Survival of the Fittest

by Jacqui Murray

  “How do I survive the pain of life with you?”

  Unexpectedly, the wind whispered, Lyta.

  He tipped his head to the sky and loosed a long, mournful howl.

  As many days passed as fingers on both hands before he caught up with his People. No one asked about Ah-ga. All knew why he arrived alone. Lyta took his hand. Sa-mo-ke greeted him with relief. Pan-do’s lips were badly swollen, as was his weak eye. The strong one, the color of a blackberry, had nearly closed. Sadness leeched from his body

  Pan-do motioned, “You did well, Lead Warrior. Few seasoned males could have done what you did here.”

  Sa-mo-ke shook his head. “Many died so those you see here could escape. The injured—most we had to abandon.”

  Pan-do had seen the bodies, ravaged by Coyote and Hyaena. “Victory requires sacrifice, Lead Warrior.”

  Lyta tipped her head upward and Sa-mo-ke motioned, “There’s a bright star Lyta insists will guide us. It hangs over the fire-breathing mountains.”

  “Lead.”

  He pushed the group as hard as he dared, keeping a brisk pace and avoiding all animal trails. That meant fighting their way around clinging brush and struggling up and down steep ridges. At night, they slept in hollow trunks, nests like Cousin Chimp, or holes lined with grass and leaves for warmth. Though the air felt warmer here, when Sun slept, it became as cold as their homeland.

  One night, their only protection was against a cliff wall and under a weak-looking overhang. When most had finally fallen asleep, the ground shook violently. The People ignored it until chunks of the roof tumbled down and buried groupmates. Everyone rushed out just before the rest of the overhang collapsed.

  Pan-do huffed. “This place confuses me. The mountains spit fire to keep us warm but shake the land until it almost buries us!”

  They spent until Sun awoke salving cuts, applying poultices to scrapes, and chewing shredded bark to numb aches. When Sun awoke, they left, dodging berms and lakes, plagued by the constantly shaking earth. It was like nothing Pan-do had ever experienced. Water became their biggest worry. Every morning, Pan-do and groupmembers licked the night’s dew from the leaves and Spider’s webs. A good day would be when Lyta caught a water scent in the air. Often—usually—it was a dark spot at the base of a cliff. Then they dug until the ground turned to mud and they could squeeze the water into their mouths.

  For days and then a moon, and then another, they crossed dull brown terrain under thin wisps of clouds, saturated in the smell of Fire Mountain’s anger, breathing in the muggy air that threatened but never delivered rain. Bored and dejected, Pan-do crested yet another hill.

  In front, like a massive herd, stretched a vast swaying field of grass. In the dark shadows on the edging cliffs were caves. He waved wildly to the struggling group and ran toward them, oblivious to any danger. It helped that Lyta hobbled along with him. If she had sensed danger, she would have told him.

  Sa-mo-ke stopped him before he entered the first cave. “I go.”

  Pan-do nodded anxiously. When his Lead Warrior returned with a smile, the People bedded down for the night, satisfied for the first time in hands of days.

  The next day, Pan-do sent scouts to explore what could be their new home. When Sun prepared to sleep without their reappearance, he became worried. Before he could decide whether to wait or follow the scouts’ tracks, Sa-mo-ke sprinted into the camp, winded, face drawn and smudged with dirt.

  “Others head this way.”

  “The Hairless Ones?”

  Sa-m o-ke shook his head.

  Pan-do set his mouth in a firm line. “We will explain we mean no trouble. If they desire we leave, maybe they can guide us to unclaimed territory.”

  Chapter 12

  Morning arrived with such hope and magnificence that Pan-do couldn’t help but smile. Lyta seemed to agree. For the first time since their trip began, she wasn’t flicking her fingers or twirling or frowning. Calm bathed her body, a sure sign this site was good. Maybe their trip ended here.

  “Leader,” Sa-mo-ke motioned. “I go to see if the warriors from yesterday left.”

  Pan-do nodded and Sa-mo-ke led a small group into the tall brush around the caves but he wasn’t even out of sight before stumbling backward, pushed at spear point by rough-looking warriors.

  Sa-mo-ke motioned, “I found them.”

  Pan-do offered a wan smile. “They look friendly.”

