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 a
bout. 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-”
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