to be wondering just what was wrong with the way he looked. “Yes well, sure I did. They won’t mess with me again.”

Falana was not at all convinced by the lion’s bravado. “Is that right Nen… Nangw… Nemwag...” She shook her head; the flies rose as one, milling around incessantly. “What IS your name exactly?”

The lion noticeably altered his stance, raising his head proudly. “I’m Nengwalamwe, son of…”

“Nengwalamwe?” asked Falana in disbelief. “What kind of a name is that for a lion?”

Nengwalamwe breathed in deeply. “It’s traditional. My father is called Nengwala. Names like mine have been in my family for generations.”

“So have worms...” said Falana sarcastically, turning away from Nengwalamwe, “Look - I’ll just call you… Nengwe. That sounds better doesn’t it?”

 “Hey, no way! It’s Nengwalamwe or nothing. That’s my name!” The lion seemed genuinely hurt by the jibe.

Falana looked her mother in the eye and smiled, then turned back to the lion and with a straight face. “OK Nothing,” turning quickly away before he could reply.

Shaha stepped forward suddenly and hooked her head under Falana’s chin, forcing her daughter’s head up sharply, “Falana!”

Falana pulled her head up abruptly to stand firm with her head held high above her mother’s outstretched neck.

“Hey, mother, what do you think you’re doing?”

Shaha rumbled tensely. Falana went on, “Nothing, can you hunt?”

The lion fought to be heard as Shaha’s rumbles grew louder.

“It’s NENGWALAMWE!”

For a few moments the heat of the late afternoon swallowed them all in a dense, tense, cloud of pungent warmth. It was Falana who eventually backed down, retreating in a pair of slow and symbolic paces. She was careful to keep her eyes firmly on the lion as she lowered her head submissively. While she knew what her mother was capable of, she was not at all sure of the newcomer. As the tension fell away, Shaha’s rumbles slowly tailed off into inaudibility.

“Whatever,” said Falana dismissively. She expected a further rebuke from her mother. It came as a piercing glare that held the promise of the use of well-worn claws. “Well - lion. Can you hunt?”

Nengwalamwe looked surprised. “Me? Hunt? Erm, yeah, I hunt pretty good.”

Falana, feeling she had the measure of her mother, continued her sarcastic attack, “Aaah, then it must be the worms that keep you so slim.” She drew forward a pace and thrust her head close to the lion’s ear. “Do you know the Saffi Nearside Flip Manoeuvre?”

“Sure, I know loadsa others too.” He seemed almost pleased with himself. “Why, I probably know more than you do.”

“Sure you do… What do you think, mother?”

Shaha just stared at her daughter. “You can’t mean… Falana? You don’t - do you?”

“Why not mother? Three are better than two. He can work for his keep.”

Shaha studied Nengwalamwe for a moment, then she looked to her daughter and finally back to the lion. A gentle smile crept over her. “We’ll be the judges of how good you are. Just don’t get in the way and let us do the work. You’re young enough to be able to learn a few things. Now Falana, we have work to do.”

Falana’s expression hardened as Shaha turned and passed in front of her.

“Hey! I can hunt!” called Nengwalamwe as Falana and Shaha drew away from him.

“A lion? Hunt? Oh sure,” laughed Falana cruelly. “Apart from fluffing up that mane of yours there’s only one thing lions are good at - and I reckon you’d mess that up too.”

He stood firm as he watched the lionesses walking effortlessly away. He paid particular attention to Falana, who moved with an especially sinuous and attractive ease. They had no intention of waiting for him. If he wanted to eat he was going to have to keep up with them. He took a pace forward and stopped, calling after them: “I offer to protect you and this is all the thanks I get? Come on, lighten up. I’m only trying to do what’s right and keep you out of trouble.”

Shaha took no notice but Falana hesitated, halting and turning her head back to the lion. “Nengwe, the only thing I’ve seen you do is try to get to our kill.” She began to turn back but instead stopped and called into the moist, rapidly cooling air. “No, I tell a lie - there is something else I’ve seen you try to do, but I’m telling you now I ain’t that sort of lioness.”

