smile dropped. "No, oh my little leopard, what have you done?"

"I couldn't help it mother, she wouldn't let me stop myself."

"But with Llasani? Didn't you know she's promised to your father?"

"Yes," he said weakly, "...but I couldn't help myself. She was all over me. You know." He nodded and hoped his mother did know what lionesses were capable of doing to grown lions.

"Nengwe, you're a fool one you are. Oh my little Nengwe, couldn't you just keep your loins hidden for one minute? When Nengwala finds out what you've done he'll… You've got to go, get out of here - NOW!"

"But Mother!" Nengwalamwe protested, "Can't you talk to him for me?"

"Nengwe, you're my oldest son, but now you're a lion. You've got to live your own life. I can't help you any longer. You've been putting it off and off since the last rains. Now you've become a lion you've got to act like one and live for yourself. I can't protect a lion. I've got your brother and sisters to look after. It's time you found a lioness or two to protect for yourself."

"Mother? Won't you do anything?"

"I can't do anything now you're a lion. Lionesses protect cubs, lions protect lionesses, and you are now a lion. There's nothing you can do here now."

Nengwalamwe panicked. Melakwe was leaving him to face his father alone, "But Mother, PLEASE!"

"Go, while you still can." She turned away from her son, lowering her head.

"Please… Mother, help me!" He ran to her side. He nuzzled her shoulders and licked her cheek desperately. He rubbed his head against hers, but she didn't move or even raise her head. "Please, Mother, please..." His father roared again, even closer this time. Nengwalamwe raised his head and tried to shake his mane, fighting back the moisture in his eyes.

Melakwe lifted her head a little and said with an almost silent voice that reminded Nengwalamwe of a time before he had tasted meat, "I'll try to look after Llasani. May the stars shine upon all your hunts Nengwe. Go on, while you can, save yourself, and carry your grandfather's line with you."

Nengwalamwe turned and ran a few paces. He looked back to his mother and her companions. She roared gently to him; a roar of recognition, a roar of love.

When he turned away from his mother he knew that he had seen her for the last time. As he ran on he tried to hold that last image of her standing in the grasses roaring to him. It was how he wanted to remember his mother - strong and independent. As she stood before him he felt that it could not really have been his mother. When the time had come she had rejected him and left him to die. She could have helped him at least; after all he was her big son.

In the hours ahead he ran over and over his mother's words, trying to work out what she really meant. His progress grew slow as he began to feel the powerful hunger return. The mountains still lay some way ahead and the ground had steadily become rougher and the grass thinner. All around the ground thrust up in great bare mane brown rocks. The path, perhaps one trod by his father even, wound round the base of one of the smaller outcrops. As Nengwalamwe walked uneasily in its shadow he felt something fly past his ear and land with a gravelly rattle to his right. He stopped, and seeing nothing ahead, moved forwards. Before he had made two strides something larger flew past his ear close enough for the air to brush his fur gently. He stopped again and looked up - nothing. Then, still looking up, he felt a third stinging stone land on his back. He roared a sharp warning. A faint but unmistakable scent of baboon fell down from the rock above.

"I know you're up there monkey. If I catch you I will kill you!" There was no reply, than he heard a rubbing sound: a sliding of rock against rock. He looked up again; a blackness fall towards his head.

~oOOo~

Nengwalamwe's head thumped, everything pulsed red around him. He opened his eyes.

"Are you all right? I ain't never killed no lion before."

"You ain't… haven't killed this one - yet. Who are you anyway?"

"Yeah, well, I gotta run. Bye now!"

Nengwalamwe forced himself to his paws. The outcrop swirled about his head and he fell over on to his side. A baboon stopped swaggering away and stood to watch the great beast falling about.

"Stay still you… Can you stop the ground from moving?"

"Nope! Are you all right now or what?"

"Yes, I'm all right. What are you doing?"

"Watchin' you. I told ya I ain't killed no lion before." He laughed loudly, a chattering, ear splitting screeching laugh that made Nengwalamwe's head thump even more. Growling angrily, the lion lurched to his paws and rushed at the baboon who simply laughed again and turned - straight into the thin, springy trunk of a sapling. The tree slapped him twice on the head before the baboon keeled over onto the dust. Nengwalamwe staggered over to him and opened his mouth, inching his teeth around the baboon's neck. Suddenly the baboon opened his eyes and looked the young lion full in the face, nose to nose.

