The Huntress at Sunset

19. Dogs and the Midday Sun

Nengwalamwe's roar at dawn from the great rock in frustration for a vanishing cub carried out to many animals. It meant so much more to others than it did to him. For most it was a sound that they had heard of but never heard. It was a legendary sound; a sound of tales. For some it was a sound of distant memory, rolling over them like thunder before the rains. It stirred hearts and worried mothers. For a few it meant something more, something that pulled deeply at them. If anything the replies were more painful, for they meant that not only was there a lion on the great rock, there was also the beginnings of a pride of lion.

To the west, not far from the enraged river rushing down to the falls, lay two abandoned aardvark burrows on the side of a broad, shallow knoll. Were it elsewhere the free draining and sandy burrows might have given an attractive home to warthog or crested porcupine. Here though, the occupants had greatly enlarged the burrows and bared the soil all around over many seasons. Nengwalamwe's roar woke several of them. One, lying out in the open near the top of the knoll, pricked his ears and turned his head to the great rock. He blinked slowly, lay back his ears and set about nibbling at an itch on his lower foreleg.

"So you couldn' find 'im? What the 'ell's that George? A lovesick dik-dik?"

George looked up from his leg. "I can't find wot ain't there."

"No, cause e's 'ere, in'e!" George tucked his tail between his hindlegs and drew back his ears. "So wot are ye go'in do about it?"

"What can we do Liz?"

The other dog stared hard at George, who pulled his head back hard to his shoulders.

"Doan' call me that in front of…" She looked around furtively. "...'Er!" She rose, shook herself alert and went on, "My mother'll be turning in her grave if she heard that."

"'Eh? She's still alive!"

"Not for long." Elizabeth tipped her head lightly. "It's time to arrange… a presentation."

"Eh? What the 'eck's that Lizzie?"

"Don't yer call me that when anyone's aroun'. Get it?"

"Yes… Ma'am."

"Miss Elizabeth'll do."

"What's a 'presentation' when it's at home?"

"Give over." Elizabeth took a couple of paces toward the puzzled George. "You know: A Presentation."

"Eh?"

"Where all the animals gather round that stokin' great rock to greet a new monarch of the Pridelands. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, one of 'em. Sounds cool."

"'Cool'? Wha'd y'been up ta? Knockin' about with them flamin' baboons all day again? Talk propa for gawd's sake! Go an' talk to 'Arry, he'll learn ya."

George yelped.

"Get Utawala. I need ta 'ave a natter with 'im."

"Is there anything else, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yeah. When you're done, go find Fentayli."

"Fentayli?" George darted his eyes about and flattened his ears back.

"Yeah, you 'erd. No go git Utawala."

"I ain't yer gopher Liz."

Elizabeth rounded on George and bore down on him; her teeth bared and eyes piercing. "For the last time it's Miss Elizabeth! Get the 'eck out of it before I wipe that smile off your face! Move it. Now!"

~oOOo~

Utawala sat uneasily in the shade of an acacia tree, greened with fresh buds. He raised his hand to his forehead, shaking his head slowly. "No, no. I'll be damned if I'll let any son of mine go with your daughter!"

"An' wha' so bad about that? We ain't good enough for the likes of you, is it?"

"Madam, look at her! She's… she's… she's totally inappropriate for my son."

"Who you callin' 'inappropriate'? Are you callin' us fat? Is this a fat thing? Cause if it is you ain't the Utawala I know."

"No, it's not that. You're not… err… you're well proportioned. I would almost… err… well I might be inclined myself if… well…"

"Come on out with it now. We ain't got all day, 'ave we Kikkora?"

On her mother's side stood an ample baboon. She idly picked through the hair on her forearm. She said nothing.

"I'll have words for you too when we get home girlie. You just see as I don't."

"He's missing. We don't know where he is. Even if we did, the dogs'll never allow it. Not now."

"Now what's that damn fool son of yours been doing now? He git in trouble again?"

A bird flew up, flapping noisily from the branches above.