  He glanced at his daughter, wondering how she missed this danger but everything about her remained peaceful, almost expectant.

  No one stood out as an obvious leader so Pan-do turned to the one in front and lifted his hands, palms up, in a universal sign of friendship.

  No reaction. In fact, the male’s eyes remained flat with no curiosity about the group he threatened, as though he did this often.

  “Maybe they don’t understand.”

  “They understand,” from Lyta, her eyes alight, voice like birdsong.

  These Others were similar to Pan-do’s People except for the longer heads, flat receding foreheads, and the massive bony ridge that shaded their eyes.

  “No stone-tipped spears,” Pan-do motioned to Sa-mo-ke. His Lead Warrior offered a faint nod but kept his gaze on the intruders.

  Lyta tapped her fingers against her leg replicating the in-and-out breathing of the warriors. In the mass of fear-frozen bodies and troubled faces, she alone seemed content. This enemy—they must wonder at her presence as he—who must be the Leader—greeted armed strangers. They couldn’t know that this fragile female with the ethereal beauty was his early warning of danger.

  Finally, with a flurry of shuffling and jostling, an elder warrior shoved to the front, grunted something unintelligible, and then sprinted from the clearing at a ground-eating pace. Lyta hobbled after him and Pan-do matched her labored speed knowing she could go no faster. She began to slap her thigh in rhythm with her steps and soon, everyone trotted to her beat, including the Others.

  Sun burned a brilliant and blinding white as they crossed a grassy plateau, past fruit trees and bushes filled with berries. A stifling heat rose from the baked earth, swamping the People in sweat. Some collapsed but when threatened, were dragged onward by groupmembers. Sun was almost to its well-deserved rest when finally, the Others chirped and strange females and children materialized around them. Lyta slowed, searching the new group as though expecting someone.

  “There are more Others here than I can tick off on a handful of hands,” Pan-do muttered to no one.

  Lyta sniffed and limped away, following a scent. One of the warriors prodded her with his spear, albeit hesitantly. She responded with a brilliant smile and mimed, "Water..." cupping her hand as though to drink.

  He pointed ahead and Lyta slipped in among the crowd. When Pan-do tried to follow, the Others’ warriors stopped him. No one noticed—or cared—that Lyta drank her fill from a large lake and then scooped up a handful of water, elbowed the spear-carrying warriors aside without spilling a drop, and approached her father.

  “Give that to Red-dit, Lyta.”

  Sa-mo-ke laughed. “I see it’s not just us. Even these who don’t know your daughter do as asked.”

  Lyta trundled toward Red-dit, one of the pregnant females, her stomach so large, crouching was impossible. The female drank gratefully.

  Lyta shuffled up to Pan-do with a sigh. “He’s not here.”

  Before Pan-do could ask who ‘he’ was, Sa-mo-ke motioned, “Where do they sleep? I see no caves or trees.”

  Pan-do looked around. He too had expected caves but there was only a clearing protected on one side by a soaring cliff and the other by a lake.

  “A good question. No matter their size, sleeping in the open is risky.”

  He swatted at a flying insect. “How do they stand these creatures?” and he slapped another, this time connecting. “They bite so deeply, they draw blood.” He brushed several from his eyes and clawed one from his nose before giving up. “I need Hipparion’s tail.”

&nb
sp; The Other warriors hadn’t moved, still staring at Pan-do’s group. He unclenched his fists and grinned, refusing to be intimidated. His hand motion for ‘friend’ again got no response.

  He murmured to Sa-mo-ke. “They are waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “Their Leader. He must be the only one who can make the decision.”

  The grey night turned inky black, Moon showed its face, and still, everyone waited. Only Lyta’s soft humming broke the silence.

  Finally, the wall of warriors parted and a massive muscular male as dark as Panther pushed forward. His neck melted into his shoulders, wide and corded. His nose, broad but flat, protruded from a sculpted face. Power radiated from every part of his body. His arms hung ready, one with a spear and the other a handaxe.

  “He must be the Leader,” Pan-do motioned quietly.

  A tall, lithe female joined him. She moved with the silence of sunlight, her wealth of hair glistening as it swayed to her steps, neck pale in Moon’s muted glow, bearing straight and proud. Between her breasts bounced a sack, stuffed full. She towered over the male by a head, gracile in build where the male Leader was short and thick-boned. Like the dark male, her spear filled one hand and a handaxe the other.

