the sky when Nengwalamwe finally rose. He grunted with effort and no little satisfaction as his full belly swung beneath him, thankful that Falana had not stayed long. Setting off at a slow trot, he meandered through the grasslands, heading in a roundabout way for the rock and a long lick and doze. He admired the scenery, noting with some irony that things looked a lot less ordinary in the moonlight, not to mention on a full stomach. He suspected that even Mtundu might look acceptable in this light. The thought goaded him onward, leading him to the deserted waterhole. He paused to refresh himself, lapping the cool liquid with relish, enjoying the sensation as it soothed his parched throat. After crouching to drink, he lifted himself to full height and looked around.

He looked again. The waterhole really was deserted. Maybe he could. Just once, for himself.

He stepped back a pace and looked around a last time - nothing.

He leaned forwards. The lean became a pace; a springing, running pace that took the adult male lion, mane, tail and all surging into the deepest part of the pool. The water parted under and around him, leaping from his sides in arcing sheets that tattered into countless tiny droplets.

A pair of wildebeest meandering down to the hole to drink bolted in terror when they saw a mad lion rolling like a hippopotamus in the muddy water. They would possibly never use the hole again.

Later the lion ambled on, heading towards the distant yet looming rock formation that he had call begun to call home.

Ascending the rock-strewn slope to the promontory was not as precarious a job as it had once been. The path he had initially discovered had been overgrown and covered with small piles of sharp gravel that rolled and trickled down. His passing had already had a noticeable effect, slowly sweeping the small rocks aside and suppressing the less hardy of the weeds and scrub that struggled through the cracks in the rock. The sight of this cleared path pleased him, although he couldn’t exactly decide why.

Reaching the top, he cast about a moment, looking again with undisguised frustration and longing at the pile of rubble that concealed the entrance to the unknown void beyond. Every way he looked his path was blocked: by the rocks, by Falana and by those dogs. Maybe even by Mtundu for all he knew.

He turned and stepped out onto the promontory. The view was always magnificent from here, and he looked about at the land below with new interest. He saw the route of his own passage through the dewy grass - a dark betraying trail. As he looked, it slowly gained more definition and darkened. A quick glance to the sky above confirmed that the sun was peering above the horizon, the sky reddening and turning bright crimson-gold. Several songbirds greeted the light with a few sharp notes, joined quickly by others until the air began to fill with their cries. The sound rose to Nengwalamwe’s ears, making them flicker as he stared into the rising sun, his eyes glittering with reflected light. It galvanised something deep inside, and without thinking, he drew a deep breath and burst forth with a roar. The sound rent the air and tattered the patchwork of bird song into momentary silence. The sound echoed off the rocks behind him, making him shiver as it exploded outward, startling a few antelope grazing below into a panicked run.

He sighed and was about to turn when he heard a cry from high above and behind, “Jeez! Turn my hair grey and take ten rains off my life, why don’t you?!”

Nengwalamwe glanced around to see Mtundu bounding toward him; the baboon’s features compressed into a mask of righteous indignance set at the centre of a silver sea of mane. “Here I am, tired after spending all night finding pitiful morsels to eat, and then trying to find somewhere to rest where I won’t get eaten myself, and here you come, hollerin’ like fit to stove in the sky wakin’ up decent folks…”

“Mtundu…”

“…just trying to rest a moment before setting off again…” Nengwalamwe’s attempt at a word in edgewise failed. “…with who knows what stalking me, an’ here you come, bellerin’ your lungs out just as smug and pert as a…”

“Mtundu! Shut UUPP!” The force of Nengwalamwe’s roar nearly sent the baboon flying, the only thing preventing him being the sudden and powerfully firm grip that he secured on the lion’s tail. Nengwalamwe endured this indignity stoically; just one of the many that Mtundu had introduced him to; until the baboon regained his balance.

“Now Mtundu,” Nengwalamwe said in a much calmer tone, “have you seen Falana?”