“I am trying to protect you…!” but Nengwalamwe wasted his breath. The lionesses walked on, drawing away steadily, ignoring his protests.

Shaha leaned over to Falana as they walked side-by-side. She spoke quietly as the lion’s rumbles ended. “The Saffi Nearside Flip? What is that? I’ve seen every one she made but I have never saw that one.”

Falana giggled gently. “Nor has Nothing back there...”

 

***

 

Nothing much happened for some time. Nengwalamwe had decided early on that the best thing for him to do was to watch the lionesses work from a distance. “To get to know your style,” he explained. Shaha kept her thoughts to herself.

He did not escape Falana’s continued cynicism as he followed the lionesses away from the acacia. She knew that the lion was bluffing his way to a meal but she quietly welcomed him volunteering to keep out of the way. He tried to put her hurtful comments to one side, but they kept on uncomfortably returning to his mind.

He lay and watched the hunt from the summit of a ridge overlooking the rich grazing to the south of the rock, which dominated the distant view. At the bottom of the ridge the slope eased, continuing gently down toward the foot of the rock. Between lay many shallow depressions, some no wider than the length of a tail, others big enough to hide a whole pride of lion. The lionesses were using these to lie up unseen between strikes. The prey, a widely straggling mixed group of gemsbok and other antelope, seemed exceptionally cautious and wary. No matter what moves Falana and Shaha made, the herds managed to sense and possibly even predict them all. Just possibly it had something to do with the large lion lolloping on the distant skyline.

Nengwalamwe watched for over an hour. He lay in a strip of bare ground that extended straight behind him into the distance, paralleled precisely by a second similar strip no more than a length away. Just ahead of the lion the strips faded and then vanished entirely; he had no idea who or what had made them.

In time, long after the final glow of evening had faded leaving the stars shining in the blue-black velvet of the night sky, Nengwalamwe glimpsed Falana’s back emerge from the nearest hollow. Shaha followed slowly. They were both tired, though Falana still moved beautifully. ‘Hopefully,’ the lion thought, ‘the edge’ll be off her tongue now. I guess she’ll not laugh at me anymore.’ He smiled in anticipation of taking her down a peg or two. Shaha dragged her tail but her daughter seemed quite unaffected by their fruitless efforts.

“Come on you two, what was that meant to be? You were far too far away for a strike that last time.”

Shaha stopped and looked Nengwalamwe straight in the eyes. “Right young Nengwalamwe. It’s time you stopped bragging and put that mouth of yours to work.”

Falana joined her mother, “Yeah! let’s see if you really CAN hunt, ‘young’ Nengwe.”

 Nengwalamwe looked about in confusion; he had expected the lionesses to call off the hunt, if only for a while, to rest. He had certainly not expected them to call his bluff.

Falana went on, “You go down there and show us what you can do. Go on; let’s see how close you can get.” She stifled a laugh.

“What’s up with you? What’s so funny?”

Falana laughed openly. “Oh, nothing...” 

“If you’re not going to tell me - I’m not going to show you my hunting skills.”

“What hunting skil...” A well-aimed flick of her mother’s tail on her hind legs silenced Falana.

Shaha glared at Falana and, seemingly satisfied that she was under control, turned to Nengwalamwe. “Yes, now Nengwalamwe, you can’t just lie there and expect us to do all the work for you, can you?”

The lion hurriedly rose to his paws saying, “Well, err… no, I guess not.” He looked around distractedly.

“They’re that way.” Falana pointed her muzzle down the slope in the direction of the distant rock.

“Yeah, I know! I know.” Nengwalamwe moved forwards. His forepaws felt oddly empty. They flopped down from his legs and he stumbled as he put his weight on them. His hindpaws felt little better. He lurched away, the lionesses watching him in quiet amusement. Suddenly he fell on his nearside as his paw struck an unfelt and unseen stone embedded in the slope. His downy belly fur flashed white in the starlight as he rolled over. He let out an agonised growl, which he cut short with teeth gritting determination. He heard Falana laugh again. Nengwalamwe gathered himself up from the stony ground, and forcing a smile, turned to the lionesses. He felt a burning

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