life. Now I’m here there’s no way out, except back the way I came. I’m trapped here - I can’t leave.”

“Yes, course you could. You can get away over the river. I know that because over the river is this big desert, then a rocky, hilly sort of place, then it’s… well, I guess you don’t want to know about all that if you’re staying here. You are aren’t you?”

“I don’t know Yali, I really don’t know. Unless Falana bucks her ideas up real soon and sees what a great lion I am, then I guess I might just have to cross that desert of yours. I really ought to give her another chance, if I can find her. I owe that much to Shaha.”

“Oh , finding her’s easy - peasy easy.”

“Oh yes? And how is that?”

“She has this secret knoll she hangs out on, down there by those trees.” The cub gestured with her nose. She stood rather awkwardly, as if she were injured. She had always bounced around Nengwalamwe, now she just stood there as if moving caused her pain.

“What trees? Are you all right Yali?”

She ignored him, gesturing again. “That one, see?”

“Ah, right, that one,” he said hoping he had picked the right clump of trees out of the silvery gloom, “I’ll just go on over sometime, but not right now.”

“Why not?”

“Shaha’s not well, someone attacked her. Would you know anything about that?” He didn’t really expect an answer, but he felt it was worth a try just the same.

“Why don’t you go to Falana right now? Shaha’ll be all right with me. Don’t you worry about her.”

Nengwalamwe laughed uneasily. “I don’t think so, little one. Falana will have to wait. She’s been waiting for a long time already; a while longer won’t hurt her. I’m needed here.”

Yali stood before Nengwalamwe, neither spoke. The savannah all around seemed filled with sound: distant hyena calls, grunts of grazing wildebeest, gulps and croaks of frogs to the near continuous rasping and grating of thousands of unseeable insects. In time, she turned and walked off, limping from some obviously painful injury to her off foreleg. Nengwalamwe called after her. “Yali, if you did know anything about what happened to Shaha you’d tell me wouldn’t you?”

She stopped and turned back, her eyes glinting emerald. “It wasn’t my father, or my mother or anyone like that. It was someone else, and they’re long gone. They’ll never come back and you won’t chase after them. Let them go. I know it’ll never happen again.”

Yali suddenly knew a lot more than any cub should know. Nengwalamwe wanted to know more, but Shaha began to stir. He looked down to her, taking his eyes off Yali. As he looked at the elderly lioness he smiled. He realised that if he looked back he’d probably find that Yali was gone. Shaha opened her eyes and looked up at him. He looked on, thinking of his mother. He reached down and licked at one of her wounds that had opened slightly. When after a few strokes it was clean, he lifted and turned his head; sure enough, Yali was once more gone back to wherever it was she had come.

“There’s no point chasing after her,” Shaha said as Nengwalamwe gazed into the moonlight and shadows, “Let her go….”

 

***

 

If the days that followed were difficult for Nengwalamwe then they were almost impossible for Shaha. By morning, she had recovered enough to move, limping and lurching, to safety. She offered little and Nengwalamwe asked less. Later the next day he decided that neither of them was going to be able to keep going for long without food. That meant one thing: Nengwalamwe was going to have to hunt, and hunt well.

Once he’d made sure Shaha was comfortably asleep in the heart of Silent Rocks he ran off to find food. This time he knew he couldn’t fail. He tried hard to remember everything his mother had patiently taught and re-taught him. He decided not to go after anything dramatic and to concentrate his efforts on something he knew he could take down. Warthog was his first choice, but try as he might he couldn’t find any. He considered searching the thickets for a sleeping aardvark, and even thought twice when he saw a group of tree-bound vultures waiting out the day for the thermals that would let them get airborne. Then he remembered they played dead so well you could never tell if you’d made a kill or not. In the end, it was a baboon that proved his salvation. Mtundu caught up with him a while after midday and made what sounded to Nengwalamwe a surprisingly plausible proposal.

