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Melmokh came to her in the form of a beautiful hyena. “You question my decision, Amarakh?” said a sweet voice. “I will not harm you. Still, you are no longer Roh’mach.”
“Why, my Lord? Have I not always worshipped you faithfully?”
“Not for your impiety, for there is no quarrel between us. I have given that title to the daughter of the prophesy. Shenzi was anointed from birth to deliver your people from bondage, and her path shall you follow.”
Amarakh rolled over and pawed at the false Roh’kash. “Even so, my Lord. Even so! I hail Shenzi, the Lord’s anointed!”
The other hyenas cried, “Hail Shenzi, the Lord’s anointed!”
Melmokh went through the crowd. At first they parted before him, but after he touched lame Pashond and healed him, the other hyenas began to crowd in on their Roh’kash, seeking blessings and the occasional coveted kiss.
“Hear my words,” the false Roh’kash cried. “I have come to liberate you through my servant Shenzi. But if you are to be worthy of her and of me, you must be disciplined. You must be sober in judgment. You must be willing to make sacrifices.”
“Even so!” hyenas shouted. “Even so!”
CHAPTER 44: THE PLEDGE
CHAPTER 45: OMLAKH
CHAPTER 46: COUP DE GRACE
CHAPTER 47: OIL AND WATER
CHAPTER 48: THE NIGHT IS YOUNG
CHAPTER 49: SEFU
CHAPTER 50: THE CRISIS
“Why, my Lord? Have I not always worshipped you faithfully?”
“Not for your impiety, for there is no quarrel between us. I have given that title to the daughter of the prophesy. Shenzi was anointed from birth to deliver your people from bondage, and her path shall you follow.”
Amarakh rolled over and pawed at the false Roh’kash. “Even so, my Lord. Even so! I hail Shenzi, the Lord’s anointed!”
The other hyenas cried, “Hail Shenzi, the Lord’s anointed!”
Melmokh went through the crowd. At first they parted before him, but after he touched lame Pashond and healed him, the other hyenas began to crowd in on their Roh’kash, seeking blessings and the occasional coveted kiss.
“Hear my words,” the false Roh’kash cried. “I have come to liberate you through my servant Shenzi. But if you are to be worthy of her and of me, you must be disciplined. You must be sober in judgment. You must be willing to make sacrifices.”
“Even so!” hyenas shouted. “Even so!”
CHAPTER 44: THE PLEDGE
After the presentation, Melmokh saw his opportunity to move in and establish himself as he never could with Gur’mekh.
As Roh’kash, he took Shenzi apart from the crowd to be alone with him. The two of them went along to a cave far from the others.
“You are my anointed, and I have brought you here to confirm our relationship and bond us together forever.”
Shenzi bowed before Roh’kash. “Even so, Great Mother.”
Melmokh laughed prettily. “You do not need to bow before me. I do not want your service but your companionship. Do you not know that I have sought you out to rule beside me?”
“To rule beside you?”
“Yes. As my mate.” The false Roh’kash rubbed her down her full length. The sexual meaning was not lost on Shenzi, and she froze in terror.
“You quake, my little one. Do you not know that I am both Roh’kash and Roh’khim? The Great Mother and the Great Father? They are different aspects of the same God. Behold the one who courts your affections!”
Melmokh revealed himself to her, though his evil heart was disguised with the beauty of golden light that wrapped him like a mantle. “Is this more to your liking?”
“Oh!”
He was musky and handsome, and the gleam in his eyes was hypnotic. She stared at him spellbound. He began to nuzzle her lightly around her face, kissing her passionately beside the eyes and under the corners of her twitching mouth. “You fill me with every wholesome desire,” he purred. “Our love could last the centuries. I can please you the way you were born to be pleased, and you will please me too.” He began to nuzzle her neck and her trembling shoulders. “I’m on fire, child. Give yourself to me freely, not because I command it, but because you want it. Only if you call me of your own free will, for I will not force myself upon you.”
She did not answer him, but she stood her ground when he rubbed her along her length, and from her throat escaped a low whimper as her jaw trembled. She gave herself willingly, and in doing so became truly his. As the death of Demrath bound Gur’mekh to him, so her intimacy bound her to him. But he had no desire to torment her. Far from it.
There in the darkness, Melmokh made love with her. And there in the darkness he forged a bond with her that would make her his. For it was his wish that she would one day conceive a child who would become the physical presence of Melmokh, a body through which he could fully enter the world of Ma’at and have his way unobstructed by time and space.
Of course, he neglected to tell her that.
As Roh’kash, he took Shenzi apart from the crowd to be alone with him. The two of them went along to a cave far from the others.
“You are my anointed, and I have brought you here to confirm our relationship and bond us together forever.”
Shenzi bowed before Roh’kash. “Even so, Great Mother.”
Melmokh laughed prettily. “You do not need to bow before me. I do not want your service but your companionship. Do you not know that I have sought you out to rule beside me?”
“To rule beside you?”
“Yes. As my mate.” The false Roh’kash rubbed her down her full length. The sexual meaning was not lost on Shenzi, and she froze in terror.
“You quake, my little one. Do you not know that I am both Roh’kash and Roh’khim? The Great Mother and the Great Father? They are different aspects of the same God. Behold the one who courts your affections!”
Melmokh revealed himself to her, though his evil heart was disguised with the beauty of golden light that wrapped him like a mantle. “Is this more to your liking?”
“Oh!”
He was musky and handsome, and the gleam in his eyes was hypnotic. She stared at him spellbound. He began to nuzzle her lightly around her face, kissing her passionately beside the eyes and under the corners of her twitching mouth. “You fill me with every wholesome desire,” he purred. “Our love could last the centuries. I can please you the way you were born to be pleased, and you will please me too.” He began to nuzzle her neck and her trembling shoulders. “I’m on fire, child. Give yourself to me freely, not because I command it, but because you want it. Only if you call me of your own free will, for I will not force myself upon you.”
She did not answer him, but she stood her ground when he rubbed her along her length, and from her throat escaped a low whimper as her jaw trembled. She gave herself willingly, and in doing so became truly his. As the death of Demrath bound Gur’mekh to him, so her intimacy bound her to him. But he had no desire to torment her. Far from it.
There in the darkness, Melmokh made love with her. And there in the darkness he forged a bond with her that would make her his. For it was his wish that she would one day conceive a child who would become the physical presence of Melmokh, a body through which he could fully enter the world of Ma’at and have his way unobstructed by time and space.
Of course, he neglected to tell her that.
CHAPTER 45: OMLAKH
Melmokh banned private prayer, asking instead for the hyenas to come directly into the presence of their God and speak their mind. He appeared on Ul Khalil rock each night at high moon in the form of a beautiful female hyena, speaking softly and with an outward kindness that hid the blasphemous, dark purpose of his plans.
Though many were convinced that God was among them, others were not so easily swayed. Ber and a lot of the intellectuals saw something strange with the new doctrines of the false Roh'kash. They relied on their faith instead of what their eyes told them, and in this regard they could peer through chinks in the armor of Melmokh.
This small group held a secret prayer vigil each night while the others were paying homage to the demon. Once when Ber was lying on his back in the depths of prayer, he called upon Roh’kash in tones that melted the hearts of those who heard him as perspiration broke on him and his fur matted.
“Almighty mother whose gentleness is like the sunrise, your broken remnant looks to you for deliverance. Is there no word for us? Is there no truth that we must be subject to the lies of traitors and blasphemers? My life for a word. My life for one word of truth to leave behind with these poor souls that love you!”
There was a smell of jasmine, and a soft golden light. To Ber’s surprise, the lithe, graceful form of a beautiful white lioness emerged. A deep purr emanated from her as she regarded him benevolently, her tail stirring restlessly as she spoke.
“Ber, my child, do not listen to the lies of the demon Melmokh who claims to be God. The true God has heard your prayers. There will be night before the dawn, but even in the night there are stars that shine. Be brave, my child.”
The lioness quickly kissed Ber on the cheek, then dematerialized as quickly as she came.
Ber got up, rubbed his cheek with a paw, than said, “Quick, hide! We are not safe here!”
The dissenters hurried away to the caves, and none too soon, for a fierce female hyena came hurtling in. She nosed about quickly, trying to smell the tracks and identify who was there, but the only scent to be had was that of jasmine. “Damn you, Minshasa! Stay out of here! This is MY land! I was invited here! This is MINE and you can’t have it back!”
For a brief moment, the false Roh’kash rippled and changed, becoming a furious, seething male. Looking around with eyes shining red as coals, Melmokh peered into the surrounding grass and rocks looking for those who dared discover his secret. But the lioness had sent a brisk wind that swept the tracks away without a trace. “Come back, and I’ll kill you!” he said in a voice that tore at the air, making the very stones in the earth tremble and vibrate with its guttural fury. “One on one, you meddlesome witch! See if you’re so strong when it’s just you and me!!”
