not hide the still raging-raw torn skin beneath. “What happened?”

“I got into trouble. I went in a bit too deep. I wasn’t looking.”

“Too deep? Water?” She pushed her head forwards with an open mouth. “You mean you… you got attacked by a crocodile?”

“I messed up, but I’m still here.”

“You survived a crocodile attack? That’s not nothing Nengwe. That’s a pretty big something. How did you do manage it?”

“I was lucky. It wasn’t deep enough, it couldn’t take me down. It had to give up. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little; sometimes. It’ll heal in time. My mane will be a bit ragged maybe, but hey, at least I’m still here.”

Falana got up and walked over to him. She put up her forepaw, Nengwe shied back.

“Let me look. Can I do anything for you?”

“Look Falana, I know you don’t see me that way, but you can’t just turn up here whenever you like and cosy up beside me. You know what it does to me. It’s not fair. You can do what you like, but I’ve just got to lie there and feel nothing!” He flicked round, tail high, for another pass across the promontory.

“I just thought you might be lonely and wanted some company. I want to help.”

“Company? Company? You know I want more than that. I’m running out of time. You know the only way all this will end.” He looked out to the eastern ridge, crunching up his eyes against the early morning sun. “Where the heck were you? I waited on your knoll all night for you.”

“I was out.”

“Out? Is that it? You were ‘out’?”

He shook his head, then ran to the rock pile and sniffed at it.

“By the stars Nengwe, what are you doing?”

He began tearing away at it with his paws. “I’m clearing this rubble, what’s it look like? At least it doesn’t try to bite me back, and it doesn’t go ‘out’.” Some of the rocks slipped, tumbling on to the promontory, grazing his foreleg.

“Oh yes? Looks to me like it can bite well enough.”

Nengwalamwe thrust a forepaw into the hole which had opened up. He tugged at the rock frantically. There was a little movement; some rocks settled above, then nothing. Nengwe roared at the rock pile. It resolutely stayed put. He painfully twisted his paw out and then turned round to face Falana. She had gone.

19.Dogs and the Midday Sun

 

Nengwalamwe’s roar at dawn from the great rock in frustration for a vanishing cub carried out to many animals. It meant so much more to others than it did to him. For most it was a sound that they had heard of but never heard. It was a legendary sound; a sound of tales. For some it was a sound of distant memory, rolling over them like thunder before the rains. It stirred hearts and worried mothers. For a few it meant something more, something that pulled deeply at them. If anything the replies were more painful, for they meant that not only was there a lion on the great rock, there was also the beginnings of a pride of lion.

To the west, not far from the enraged river rushing down to the falls, lay two abandoned aardvark burrows on the side of a broad, shallow knoll. Were it elsewhere the free draining and sandy burrows might have given an attractive home to warthog or crested porcupine. Here though, the occupants had greatly enlarged the burrows and bared the soil all around over many seasons. Nengwalamwe’s roar woke several of them. One, lying out in the open near the top of the knoll, pricked his ears and turned his head to the great rock. He blinked slowly, lay back his ears and set about nibbling at an itch on his lower foreleg.

“So you couldn’ find ‘im? What the ‘ell’s that George? A lovesick dik-dik?”

George looked up from his leg. “I can’t find wot ain’t there.”

“No, cause e’s ‘ere, in’e!” George tucked his tail between his hindlegs and drew back his ears. “So wot are ye go’in do about it?”

“What can we do Liz?”

The other dog stared hard at George, who pulled his head back hard to his shoulders.

“Doan’ call me that in front of…” She looked around furtively. “...’Er!” She rose, shook herself alert and went on, “My mother’ll be turning in her grave if she heard that.”

“’Eh? She’s still alive!”

“Not for long.” Elizabeth tipped her head lightly. “It’s time to arrange… a presentation.”

“Eh? What the ‘eck’s that Lizzie?”

“Don’t yer call me that when anyone’s aroun’. Get it?”