"Kill me kid, an' you'll die," the baboon shouted desperately. Nengwalamwe thought for a moment then dropped the baboon and backed off fearfully.

"Why? You're not poisoned are you? Look, I -" The lion stepped back anxiously as the baboon jumped up and screeched wildly.

"I got sicknesses you ain't even heard of. Syndromes, infections and infestations - kid, I got 'em all." He picked at his hairy chest and appeared to examine something tiny held between his fingers. He offered the hand to Nengwalamwe. "Here, you wan' a look?"

"No! No, keep away from me. I want to live, not die of… something." Nengwalamwe got up as if to go. Jumping up to the top of a rock, the baboon called him back, nodding and twisting his head in the direction of the mountains.

"You won't live up there," he chattered, "not for long anyways. Say, why you running away anyhow?"

Nengwalamwe had begun to walk away, trying to look as though he was not afraid of sickness. The baboon's question pulled him back.

"I'm not running from anything. I'm an adult lion, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Sure, like you're not afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you." Nengwalamwe tried to turn away from the baboon again.

"Yeah, so that's why you won't get on and eat me! You're scared; you're running away all right. Come on kid, you know you'll die out there."

"Maybe I want to. Did you ever stop to think I might actually want to die up there?"

"No. No you don't." The monkey's old eyes gleamed. "You want to taste revenge."

The baboon took Nengwalamwe aback. How could he have known what Llasani had done?

"Anyways kid, maybes you won't die up there. It ain't so bad."

The lion's fear turned to intense curiosity.

"How would you know? No one's ever returned from up there. No one."

"Except me kid. I've been up there. I can tell you all about surviving the mountains."

For a moment the baboon's offer seemed attractive to Nengwalamwe. Then he remembered that this was nothing more than a baboon - a midmorning snack for cubs. All baboons were disloyal liars and cheats.

"There's only one thing you're good for, but I've kinda lost my appetite right now."

"You wan'advice from me or not kid?" The lion refused to answer. "All right, say - you are listening to me aren't you?"

"Ahuh..."

"Look kid, whatever you do, do it for yourself." Nengwalamwe looked on, the baboon eyed him up before continuing: "You know what I'm getting at kid? It's you that counts, number one right?"

"But what about everyone else? My mother told me we are all part of the Great Ring?"

"RING? Don't you mean circle? You don't still believe that sh - err, stuff - do ya? Look - you're born, you eat, you grow, you mate, and you die. That's all there is see? You've gotta live while you can kid. So what about them? You ain't the king kid, so they ain't your problem. You ain't got to look after anyone but yourself. You know what I mean?"

Nengwalamwe thought; what the baboon said made some sense. If he was going to live alone then he didn't have to worry about anyone else. The only one that mattered was Nengwalamwe. He was alone but free. A freedom he never thought he would taste.

The baboon went on, "You got that kid? What you doing here anyway?" He paused and a gleam came over his deep set eyes. "Say, I know, you've had trouble with girls!"

"You know about that?"

"Sure, what else would you be running away from?"

"I'm not running way. I'm leaving my pride."

A faint roar folded over them.

"Yeah, and I hate termites. Ahh, you done the right thing kid. You don't need them no more." The baboon saw Nengwalamwe's ears swivel to catch the sound. "Is that..? "

"Yeah, it's my father. He wants to kill me. He can't know I'm here." The lion's head shook, "He mustn't."

"Run to the mountains kid. He won't catch you there."

"Why not?"

"It bull but you think it's the end of the world right? He ain't gonna follow you if he reckons you're dead already. If he's after you he won't follow you up there."

"So I had better get going. I bet you're glad I haven't got time to eat you."

"Yeah, sorta. I wish I could come with you kid, but I'm too old for all that sort of stuff." He looked to the hills. Nengwalamwe saw in his eyes that he was glad to be out of their shadow. Nengwalamwe made to leave, but a thought turned him back.

"I can't leave you here."

"Hey kid, I said I'm too old for all that."

"No - you'd give me away to my father. I can't leave you here."

"No, I'll not talk kid." The sound of Nengwala's roar hit them again, much closer this time, drilling urgency deep into Nengwalamwe. "You've got to get going kid and don't forget to eat, you look as though you could do with a decent meal, what did ya ma feed ya on?"

"What? I'm going to die and all you can talk about is food."

