it.

“What is it Falana?”

“Nothing Nengwe. You stay here.” She slipped forward and then looked back to make sure the lion was heeding her words. He was. She went back to looking. A way of sorts was there, rough, uncomfortable, unstable most likely, but a way. The cave was open.

As she mounted the mound she suddenly felt differently about the rock. It was inviting her to join it, to be part of it. She thought for a moment then  slipped tentatively into the darkness. Her eyes soon adjusted and in the gloom she saw… nothing, no wonders, no horrors, no bones of trapped animals, just a flat floored cave, narrow here at the entrance but wider to the rear, big enough to shelter a pride of over ten lion. As the gloom lessened she became aware of a platform to the rear. She looked up and around; there being nothing to concern her, she crept forward, sniffing. There was mustiness, probably from the far right corner where a puddle of water remained from the rains. Then something else; something very familiar. She thought she felt the heat of breath on her side, “Mother?”

Nengwe turned his ears back, and turned his head over his shoulder. “She’s not come back has she?”

“No, Nengwe.” She looked around. The smell faded and a warm feeling flooded over her. “No Nengwalamwe. She’s not here, she won’t come here. We’re all alone.” She padded over to the platform, rounded it to the rear and then stepped on to it. It was flat and, for the time of year, refreshingly cool. She moved forward, facing the entrance and laid down. She laid her head on her paws and closed her eyes. She felt at home at last.

“Are you all right in there?”

She stiffened her shoulders and lifted her head, opening her eyes suddenly. “Yes, of course I am. How about you?”

The lion stood against the light on the mound of rubble peering into the cave.

“I’ll live. Just another wound or two to add to my collection.”

“Come in. Come here and rest. Go on. Those rocks aren’t going anywhere just yet. We can clear a path later.”

“It is hot out here.”

“Cool in here, but first you must make a wish.”

“What?”

“Go on, make a wish, then you can come in.”

 Nengwe closed his eyes for a few seconds then walked in. He paused as he hit the darkness, hunching down his shoulders. Then, as the light began to penetrate the cave he moved on. He went to Falana’s side.

“May I?”

“Feel free; it’s your cave after all.”

 

21.Hunting

 

Nengwe woke late into the afternoon. Falana lay still, her legs outstretched to her free side. She had clearly not slept clear through. He rose, stretched, went to the entrance and blinking, stepped into the sun. He shook some of the debris from his coat and sat, lifting a hind leg to scratch at his shoulder. It hurt, stinging and sharp; he dropped it back and tried instead to fold his head back to nibble at the itch: he couldn’t and gave up.

Around him, the rocks lay tumbled into a loose ridge. Some had crashed out onto the flat; some even had rolled off and crashed down to the ground. Some of the rock, less weathered, had a redder hue, far brighter than the grey of the exposed rubble. Nengwe saw little of it: to him, and all lions, it was all one. He set to, pushing, pulling and kicking the loose rocks one by one from the promontory. For each he reserved a little hate, he was glad to see each crash and smash on the ground. After a while he grew hot and headed back to the cave mouth to cool down.

With the flat clear he turned his attention to the mound. It was low, three or four rocks deep, but broad. He started at the top, pushing the rubble down into the open, creating a saddle in the ridge. The rough rocks cut into his pads and skin on his lower legs. At one point he stumbled and lurched onto the bare edges, cutting into his under fur. Nothing now, short of major injury, could stop him. Yet he sensed that this, while all consuming, was not all there was to his life. He was missing something. The cave still called, even though he could now enter it at will. What was it? What secret could lay within waiting for him to discover it?

Falana woke to the cacophony of grunts, growls, clatters, scrapes and crashes. She rose sleepily and headed for the light. There she met Nengwe, more bloodied than ever: ear, haunch, belly and paws

“What’s going on?”

“I’m clearing this rock away. Feel free to join me.”

“Nengwe, stop. Please just stop for a moment.”

The lion kicked the rock at his paws. It didn’t move. He turned to her, looked at her. Something stirred in him.

