by Colin Dann
Moja lay huddled on the earth floor of the partly collapsed insect fortress and listened to the heavy drumming of raindrops above and around him. The storm’s strength increased by degrees so that soon the sound of torrential rain was all he could hear. As the moments passed he felt a little more secure but he didn’t dare to hope that the lions had dispersed.
The storm lasted a long time. When it finally eased Moja was cold, damp and muddy but still at liberty. The group of lions had deserted his refuge and he was free to leave. He backed out of the chamber, sneezed and shook his coat free of debris. A strong wind from the north had whisked the black clouds away and the land steamed as the sun reasserted itself.
Moja’s one thought was to track his father, but he had no way of knowing how to do it. He only knew that if he could catch up with Battlescars, the old male would lead him back to his family. Moja sniffed for clues. He smelt what he hoped was his father’s scent but it was so mixed up with the dominant scents of the three male usurpers that it was difficult to be sure. In any case the cub had no choice but to travel in a direction that took him away from the hostile pride. And as quickly as possible.
He set off in the direction he believed he detected Battlescars’s scent. ‘Wait for me, Father,’ he whispered. ‘If only you’d wait for me.’
After the rain, a dejected and morose Battlescars stepped from a thorn thicket in which he had dozed through the downpour. His proud and disdainful expression was gone now. Without his brother Blackmane’s support his supremacy was undermined. Faced with the prospect of further fighting such a short time after the terrible battle with Challenger, Battlescars’s resolve had weakened and he had settled for the easy way out. He had succumbed to the younger males’ threat, turned tail, and plodded away. He still held the small pride to the south, and was willing to be content with that. His territory and power diminished, Battlescars knew that one day he would be cast out altogether. Old would give way to new; age and experience to youth and muscle. His head held low against the glare and the heat, the once mighty dark-maned male comforted himself with the knowledge that Huru and Kimya would be sure to accept him back despite his reduced status. He had no heart to take the news of his humiliation to Blackmane. He believed his brother was dead; if not, he was almost certainly beyond help, and Battlescars grieved that he could take him no comfort. Instead, he headed straight for his remaining pride.
A Land-Rover from Kamenza bounced through mud and puddles fifty metres from the solitary lion. Joel, the assistant manager of the refuge centre, was looking once again for his precious lionesses and their cubs. He noticed new, major wounds on the old fighter’s sides, and followed him slowly and at a distance, stopping every so often to use his binoculars. Battlescars ignored the faint throb of the vehicle’s engine. He had long ago become accustomed to such noises. Joel nodded to himself with a wry smile as he watched Battlescars’s unwavering gait. Then he swung his glasses round in a wide arc, trying to pinpoint Huru and Kimya. He didn’t see them, but what he did see made him give an exclamation.
‘Well! Who can that be?’ He studied what appeared to be a lion cub, trotting confidently through some short grasses as if it knew exactly where it was going. Joel was excited. He dared not hope for too much. It could be any cub, after all; perhaps one temporarily separated from a larger group. If only he could get closer! He studied the terrain. It was fairly open; patches of scrub were easily avoidable. He put down his glasses and took the steering wheel again. Moving slowly and circumspectly, Joel managed to close the gap between himself and the cub. But the youngster detected the engine noise and showed alarm. As it turned its head slightly to check on the vehicle Joel let out a cry. He had recognised Moja.
‘So it is you! Alive and well too. Terrific! But why are you going that way? Your father isn’t. And where’s the rest of the pride?’
Joel was puzzled, and rightly so, because Moja, without realising it, was once more travelling in the opposite direction from the one he needed if he wanted to find Battlescars. Joel continued to follow at a discreet distance. He wanted to know where Moja was heading so that he could find him again. Already he could picture Annie’s joy at hearing the news. He was sure Simon would have no peace after that until he had taken his daughter to see the stray cub for herself. But Joel wasn’t happy about Moja’s apparently aimless direction.
‘Where is he heading?’ he muttered as the cub veered off on another path. ‘I don’t think he knows. Surely he hasn’t been wandering about like this all along, unable to find his family?’ It did seem possible and Joel considered whether it was ethical to intervene. In the game park Nature had to have a free hand, yet Joel felt himself to be so intimately bound up with the lives of Huru and Kimya that he had a particular sympathy for the poor lost cub. He wrestled with the problem, continuing to follow cautiously but at the same time as closely as he dared.