"Oh yeah Utawala. Go on, an' tell her. You just tell 'er if he's in trouble."

"Miss Elizabeth. We were just sorting out some… err… family business."

"Family eh? You got such a big one too. Must'a 'ave loads o'that to deal with." She turned to the loud female. "Are you still 'ere?"

"U'huh. An' I ain't goin' until Utawala keep his promise. No ma'am."

"What promise?"

"His boy is promised to my girl. Now he says he cain't find him and he's trying to say it ain't happennin' no more."

Elizabeth looked round the female. It took some time.

"Her? Is she female?"

"Why 'course she is. Finest female a baboon's ever gonna get. Gives a whole lot of lovin'"

"Really? Yer don' say. Consider it done. Now leg it."

"Now we'a goin' ma'am. Nice doin' business wi'ya. Not like some I could mention."

Utawala looked relieved for a moment as the mother and daughter walked off. Then his expression turned, first to resignation, then to alert fear.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure Ma'am?"

"I like you Utawala. Just the right degree of arse-lickin'. I like that. I really do."

Utawala stood up, closed his mouth and smiled stiffly.

"However, on this occasion, the pleasure is all mine. It really is."

"Ma'am?"

Elizabeth turned her head to look on after the females.

"Which son were they talkin' about?"

"My only son now ma'am: Mtundu."

"Oh 'im. I wouldn't bother arranging any celebrations just yet then. You wouldn't 'appen to 'ave seen 'im recently, would ya? I mean, just on the off chance?"

Utawala looked puzzled. "I thought he was doing things for you?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, as I say, if you do run in to 'im. Tell 'im we want words. Friendly like."

Utawala looked to the two dogs sitting tongue loose behind her. One was George, looking as if he'd fall over as always. The other, a grey, he didn't recognise. He raised his eyebrows momentarily. "Yes Ma'am."

"Now I want you to arrange a presentation."

"A presentation Ma'am?"

"Yeah, a presentation. Has everyone round 'ere got cloth ears or what?"

"It's been a long time. It won't be easy."

"You'd better get on with it then. How long will it take?"

"Well, there the grazers: it takes ages just finding their herd leaders. Then all the predators have got to agree not to eat them, and then…."

Elizabeth swished her tail. "How long Utawala?"

"Maybe ten… no eleven days at least."

"Ya got eight."

"Yes ma'am. Very well, though… there may be a few missing."

"I don' care. Just get 'em there. Dawn in eight days time."

"There? Where?"

"The bleedin' rock. Where else?"

"You mean Nengwalamwe's great rock?"

The glare Utawala caught cut him to his bones.

"'E don't exist. I never wanna hear 'is name again. 'Ave you got that?"

"Yes Ma'am… A-as you wish."

Elizabeth stared at Utawala. The baboon, greying over most of his coat, tipped his head and looked steadily back. The bitch curled her lip and breathed out a light growl then turned and walked off. Utawala watched them go until they were just a haze on the horizon. Then, with a look to the heavy clouds above and a sigh, he set off to find what was left of his family.

~oOOo~

"Nengwe! Nengwe! Will ya just stop and listen for one damn minute?"

It was late afternoon. The air lay heavy, the ground still steaming after a brief downpour. Nengwalamwe's flanks had dried, but the damp cooled his spine as he carried his own cloud about him. Already the ground at his paws was lightening: drying, warming and shimmering.

"I'm tired. I'm wet. She's not there again. I'm going back. Are you coming or are you going to sit there all day?"

"I'm coming. I'm coming damn it." Mtundu scurried after the lion, ignoring the splashes from the thinning red-muddied puddles. The downpour had flooded the eastern plain below the ridge so the pair so they were north of the great rock, approaching the eastern end of the lugga, but it was so different. Everything was different: greener, old familiar tracks covered over, landmarks confused, trees re-leafed and flowers everywhere: red, white and yellow clusters and blankets over once dry barren ground. Then there was the lugga, or what used to be the lugga: flat, sandy and dust-dry, now mud and ooze and from the north, still black with rain, a rushing rumble; a wall of water thundering down the valley taking all in its embrace.