Ber and his intellectuals and the gentle-minded formed a sort of clan within a clan, which got the informal name of The Omlakhs, "the different ones." They prayed to Roh’kash and to the white lioness in a different place each night, sang the ancient hymns and worked to keep the spirit of their faith alive in the descending spiritual darkness.
The temptation to follow a visible god who worked miracles was too strong for most of them. They believed whatever the false Roh’kash told them, losing the purity of their faith to the new doctrines of Melmokh, doctrines that sentenced his enemies to a horrible death. Ber and his group continued to worship as their heart told them, holding to the ideals of fairness and freedom that underpinned the old faith and gave it true meaning. Eventually brothers in the same family split over this issue. The Omlakhs kept strict secrecy, terrified of what would happen if someone betrayed them.
While not a terrorist organization, under the leadership of Ber, the Omlakhs did try in subtle ways to subvert the will of the Makei. And for this they ended up becoming persecuted.
Finally one of their number was found out. A female named Belvalen was trapped and condemned by the false Roh’kash to be tortured to death. For it was Melmokh’s wish to snare other Omlakhs.
Melmokh made it a test of loyalty that each member of the clan bite her hard enough to draw blood and make her scream. Some of the hyenas were loyal to the false Roh’kash, but they felt cold shudders to pierce the hide of the young female. Melmokh, sensing this, kissed each of the hyenas that bit her.
Den’beer was coming up in the line. He shuddered, knowing that he could not hurt her. Of course he knew that he would be given away, and not only die but be used to trap other Omlakhs who would have to torture HIM. He thought of a desperate plan in that moment. He knew that the only hope for his people was something that Melmokh did not understand--an act of profound love.
Belvalen was crouched in the niche where she had been held prisoner, the forbidding rock walls preventing her escape. She cringed as a blast of steam belched from the thermal vent beside her, bathing her in its gusty breath and making her break out in a sweat which was not entirely due to the heat. She shook with the pain of the wounds that had been inflicted on her body, her blood running down her sides in fine streams to pool near the lip of the cauldron next to her, bubbling and hissing as it emitted a hot coppery odor. Her limbs trembled from fear and the loss of blood, and she prayed that the pain would end soon.
Her heart sank as the next hyena in line stepped forward. Skulk came up and without hesitation inflicted a severe bite to her flank that made her shriek with agony. Her cry of pain shook Den’beer to the core. “Enough!” he thought. “It ends here!”
Now all eyes were on Den’beer. Mortally wounded but still terrified, Belvalen looked at him pleadingly. He smiled sweetly at her. “I love you, Belvalen! Let us greet the true God together!”
Relief flooded her face, and she smiled back. “Yes! Come to me!”
Before anyone could stop him, he ran to her, ramming into her and bearing her with him into the thermal vent, disappearing into the depths without a sound.
In that brief moment, Shimbekh, who could not bear to look at the vent, turned away, her gaze coming to rest on the face of the one she worshipped. Her blood froze as she saw the face of Roh’kash horribly distorted in rage, the features actually running as though seen through a haze of rain, the warm amber eyes turned to crimson points of fire that blazed with wrath. Seconds later, the Mother of All’s face returned to normal, and she bowed her head in sadness. “Such is the fate of all those who would not tread the path of righteousness,” she intoned sadly. “Let us pray for their souls.”
Shimbekh trembled as she bowed her head along with the others. How could the true God possess any evil qualities?? She had heard some disturbing rumors flitting about the clan, and some of the feelings she picked up from the hyenas around her did nothing to ease her disquiet. She resolved to speak with Ber at mid moon and find out just what was going on in her troubled family. Putting the thought aside, she turned inwards as the droning monotone of the prayer continued around her. Unbidden, the image of Roh’kash sprang to mind again, her normally beatific features now grossly twisted in a mask of hate.
She suddenly found that the soul she was praying for was her own.
Though many were convinced that God was among them, others were not so easily swayed. Ber and a lot of the intellectuals saw something strange with the new doctrines of the false Roh'kash. They relied on their faith instead of what their eyes told them, and in this regard they could peer through chinks in the armor of Melmokh.
This small group held a secret prayer vigil each night while the others were paying homage to the demon. Once when Ber was lying on his back in the depths of prayer, he called upon Roh’kash in tones that melted the hearts of those who heard him as perspiration broke on him and his fur matted.
“Almighty mother whose gentleness is like the sunrise, your broken remnant looks to you for deliverance. Is there no word for us? Is there no truth that we must be subject to the lies of traitors and blasphemers? My life for a word. My life for one word of truth to leave behind with these poor souls that love you!”
There was a smell of jasmine, and a soft golden light. To Ber’s surprise, the lithe, graceful form of a beautiful white lioness emerged. A deep purr emanated from her as she regarded him benevolently, her tail stirring restlessly as she spoke.
“Ber, my child, do not listen to the lies of the demon Melmokh who claims to be God. The true God has heard your prayers. There will be night before the dawn, but even in the night there are stars that shine. Be brave, my child.”
The lioness quickly kissed Ber on the cheek, then dematerialized as quickly as she came.
Ber got up, rubbed his cheek with a paw, than said, “Quick, hide! We are not safe here!”
The dissenters hurried away to the caves, and none too soon, for a fierce female hyena came hurtling in. She nosed about quickly, trying to smell the tracks and identify who was there, but the only scent to be had was that of jasmine. “Damn you, Minshasa! Stay out of here! This is MY land! I was invited here! This is MINE and you can’t have it back!”
For a brief moment, the false Roh’kash rippled and changed, becoming a furious, seething male. Looking around with eyes shining red as coals, Melmokh peered into the surrounding grass and rocks looking for those who dared discover his secret. But the lioness had sent a brisk wind that swept the tracks away without a trace. “Come back, and I’ll kill you!” he said in a voice that tore at the air, making the very stones in the earth tremble and vibrate with its guttural fury. “One on one, you meddlesome witch! See if you’re so strong when it’s just you and me!!”
Ber and his intellectuals and the gentle-minded formed a sort of clan within a clan, which got the informal name of The Omlakhs, "the different ones." They prayed to Roh’kash and to the white lioness in a different place each night, sang the ancient hymns and worked to keep the spirit of their faith alive in the descending spiritual darkness.
The temptation to follow a visible god who worked miracles was too strong for most of them. They believed whatever the false Roh’kash told them, losing the purity of their faith to the new doctrines of Melmokh, doctrines that sentenced his enemies to a horrible death. Ber and his group continued to worship as their heart told them, holding to the ideals of fairness and freedom that underpinned the old faith and gave it true meaning. Eventually brothers in the same family split over this issue. The Omlakhs kept strict secrecy, terrified of what would happen if someone betrayed them.
While not a terrorist organization, under the leadership of Ber, the Omlakhs did try in subtle ways to subvert the will of the Makei. And for this they ended up becoming persecuted.
Finally one of their number was found out. A female named Belvalen was trapped and condemned by the false Roh’kash to be tortured to death. For it was Melmokh’s wish to snare other Omlakhs.
Melmokh made it a test of loyalty that each member of the clan bite her hard enough to draw blood and make her scream. Some of the hyenas were loyal to the false Roh’kash, but they felt cold shudders to pierce the hide of the young female. Melmokh, sensing this, kissed each of the hyenas that bit her.
Den’beer was coming up in the line. He shuddered, knowing that he could not hurt her. Of course he knew that he would be given away, and not only die but be used to trap other Omlakhs who would have to torture HIM. He thought of a desperate plan in that moment. He knew that the only hope for his people was something that Melmokh did not understand--an act of profound love.
Belvalen was crouched in the niche where she had been held prisoner, the forbidding rock walls preventing her escape. She cringed as a blast of steam belched from the thermal vent beside her, bathing her in its gusty breath and making her break out in a sweat which was not entirely due to the heat. She shook with the pain of the wounds that had been inflicted on her body, her blood running down her sides in fine streams to pool near the lip of the cauldron next to her, bubbling and hissing as it emitted a hot coppery odor. Her limbs trembled from fear and the loss of blood, and she prayed that the pain would end soon.
Her heart sank as the next hyena in line stepped forward. Skulk came up and without hesitation inflicted a severe bite to her flank that made her shriek with agony. Her cry of pain shook Den’beer to the core. “Enough!” he thought. “It ends here!”
Now all eyes were on Den’beer. Mortally wounded but still terrified, Belvalen looked at him pleadingly. He smiled sweetly at her. “I love you, Belvalen! Let us greet the true God together!”
Relief flooded her face, and she smiled back. “Yes! Come to me!”
Before anyone could stop him, he ran to her, ramming into her and bearing her with him into the thermal vent, disappearing into the depths without a sound.
In that brief moment, Shimbekh, who could not bear to look at the vent, turned away, her gaze coming to rest on the face of the one she worshipped. Her blood froze as she saw the face of Roh’kash horribly distorted in rage, the features actually running as though seen through a haze of rain, the warm amber eyes turned to crimson points of fire that blazed with wrath. Seconds later, the Mother of All’s face returned to normal, and she bowed her head in sadness. “Such is the fate of all those who would not tread the path of righteousness,” she intoned sadly. “Let us pray for their souls.”