It was the worst thing he could have done. Moja knew the vehicle was following him and it made him nervous. He had been well protected from the sight of humans and their vehicles at close quarters. His mother had seen to that as he and her other cubs grew up. The noise of a car engine to a lion’s keen hearing was unsettling. Now Moja lost all track of his intentions in his effort to get away from it. He forgot about his father and his attempt to join him. He tried running one way, then another, but nothing seemed to shake the Land-Rover off. Then he panicked. He was still just a cub, after all, and Joel realised too late that he was the cause of Moja’s strange behaviour. By then Moja was bounding blindly towards a wide and fast-flowing river.
Joel stopped the vehicle at once and turned off the engine, cursing himself for his stupidity. ‘What on earth was I thinking of?’ he cried aloud. ‘Whatever’s going to happen now?’
He lost sight of Moja and jumped out of the car. ‘He’s heading for big trouble that way,’ he told himself, ‘and I’ve caused it. So I’ve got to help now if I can, whether I like it or not.’ He abandoned the Land-Rover and plunged ahead on foot. Picking his way through the shorter grasses, he made the best speed he could.
Moja was running scared and attracting attention. There were hyenas about and, nearer the river, the pack of hunting dogs that had stolen Challenger’s kill. A young unprotected animal, even a lion, and running free like Moja, was bound to be of interest to predators. The cub was in mortal danger and Joel was powerless to help. He saw the hyenas swing into a loping chase ahead and, although he couldn’t now see Moja, he guessed what they were after. The hunting dogs kept their distance this time. A pack of hyenas was just about the most tenacious of all the game park’s predators and was to be avoided. But another hunter, a solitary one, was lying drowsing on a branch of a commiphora tree overhanging the river and was right in Moja’s path.
The cub was approaching the water. He heard the hyenas’ cries and his fright was the only thing that kept his tired lungs and legs going flat out. He spied the commiphora tree with its twisted branches and knew it was his best chance of escape. He had just enough breath and strength to leap upwards to safety before the hyena pack came milling around the tree’s base, whooping their shrill eerie cries. On a higher branch the lone hunter – a female leopard – awoke with a start. She saw the gasping lion cub at once and bared her teeth in a warning, her spotted face full of fury. Hyenas were her enemy, often stealing her kills, and now Moja had brought a pack of them to her roost. Her lithe, muscular body bunched together as tense as a coiled spring and her long tail flailed angrily. She snarled at Moja and lashed out with one paw. The cub gathered himself to jump clear. Between the hyenas on the ground and the leopard in the tree he saw the river not as a barrier but as his sole escape route. He leapt outwards and landed in an awkward heap on the bank. Quickly recovering himself, he half slid and half sprang into the water. The current caught him and bundled him along, carrying him from the place of danger but threatening to submerge him.
Moja fought to keep his head above water as he was carried out from the bank towards midstream. H
is weary legs paddled in vain, making no impression on the direction the river wanted to take him. However, there was slacker water ahead and he finally came to rest against what he thought was a large rock. The cub’s inert body, washed to and fro by the ripples, bumped gently against this obstruction while he gasped for breath. Suddenly the object reared up, revealing the massive head and body of a hippo who had been contentedly wallowing in the shallow water close to the bank. Moja found himself on its leathery back. He hastily scrambled clear and ended up on the opposite side of the river from where he had begun.
For a while, completely exhausted, he simply lay still. He knew without having to think about it that he was farther away from his family than ever. Somehow he had crossed this moving water and if he was ever to rejoin his pride he had to find a way of crossing back again.
—6—
Mother and Calf
Joel returned to his vehicle very downhearted. He hadn’t seen Moja again. It had been too dangerous to approach the hyenas and he could only calculate the most likely outcome of events. He didn’t believe Moja could have escaped the pack and he bitterly regretted his own part in what he feared was the youngster’s death. How quickly his joy of discovering the lion cub had given way to gloom and despondency. Now he had to relate the sad tale to his superior, Simon Obagwe.
‘I’ll swear him to secrecy as far as poor Annie is concerned,’ Joel decided. ‘She mustn’t know about this.’
Back at Kamenza his gloomy face brought immediate questions from Simon. Joel described what had happened. Simon remained quiet while he listened, nodding occasionally.
