Survival of the Fittest

by Jacqui Murray

  The next morning, the relentless freezing rain and gusting wind had ended, leaving damp plants and sparkling promises. She took stock of her dejected and frightened People. Migration was normal but not flight. Everyone knew they could never go home.

  Nightshade approached, looking as rested and energetic as she felt tired. “The scouts found no Others and no Big Heads.”

  “How are your warriors?”

  “Several of the injured can be treated. Others are missing, dead, or will wish they were when the captors finish them. We are fine, Xhosa. The People are many and our warriors skilled. Others will avoid us.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Few have spears—they are in the body of dead Big Heads. We can make new ones. Most have warclubs.” He paused, eyes darting among the group, telling her he felt the same as she.

  They hadn’t seen the last of the Big Heads.

  Before continuing, she must deal with injuries. The first that caught her attention was Ant, hobbling on his re-injured leg. The crater still covered much of his calf but the skin had healed.

  “Xhosa!” A distraught voice interrupted. “My son! Please—he needs help!”

  The boy, barely old enough to walk, winced as he displayed a hand-sized bruise on his thigh, swollen and a raw shade of crimson-purple. Xhosa pawed through her neck sack without finding what she needed. She motioned to the mother, “Find bruisewort. Lay it over the wound and wrap it in a leaf.”

  The female left to search outside the cave for the plant. Her son whimpered.

  “Stop whining. You are a warrior,” Xhosa motioned but handed him a piece of bark. “Chew. It tastes bad but helps. Tell your mother to strip more of this from the white trees when she finds them.”

  She spent most of what passed for morning in the gloomy cave treating the injured, salving burns with seedpods, treating cuts with moss and spider webs, and using stems when she ran out of the pain bark.

  Just as she began to wilt, Nightshade provided a welcome break. “Nothing lives in this area except prickle bushes, scrub, and scorpions. The ground is so hard we can’t even dig out the roots and bulbs.”

  “Any water?” She carried a small amount of succulents in her neck sack, as did everyone, but they would soon run out.

  “Just what’s left from the rain.”

  “We leave when the People are rested. It must be better ahead.”

  Pan-do beckoned her, "Xhosa."

  She snapped her head toward him. His People were also her responsibility. She forced herself to breathe in and rolled her shoulders back, wondering what problem she must solve.

  “Come watch. The children invented a game.”

  A group of youngsters stood in a tight group, laughing as they kicked each other’s feet. Xhosa couldn’t stop from smiling especially when Pan-do joined the play, making the children squeal with joy. The females, content their charges were occupied, gathered together, giggling and hiding smiles.

  Xhosa felt the tension evaporate from her shoulders. She long ago lost the ability to play. Her mother’s death focused her on a goal, to be a warrior, and that took all of her time. Until her father died, she held an absolute belief that he would take care of her until she could achieve her goal. Tranquility bathed her as she understood he still did. His cairns, the path to their future home—even now guided her.

  Pan-do left the children to their play and whispered to Xhosa, “Our worst injury if we don’t heal it is fear, Xhosa. Our People look to us—you and I—for leadership. We must provide it, even if that’s a game to make them laugh.”

  Xhosa wished for Pan-do’s gift. He didn’t worry about what was out of his control. His people were fiercely loyal to him in no small part because they enjoyed their lives. She compared this to Nightshade across the cave. Scarcely controlled wrath darkened his handsome features. Anyone looking at him would consider the People’s future bleak.

  She noticed the female Mbasa, the one who rescued the child from burning to death. Her singed hair clung to her head like cattail fur. Her chest blazed a fiery red, blistered from breasts to hips. She’d slathered her body in mucous to sooth what must be wrenching pain but her face showed nothing. Somehow, the brittle dry hair, the resolute attitude, and the weeping burns made her look fiercer and more competent.

  “If older, she would make a good Primary Female.”

  In one hand, Mbasa held a spear, really just a stick. Xhosa headed over to show her how to release the weapon hidden within but Rainbow got there first.

  “Here’s how to sharpen this, Mbasa.”