"Sure, you wanna remember see. Remember that no one's gonna do nothin' for ya. If you wanna eat then you got not to care about anyone else and go and get it yourself. And then you can't have the girls if you don't eat, and you don't eat if you sit on your backside all day. It ain't gonna come to you, you gotta go out there and grab it; just like everything else. Now that's what I'm talkin' about."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I get the idea." The lion glanced around nervously.

"Look, I'll tell ya sumthin'. I ain't sick. I made that up so's ya won' eat me, see? You gonna go out there and take what you want?"

Nengwe looked at the old ape for a moment, considering, but the sound of a roar from the kopjes below decided him. "Yeah, I'm going to take it all right..." A look of ruthlessness came over the young lion.

"Hey! Don't look at me with those meat eat'r's eyes o'yours!"

Nengwalamwe stared at the baboon for a second then stood up, the fire in his eyes fading. Then he lashed out with his near forepaw, his extended claws flashing as they struck the baboon square on the neck. The blow sent the baboon crashing to the dust with three deep-to-the-bone gashes in its now lifeless neck. A small crimson pool formed at the fallen baboon's shoulder. Nengwalamwe lost no time in picking up the body between his teeth and dragging if off. He could have left the body where it fell, but the body would have lead his father straight to him. The blood still flowed and in next half hour the lion had to pause at least every minute and swallow to prevent a trail forming on to the ground.

An hour, and one elderly baboon, later Nengwalamwe came to the furthest boundary of his pride's land. It was a place he had only ever heard of in one of his father's stirring tales. Ahead, set in a circle of clear ground, stood what he immediately recognised as mane rock. It was grooved and the striations made it look, even to Nengwalamwe's limited imagination, just like the hair of a lion's mane. His father had said it stood as high as vulture flies on the afternoon's heat. Nengwalamwe chuffed and scratched at the low rock with a forepaw as he sniffed the air at its surface. The scent of his father was barely detectable, indeed had he not been so used to it he would not have smelt it at all. He drew forward and, smiling broadly, lent his own scent to mane rock.

The mountains rose ahead. They smelt of cold death, as a massive two-day-old carcass. The ribs showed way above through the broken flesh. The green fur stopped abruptly half way up the belly, beyond the skin had been stripped away revealing the flesh below. Nengwalamwe had never felt any unease when eating, yet now he felt that all the gemsbok that he had ever eaten from had melded into one and lay putrefying before him. He had been right, the mountains were no place for Talashi, and they were no place for any lion. They were the only place left for Nengwalamwe.

He left the trees far below, scrambling and scratching over the loose rocks. Despite not hearing any signs of pursuit for a few hours he did not stop. He feared the mountains but they called to him. He had almost forgotten why he was climbing. The mountains pulled him up and up. With each step the air around grew colder, he felt as though it would cover him and seep into his flesh until he was as solid as the rock itself. It was taking him in, while drawing him on, further and further, higher and higher.

He climbed until the sun shone on his hindquarters. Ahead lay a tiny col, a shallow bowl carved out between two of the lower peaks. He now realised what he had done, and was afraid. Talashi was surely dead; he had killed his own brother. He had left his pride and for what? What lay ahead? Nothing, nothing but cold emptiness. The baboon had offered the hand of friendship and Nengwalamwe had eaten it. He vowed that if he ever got out of the mountains alive, he would be a real lion, just like his father; if he ever got out of the mountains…

~oOOo~

Nengwalamwe woke suddenly. He had not meant to fall asleep and felt foolish for letting himself slip away. He lifted his forequarters and took a couple of quick licks at his hindlegs. The mud hung heavily, it was going to need several more hours of work to clean it off. He was exposed in the thicket. The midday sun beat down relentlessly, drying the mud into a hard casing matted into his fur. He needed to get out of the sun. A grove in the middle of nowhere was not the best place for uninterrupted grooming. He decided that the great rock was the right place; at least there he could be sure to see anything coming to disturb him. Anything might creep up on him here, particularly that Falafana.

'If she catches me like this I'll never get anywhere with her. She'll think I'm an idiot. Why did I let myself get fooled by that baboon? Why?' He thought on, 'And by Llasani come to that. Boy Nengwalamwe am I dumb or am I dumb?'

He got up, yawned, stretched, lay down, yawned, got up again stretching his hindquarters, and then headed lazily towards the rock where he knew he would find plenty of shade.

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