They spent much of the afternoon by the drying remains of a bend the river. The baboon’s sharp eyes, the lion’s endless patience and equally long claws made a good enough team. Much of the riverbed was no more than long dried mud. Mtundu stood on a boulder that would be submerged in the coming rain-swollen floods. Now, however, it stood proud of the water almost as high as the lion’s shoulders.

The water flowed calmly past. It was far too shallow for crocodiles and the only irritation was the myriad biting flies that thought the lion offered too good a feast to be flown by. The first few fish Nengwalamwe caught he ate whole, barely troubling his teeth with breaking them up. He knew what he was looking for, and before too long he found it.

With the last, and biggest, fish dangling from his jaws, Nengwalamwe set off back to Silent Rocks with the baboon scurrying beside him, talking excitedly about nothing in particular. If Nengwalamwe hadn’t had his mouth full, he’d have silenced him.

When they were in sight of the rocks, they made an unsettling discovery. In a hollow, one of many formed by the roots of long fallen trees, Nengwalamwe found the scattered but uneaten remains of a wild dog. He was walking ahead of Mtundu in the hope of escaping the worst of his chattering and saw them first. Earlier that day he had walked within a few lengths of the hollow but had not looked in. On the way back he was simply following the shortest path, one that led him to the dog carcass.

The dog’s almost severed head lay bent back over the bloody remains of its forequarters. It was still recognisable as an individual, indeed Nengwalamwe was sure it was one of those that had chased him at the kopje. What seemed odd was that something had obviously attacked it with power, strength and repeated strikes. Not one bone, other than the skull remained unbroken. The body lay crushed and opened to gruesome effect, yet not one part was missing. It was uneaten - destroyed but not for food. Nengwalamwe knew of no savannah animal that did that. Not even the most callous of leopards.

Mtundu didn’t have the stomach to face the terrible sight; he ran off as soon as he caught sight and smell of it, leaving Nengwalamwe to take the fish to Shaha alone. When he got to where he had left her sleeping, she was gone. At first, he thought she might have gone off to find somewhere quiet to die. When, moments later she returned, alive and evidently much the better for her long rest, Nengwalamwe felt relieved, as if a heavy burden of guilt had been lifted from him. She ate the fish as best she could. Her throat was very tender, and she could only manage to swallow every mouthful after a lot of chewing, and even then not without considerable pain. The fish’s bones did not help. She still said nothing. The lion accepted that, as it would obviously be as painful as eating. While Shaha had to eat, she didn’t have to speak, nor roar, growl, churr, and certainly not purr.

As Shaha grew steadily stronger, Nengwalamwe spent more and more time away from Silent Rocks. He tried hunting again, and managed to bring down a gazelle just after sunset: a very credible attempt for a relatively cumbersome and visible male. He dragged it for over an hour back to the rocks before even taking a bite. Shaha smiled at him and for the first time since the fight, ate with only slight discomfort. Afterwards she got up and walked around, stretching muscles unused to such exertion.

“Go find Falana Nengwalamwe. Go to her. Bring her home.”

“Where is she anyway? Did whoever did this to you frighten her away?”

“You’ll find her, I know you will. Go on, find her and tell her I need her back home, and that you do too.”

Nengwalamwe didn’t want to leave Shaha alone unless he had too but Shaha insisted, saying that she was nearly well again and would soon be hunting again for herself. So, Nengwalamwe set out in search of a lioness.

He didn’t have to search for long. He remembered what Yali had said, and walked over to the trees which she had pointed out to him. He didn’t expect to find Falana there, after all Yali was only a cub, and one with an active imagination at that.

He approached from the south just after dawn. Almost bare trees framed the knoll. There, sitting on the top was the unmistakable form of a lioness: Falana. She was gazing out towards the big rock as if she was waiting for something, or perhaps someone. The lion stopped and raised his head above the grasses. The lioness sensed the movement and dropped down on to the knoll. She looked around fearfully, her fur standing tense over her shoulders. At first she didn’t look in the lion’s direction; continuing to look to the rock. When she finally saw him her fear subsided and she slowly rose up on her forepaws. Nengwalamwe knew that Shaha’s attacker had indeed frightened her too.

“Where have

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