  "The Leader's mate," Pan-do whispered under his breath.

  Lyta shook her head and shuffled forward, gaze locked on the female. Pan-do tugged her back. He kept his weapon down and again tried the motion for ‘friend’. She stared at him, betraying neither comprehension nor confusion. If he interpreted her facial expressions, gestures, and grunts correctly, she was more curious than threatening. If he misread this, Lyta would tell him. Risk made her scream.

  The dark male puffed his chest and stepped to within an arm of Pan-do. This close, Pan-do saw both his youth and the battle scars he wore with pride. A warrior’s warrior. He seemed to think that his blooded body and aura of command would intimidate Pan-do into giving respect not yet earned, but he had the wrong adversary for that. Pan-do had lost a home, friends, and a lifelong pairmate. What else could this male take?

  He twitched, thinking of Lyta. She was his weak spot. He allowed a glimmer of respect to touch his face.

  "Nightshade." The male pointed inward.

  "I am Pan-do. These are my People,” and he motioned around himself.

  Nightshade dismissed Pan-do, moving on to Lyta. Her beauty and sincerity captured every male. Unlike the dark coarseness of most People who spent their days in the sun, Lyta’s fawn-colored skin remained both flawless and smooth. Most saw a weak female who would bend to their will but nothing was further from the truth. Lyta never aligned with anyone’s wishes except her father’s and that only because she felt he needed her.

  When Nightshade extended a hand toward her, Lyta jerked away, swallowing, but never lost eye contact. She was neither frightened by his power nor intimidated by his self-aggrandizement. Pan-do heard her sniff and saw her mouth tighten. He smelled it too, deceit, as potent as the stench of carrion.

  Nightshade seemed not to notice and moved on to Pan-do’s bone-thin warriors, few with the musculature of the Leader’s well-fed fighters. Finished with his assessment, he fixed Pan-do with a querulous stare, some decision made. What that was, Pan-do had no idea.

  The warrior's mate stayed still, one muscular arm lose at her side, the other lightly gripping her spear. Though obviously a skilled warrior, comfortable with battle, the look she gave Pan-do seemed unsure.

  "I am Xhosa,” she spoke and motioned her call sign. “You enter my People’s territory."

  Pan-do knew he failed to hide his surprise when her lips tugged into a faint smile.

  "I am Pan-do, Leader Xhosa. This is my daughter, Lyta, and my Lead Warrior, Sa-mo-ke.”

  Xhosa studied Lyta who studied Xhosa. The subadult’s hands perfectly reproduced Xhosa’s call sign and then she motioned, “I’ve never met a female Leader.”

  Xhosa studied her for a breath, raised an eyebrow as though to acknowledge the statement, and then turned back to Pan-do. "Why are you here?"

  Images of blood and destruction flashed across his mind, the ravaged body of his mate, the butchery of the friendly Hairy Ones, the horror of the deadly spears. We are outcasts trying simply to survive.

  That was none of her business. Yet. “We flee violent Uprights who infest our home like a disease. We seek a new homeland far enough from them that we are safe,” and he again motioned to his People.

  Faintly, certainly not expecting an answer, Lyta rephrased the question to Xhosa. “Why are you here when danger surrounds you?”

  Pan-do stiffened and his eyes widened. That explained why the Leader’s warriors were constantly alert, hair puffed, weapons at the ready though fatigue seeped from their eyes and muscles.

  “What perils face us here?” He muttered to himself but motioned to Xhosa, “Do not be alarmed by Lyta. She sees detail better than any warrior.”

  Xhosa fixed on Lyta. “Everything you see is our home, young one. You intrude.”

  Though the words might sting, they were softened by the twinkle in her eye.

  Pan-do jumped in. “She intended no disrespect. My daughter can only speak the truth. My People appreciate her honesty but it is challenging for those newly met.”

  He hoped his openness would relax the Leader but she didn’t react. He swallowed and dipped his head once. Was it the difference in language?

  "She understands," Lyta sang, in a low mellow voice. Xhosa gave her a funny look, not unfriendly but tinged heavily with curiosity. Nightshade jerked but some of his warriors hid smiles. When his gaze settled again on Lyta, it held none of the earlier warmth.