  With everyone busy, Xhosa took the opportunity to think. Nightshade wanted land with no Others but Xhosa thought settling near Others, while unusual, would facilitate trade and safety. Eventually, the People’s natural dominance would prevail without the need for violence.

  For the rest of the day, families groomed, murmuring among themselves, and reassuring each other the worst was behind them. Nightshade left with a hunting party and Snake with the scouts. Rainbow helped anyone interested to knap new tools and sharpen spears made from whatever branches were available.

  Lyta appeared, eyes on the group gathered around Rainbow. “Do you want to know what they say?”

  Xhosa almost said no but nodded, curious. She didn’t trust Rainbow. While she applauded any who took initiative, something about Rainbow—his too-fluid movements, the set of his mouth—told Xhosa he wanted as much to be seen as a leader as to be one.

  Lyta rattled off, “Where we go—is it safe from enemies?” They sounded worried.

  “Rainbow answers, ‘I can keep us safe.’”

  That disturbed Xhosa.

  “I don’t like him, Xhosa-friend-of-my-father, though he treated Mbasa kindly.”

  Chapter 20

  As darkness took over, Nightshade trudged in with nothing more than several drowned birds and a piglet. These, he tossed into a communal pile and strode toward Xhosa and Pan-do. As earlier, his eyes sparkled and he bristled with energy.

  “What is the plan?” Nightshade motioned.

  Pan-do unconsciously crossed his arms over his chest. Xhosa thought this tension had been overcome when they hunted together. She ignored that for the moment. Decisions must be made.

  “Tomorrow, we continue along the Rift until we are far enough the Big Heads will not take up the chase again. That shouldn’t be far. They need to stay in our former homeland to protect what they stole.”

  With no objections, the People ate the meat brought by Nightshade and shared the roots and plants dug up by the females. From the edge of the group came a faint hum that quickly flowed like a smooth river across the crowd. Lyta, of course. She stood alone, eyes closed, as the beautiful sounds rolled from her mouth.

  “The People need to hear from you, Xhosa,” Pan-do murmured with a grin. “Start with our successes.”

  Xhosa stretched to her full height in front of her People, hair covering her like Leopard’s pelt, legs wide, arms open and inviting. “We outsmarted the Big Heads.”

  “But they still chase us.” This from Rainbow, desperate to show himself as a leader.

  Nightshade retorted. “This land is barren. If they enter, we will easily see them and kill them.”

  Pan-do motioned, “Our neck sacks carry sufficient food but continue to collect what you find. Eat what you want.”

  “I found these!” A child shrieked as he popped a handful of berries into his mouth.

  Xhosa grimaced. “Those give you the rear-end squirts and a belly-hurt.”

  Another child squealed, hands and lips stained with the berry juice, and spit out a mouthful. Xhosa flared her nostrils. “Eat these roots,” and she held up a yellow light-green plant. “They are everywhere. Pick them whenever you see them.

  Nightshade motioned, “Watch for knappable stones and sticks—anything that could be a tool. Those without spears, find slender trees or branches to shape into new weapons.”

  Xhosa waited until the group became silent and all eyes latched onto her
.

  “Never have we abandoned a homebase. When we migrate, we always come back but this time, we must find a new home.”

  Rainbow stood. “I know where we must go. I have seen it, rich with herds and few Others.”

  “That is the home of the Big Heads—”

  Rainbow interrupted. “They now live in our old homebase. Their old land is now open to whoever wants it.”

  Xhosa kept her hands calm. “There are too many of them to abandon it. They will keep both.” She paused to look around. “We either choose a challenging path without Big Heads, the one laid out by my father, or the easy one Rainbow describes which is also the home of Big Heads. Everyone speak your mind.”

  Her father allowed no discussion but that wasn’t her way.

  One warrior asked, “What is it like up there?”

  “Dry at first, according to my father, with no herds and few grassy areas, but it ends in a vast sea rich with food and water.”

  “We can fish,” someone offered.

  “Are Others there?”

  “Or Big Heads?”

