felt a burning coldness in his paws that turned within seconds to a thousand cub claws scratching away at his bones. He was determined that he was not going to give Falana the satisfaction.

He walked away as best he could, soon dropping below the lip of the nearest hollow. He lay down as soon as he was out of sight; rolled over and waved his paws desperately in the air.

 

 

***

 

For the next half an hour Nengwalamwe wandered about the silver shadowed savannah trying to look as though he really did know what he was doing. He thought he did know how to hunt. He had caught enough small prey in the half-light of early morning and evening to survive alone for a while, but this was for real and under less than favourable conditions. Small isolated clusters of clouds eclipsed the stars of earlier. As each cloud cast its shadow he had to hold still in case of blundering into anything that might give his position away.

Faint silver shrouded him again. Nengwalamwe grimaced as yet another cramp sent lightening sharp spasms shooting up his haunch. Once he had found his paws he got up from the hollow. For a while he felt good, but bruises were developing where he had fallen on to the protruding stones. His flank and haunch troubled him each time he crept forward; he faltered then gritted his teeth. He filed the pain away in the darkest back corner of his mind, breathing deeply in preparation for his stealthy approach through the starlight-painted grasses.

Lifting his head slightly to catch the air in his nostrils, he tasted the wind again and attempted to smile. The gemsbok were almost within striking distance. Dinner would soon be served and by his father’s mane, he was going to do the serving. He hurriedly tried to remember the long lessons his mother had taught him. In those early cubhood days every hunt seemed to lead to a quick and clean kill and the sun always seemed to shine down. This was very different.

Now he was alone and close to the gemsbok, Falana’s face swam into his mind again. He gritted his teeth against a fresh surge of pain as another cloud cluster passed, cloaking him completely. When it had passed, in near total darkness, he dared to peek over the waving tops of the grass. He smiled as he made out the huddled forms of the gemsbok only a few lengths away. His shoulder muscles rippled in melodious concert as he crept forward, intending to close for a strike.

What he did not intend to do was stumble over the lip of one of the deeper hollows, invisible among the starlight-silvered long grasses. He stumbled forwards, taken totally by surprise. He struggled, scrabbling noisily with his forepaws to gain purchase. He managed to stop himself, upright, close to the bottom of the depression. His sharp breathing sounded loud, magnified by the bowl. As if on his breath came a powerful smell, one that terrified Nengwalamwe. It spelt danger; it told of tearing claws and ripping teeth. It was the overwhelming and very fresh scent of another male lion. No, it was two male lion; both scents were distinct but similar, brothers perhaps. He had found what could only have been strong, fresh signs of Yali’s father, and whoever he was he certainly was not alone.

Roaring in confusion, he turned violently to escape the scent and the danger it brought. As he turned, his injured haunch collapsed under him and he tumbled back to the bottom of the hollow. The pain pounded him. He lashed out blindly, scoring the ground his claws. Somehow in his panic he managed to scramble to his paws and lurch wildly, his sides heaving, out of the hollow, accompanied suddenly by the wild yelping of unseen hyena. The gemsbok herd panicked, storming away in a cacophony of dust and noise; mothers calling continuously as they sought to keep track of their young and indeed each other in the panic.

Once away from the depression Nengwalamwe’s senses cleared and he remembered the lionesses watching from the ridge. He had to redeem the situation, and his lost honour. He somehow managed to hurl himself after the herd: his paws scrabbling madly in the dusty earth. His eyes watered from the dust and the stabbing pain that flowed from his haunch with each stride as he rapidly closed the gap. His breath burned in his lungs as he sought and then launched himself at a slow old male at the rear of the herd, intending to land upon its shoulders and knock and drag him down.