“I can’t stop; I’ve got to clear this. It’s not part of my life, it’s someone else’s. It has to go.”

“What’s the matter Nengwe? Isn’t this what you wanted: to open the cave?”

“Yes, but it’s not open yet. This stuff is still blocking it.”

Falana looked at the mound. Nengwe had clearly been busy; a distinct gap had almost opened up. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to shake this obsession from him. It had to play itself out.

“OK. So, what do you want me to do?”

By the time sunset slipped away on the horizon behind them, the two lions had cleared a respectable path at the cave mouth. To both sides still lay rubble, stones and rocks Nengwe would keep picking at for months on and off, while secretly Mtundu would put rocks back, sometimes with Falana’s help, but the cave lay open and was accessible. The pair sat back on the promontory and surveyed their work.

“Now Nengwe, is that better? Are we done yet?”

“Yes. Yes we are, but… I’m tired and hungry.”

“Hungry? You want to go and get something to eat?”

“Well, yes, I’d like that. If you’ll let me that is.”

Falana considered the prospect: hunting with Nengwe, just the two of them. “Look, if we’re going to hunt, stay close. You must watch me all the time. Can you manage that?”

“Yes Falana, I think I can.”

“Good, because if you do you’ll be able to work out what I’m doing, and what I’m thinking of doing. Remember, just watch me. You’ll know what to do when the time comes. Just make sure that when the charge is on, you don’t go rushing in. Take your time, and always keep with me, and support me whatever happens. Can you do that?”

Nengwe quietly nodded. Yes, he could try to do that for Falana.

He led them out to the north-west, into the high grasslands beyond the lugga. The distant whistling thorns over the valley quiet in the silver-clear light of the half-moon. Along the valley floor grazed twenty or more gemsbok, Falana’s specialty; their striking black band and head marks making them almost float across the grass. They stretched away toward the river.

“Now Nengwe, don’t bother going in from behind. Those horns aren’t much good for defence, but they’re as sharps as your claws. They’re long enough to scratch their rumps with them so chasing them is a sure way to get yourself killed. If they really get going, let them. We can’t outrun them.”

“Great, so how do we catch them?”

“Stalk them and charge from the side, or ahead, before they can run.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, they won’t spook when they spot you. They know they can get away, so keep out of sight.”

“You’re full of good news.”

Falana shrugged off Nengwe’s jibe. “We’ll go for a young straggler. Are you feeling strong?”

“Enough. Why?”

“I want to take it back to the rock.”

Nengwe’s eyes popped at the thought, yet they were not so far from the great rock as to make it all that difficult. At least it would make the selection of the target simple: one he could drag back.

He took her at her word and watched Falana. Her tail floated from side to side leisurely. Her shoulders rolled easily as she started to walk off. Her pawfall was measured, precise and elegant, even if those paws were somewhat muddied. In the moonlight her ear marks showed clearly that she was alert yet relaxed. This was something she had obviously done before, and often. Her talk of horns, he thought, may well have been purely for his benefit. He looked to the herd, dismissing the idea: they were more than real enough. Before she had gone ten lengths he set off after her, catching her up.

“I think we ought to get off this ridge, we can be seen against the moon.”

“Yes, you’re right Nengwe.” She stopped, and looked down to her right. “Let’s get down there. You go on and put some distance between us.”

For a while, with the shade of the ridge covering them, they made good progress. There was little wind to give them away, but with the stillness came greater risk of being heard.

Nengwe paused and listened for Falana’s pawfall behind him. He heard nothing other than his own breathing. He leant forward on his hindpaws; a twig cracked. He froze, looking to the still peaceful herd. They remained so. He lifted his nearhind leg and drew it forward, all the time staring intently over the valley. A silver streak caught his eye; the rains had filled the bottom of the valley with water: a stream. They would have to cross it.

“Yes Nengwe,” said a subdued voice from behind him. “How do you think my paws got muddy?” The lion just stared at the

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