Nengwalamwe felt safe on the slopes above. They had lost the trail and were slowed as they picked their way over the greened valley side. Mtundu, breathlessly caught up with the lion.

"Hey Fuzzbutt! We're going the wrong way."

The lion stopped abruptly and turned back. "What?"

"I told ya, we're goin' the wrong way."

"You didn't have to come."

"Sure I did."

The lion sat, nodding his head with a half-smile.

"OK, so what is it now? What have I missed?" Before the baboon could answer the lion's expression fell. "What the heck is that?"

Mtundu followed Nengwe's gaze, out over the valley to the still dry far side of the lugga. Something light coloured moved then darted back up the bank.

"Some warthog, a lost gazelle, how the heck do I know?"

"Or a dog?"

"Jeez, a dog… yeah, it could'a been a dog."

"Which? Come on Mtundu, which one was it? Which one?"

"Dunno, cain't say for sure. Looked a bit like it could'a been Jane… sure wasn't George or Charles, could'a been Liz I guess. Heck I don't know Nengwe. I only caught a flash o' them. It could have been a warthog. Look when ya'll waiting to be taken down by wild dogs everyone looks like a dog."

"Has everyone ever looked like a lion to you?"

"More like a lioness but yeah, it happens."

'Was it a dog? Was it? What about the others? Were they there, over the lugga? In the trees? Up the slope? Behind the rock? In the grass?'

"The weak have only themselves to blame," father said.

'Take this one; yes. Then the next, and the next, and they'd keep coming. One by one, torn apart. Dead, dying. Running away.'

"Only the weak fight back. The strong fight on."

'Alone; only I can do it. It's my task, my place, mine, all and only mine. Killing; for what? Only to do it all again the next day, and the next. So much death. Help - can't do it alone: too many.'

"No one who asks for help deserves it."

Nengwalamwe shivered in the chill of the mountain void. His father was coming to get him; to kill him. Roaring and running after. Cold, bitter, empty. Black, empty, dead, dying.

"Don't think: do. When you do, don't stop. Never look back."

'Look back. Nothing to see: nothing there. Nothing ahead. Nothing. Void and so cold and close. Everything around so close. Closer and colder. Soon it will take everything. Falling. Shiver-cold.'

"Nengwe!"

'Nothing to do but lie still and die.'

Mtundu stood over Nengwalamwe's shaking body. The lion's legs out-stretched, trembling and twitching. His tail tightly curled and trashing the ground. Claws out, ripping the earth. His head adrift in a gale at mane-sea lurching with open unseeing, frightened eyes.

"Nengwe, what the heck's happening? Talk to me!"

"Mt… Mt… hel…"

'No father, I'm not weak. I'm not going to die here. I deserve to live.'

"Help! Me."

"Hey, Uncle Nengwe, you don't look so good."

Nengwalamwe was on the eastern ridge. It was dark, getting on toward dawn, already the first blue-red hints of light horizon. His mane rippled in a fresh breeze. He smiled to Yali.

"Oh yeah? You think so huh?"

Ahead, every animal he'd ever seen, and many he'd eaten, great and small, predator and prey, all the birds of the air and even a crocodile streamed toward the great rock. Some were already there, gathering peacefully.

"What are they doing?"

"It's a presentation?"

"A what?"

"A presentation. Everyone gathers to welcome a new king. Look, there's the zebra. Don't they look funny? And there's the elephants. My dad says they always want to be in front. I guess they don't see too well."

Nengwe sat back. Yali lay at his side pressing to him for warmth in the unexpected dawn chill. They watched together as the elephants strode through the throng to take up pride of place below the promontory. As they took their place an unnatural hush came over the savannah. For a few heartbeats all was still. The eastern plains lay as silent as the growing arc of the sun. Above, on the rock, the cave lay open and from it to the very tip of the promontory walked Elizabeth. She stood, flanked by a baboon and a leopardess, her mottled coat damp stained with splattered blood. Up went a cry, taken up by all, flooding over the plain: "The King is dead, long live the Queen! The Queen shall reign forever and ever!"