  An elder stood. “None of you remembers the journey to our last home. It was like this, much grumbling, worries we would never find a new home, and then it became the best home we ever had. I am content with Leader Xhosa’s decision.”

  Xhosa waited but got no more comments, until Rainbow stepped forward.

  “I explored the land to Sun’s sleeping nest. I saw no Big Heads there—”

  “No, that’s not true,” Nightshade interrupted. “Xhosa and I have seen their massive size, as many as would cover the Great Waterhole. We have talked often as a People of leaving, going where Big Heads aren’t. This is our time to do that.”

  Nightshade’s hand motions, augmented with clicks and snaps, made it clear he bristled at Rainbow’s bald bid for leadership. She and Nightshade both saw Rainbow as a disruptive force but his ability to speak well and relate to others made him dangerous.

  Lyta chirped the sound of a night bird.

  Rainbow continued, “Your own father told us travel further along this Rift was perilous. Why not go where we will find mother mammoth filled with babies, grasslands flowing with food—”

  “And Big Heads.” Nightshade interrupted, voice commanding, presence dominating. “Do you not listen?”

  Rainbow frowned but thoughtfully as though he led the discussion. “But we are powerful, Nightshade. They split their forces. We will have no problem defeating them. You know that.”

  The group buzzed when some of Nightshade’s warriors nodded at Rainbow. The Lead Warrior clenched and unclenched his fists, his face redder with each breath.

  Sa-mo-ke motioned to the dissenters, hands high and strong, “My People know first-hand that there are many Big Head tribes, all vicious. Even if Rainbow is right, that this particular Big Head tribe is not as powerful, there are others, especially for those entering the heart of their territory.”

  Snake stood by Sa-mo-ke. “I too prefer the unknown to Big Heads.”

  As the debate continued, Rainbow emerged as the voice of the opposition, offering a safe choice if not a good one. Xhosa shook her head. Rainbow held much promise as a warrior but lacked basic common sense. When still a subadult, he had challenged Stone, huge even then, taunting that the galumphing oversized male the size of a baby mammoth was too slow. Stone walked away, laughing, so Rainbow blindsided him and broke his jaw. Most warriors would quit but not Stone. He pivoted, his entire being spewing fury and revenge, hand tight on his warclub, and swung so hard it broke Rainbow’s shoulder. The smaller male squealed as his knees buckled. Stone roared, spittle spewing over Rainbow, and stomped on Rainbow’s hand, smashing his fingers. Words slurred, he ordered Rainbow to stay down. Every warrior left with Stone.

  Both males healed, leaving Stone with a crooked smile that made him look meaner.

  It was time for Xhosa to exert her control as Leader. She prepared to interrupt the warrior talking—something about pregnant females suffering from the difficult travel—when Nightshade did it for her.

  “That direction, where Rainbow would lead you, offers no cover if—when—you are pursued by an enemy. Here, the Rift may be harsher travel but it provides many ravines for hiding. It cuts between promontories as well as boulder beds that offer concealment.”

  With this, many warriors closed on Nightshade.

  Ant moved in front of the crowd. “Of course what Leader Xhosa proposes is dangerous, but Big Heads are worse. And when did we ever run from danger?” He sat, everything said.

  Murmurs filled the audience. Nightshade proved many times he could keep the People safe.

  Xhosa motioned to Pan-do. “What of you and your People?”

  He rose to his feet and addressed the gathering. “My People have traveled for many moons. We are never sure of security or food. When we don’t find it, we move on.” All listened without making a sound. “Here’s what you should be thinking about. What will you do when faced with a problem no one’s ever seen? Who will guide you wisely when those who did so in the past are not there? You survive by staying together under the right leadership. The size of this tribe makes us strong.”

  Into the silence, Lyta’s voice sang, “The size of our tribe makes us strong. He speaks the truth.”

  Pan-do’s group murmured agreement.

  Nightshade added, “Rainbow cannot protect you.”

  Rainbow bristled. “No, Nightshade, you are wrong. You yourself declared me a warrior.” Rainbow’s voice came out a whine. “But we need not all make the same choice.”

