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

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