"Yali, which king is dead?"

"I… I don't know. I don't like this anymore. Nengwe, please, can we go now?"

"Yes, I don't like it either."

He rose. Yali turned, he turned with her. There in front, black against the sun, ears glowing blood red against the light were the dogs, more than ever before. All of them: Eddie and Mary, George and Elizabeth, Charles and Jane and the others. Not one dead. They fanned out, blocking their way. He turned again. There were more. Yali shrunk tightly to him.

"Please Nengwe, make them go away. I don't like them." He looked down to her; she looked up, wide-eyed, afraid: alone. "Please, make them go away."

The dogs closed in, covering them both in darkness. Nengwalamwe fell still.

"Nengwe!" Mtundu gripped the lion's mane and shook it. The lion's head flopped loosely to the ground, his mouth open, his paws lying still. Mtundu felt the lion's side, then under his chest. He was warm, he was breathing.

The sheet-black sky eased its grip on the northern hills. In moments the lugga heaved and seethed, filling with mud, then spray then fast flowing flood and bushes and trees. The water rose almost to where the lion lay, but left him dry and cool. The baboon, not knowing what else he could do, kept him close and warm, the lion's breathing steady and deep but slow and unchanging.

The moon was well up, and the raging waters gone by the time the lion stirred. Confused and not understanding where the day had gone, he could not seem to understand where he should be, or why the ground roundabout was so soft and yielding. He asked where all the animals were, and then almost panicked when he couldn't find someone, or something; Mtundu couldn't decide which. It was all the baboon could do to persuade the lion to go back, slowly and with much turning and returning back, to the great rock. When close, the lion grew even more confused and in the deep moonlight shouted out about not waiting for dawn. No amount of persuasion could make climb the rock, so Mtundu took him under the shelter of the promontory. There the lion slept again and Mtundu finally felt able to slip away to seek help.

Mid-morning and the lion had still not woken. Shaha and Mtundu had stayed with him for most of the night. Now Falana took her mother's place. She gently licked his muzzle, and then turned her ministrations to his forelegs and paws, working her tongue in between his toes, over his claws, then his forelegs and in time over all of him to his tail tuft. Then she too fell asleep. When Shaha returned, the pair lay still side by side.

"Come away Mtundu. It was a good thing you came to me when you did. They'll be all right, they're just sleeping now. Here, let me show you something I think you'll be interested in."

She led off to the boulder path to the promontory. Mtundu lingered by the lions for a moment, then silently turned and walked off after Shaha.

"I was born here. There in that cave."

Mtundu looked. He remembered Nengwalamwe's fascination bordering on obsession with the rocks that blocked the entrance. "What happened?"

"Once you could walk all round the rock to the top. My father took us up there, my brother, sister and I. We watched the dawn. Looked all around. You could see everything."

The baboon thought about the path that headed over the saddle of the great rock. Beyond was a narrow ledge that curled around and up. There he had thrown stones down at the newcomer lion. He felt ashamed.

"Before I was born there were two long years with almost no rains. The cracks in the rock, they're everywhere, they dried out. Then, when the rains finally came, about when I was born, the rock began to move, the cracks grew. Slowly they grew. In time, the ledge above the cave cracked away. It was nothing at first, for a few years anyway. A few small stones here and there. Then someone got hurt. Not dead, but hurt. We took notice then."

Mtundu looked at the face of the rock, now in slant-shade that picked out the fresh reddened stone above the cave. The rock that had covered the face lay in smashed fragments front of the cave. He saw the ledge, now hanging bare, continuing round the pinnacle.