Shimbekh trembled as she bowed her head along with the others. How could the true God possess any evil qualities?? She had heard some disturbing rumors flitting about the clan, and some of the feelings she picked up from the hyenas around her did nothing to ease her disquiet. She resolved to speak with Ber at mid moon and find out just what was going on in her troubled family. Putting the thought aside, she turned inwards as the droning monotone of the prayer continued around her. Unbidden, the image of Roh’kash sprang to mind again, her normally beatific features now grossly twisted in a mask of hate.
She suddenly found that the soul she was praying for was her own.
CHAPTER 46: COUP DE GRACE
Simba pranced delightedly about the muddy path, splashing the water with his big paws and laughing at the pretty rainbows they made in the air, the droplets catching the light in an explosion of color before they fell back to earth.
Abruptly, another burst of color emerged before him. The cub’s face was mesmerized by the fluttering wings of the butterflies which leapt up from the jungle floor, swirling around him in a living carousel of glittering beauty. Entranced, he watched them flit about aimlessly, giggling at the sight of the tiny creatures. Playfully, he batted at one.
His paw flicked out with deadly accuracy, striking the insect and cuffing it to the earth in a crushing blow. Chagrined, Simba looked down worriedly as the insect struggled to move, but its wings were broken and it was now missing a couple of legs. Concerned, Simba got Pumbaa to look at it.
“What should I do?”
“Don’t eat it, kid. They’re bitter.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean—it’s going to die. I broke its wings. Is there something I can do to fix it? Can YOU fix it?”
Pumbaa stepped forward, crushing it with his hoof. “That’s all I can do. It would have suffered.”
Simba looked horrified. “Pumbaa,” he asked, very disturbed, “when you hurt something--by accident for instance--does God punish you if you’re really, really sorry?”
“I guess it depends on how bad you hurt them, and how sorry you really are.”
“What if you hurt them really bad? You know, like maybe they died or something? But it was an accident and you were really sorry?”
Pumbaa looked at him suspiciously. “Hey, little guy, this friend that did the hurting—did you know him well?”
Simba’s whiskers trembled slightly. “Uh, no. I was just wondering.”
“Well that’s good. But the way I see it, this person you don’t know should apologize for what it is they did. And if that person was a lot like you—you know, nice and kind and thoughtful—I think God would not hold it against them.”
“Yeah.” He nuzzled Pumbaa, then goaded the warthog into a wrestling match.
As the day wore on, however, Simba found many moments to reflect on the conversation. Deeply troubled, he padded quietly away from Timon and Pumbaa that evening as the stars began to emerge into the sky. He made his way quietly to his favorite spot; atop a rotted tree stump near a muddy washout.
The cub padded slowly through the dead undergrowth, broken stalks and twigs showing clearly that he had passed this way before many times. He leapt lightly to the top of the stump and craned his head up to look at the reason he came here so often. A small break in the triple canopy foliage overhead offered an unobstructed view of a swath of stars that he had come to know well.
Pumbaa eased through the buses to the opening the cub had made and peered through, wondering why Simba wandered off to this desolate clearing. As he caught sight of the cub, he drew back, embarrassed; Simba’s face was stricken as he searched the heavens above.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He opened his mouth again, but all that emerged was a choked sob.
Timon clambered up Pumbaa’s back to perch atop his head. “Well? What’s he doing-” His jaw shut with a snap as he saw Simba hunched on the stump, head buried under his forepaws and bawling hoarsely. “Aw, jeez...” He slid down Pumbaa’s snout, preparing to run over to the cub, when Pumbaa flicked his head, sending the meerkat sailing back behind to land on his broad back. “Whattya doin’?”
“No. Let the little guy alone.” Tears ran down Pumbaa’s cheeks. “He’s a little guy with a big problem.”
Abruptly, another burst of color emerged before him. The cub’s face was mesmerized by the fluttering wings of the butterflies which leapt up from the jungle floor, swirling around him in a living carousel of glittering beauty. Entranced, he watched them flit about aimlessly, giggling at the sight of the tiny creatures. Playfully, he batted at one.
His paw flicked out with deadly accuracy, striking the insect and cuffing it to the earth in a crushing blow. Chagrined, Simba looked down worriedly as the insect struggled to move, but its wings were broken and it was now missing a couple of legs. Concerned, Simba got Pumbaa to look at it.
“What should I do?”
“Don’t eat it, kid. They’re bitter.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean—it’s going to die. I broke its wings. Is there something I can do to fix it? Can YOU fix it?”
Pumbaa stepped forward, crushing it with his hoof. “That’s all I can do. It would have suffered.”
Simba looked horrified. “Pumbaa,” he asked, very disturbed, “when you hurt something--by accident for instance--does God punish you if you’re really, really sorry?”
“I guess it depends on how bad you hurt them, and how sorry you really are.”
“What if you hurt them really bad? You know, like maybe they died or something? But it was an accident and you were really sorry?”
Pumbaa looked at him suspiciously. “Hey, little guy, this friend that did the hurting—did you know him well?”
Simba’s whiskers trembled slightly. “Uh, no. I was just wondering.”
“Well that’s good. But the way I see it, this person you don’t know should apologize for what it is they did. And if that person was a lot like you—you know, nice and kind and thoughtful—I think God would not hold it against them.”
“Yeah.” He nuzzled Pumbaa, then goaded the warthog into a wrestling match.
As the day wore on, however, Simba found many moments to reflect on the conversation. Deeply troubled, he padded quietly away from Timon and Pumbaa that evening as the stars began to emerge into the sky. He made his way quietly to his favorite spot; atop a rotted tree stump near a muddy washout.
The cub padded slowly through the dead undergrowth, broken stalks and twigs showing clearly that he had passed this way before many times. He leapt lightly to the top of the stump and craned his head up to look at the reason he came here so often. A small break in the triple canopy foliage overhead offered an unobstructed view of a swath of stars that he had come to know well.
Pumbaa eased through the buses to the opening the cub had made and peered through, wondering why Simba wandered off to this desolate clearing. As he caught sight of the cub, he drew back, embarrassed; Simba’s face was stricken as he searched the heavens above.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He opened his mouth again, but all that emerged was a choked sob.
Timon clambered up Pumbaa’s back to perch atop his head. “Well? What’s he doing-” His jaw shut with a snap as he saw Simba hunched on the stump, head buried under his forepaws and bawling hoarsely. “Aw, jeez...” He slid down Pumbaa’s snout, preparing to run over to the cub, when Pumbaa flicked his head, sending the meerkat sailing back behind to land on his broad back. “Whattya doin’?”
“No. Let the little guy alone.” Tears ran down Pumbaa’s cheeks. “He’s a little guy with a big problem.”
CHAPTER 47: OIL AND WATER
Uzuri sighed as she looked across the rocks at her hunting party. “Oh, gods,” she thought. “This is never going to work.”
Assembled in front of her were her huntresses: Sarabi, Isha, Yolanda, Ajenti, Tameka, and Beesa. Uzuri had intended for Sarafina to join them, but the lioness had uncharacteristically begged off, asking to remain at home with her daughter, Nala. Uzuri had queried her lightly on this, but had not pressed the matter; when it came to hunting, none of her lionesses were slouchers, least of all Sarafina. She had readily consented and substituted the young Tameka in Fini’s place. But Uzuri would have much rather have had Sarafina’s experience along for what lay ahead of them tonight.
She glanced over at the other half of her hunting party. Supposedly chosen for their hunting prowess, the six hyenas she had been assigned did not do much to comfort her. At the present moment they were busy arguing among themselves about a particularly nasty fight they had witnessed a few months back.
Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Excuse me. If you’re quite finished...” At her penetrating stare, the hyenas subsided slowly. “We’ll be hunting in the northern meadows tonight. Now, as you are unfamiliar with our hunting tactics, I wanted to go over a couple of things that I thought-”
“We can’t eat tactics,” one of the hyenas quipped. “I need red meat and lots of it. I think could eat a whole lion!”
The other hyenas erupted in a gale of raucous laughter. Uzuri set her jaw and endured it until it subsided, then looked at the one who had spoken. “I take it you are Pipkah?”
“Yes, I’m Pipkah, but you can’t take it.” Some of the other hyenas nearly went into fits at this jibe. Others hid their faces and groaned.
Uzuri blew out her breath in frustration and turned to Isha. “I give up. We’ll just have to hope they know what they’re doing.”
Isha stared hard at Pipkah as Uzuri passed by her, muttering. The young lioness glanced back at Uzuri, noting the peculiar set of her head. She envied the hunt mistress’s powers of concentration; already the incident was put behind her as Uzuri began running attack patterns and possible hunting sites through her head.
But for Isha, the insult was not so easily forgotten. As the hyena started to pass her, she stepped in front, blocking his path. She stared at him, sniffing him carefully.
“Hey, watch the merchandise lady!”
She smiled sweetly. “I just wanted to remember you. You’re the hunting party leader. Pap Kuuh is it, or Pip Kahh?”