  Rainbow’s divisive message resonated with those weary of conflict, who wanted to live peacefully as they had their entire adulthood. Her father, when he led, destroyed invaders. As a result, peace prevailed. Resources and ideas were shared. Conflicts became distant memories. Rainbow thought this peaceful life existed everywhere, not understanding it depended on one man’s indomitable will.

  She dismissed him. Many of the People would accept the difficult route without question. The warriors would stay with Nightshade and the females and children with those who protected them.

  She spread her arms wide, palms down, and all eyes rotated to her. “We leave tomorrow. At the foothills, those who wish can go with Rainbow. The rest of us will travel along the Rift to the fertile land promised by my father. Each will decide for themselves at the separation point.”

  Chapter 21

  The rain ended and the People started their journey, searching for food, healing herbs, and water along the Rift though there was little to find. Rainbow tried to insert himself with the Leaders of the migrating group was shunted aside. He dropped back, walking with Mbasa until she left to join Red-dit.

  With each passing day, stomachs growled louder, throats parched drier, and spirits sank. Only Pan-do’s People remained upbeat. Not only were they experienced with endless walking but Pan-do had gotten them through much worse.

  The closer they got to the point the two groups would separate, the more intense the heat, the air almost too thick to breathe. Sweat poured down Xhosa’s forehead, over her brow, and flattened her copious hair to her skin. Inviting glimpses of the sun-soaked grass where Rainbow would go taunted. Her path, a slight bend in the opposite direction, was—well, stark would be too kind a description. The land sneered at them with lofty jagged spikes punctuated with bubbling green pools and clouds of steam that burst from the many vents.

  Xhosa joined Pan-do as they rested one day in a tiny sliver of shade cast by a boulder. Every part of his body was damp with sweat but his eyes remained bright and relaxed. He greeted her and she smiled vaguely, enjoying the quiet of her feet and the slight breeze cooling her body. Her eyes stared ahead, shoulders drooping as she chewed her lip.

  Pan-do touched her arm. “No one thinks the journey will be easy but your father didn’t give up. We will do no less.”

  She wiped a hand across her brow and pushed a stray hair out of the way. “I can’t imagine what made him continue, Pan-d
o.”

  Their shadows had become long and dark by the time they arrived at the spot where they would separate. Xhosa walked along the column telling the People to stop for the night. The boulder they crowded around would protect them from unexpected attacks though the scouts had uncovered no evidence of Uprights or animals. The children collected brambled bushes and ate what food they carried before falling asleep.

  Clear cloudless skies greeted Xhosa the next morning, promising another sweltering day. She strode toward the valley that marked the People’s path and then crouched on her haunches to wait. Within moments, Rainbow strutted toward her leading a larger group than Xhosa expected. Some showed deep concern, others grinding fear, but most simply uncertainty. Children clung to parents and adults huddled together. No one wanted the People to separate but Rainbow’s arguments convinced many that heading away from this desolation presented the only chance for survival.

  She motioned, "Rainbow are you sure of what you do?"

  Without hiding his disdain, he strode toward a vast swath of lush green savanna. With a shrug, Xhosa set off along a route bounded on one side by the Rift and the other by scree slope. Nightshade joined her as did Sa-mo-ke, Snake, Ant, and most of the People’s warriors. Next came Pan-do, his group led by Wa-co and El-ga, the child Xhosa rescued.

  It surprised her when Mbasa, one of Nightshade's mates, chose Rainbow. Judging by the deep purple and orange bruises on her arms, chest, and legs, Nightshade beat her often, including last night. This worried Xhosa but not enough to intervene. With the People, if a male punished a female, the family alone must stop it. Mbasa’s parents were long dead, both taken by Sabertooth Cat.

  Xhosa wasn’t surprised when many of the pregnant females chose Rainbow’s easy route. She secretly applauded this. The arduous travel would slow them down which would hold up the entire group.

  “Rainbow,” Xhosa called after him. “Your group is too small. You are vulnerable.”