"It was just another thing that happened. So much happened then, so much." Shaha seemed lost for a moment. She looked around. "So many gone." She sat, tucking her tail about her. Mtundu caught a movement in her flank and deftly picked something from the curve of her back. Looking back to the rock, he ate it between finger and thumb. "None here though. There are no bodies buried under that rubble. It came down foul wet night, my father was gone, and his too. We were trying to hunt: pointless. The cave sometimes floods in the rains. We came back but there was nothing here for us anymore. There were more of us then." She sat. Mtundu looked. They were silent.

Later they picked their way back down the boulder path. Shaha explained that that too was once clear and even and that which had blocked the cave had spilled out there too. As she reached open ground Shaha stopped, her breath short. Mtundu ran forward. She called after him.

"No Mtundu, leave them be. You're not going to see this again for a long time."

"What? Why? It's just them two asleep together… still."

"We're not like you. We need to spend two thirds of our life asleep: dozing, half-awake, whatever; most of it through the day. Nengwe can't go on day after day awake and frightened: listening to every sound, alive to any danger all the time. Walking here there and everywhere all the time. Expecting every moment to be his last. We're not made like that. You and he can't live the same life. He can't live with you, but never for one moment think he can live without you."

"Yeah, but what about her?"

Shaha nodded, the skin over her shoulders tightened.

"Mtundu, we lions and lionesses live in different worlds. Lionesses live for the pride: for their sisters, mothers, aunts, and their cubs. We stay in one place. That's our life: the pride. Lions live in a territory. They are worried about borders and incursions, about other lions. They can move about, take prides, and father cubs. The pride is not the territory; a pride is about relationships: about others. A territory is about space, fighting and mating: it's about self. They are separate worlds that only sometimes come together, just as they are for Falana and Nengwe now. It won't last long."

"How long?"

"A few days perhaps. She can take his mind off the dogs."

"And then?"

"Like you, they can't live with each other and they can't live without."

"So, what'd we do?"

"Make them time. Give them space. Let them alone."

"Yeah, but what about the dogs?"

"Ah the dogs… I don't know Mtundu. I simply don't know."

"That's just it see. I was doing something that'd get the dogs off his back. Give him time. For a while at least, but then, he just… he…"

"Yes, I know. He'll be all right."

"You weren't there! He just went all… I just don't know. I'm scared of it happening again. I was damn scared when it happened. I didn't know what to do."

"But you did do something, something good, and here we are. I think he needs to rest. He can't keep on and on like he has been, he's just not strong enough."

"But he's a lion! He's not strong enough? Who the heck is?"

"I don't know, a hippo maybe?"

"Hippopota-my-ass! An elephant, now that's strength!"

"Do you actually know any?"

"Yeah. That's where I was tryin' to get Nengwe at. Maybes still can."

"Try. You have the time."

"Will he be OK?"

"Yes, but maybe he'll not be up for a while yet. Be gentle with him when he does. He'll not be in a good mood. Now come away."

Mtundu looked at his friend. He knew he was in good hands, even if they were draped over his forelegs. He remembered the warmth and strength that Falana must have been feeling through her near-white fine underfur. He turned, keeping his eyes on the lion until the last moment, and then stepped back to Shaha. She led him away toward Silent Rocks.

~oOOo~

A leopardess approached the burrows. Twenty lengths out, she paused and looked around. She was alone, as usual. A dog, hearing her pawfall through the ground, poked her head out of the nearest burrow.

"You there: Fentayli!"

"Oh great Miss Elizabeth. It's such a pleasure to speak with you as always."

"Stop the arse-licking; you're not a dog."

"Err, yes… Ma'am."

"Seeing as 'ow well'ard you are and always up for it, you know that old grudge of yours?"

"What grudge would that be Miss Elizabeth?"

"The really old grudge."

"Ah, that grudge."

"Yeah that. I want you to settle it: finally. You understand?"

"Most certainly, it will be a pleasure."

"Get it done right. No mess, no witnesses, but not yet mind. Bide your time. It's got to be done at night, before the presentation."

"Very well. I shall use the time to… enjoy it."

"Whatever. Oh and after you're done there's another job."