“Pip Kahh is close enough.” He smiled. “Well, good. I worked hard for this position, and I’m glad to get some recognition.”
Isha’s smile widened, but her eyes remained hard as diamonds. “Oh, definitely. As hunt master of the hyenas, you‘re responsible for their actions. If we make a good kill tonight, you’ll doubtless be rewarded appropriately.” She moved next to them as they walked, her breath soft in his ear. “And if one of your people injures one of mine, you will also be rewarded appropriately. I can’t eat tactics, but I think I could eat a whole hyena.” Without waiting for a response, she trotted ahead to rejoin the other lionesses.
Pipkah watched her leave, hatred evident on his face, but a hatred tempered with fear. He turned to see the other hyenas looking at him curiously. “What’re you guys mooning at?! Spread out for cryin’ out loud!”
The breath of night whispered gently through the leaves, teasing the beard on Rafiki’s chin as he picked the precious Alba leaves from their delicate stems. One by one he placed the leaves in the bottom of the small wooden bowl he held in his lap, until a thin layer covered the bottom. Giving a satisfied grunt, he picked up the small bone pestle Makedde had given him long ago and begin to grind away at the leaves in smooth, steady strokes. The task was a familiar one, and he found his thoughts wandering as he gazed contemplatively out across the darkened savanna.
A rumbling snort cut the air, and he looked down to see one of his guards sprawled at the base of the tree, face composed in bliss as he slumbered away the boring duty of guarding one old monkey in a tree.
Rafiki glanced around surreptitiously to make sure he was not being observed. Oh, of course, doubtless there was an outer perimeter of guards to keep him detained; he had seen them before. Even if he managed to get down and escape into the grass, one of them would intercept him before he got away. No, escape was impossible.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have any fun.
He quietly reached up and plucked a gourd from an overhanging branch of the baobab. The branch swished sharply as it sprang back into place, and the guard below snorted and shifted slightly. Rafiki froze, waiting until the hyena had settled himself again. Patiently, he examined the stars, gazing familiarly at the constellation of The Blessed, naming the stars one by one to himself. He had gotten through perhaps half when snores again rose from below.
Grinning, he took careful aim, and dropped the gourd. It fell through the air and glanced off the hyena’s skull with a sharp THUNK. The guard leapt up, snorting in surprise.
“What the-” he looked down, rubbing his abused head gingerly, feeling the welt rising on his skull as he saw the gourd lying on the ground a few feet away. Snarling, he looked upwards at the mandrill who sat in the fork of the branches high above, stirring his bowl and staring innocently out at the stars. “All right, I’ve HAD it! That’s the third time this week! Don’t tell me the wind knocked THAT one down.”
Rafiki looked at him and smiled. “Oh, you found it! I knew I must have dropped it or something!” He cackled as the hyena bristled at him.
“That’s it. You’re gonna be laughing out of the other side of your head when I get through with you-”
“Shut up, fool.” The guard froze in the midst of preparing to go after the mandrill. He turned his head to see Krull sitting behind him, eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight as they bored into his own. “You’re right. That’s the third time this week he’s done it. And you were asleep on duty all three times. Now what should I do about that, hmm?”
The guard stammered for a moment, then rolled on the ground. “I beg forgiveness, Roh’khal Krull. Bih gah’kh’resh mal! Bih mal!”
Krull looked at him sternly for a moment, then nodded. “Gah’kh’resh nih.” The guard looked up, surprised, gratitude shining in his eyes as Krull jerked his head over his shoulder. “Go get Henneh to relieve you. Go on, now.”
“Yes sir!” The guard scrambled away into the grass. Krull looked up at the mandrill who was watching with no small interest.
“What was that all about?” Rafiki asked.
“The boy fell asleep three times while on duty.” Krull scratched behind one ear. “Technically, I should have killed him the second time.”
Rafiki’s eyes widened. “Technically, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“His wife is near to delivery, and he’s been hunting for two instead of sleeping days.” Krull sat up and shook himself busily. “Some things tend to get overlooked. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Oh, of course.” Rafiki watched the hyena trot off and disappear into the grass. The wind followed him, ruffling the plants in living waves that rippled across the savannah. As Rafiki watched, one wave appeared to die abruptly, as if it had struck a rock or kopje hidden in the grass.
He sat up, interested, as he saw the forms of several hyenas moving through the grass. His eyes saw something vaguely familiar about the way they were walking, almost as if they were-
He was jolted by the realization that the hyenas were moving in one of Uzuri’s well known sweep patterns. His eyes flicked busily across the grass. Keeping them unfocused, he scanned the area quickly, remembering how she had explained this pattern worked and--there they were. Barely discernible at this distance, the supple forms of lionesses glided though the savannah, moonlight gleaming off their pelts. Noting the direction of their travel, Rafiki looked and saw the small group of antelope that huddled together, drowsing the night away in the security of numbers.
Down below, Uzuri was also eyeing the antelope, but for a different reason.
The hunt mistress paused, one forepaw lifted, frozen in statuesque beauty as she assessed the situation. Without taking her eyes from the herd ahead, she flicked her left ear twice, as if deterring a particularly bothersome fly. But the nuances of the motion, lost on one unfamiliar with the hunt, were crystal clear to her sisters. Isha saw the signal and immediately complied, stealthily widening her distance from Uzuri by approximately two body lengths. Uzuri repeated the motion on the opposite side, and Sarabi mirrored the maneuver to her right. The other four lionesses, despite being out of sight on her flanks, were doubtless adjusting their positions as well.
As Uzuri resumed creeping toward the antelope, she wondered if the hyenas were even in the correct positions on the far side of the herd. She could only hope; her instructions had been terse and precise, but even the simplest of commands were often lost on those imbeciles. If only one of them got out of position, the whole group might not catch anything-
She berated herself for letting her thoughts wander so; there was work to be done. Rising slightly, she flicked her tail, and the lionesses slowly began closing on the herd.
Rafiki shifted slightly to get a better view at the lionesses began moving towards the antelope herd. He strained to see in the grayish light cast by the moon overhead, and looked up angrily at the slight clouds which scudded over the moon, dimming the luminance into near nothingness.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Give an old monkey a break.”
As if in answer, the clouds tattered from the forceful winds high overhead, and the savanna below was suddenly alive with moving shapes. He picked out Uzuri at the center of the arc of lionesses, her slight form strange and beautiful in the silver light.
“Careful, honey tree, oh so careful,” he whispered. He watched her pick her way across the grassland, silent as the night sneaking in on the heels of twilight.
More movement caught his eyes, and he glanced across the swatch of grassland to see the hyenas closing from the other direction. The pattern fell into place with an almost audible click, and he smiled, unable to help himself. The two groups had surrounded the herd perfectly, allowing no gaps for it to slip through. Someone would be guaranteed at least one strike, maybe at least three before the fleeing animals would escape.
“Uzuri,” he breathed softly, “you are pure genius.” He leaned forward to get a better look at her, and felt a small nudge against his midsection. Looking down he saw the mixing bowl slipping away from his lap, the precious Alba flakes stirring restlessly. He flailed at it, but the bowl slipped from his grasp to fall with a gentle swish on his bed below. Eyeing it agitatedly, he saw with relief that the Alba had not spilled, and began to clamber down to get his treasured herbs, sparing a fleeting glance at the closing predators.
Far below, Pipkah gritted his teeth at the wait. Why in blazes hadn’t the idiot lioness started the attack yet? Mother of All, the antelope were practically in front of him! He eyed the herd greedily, salivating at the sight of the meaty forms that slumbered away, ignorant of his presence.
Finally, he spat in the dust. “I’m going to starve before we catch anything with our “tactics.” He glanced over at the two youngsters next to him. “Losara, Makh’rish: see that youngling over there?”
The two looked at the antelope and spied the small calf lying beside it’s mother. “Yes.”
“That is your target. Res’shakh and I will pick off the mother. On my signal we rush them. Understand?”
Losara nodded, her eyes shining with admiration at his leader’s daring, but Makh’rish looked nervous. “S-Sir? Aren’t we supposed to wait until the lions signal us?”
“Are you questioning my authority? Or would you rather follow that hairy wretch instead of your own kind?”
“N-No sir,” she stammered.
“Then be silent and obey me.” Pipkah looked back at the antelope a moment longer, then nodded. “GO!!!”
The hyenas bolted forward, legs flying under them as they propelled themselves towards the herd. Pipkah grinned with exhilaration and gave out a high yodeling laugh of joy. “YAHHHHH!”
The herd of antelope exploded into sudden motion, startling Uzuri and raising her hackles. “What in the-”
The sound of hyannic laughter drifted to her, and she snarled deep in her chest. “Those fools! I KNEW this would happen.” She glanced at Isha and Sarabi. “Let’s go, but for gods’ sake be careful.” Rising from her crouch, she led the lionesses in a silent rush towards the group of antelope, who were still milling about in a panic. They had only seconds left to act and still have a chance, she knew, but as soon as the herd got organized and began to flee, all was lost.