He misjudged the strike and leapt too late, bringing him crashing down on the prey’s rump instead of its shoulders. Whether it was the scent of the lions or his fear of looking a fool in front of Falana that had unsettled him he could not tell, and did not care. The gemsbok bucked and thrashed, throwing its head up and screeching in fear as Nengwalamwe’s claws desperately sought holds in his sides, but finding none. The young lion lurched wildly, growling in fear and frustration as he felt his claws lose their hold. The gemsbok’s rump bounced up and slammed into his chin. He cried out helplessly. Sky, stars, clouds and earth blurred together for a second. Then they asserted themselves roughly as he slammed down to the hard earth, his breath tearing from his lungs in a ragged gasp. He lay still where he fell.

He watched blearily as the now injured gemsbok galloped away to rejoin the herd, disappearing fast into the depths of the night. Then the rolling dust around him parted and the shadowy form of a lioness coalesced from the darkness.

“Nothing?” Falana padded forward uncertainly, sniffing for the lion. “Nengwalamwe? Answer me, damn you!”

Nengwalamwe drew in a ragged breath that burned like fire and coughed. “Over here,” he said weakly.

Falana’s eyes lit up in fury. “What in that stupid name of that father of yours did you think you were doing?”

Behind her, Shaha glided silently, her expression grave and unforgiving.

Nengwalamwe looked to her with pleading eyes. “I was trying to close in like you said....”

“I never said for you to try to kill yourself! What do you think we’re doing out here, playing cub games?” With a growl of frustration, Falana turned from the lion and trotted away towards the hollow, mumbling to herself under her breath.

Nengwalamwe looked miserably at Shaha; her silent form doubling, then trebling in his vision as he fought back a sudden wave of confusion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect…”

“I know.” She drew forward and gently caressed his forehead with her tongue, licking away the blood that trickled down his face from a cut on his ear. “I don’t like mistakes; but I don’t expect perfection either.” She smiled humourlessly. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that nobody’s perfect.”

Nengwalamwe looked at her, feeling like a cub again as if peering into his mother’s face at bath time. The soft touch of her tongue brought a weight of memories down on him. Thoughts of a time where all he knew was the warmth of his mother’s belly, the soft sound of her voice, and the gentle thrum of her heartbeat in his ear. “I’m sorry, Melakwe… I shouldn’t have left, it’s hard for me to get used to being alone.”

She broke contact and drew back. “Well, you’d better get used to it. I’m not your mother!” Her face was set. “We don’t have much time. Tomorrow I want you to work with Falana a little and get some sort of understanding going. I can’t allow another botched strike like that. It was either very brave, or very foolish. You’ve got heart young Nengwalamwe, I’ll give you that, but I think you lied about that brain.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Hey!” Falana called from the hollow. “Come on you two, look what Nothing’s found!”

Shaha’s set expression loosened. Nengwalamwe lay still. “Are you hurt Nengwalamwe?”

“No, I’m all right.” He tried to lift his forequarters from the ground. His pads slid across the earth. “Really, I am.”

“You had better be. Now then...”

“Hey? Are you two coming or what?”

Shaha turned away from the lion and started towards the call. “All right Falana, I’m on my way. What is it?”

Nengwalamwe took four deep breaths and forced himself to his paws and walked unsteadily after Shaha, his tail dragging in the dust as he followed her away.

 

***

 

What Falana had found turned out to be the carcass of an adolescent gemsbok. It was fresh and barely touched. It looked likely to be hyena kill, judging by the all-pervading scent that hung in the hollow. Nengwalamwe refused to follow Shaha and stayed at the lip.. Eventually Shaha dragged the carcass up the slope to where the lion lay licking his wounds. Although Falana had found it, it was obvious to the lionesses that Nengwalamwe had chased off the hyenas guarding the carcass and that it thus was his kill. Falana neither knew nor cared why the lion had then gone after the bulk of the herd. Shaha, however, paused to consider the question and to remember her own long forgotten experiences in these hollows.

Shaha took quite a time to investigate the carcass, peering at it while Nengwalamwe, having overcome his fears of the hollow, noisily ripped the hindquarters apart. If she saw through Nengwalamwe to the truth, she certainly didn’t show it; and eventually joined him and her own daughter in devouring the evidence.

The three made little sound as they ate. The savannah around them was alive with noisy life; none of which dared disturb the eating lions. Back in

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