"Something else? What might that be?"

"I don' care 'ow. I really don't give a flying fig what you do. Just kill that baboon. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Oh yes, very clear: something for me, then something for you. Very clear indeed… but not simple. It'll take time."

"You've got until the full moon. Then do it, do them both. No cock ups. I want him gone: snuffed, demised, rubbed out, dead."

The leopardess nodded obsequiously. She clearly enjoyed her work. She even, in a strange way, enjoyed Elizabeth; she was as near a creature of kin as she had ever known.

~oOOo~

Falana woke often. Nengwe remained still and calm. She made sure he was comfortable before settling back. She could not imagine what he had been through: where he had been or what he had seen; that would have led him to this. To her, Elizabeth and the dogs had mostly been an irritation; an annoying tick in her underfur. She had grown up under their shadow. For the most part they had left her alone. Except that when they hadn't they had intruded deeply into her most personal lives. They had killed the most important parts of her land she was now determined not to let them kill this one.

Towards late afternoon she woke again and after stretching, stepped way to walk off the stiffness in her legs and back. When she came back, Nengwe, still in deep shade, looked blearily back at her.

"Are you feeling all right Nengwalamwe?"

"I… think so. What are you doing here?"

"I'm… looking after you." She reached down and pressed her cheek against his.

"Where is here?"

"Here? Well, we're under the overhang of your rock."

"Oooh, I thought I was by the lugga."

"That was yesterday Nengwalamwe. Yesterday."

"Was it? How did I get here? Where's Mtundu?"

"It's OK. He brought you here. He's with mother."

Nengwe thought about Shaha growing fat on baboon meat, but resisted the urge to say it. He struggled to rise.

"No, don't get up. There's no need."

"Yes, Falana, there is." He swayed a little on out-stretched angled, painfully stiff, forelegs.

"No Nengwalamwe!" She rushed to his side, he brushed her aside.

"Please let me do this." He cracked his forepaw joints. They stung. He gasped and breathed in sharply, holding in. His head swam lightly, then clearing he breathed again, closing his eyes. She could do nothing to help him, and dare not do anything to stop him. For long seconds he did nothing but breathe. Then with effort drawn from deep within he lifted his hindquarters and drew himself up to stand. She moved back to his side. He wavered but did this time welcomed her support. She leant her head to his softly. "Now, let me go."

"Why Nengwalamwe?"

"There are some things a lion needs to do by himself. Especially if he's been asleep all day."

"Oh…" She drew away from him. He appeared steadier. He tried to walk forwards: a single pace. His forepaw twisted under him. He drew it back up in pain. She pushed close to him again. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Maybe not, but I'll live. Now let's try that again." This time he was able to land his forepaw soundly, then another. He drew slowly and haltingly away. She followed a few lengths behind. He stopped and without turning said, "There really isn't any need Falana. I'll be fine. Please let me go. I'll be back soon."

"All right, but call if you need me."

With a simple, "I will", he walked off.

He returned with much of his fluidity of movement regained. Falana noticed a dullness of his eye, but other than that she felt he looked much like he always did. He suggested they go up the rock. She wondered if he was up to the climb through the boulders. He though felt no such reservation, and while he was certainly more careful and slower than normal, they both arrived on the promontory bright and alert. There together they watched the evening creep over the savannah, and as the remaining clouds began to turn orange saw two elephants, a large male and another, probably a female. Between slipped a lioness and…

"Mtundu? No, it can't be… and is that…"

"Mother! What are they up to Nengwe?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"They aren't coming here, are they?"

"It looks like it Falana. I hope we don't have to go and meet them."

"Of course, you must still be feeling a bit err… off."

"Well, maybe a little."

Nengwe was relieved when the lead elephant, calling himself Kudlavu, took one look at the boulder slope and gave up the idea of climbing to the promontory. From the edge Nengwe could see and hear them clearly, and safely enough. Elephants were something of a mystery to Nengwalamwe, and he had no intention of getting to know them any better.