Rafiki was making his way back up the branch, Alba clutched firmly in one hand, when he heard the commotion. Scrambling up the rest of the way, he saw an enormous cloud of dust raised by the panicked antelope as they stirred about. He stared disbelievingly as the hyenas charged into the herd, sending the frightened animals crashing off in the direction of the lionesses.
“Oh, no!” Forgetting the Alba, he launched himself into space, grabbing hold of a branch above him and swinging up another level to the very top of the baobab. As he caught sight of the herd again, he saw an antelope fleeing into a dust cloud, closely pursued by a lioness. A hyena cut across the dark ground from another direction and vanished into the dust at the same time. A fearful cry of pain arose from the swirling debris, along with the sounds of a fiercely pitched struggle. Another cry arose, clearly leonine this time, and Rafiki wrung his hands, moaning.
Young Losara lay on her side, coughing and panting heavily in the swirling dust. She shook his head, trying to clear it, and moaned as the world seemed to spin crazily. A terrible weight held her to the ground, and she fought to pull her hindquarters from beneath the furred form-
She glanced over at the slumped body atop her and grinned. She had done it! By the gods above, she had pulled down an antelope on her first hunt! Grinning, she wiped away the dirt from her face, imagining the praise her father would heap upon her!
She froze as the dead antelope moaned and coughed fitfully. “Great Aiheu,” it grated, “what happened?!” She stared, eyes bulging in horror as the “antelope” raised it’s head and looked at her, the features of a lioness clear in the bright moonlight.
Ajenti groaned again as she tried to shift her weight and get up. Her whole left side throbbed painfully, and the dust floating about made every breath burn in her lungs. She collapsed back to the ground, moaning as her abused body complained fiercely. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Pipkah emerged from the settling dust, cursing at the top of his lungs as he saw the form of Losara half-buried under the lioness. “You IDIOT! I’ve seen dung-beetles with more brains than you, and they could hunt better, besides! What in Roh’kash’s name were you thinking?!”
Losara’s eyes shone with tears as she huddled under Ajenti’s bulk. “I-”
“Oooops, I forgot. Thinking requires a BRAIN, and you aren’t equipped with one, are you?!” Pipkah turned and scratched at the dirt with his rear paws, showering the young hyena with sand. “That’s what I ought to do with you, kiddo! When your father hears about this, I promise you he’ll-”
He was cut off as he beheld the hunt mistress emerging from the dust, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury as she took in the downed form of Ajenti lying atop Losara. She paused for a minute, then stalked towards the young hyena, who began scrambling madly, trying to push Ajenti’s bulk away.
“Oh gods! I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” She began sobbing uncontrollably as Uzuri drew near. “It was all dusty and noisy and I thought she was the antelope, I mean they’re the same color in the dark, oh please don’t DO IT!” She tucked her head against her chest, shaking with fear as Uzuri stopped next to her. The lioness looked down at her for a moment, wrapped in a terrible cloak of silence. Lion and hyena held their breath, waiting for the blow to fall.
Uzuri sat up and walked over to Pipkah, who was still cursing softly under his breath. Lighting fast, she drew back and struck him in the face, sending him sprawling in the dirt.
“Great Roh’kash!” Pipkah picked himself up slowly, blood running from his torn cheek. “Why did you hit ME?! SHE’S the one who ruined the hunt!”
Uzuri looked at him coldly. “She made a MISTAKE. You were CARELESS.”
Assembled in front of her were her huntresses: Sarabi, Isha, Yolanda, Ajenti, Tameka, and Beesa. Uzuri had intended for Sarafina to join them, but the lioness had uncharacteristically begged off, asking to remain at home with her daughter, Nala. Uzuri had queried her lightly on this, but had not pressed the matter; when it came to hunting, none of her lionesses were slouchers, least of all Sarafina. She had readily consented and substituted the young Tameka in Fini’s place. But Uzuri would have much rather have had Sarafina’s experience along for what lay ahead of them tonight.
She glanced over at the other half of her hunting party. Supposedly chosen for their hunting prowess, the six hyenas she had been assigned did not do much to comfort her. At the present moment they were busy arguing among themselves about a particularly nasty fight they had witnessed a few months back.
Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Excuse me. If you’re quite finished...” At her penetrating stare, the hyenas subsided slowly. “We’ll be hunting in the northern meadows tonight. Now, as you are unfamiliar with our hunting tactics, I wanted to go over a couple of things that I thought-”
“We can’t eat tactics,” one of the hyenas quipped. “I need red meat and lots of it. I think could eat a whole lion!”
The other hyenas erupted in a gale of raucous laughter. Uzuri set her jaw and endured it until it subsided, then looked at the one who had spoken. “I take it you are Pipkah?”
“Yes, I’m Pipkah, but you can’t take it.” Some of the other hyenas nearly went into fits at this jibe. Others hid their faces and groaned.
Uzuri blew out her breath in frustration and turned to Isha. “I give up. We’ll just have to hope they know what they’re doing.”
Isha stared hard at Pipkah as Uzuri passed by her, muttering. The young lioness glanced back at Uzuri, noting the peculiar set of her head. She envied the hunt mistress’s powers of concentration; already the incident was put behind her as Uzuri began running attack patterns and possible hunting sites through her head.
But for Isha, the insult was not so easily forgotten. As the hyena started to pass her, she stepped in front, blocking his path. She stared at him, sniffing him carefully.
“Hey, watch the merchandise lady!”
She smiled sweetly. “I just wanted to remember you. You’re the hunting party leader. Pap Kuuh is it, or Pip Kahh?”
“Pip Kahh is close enough.” He smiled. “Well, good. I worked hard for this position, and I’m glad to get some recognition.”
Isha’s smile widened, but her eyes remained hard as diamonds. “Oh, definitely. As hunt master of the hyenas, you‘re responsible for their actions. If we make a good kill tonight, you’ll doubtless be rewarded appropriately.” She moved next to them as they walked, her breath soft in his ear. “And if one of your people injures one of mine, you will also be rewarded appropriately. I can’t eat tactics, but I think I could eat a whole hyena.” Without waiting for a response, she trotted ahead to rejoin the other lionesses.
Pipkah watched her leave, hatred evident on his face, but a hatred tempered with fear. He turned to see the other hyenas looking at him curiously. “What’re you guys mooning at?! Spread out for cryin’ out loud!”
The breath of night whispered gently through the leaves, teasing the beard on Rafiki’s chin as he picked the precious Alba leaves from their delicate stems. One by one he placed the leaves in the bottom of the small wooden bowl he held in his lap, until a thin layer covered the bottom. Giving a satisfied grunt, he picked up the small bone pestle Makedde had given him long ago and begin to grind away at the leaves in smooth, steady strokes. The task was a familiar one, and he found his thoughts wandering as he gazed contemplatively out across the darkened savanna.
A rumbling snort cut the air, and he looked down to see one of his guards sprawled at the base of the tree, face composed in bliss as he slumbered away the boring duty of guarding one old monkey in a tree.
Rafiki glanced around surreptitiously to make sure he was not being observed. Oh, of course, doubtless there was an outer perimeter of guards to keep him detained; he had seen them before. Even if he managed to get down and escape into the grass, one of them would intercept him before he got away. No, escape was impossible.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have any fun.
He quietly reached up and plucked a gourd from an overhanging branch of the baobab. The branch swished sharply as it sprang back into place, and the guard below snorted and shifted slightly. Rafiki froze, waiting until the hyena had settled himself again. Patiently, he examined the stars, gazing familiarly at the constellation of The Blessed, naming the stars one by one to himself. He had gotten through perhaps half when snores again rose from below.
Grinning, he took careful aim, and dropped the gourd. It fell through the air and glanced off the hyena’s skull with a sharp THUNK. The guard leapt up, snorting in surprise.
“What the-” he looked down, rubbing his abused head gingerly, feeling the welt rising on his skull as he saw the gourd lying on the ground a few feet away. Snarling, he looked upwards at the mandrill who sat in the fork of the branches high above, stirring his bowl and staring innocently out at the stars. “All right, I’ve HAD it! That’s the third time this week! Don’t tell me the wind knocked THAT one down.”
Rafiki looked at him and smiled. “Oh, you found it! I knew I must have dropped it or something!” He cackled as the hyena bristled at him.
“That’s it. You’re gonna be laughing out of the other side of your head when I get through with you-”
“Shut up, fool.” The guard froze in the midst of preparing to go after the mandrill. He turned his head to see Krull sitting behind him, eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight as they bored into his own. “You’re right. That’s the third time this week he’s done it. And you were asleep on duty all three times. Now what should I do about that, hmm?”
The guard stammered for a moment, then rolled on the ground. “I beg forgiveness, Roh’khal Krull. Bih gah’kh’resh mal! Bih mal!”
Krull looked at him sternly for a moment, then nodded. “Gah’kh’resh nih.” The guard looked up, surprised, gratitude shining in his eyes as Krull jerked his head over his shoulder. “Go get Henneh to relieve you. Go on, now.”