“Yes… Ma’am.”

“Miss Elizabeth’ll do.”

“What’s a ‘presentation’ when it’s at home?”

“Give over.” Elizabeth took a couple of paces toward the puzzled George. “You know: A Presentation.”

“Eh?”

“Where all the animals gather round that stokin’ great rock to greet a new monarch of the Pridelands. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, one of ‘em. Sounds cool.”

“’Cool’? Wha’d y’been up ta? Knockin’ about with them flamin’ baboons all day again? Talk propa for gawd’s sake! Go an’ talk to ‘Arry, he’ll learn ya.”

George yelped.

“Get Utawala. I need ta ‘ave  a natter with ‘im.”

“Is there anything else, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yeah. When you’re done, go find Fentayli.”

“Fentayli?” George darted his eyes about and flattened his ears back.

“Yeah, you ‘erd. No go git Utawala.”

“I ain’t yer gopher Liz.”

Elizabeth rounded on George and bore down on him; her teeth bared and eyes piercing. “For the last time it’s Miss Elizabeth! Get the ‘eck out of it before I wipe that smile off your face!  Move it. Now!”

 

***

 

Utawala sat uneasily in the shade of an acacia tree, greened with fresh buds. He raised his hand to his forehead, shaking his head slowly. “No, no. I’ll be damned if I’ll let any son of mine go with your daughter!”

“An’ wha’ so bad about that? We ain’t good enough for the likes of you, is it?”

“Madam, look at her! She’s… she’s… she’s totally inappropriate for my son.”

“Who you callin’ ‘inappropriate’? Are you callin’ us fat? Is this a fat thing? Cause if it is you ain’t the Utawala I know.”

“No, it’s not that. You’re not… err… you’re well proportioned. I would almost… err… well I might be inclined myself if… well…”

“Come on out with it now. We ain’t got all day, ‘ave we Kikkora?”

On her mother’s side stood an ample baboon. She idly picked through the hair on her forearm. She said nothing.

“I’ll have words for you too when we get home girlie. You just see as I don’t.”

“He’s missing. We don’t know where he is. Even if we did, the dogs’ll never allow it. Not now.”

 “Now what’s that damn fool son of yours been doing now? He git in trouble again?”

A bird flew up, flapping noisily from the branches above.

“Oh yeah Utawala. Go on, an’ tell her. You just tell ‘er if he’s in trouble.”

“Miss Elizabeth. We were just sorting out some… err… family business.”

“Family eh? You got such a big one too. Must’a ‘ave loads o’that to deal with.” She turned to the loud female. “Are you still ‘ere?”

“U’huh. An’  I ain’t goin’ until  Utawala keep his promise. No ma’am.”

“What promise?”

“His boy is promised to my girl. Now he says he cain’t find him and he’s trying to say it ain’t happennin’ no more.”

Elizabeth looked round the female. It took some time.

“Her? Is she female?”

“Why ‘course she is. Finest female a baboon’s ever gonna get. Gives a whole lot of lovin’”

“Really? Yer don’ say. Consider it done. Now leg it.”

“Now we’a goin’ ma’am. Nice doin’ business wi’ya. Not like some I could mention.”

Utawala looked relieved for a moment as the mother and daughter walked off. Then his expression turned, first to resignation, then to alert fear.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure Ma’am?”

“I like you Utawala. Just the right degree of arse-lickin’. I like that. I really do.”

Utawala stood up, closed his mouth and smiled stiffly.

“However, on this occasion, the pleasure is all mine. It really is.”

“Ma’am?”

Elizabeth turned her head to look on after the females.

“Which son were they talkin’ about?”

“My only son now ma’am: Mtundu.”

“Oh ‘im. I wouldn’t bother arranging any celebrations just yet then. You wouldn’t ‘appen to ‘ave seen ‘im recently, would ya? I mean, just on the off chance?”

Utawala looked puzzled. “I thought he

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