  "Shhh, Lyta."

  "Shhh, Lyta," she repeated, stomping her foot.

  Nightshade hardened further. Lyta made an enemy.

  When Nightshade stepped closer, Pan-do smelled a rotting tooth. The warrior motioned, "You lie, intruder. You are hungry. You don’t take time to treat injuries. What enemy chases you to our territory?"

  “We don’t lie,” Lyta sang.

  Pan-do offered a faint smile without removing his attention from the warrior in front of him. How much should he tell? Would this male appreciate that Pan-do brought knowledge of an unknown and dangerous opponent or value the protection afforded by a larger group?

  “We travel for many moons from our home. There, Endless Sea surrounds us on two sides and salt rather than sulfur fills the air.”

  The quizzical looks around him said this place he described was not one they understood. He would explain it later.

  Nightshade crossed his arms and widened his stance but Xhosa relaxed. Her posture, words, in fact everything about her was designed to evoke confidence without coercion.

  She motioned, "But you are chased. By whom?"

  When Pan-do described the hairless bodies, vaulted heads, and unusual spears of his enemies, her face paled while Nightshade’s darkened.

  She motioned, "How far away do you live, man-called-Pan-do?"

  He pointed at Moon and ticked off every finger on both hands. "This far."

  He thought the vast distance would please her but her face whitened further. She seemed about to say something but didn’t.

  After a moment, she straightened her body, bumped her nose up, and motioned, "You escape nothing. They are here, too."

  Chapter 13

  "They cannot stay!" Nightshade’s Second, Snake, shouted, stabbing his spear into the soil.

  “Quiet!” Nightshade hissed, “This is not your decision!”

  Xhosa and Nightshade left Snake bristling and moved away from the strangers.

  “Snake is right, though, Xhosa. We should kill the males and claim the females and children as ours. The warrior Sa-mo-ke is too weak and the Leader Pan-do too kind.” This last he motioned dismissively, like a flaw to be expunged. “They would not serve us well. And what if their Big Heads followed them?”

  A melodious voice interrupted. “We weren’t. Followed.”

  Lyta bounced on her tiny
feet, eyes locked on Xhosa. Why would her People keep such a frail creature who couldn’t walk well? Her only contribution seemed to be her ability to notice details and hear lies.

  Pan-do flashed his teeth and motioned to Xhosa, “Lyta learned your words on the walk here from our camp. And the tiny details she notices include sounds.”

  Which stopped Xhosa. Was Lyta’s skill like Xhosa’s farsight but different than what is seen? Xhosa found herself staring into the distance at nothing, wondering about this far-thinking skill.

  Lyta whispered something to her father and he motioned to Xhosa, “Her suggestion is you move further away if you need privacy.”

  Xhosa responded with a noncommittal one-handed gesture. Her back was to Nightshade so she didn’t see his response but felt the burn of his anger, rising like steamy heat from Fire Mountain’s vent. He gripped her arm and guided her behind a boulder.

  “Why would Big Heads follow them this far? Are you thinking they want to band together with ours to fight us, Nightshade? No animal does that –Sabertooth never joins a strange pack to attack a herd.”

  Nightshade’s shoulders bunched. “We know they gather warriors from far away, much more of them than the group who lives here.”

  Xhosa’s head began to hurt, a rumble that would soon squeeze her temples and cheeks like Cat’s jaws. She must ignore it, continue as though nothing was wrong.

  She motioned, “Pan-do beat the Big Heads. His strategies may be helpful—”

  “I need no help from these weaklings,” he growled as he snatched a flying insect from the air and swallowed it. "Pan-do fled rather than defend his home. I don’t want warriors who would do that—”

  “Our strength, warriors trained by you, could retake what he gave up.”

  Nightshade fell silent so she continued, “There’s another solution, Nightshade. We leave, take the path marked by my father.”

  Nightshade took a long halting breath, mouth tense, but his shoulders drooped. As Leader, it was her decision, not his.

  Nightshade and Xhosa stepped around the boulder to observe the newcomers. Lyta was busy carrying handfuls of water to the pregnant females. Sa-mo-ke was motioning to Pan-do, arms waving over the motley group of males around him. All looked dispirited and tired, their warclubs chipped and spears dull.