“Yes sir!” The guard scrambled away into the grass. Krull looked up at the mandrill who was watching with no small interest.
“What was that all about?” Rafiki asked.
“The boy fell asleep three times while on duty.” Krull scratched behind one ear. “Technically, I should have killed him the second time.”
Rafiki’s eyes widened. “Technically, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“His wife is near to delivery, and he’s been hunting for two instead of sleeping days.” Krull sat up and shook himself busily. “Some things tend to get overlooked. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Oh, of course.” Rafiki watched the hyena trot off and disappear into the grass. The wind followed him, ruffling the plants in living waves that rippled across the savannah. As Rafiki watched, one wave appeared to die abruptly, as if it had struck a rock or kopje hidden in the grass.
He sat up, interested, as he saw the forms of several hyenas moving through the grass. His eyes saw something vaguely familiar about the way they were walking, almost as if they were-
He was jolted by the realization that the hyenas were moving in one of Uzuri’s well known sweep patterns. His eyes flicked busily across the grass. Keeping them unfocused, he scanned the area quickly, remembering how she had explained this pattern worked and--there they were. Barely discernible at this distance, the supple forms of lionesses glided though the savannah, moonlight gleaming off their pelts. Noting the direction of their travel, Rafiki looked and saw the small group of antelope that huddled together, drowsing the night away in the security of numbers.
Down below, Uzuri was also eyeing the antelope, but for a different reason.
The hunt mistress paused, one forepaw lifted, frozen in statuesque beauty as she assessed the situation. Without taking her eyes from the herd ahead, she flicked her left ear twice, as if deterring a particularly bothersome fly. But the nuances of the motion, lost on one unfamiliar with the hunt, were crystal clear to her sisters. Isha saw the signal and immediately complied, stealthily widening her distance from Uzuri by approximately two body lengths. Uzuri repeated the motion on the opposite side, and Sarabi mirrored the maneuver to her right. The other four lionesses, despite being out of sight on her flanks, were doubtless adjusting their positions as well.
As Uzuri resumed creeping toward the antelope, she wondered if the hyenas were even in the correct positions on the far side of the herd. She could only hope; her instructions had been terse and precise, but even the simplest of commands were often lost on those imbeciles. If only one of them got out of position, the whole group might not catch anything-
She berated herself for letting her thoughts wander so; there was work to be done. Rising slightly, she flicked her tail, and the lionesses slowly began closing on the herd.
Rafiki shifted slightly to get a better view at the lionesses began moving towards the antelope herd. He strained to see in the grayish light cast by the moon overhead, and looked up angrily at the slight clouds which scudded over the moon, dimming the luminance into near nothingness.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Give an old monkey a break.”
As if in answer, the clouds tattered from the forceful winds high overhead, and the savanna below was suddenly alive with moving shapes. He picked out Uzuri at the center of the arc of lionesses, her slight form strange and beautiful in the silver light.
“Careful, honey tree, oh so careful,” he whispered. He watched her pick her way across the grassland, silent as the night sneaking in on the heels of twilight.
More movement caught his eyes, and he glanced across the swatch of grassland to see the hyenas closing from the other direction. The pattern fell into place with an almost audible click, and he smiled, unable to help himself. The two groups had surrounded the herd perfectly, allowing no gaps for it to slip through. Someone would be guaranteed at least one strike, maybe at least three before the fleeing animals would escape.
“Uzuri,” he breathed softly, “you are pure genius.” He leaned forward to get a better look at her, and felt a small nudge against his midsection. Looking down he saw the mixing bowl slipping away from his lap, the precious Alba flakes stirring restlessly. He flailed at it, but the bowl slipped from his grasp to fall with a gentle swish on his bed below. Eyeing it agitatedly, he saw with relief that the Alba had not spilled, and began to clamber down to get his treasured herbs, sparing a fleeting glance at the closing predators.
Far below, Pipkah gritted his teeth at the wait. Why in blazes hadn’t the idiot lioness started the attack yet? Mother of All, the antelope were practically in front of him! He eyed the herd greedily, salivating at the sight of the meaty forms that slumbered away, ignorant of his presence.
Finally, he spat in the dust. “I’m going to starve before we catch anything with our “tactics.” He glanced over at the two youngsters next to him. “Losara, Makh’rish: see that youngling over there?”
The two looked at the antelope and spied the small calf lying beside it’s mother. “Yes.”
“That is your target. Res’shakh and I will pick off the mother. On my signal we rush them. Understand?”
Losara nodded, her eyes shining with admiration at his leader’s daring, but Makh’rish looked nervous. “S-Sir? Aren’t we supposed to wait until the lions signal us?”
“Are you questioning my authority? Or would you rather follow that hairy wretch instead of your own kind?”
“N-No sir,” she stammered.
“Then be silent and obey me.” Pipkah looked back at the antelope a moment longer, then nodded. “GO!!!”
The hyenas bolted forward, legs flying under them as they propelled themselves towards the herd. Pipkah grinned with exhilaration and gave out a high yodeling laugh of joy. “YAHHHHH!”
The herd of antelope exploded into sudden motion, startling Uzuri and raising her hackles. “What in the-”
The sound of hyannic laughter drifted to her, and she snarled deep in her chest. “Those fools! I KNEW this would happen.” She glanced at Isha and Sarabi. “Let’s go, but for gods’ sake be careful.” Rising from her crouch, she led the lionesses in a silent rush towards the group of antelope, who were still milling about in a panic. They had only seconds left to act and still have a chance, she knew, but as soon as the herd got organized and began to flee, all was lost.
Rafiki was making his way back up the branch, Alba clutched firmly in one hand, when he heard the commotion. Scrambling up the rest of the way, he saw an enormous cloud of dust raised by the panicked antelope as they stirred about. He stared disbelievingly as the hyenas charged into the herd, sending the frightened animals crashing off in the direction of the lionesses.
“Oh, no!” Forgetting the Alba, he launched himself into space, grabbing hold of a branch above him and swinging up another level to the very top of the baobab. As he caught sight of the herd again, he saw an antelope fleeing into a dust cloud, closely pursued by a lioness. A hyena cut across the dark ground from another direction and vanished into the dust at the same time. A fearful cry of pain arose from the swirling debris, along with the sounds of a fiercely pitched struggle. Another cry arose, clearly leonine this time, and Rafiki wrung his hands, moaning.
Young Losara lay on her side, coughing and panting heavily in the swirling dust. She shook his head, trying to clear it, and moaned as the world seemed to spin crazily. A terrible weight held her to the ground, and she fought to pull her hindquarters from beneath the furred form-
She glanced over at the slumped body atop her and grinned. She had done it! By the gods above, she had pulled down an antelope on her first hunt! Grinning, she wiped away the dirt from her face, imagining the praise her father would heap upon her!
She froze as the dead antelope moaned and coughed fitfully. “Great Aiheu,” it grated, “what happened?!” She stared, eyes bulging in horror as the “antelope” raised it’s head and looked at her, the features of a lioness clear in the bright moonlight.
Ajenti groaned again as she tried to shift her weight and get up. Her whole left side throbbed painfully, and the dust floating about made every breath burn in her lungs. She collapsed back to the ground, moaning as her abused body complained fiercely. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Pipkah emerged from the settling dust, cursing at the top of his lungs as he saw the form of Losara half-buried under the lioness. “You IDIOT! I’ve seen dung-beetles with more brains than you, and they could hunt better, besides! What in Roh’kash’s name were you thinking?!”
Losara’s eyes shone with tears as she huddled under Ajenti’s bulk. “I-”
“Oooops, I forgot. Thinking requires a BRAIN, and you aren’t equipped with one, are you?!” Pipkah turned and scratched at the dirt with his rear paws, showering the young hyena with sand. “That’s what I ought to do with you, kiddo! When your father hears about this, I promise you he’ll-”
He was cut off as he beheld the hunt mistress emerging from the dust, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury as she took in the downed form of Ajenti lying atop Losara. She paused for a minute, then stalked towards the young hyena, who began scrambling madly, trying to push Ajenti’s bulk away.
“Oh gods! I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” She began sobbing uncontrollably as Uzuri drew near. “It was all dusty and noisy and I thought she was the antelope, I mean they’re the same color in the dark, oh please don’t DO IT!” She tucked her head against her chest, shaking with fear as Uzuri stopped next to her. The lioness looked down at her for a moment, wrapped in a terrible cloak of silence. Lion and hyena held their breath, waiting for the blow to fall.
Uzuri sat up and walked over to Pipkah, who was still cursing softly under his breath. Lighting fast, she drew back and struck him in the face, sending him sprawling in the dirt.
“Great Roh’kash!” Pipkah picked himself up slowly, blood running from his torn cheek. “Why did you hit ME?! SHE’S the one who ruined the hunt!”
Uzuri looked at him coldly. “She made a MISTAKE. You were CARELESS.”