“Yeah.” the ape said as he smoothed down the hair on his head in a way that made the lion jealous of his ugly, knobbly fingers. He reached out and pointed with one to a small knoll some distance from the rock. There lay a tawny form, basking in the increasing light. “She’s been down there since before dawn, I guess, but I guess you know that seeing you spent all night with her.”

The lion turned away.

“Hey Nengwe! Where you goin’?”

The lion ignored the cries behind him and trotted down slope. Once off the path, his path, he cut under the overhanging promontory, pacing through the still wet grass toward the lioness. Even at a distance he saw she was lying almost still, sprawled comfortably, forelegs straight ahead, hindlegs one over the other to her offside. As he approached, her smooth silken coat soaked up the early morning light as she shifted now and again to accommodate the enormous meal digesting within her. Drawing his tail about him, Nengwalamwe sat down a length or two to one side and cleared his throat.

“Morning, Falana.”

The lioness looked up at him, and then scanned about her, eyes squinting. “Why, I do believe you’re right! It is! Just the right time for a quiet nap alone. Now if you’ll excuse me….” Without waiting for an answer, she plopped her head back down on one forepaw and closed her eyes.

“Come on, Falana.” Nengwalamwe shifted his paws nervously. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to… or something. Please? It’s a great morning.”

“And just why should I?” she said without opening her eyes.

Nengwalamwe sighed, “Because I’d like it And I thought you might too.”

One eye opened and looked at him for a moment, it shifted and narrowed. “No thanks. I have enough trouble with ticks on my rump.”

“What?”

“The last thing I need right now is another pain in the butt.” She looked pointedly beyond him at the scurrying grey black figure looming behind him. “Lose the monkey and come back tomorrow… perhaps I’ll think it over.” Her eye closed again, ending the conversation.

Nengwalamwe, feeling a warm weight on his tail tuft, turned to see Mtundu peering around one of his haunches. The baboon met his glance and cringed as he jumped to one side.

“Sorry about that...”

The lion simply looked at him and turned away, rising up and pacing off slowly. The baboon followed as best he could. When they were out of the lioness’ earshot the lion turned to the baboon as they walked, saying, “Stuff her. She doesn’t know what’s good for her. She’d probably have thought of some other excuse anyway. I really don’t see why I bother to keep on trying anymore.”

The two made off through the grass; the silence between them heavy and clinging while around them, twittering and bustling, the grasslands stirred to daylight life. Behind them, the sleek lioness opened her eyes and stared after the pair, her claws furrowing the earth in front of her. The sun climbed into the clouds.

 

***

 

Mtundu trotted along in silence for a while, occasionally casting a glance at the silent lion beside him. Nengwalamwe had a naturally long stride, and to counter this, the baboon had developed an odd canter-like walk upon all four legs. He fell into this now, easily keeping stride with the lion’s ground eating pace.

”Nengwe?”

“Hrm.”

The baboon looked behind them, then back at Nengwalamwe. “Uh… I hate to butt into personal stuff… but I can take off for awhile if it’ll help,” he said awkwardly.

“Hrm.”

Mtundu waited, but apparently, that was all that he would get. Giving up, he returned his gaze to the ground unrolling before them. He glanced about uncertainly, attempting to get his bearings. “Uh, hey man...”

“Hrm.”

The lion stepped over a fallen branch without breaking stride or even showing any signs that he knew it was there. Mtundu, lagging behind and feeling put out at having to watch Nengwalamwe’s rump, hesitated when he came to the branch. Then he leapt over it and chased after the lion.

“Where the hell are we goin’ Nengwe?” Mtundu glanced over at a small patch of scrub, then at a nearby tree. “I know this place, and it ain’t hospitable-like, if you know what I mean.”

“Hrm.”

Mtundu reached up and yanked on a set of whiskers, provoking a yowl of indignation from the hulking lion, but little else. “At least it’s a change,” Mtundu said under his breath. “HEY! I’m talking to you, Fuzzbutt! Quit ignorin’ me and tell me where we’re goin’!”

Nengwalamwe spun about, a growl of reaction rippling through his chest, and just as quickly fading.

Previous Page

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

Next page