CHAPTER 48: THE NIGHT IS YOUNG
There was no levity on the way back to Pride Rock. Uzuri was going into a slow burn, thinking of a diplomatic way to tell Shenzi and Taka why there was no kill tonight. Of course that was taken care of by Pipkah who ran on ahead. He would find a very undiplomatic way to put it, no doubt. She sighed and resigned herself to the upbraiding she would no doubt receive.
She did not bother going to the cave atop Pride Rock, but went straight to her favorite resting spot and flopped on her side. Perhaps sleep would bring some relief if only Aiheu would catch her bad dreams on his claws.
Before she could surrender to oblivion, there was a rustling of a small body through the underbrush. “It better be a cub,” she murmured spitefully.
Just then a hyena came trotting out with a large legbone in her mouth. It was Losara.
“What are YOU doing here! This is MY bed!”
Bowing and scraping, Losara whined, “You had mercy on me, ma’am. I brought you something to help you sleep.”
She looked at the bone. “There’s no meat on it.”
“Not ON it,” Losara said. She began biting with her strong molars, pushing on the middle of the bone with incredible force. The bone began to notch, then crack. And before long, it split open. It was hollow, and the center was filled with fatty red marrow. “Try this.”
“What is it?”
“Try it and find out.”
Uzuri took a sporting chance and sampled the marrow. “Hey, this is not half bad!”
“Not half bad?? It’s one of the best parts!”
She smiled. “Go get the other leg and join me. I’m not used to eating alone.”
“Thanks, but Ajenti has the other leg. She deserves it.”
Uzuri smiled. “I take back most of the bad things I’ve said about you, Losara. I mean, it WAS dusty and it WAS our first hunt together.”
“You mean there will be others? After tonight?”
“You and I. Leave Pipkah and the others behind and we might catch something.”
She laughed uncomfortably. “That fool Pipkah! He got his job because he makes up stories about his own prowess as a hunter. Once he found a wounded rabbit and killed it. Every time he told the story, the rabbit got bigger and healthier. By the time he finished, it could shove the elephants aside at the water hole.” She looked down. “He made us look like fools out there! We’re good hunters, Uzuri. We’re not all like him, but all our best hunters were loyalists.”
“Loyalists?”
“Loyal to Amarakh, the true Roh’mach. Ber is one of the best. He’s a REAL hunt master. He had this move called Dhourba, the ring. But he gets stuck on guard duty in the East Meadow where NOTHING ever happens. All of our best hunters are on guard duty--Shenzi doesn’t trust them.
“Why not?”
“Ber doesn’t believe Shenzi is God’s anointed. A lot of them don’t.” Losara drew close and said in a whisper. “I’m one of them, frankly. Amarakh was a true follower of Roh’kash. She didn’t like lions very much, but at least she was honest about it, not like Shenzi. Hon, you can’t turn your back on that girl.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
“Amarakh looked like she smelled like she talked like she acted like she believed. And she believed in the true God, not in magic tricks and badger words. Like her or hate her, Amarakh was the real thing. She wouldn’t send a fool like Pipkah out there to lead a hunt, and she wouldn’t sass poor old Sarabi. Gods, what that lady’s been through, and all she gets from Shenzi is grief! And pardon me for saying so, but that King of yours is no Prekh Jakrel, either.”
Uzuri didn’t know who Prekh Jakrel was, but she got the general idea. She looked in Losara’s eyes. “You know something? I think you are the real thing too.” She stirred herself and rose, stretching and yawning. “The night is young. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Hunting. You and I. I’ll get you more than a legbone, I warrant.”
Losara was delighted. “Uzuri, if it’s just the two of us, let me teach you an old custom of our people. We have a blessing before the hunt that we don’t usually use before outsiders. I say ‘Bih ‘malan, Uzuri,’ and you answer, ‘Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
“I never thought I’d be speaking hyannic,” Uzuri said with an embarrassed grin. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
Losara smiled broadly, her eyes looking directly into Uzuri’s.
“And you say?”
“Oh, forgive me! Bih ‘malan, Uzuri.”
Ajenti poked her head through the grass. “It will take three of us to do the Crescent maneuver.”
“Yeah!” Losara wagged her tail and her ears perked up. “Anything you say, Ajenti!”
She did not bother going to the cave atop Pride Rock, but went straight to her favorite resting spot and flopped on her side. Perhaps sleep would bring some relief if only Aiheu would catch her bad dreams on his claws.
Before she could surrender to oblivion, there was a rustling of a small body through the underbrush. “It better be a cub,” she murmured spitefully.
Just then a hyena came trotting out with a large legbone in her mouth. It was Losara.
“What are YOU doing here! This is MY bed!”
Bowing and scraping, Losara whined, “You had mercy on me, ma’am. I brought you something to help you sleep.”
She looked at the bone. “There’s no meat on it.”
“Not ON it,” Losara said. She began biting with her strong molars, pushing on the middle of the bone with incredible force. The bone began to notch, then crack. And before long, it split open. It was hollow, and the center was filled with fatty red marrow. “Try this.”
“What is it?”
“Try it and find out.”
Uzuri took a sporting chance and sampled the marrow. “Hey, this is not half bad!”
“Not half bad?? It’s one of the best parts!”
She smiled. “Go get the other leg and join me. I’m not used to eating alone.”
“Thanks, but Ajenti has the other leg. She deserves it.”
Uzuri smiled. “I take back most of the bad things I’ve said about you, Losara. I mean, it WAS dusty and it WAS our first hunt together.”
“You mean there will be others? After tonight?”
“You and I. Leave Pipkah and the others behind and we might catch something.”
She laughed uncomfortably. “That fool Pipkah! He got his job because he makes up stories about his own prowess as a hunter. Once he found a wounded rabbit and killed it. Every time he told the story, the rabbit got bigger and healthier. By the time he finished, it could shove the elephants aside at the water hole.” She looked down. “He made us look like fools out there! We’re good hunters, Uzuri. We’re not all like him, but all our best hunters were loyalists.”
“Loyalists?”
“Loyal to Amarakh, the true Roh’mach. Ber is one of the best. He’s a REAL hunt master. He had this move called Dhourba, the ring. But he gets stuck on guard duty in the East Meadow where NOTHING ever happens. All of our best hunters are on guard duty--Shenzi doesn’t trust them.
“Why not?”
“Ber doesn’t believe Shenzi is God’s anointed. A lot of them don’t.” Losara drew close and said in a whisper. “I’m one of them, frankly. Amarakh was a true follower of Roh’kash. She didn’t like lions very much, but at least she was honest about it, not like Shenzi. Hon, you can’t turn your back on that girl.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
“Amarakh looked like she smelled like she talked like she acted like she believed. And she believed in the true God, not in magic tricks and badger words. Like her or hate her, Amarakh was the real thing. She wouldn’t send a fool like Pipkah out there to lead a hunt, and she wouldn’t sass poor old Sarabi. Gods, what that lady’s been through, and all she gets from Shenzi is grief! And pardon me for saying so, but that King of yours is no Prekh Jakrel, either.”
Uzuri didn’t know who Prekh Jakrel was, but she got the general idea. She looked in Losara’s eyes. “You know something? I think you are the real thing too.” She stirred herself and rose, stretching and yawning. “The night is young. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Hunting. You and I. I’ll get you more than a legbone, I warrant.”
Losara was delighted. “Uzuri, if it’s just the two of us, let me teach you an old custom of our people. We have a blessing before the hunt that we don’t usually use before outsiders. I say ‘Bih ‘malan, Uzuri,’ and you answer, ‘Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
“I never thought I’d be speaking hyannic,” Uzuri said with an embarrassed grin. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
Losara smiled broadly, her eyes looking directly into Uzuri’s.
“And you say?”
“Oh, forgive me! Bih ‘malan, Uzuri.”
Ajenti poked her head through the grass. “It will take three of us to do the Crescent maneuver.”
“Yeah!” Losara wagged her tail and her ears perked up. “Anything you say, Ajenti!”
CHAPTER 49: SEFU
Pumbaa and Timon were walking through the forest with Simba tagging along at their heels. Every day for a lion cub is full of new discoveries, but Simba’s friends were especially prone to throw him a curve just when it seemed like he had them figured out.
The day was going slowly, however, and other than a few extra things to eat, there was not much worth staying awake to see. Simba yawned and started to flop down, when suddenly a tall bird stepped out of the brush. “Can you dig it?? The gruesome twosome!”
“Sefu!” Timon cried with obvious pleasure. “Hey, what’s shakin! Good to see you!”
“Good to be seen!” Sefu ogled Simba. “Who’s the cat, cat?”
“That’s Simba, no lion!”
“Oooh, good comeback!”
Sefu timidly patted Simba on the head, then took Timon aside. None too discretely, he said, “Hey cat, he’s the deluxe model. Comes with large protective devices called ‘folks’ that eat Meerkats for less than this, you dig?”
“The little guy’s in trouble. We found him on the desert.”
“What’s the story?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”
“If it’s cool with him, it’s cool with me.”
Smiling broadly, Sefu stalked over to Simba on his lanky legs. “Yo, cubby! I’ve always wanted to be this close to a lion and live to tell about it. So have you always been this small?”
Simba thought for a moment, then he saw the mischievous look in Sefu’s eyes. “Oh, I get it!”
Timon said, “This is one hip hawk. One ravin raptor. One absurd bird! You ought to hear him groove.”
“What’s groove?” Simba asked.
“Show him, Sefu!”
Sefu waved his wings. “Just like that? Before the good vibrations?”
“Good vibrations?” Simba was confused.
“Yeah. Cloud nine. Seventh heaven. Peace, love and the distinct absence of major irritation.”
“Oh! In the groove!”
“Yeah.”
Simba thought. “How do you start good vibrations?”
“You think about your favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad. I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad!”
“Just don’t sing it,” Timon said quickly. “Once was more than enough!” The meerkat thought a moment. “What you’re saying is that you CAN’T do a groove from a cold start.”
“Oh yeah??”
“Oh yeah!”
“Well give me room! I need space!”
Sefu stood atop a log that acted as an impromptu podium. He looked into the sky and began to sway slightly. “Oh, I can feel it coming, cats! It’s coming!”
Simba looked with fascination as the bird began to recite. Softly at first, but later with more volume and confidence:
“The story is being written. It comes from the top of your head, from the depths of your heart. You just open your mind and listen to the voices in your head. Listen to the wordless chatter of the leaves. Jump right in when you can. Timon, you add some to it.”
Timon stepped forward and threw out his arms. “Give me space to live, and dig it.”
Pumbaa pushed the reluctant Simba forward. “You can do it! Just make your mind a complete blank!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Timon griped. “You’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Now hush!” Sefu said. “Let him have at it.”
Simba looked awkwardly at his paws and cleared his throat.
Sefu gathered Simba under his wing. “Look here. You keep working on it, and some day you’re going to go places. There’s a spot out there for you. A spot for good lyricists. You do the words, and I do the little black dots.”
“Little black dots?”
“The music!”
“Do you really think I could?”
“Think? THINK?? You got IT, kid! I could make you a star!”
“A star? Me??” Simba’s ears flattened in fear. “I’m too young to die!”
“What?!” Sefu blinked. “No, kid: WE’LL be killin’ THEM. With an act like ours, we’ll SLAY ‘em!”
“Now hold on a minute here!” Pumbaa said. “That’s OUR boy!”
“Are you holding out on me, Pumbaa? You want to be his manager?”
“Not his manager!” Pumbaa said gruffly. “His father! I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Okay, okay.” Sefu tapped a foot thoughtfully. “How does a flat rate followed by residuals grab you?”
“I don’t mean that kind of care. I mean love!” Pumbaa looked a little embarrassed. “Hey, I love the kid. I don’t want him to write songs unless it’s what he wants to do.”
Simba looked at Pumbaa. Then he looked back at Sefu. He stalked back to the warthog. “Maybe later, huh?”
“Sure, kid. Whatever floats your boat. I still think we could have made an awesome team.”
Sefu disappeared as quickly as he showed up. Simba looked at Timon with puzzlement. “Is he real?”
“That’s just him. Part philosopher, part musician, all mental case. But he’s really an all right guy when you get to know him.”
“So are you, Uncle Timon. You too, Pumbaa.”
Pumbaa smiled broadly. “Thanks!”
The day was going slowly, however, and other than a few extra things to eat, there was not much worth staying awake to see. Simba yawned and started to flop down, when suddenly a tall bird stepped out of the brush. “Can you dig it?? The gruesome twosome!”
“Sefu!” Timon cried with obvious pleasure. “Hey, what’s shakin! Good to see you!”
“Good to be seen!” Sefu ogled Simba. “Who’s the cat, cat?”
“That’s Simba, no lion!”
“Oooh, good comeback!”
Sefu timidly patted Simba on the head, then took Timon aside. None too discretely, he said, “Hey cat, he’s the deluxe model. Comes with large protective devices called ‘folks’ that eat Meerkats for less than this, you dig?”
“The little guy’s in trouble. We found him on the desert.”
“What’s the story?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”
“If it’s cool with him, it’s cool with me.”
Smiling broadly, Sefu stalked over to Simba on his lanky legs. “Yo, cubby! I’ve always wanted to be this close to a lion and live to tell about it. So have you always been this small?”
Simba thought for a moment, then he saw the mischievous look in Sefu’s eyes. “Oh, I get it!”
Timon said, “This is one hip hawk. One ravin raptor. One absurd bird! You ought to hear him groove.”
“What’s groove?” Simba asked.
“Show him, Sefu!”
Sefu waved his wings. “Just like that? Before the good vibrations?”
“Good vibrations?” Simba was confused.
“Yeah. Cloud nine. Seventh heaven. Peace, love and the distinct absence of major irritation.”
“Oh! In the groove!”
“Yeah.”
Simba thought. “How do you start good vibrations?”
“You think about your favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad. I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad!”
“Just don’t sing it,” Timon said quickly. “Once was more than enough!” The meerkat thought a moment. “What you’re saying is that you CAN’T do a groove from a cold start.”
“Oh yeah??”
“Oh yeah!”
“Well give me room! I need space!”
Sefu stood atop a log that acted as an impromptu podium. He looked into the sky and began to sway slightly. “Oh, I can feel it coming, cats! It’s coming!”
Simba looked with fascination as the bird began to recite. Softly at first, but later with more volume and confidence:
In the dark heart of the forest
Where the apes and leopards roam
Is a bright spot that’s like paradise
And it’s there I make my home.
Simba was fascinated. Sefu stopped, and Simba asked, “How does it end?”
Kick back on a fern bed and listen
And I’ll tell you of subjects and kings,
Elephant nights and antelope days
And legions of magical things!
“The story is being written. It comes from the top of your head, from the depths of your heart. You just open your mind and listen to the voices in your head. Listen to the wordless chatter of the leaves. Jump right in when you can. Timon, you add some to it.”
Timon stepped forward and threw out his arms. “Give me space to live, and dig it.”
Sefu listened carefully, and looked thoughtful. “Profound and very....very....uh....depressing. Let’s hear from the boy.”
In the dark swirls by the riverbank
Rides a leaf that’s swept in thrall
It came from places dark and drear
And answered to the call!
Pumbaa pushed the reluctant Simba forward. “You can do it! Just make your mind a complete blank!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Timon griped. “You’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Now hush!” Sefu said. “Let him have at it.”
Simba looked awkwardly at his paws and cleared his throat.
He thought a few moments, and making the supreme effort, burst out with:
There’s a lizard on the baobab
There’s a snake upon the grass
There’s a danger in the jungle
But I’m not afraid to pass
“Groovy!” Sefu said. “Dig the chubby cubby--he’s a natural! What he ain’t got ain’t hot!”
There’s a loud cry in the silence
There’s a strange scent in the winds
I’d be scared and yet I’m really not
All because I have my friends
Sefu gathered Simba under his wing. “Look here. You keep working on it, and some day you’re going to go places. There’s a spot out there for you. A spot for good lyricists. You do the words, and I do the little black dots.”
“Little black dots?”
“The music!”
“Do you really think I could?”
“Think? THINK?? You got IT, kid! I could make you a star!”
“A star? Me??” Simba’s ears flattened in fear. “I’m too young to die!”
“What?!” Sefu blinked. “No, kid: WE’LL be killin’ THEM. With an act like ours, we’ll SLAY ‘em!”
“Now hold on a minute here!” Pumbaa said. “That’s OUR boy!”
“Are you holding out on me, Pumbaa? You want to be his manager?”
“Not his manager!” Pumbaa said gruffly. “His father! I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Okay, okay.” Sefu tapped a foot thoughtfully. “How does a flat rate followed by residuals grab you?”
“I don’t mean that kind of care. I mean love!” Pumbaa looked a little embarrassed. “Hey, I love the kid. I don’t want him to write songs unless it’s what he wants to do.”
Simba looked at Pumbaa. Then he looked back at Sefu. He stalked back to the warthog. “Maybe later, huh?”
“Sure, kid. Whatever floats your boat. I still think we could have made an awesome team.”
Sefu disappeared as quickly as he showed up. Simba looked at Timon with puzzlement. “Is he real?”
“That’s just him. Part philosopher, part musician, all mental case. But he’s really an all right guy when you get to know him.”
“So are you, Uncle Timon. You too, Pumbaa.”
Pumbaa smiled broadly. “Thanks!”
CHAPTER 50: THE CRISIS
Often a flood began with a few drops of rain, and a fire began with a few small sparks. The first few times Simba felt discomfort after a meal, he thought nothing of it. But finally as days passed into weeks, eating became an exercise in frustration for him. It finally got to the point where he had to be nagged by Pumbaa to eat enough to get by.
He was growing thin. Pumbaa looked at his ribs and said, “Hey, it’s not right for a young fellow not to be hungry like that.” He took Timon aside. “I’m worried about him.”
He was growing thin. Pumbaa looked at his ribs and said, “Hey, it’s not right for a young fellow not to be hungry like that.” He took Timon aside. “I’m worried about him.”