‘I see,’ he said afterwards. ‘Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself. And in any case you don’t know for sure if the cub is dead.’ He put a hand on Joel’s shoulder. ‘Time will tell. Until then …’
Joel began, ‘Annie—’
‘I know,’ Simon said. ‘Not a word.’
*
When Moja had recovered a little from his ordeal, he knew the first thing he needed to do was to get under cover somewhere. After a succession of alarms and dangers all he wanted was a period of quiet while he took stock of his situation. He was farther from home than ever and he didn’t know what perils might be lurking on this side of the water. He was very, very tired and he got to his feet to look for a place to rest. He was wary of trees now and he remembered the hole in the rocks by Challenger’s boulder. Somewhere as secure as that, no matter how smelly, was what he wanted.
He went slowly along the bank. There was a sort of rocky point, he discovered, that overhung the river. He thought there should be a hole in or around it somewhere that he could squeeze himself into. And there was; in fact there were several. So Moja was able to reject the foulest ones, which reeked of other creatures’ droppings, and to choose one that was a little sweeter. He lay down and, with a grateful sigh, fell fast asleep.
It was dark when he awoke. He had slept a long time and he felt a lot better, apart from being ravenously hungry. He hadn’t far to go to solve that problem. A scrabbling noise in one of the rock crevices drew him quickly from his den. Moments later he had killed the scrabbler – a mongoose – and was devouring it safely in his refuge.
Moja was content to lie low. He felt stronger and he was growing in confidence after emerging from his spate of adventures unharmed. But he didn’t relish facing any more difficulties for a while and he simply had no idea how he was going to meet the challenge of crossing the river. He slept again until thirst eventually drove him back to the water’s edge. After drinking deeply he stood watching the flow. At that point it was comparatively sluggish, but Moja was unable to recognise this. All he could remember was how he had been swept along once he had dropped into it, and he didn’t wish to repeat the experience.
‘I may have to stay on this side,’ Moja thought to himself. How lonely that made him feel. ‘No. No, that’s impossible,’ he decided. ‘There must be something or somebody who can help.’
It wasn’t so easy looking for help, though. Moja’s only friends were the members of his own pride. Even Challenger had turned out to be an adversary and anyway he, like Moja’s family, was on the wrong side of the river. Moja returned once more to his refuge and lay there, feeling increasingly miserable. He longed for companionship, yet he knew there was an almost insurmountable barrier to his finding it again. Sleep claimed him once more. The next time he awoke he heard, close by, animal sounds in the river.
It was light again. Moja emerged from his den and crept to the nearer side of the promontory. He saw an adult black rhinoceros slurping water from the river as she stood up to her neck in the current with every appearance of enjoyment. A rhino calf was lying in a patch of mud closer inshore, apparently oblivious of the fact that a pair of oxpecker birds were using him as a dining-table. They were jabbing their beaks into folds in his skin and even around his mouth and nostrils in their search for ticks and insects. The calf seemed to be having a snooze. Moja crept closer. He felt there was no threat here. But as he did so the mother rhino gave a snort and turned her head towards him. Her little short-sighted eyes tried to focus as she sniffed the air. She was always wary of the smell of lion. Moja paused, making the rhino unable to distinguish his small body from its surroundings.
‘Where are you, lion?’ she snuffled. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
The calf awoke and struggled to his feet. Moja was closer to him than the adult and the two youngsters stared at each other. Neither felt uneasy about the other. In fact, the young rhino was very inquisitive and moved nearer.
‘Be careful, son. Lion!’ the mother warned him. ‘I can smell it.’
The calf was about three-quarters her size and therefore much bigger than Moja. He called back, ‘And I can see it, Mother Kifaru. It’s tiny.’
‘Not so very tiny,’ Moja countered. ‘At least, not for a lion.’
The adult rhino hoisted herself out of the water and lumbered towards them. Now she saw Moja properly and, seeing only a cub, imagined the rest of the pride to be nearby. ‘Come on,’ she said to the calf. ‘Lions are bad news. We must move on and find another place to wallow.’
The calf was disappointed. He never encountered other young rhinos so the young of any creature offered some kind of compensation. ‘Wait, Mother Kifaru. He’s here by himself.’ He turned to Moja for corroboration. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Moja replied sadly. ‘I lost my family a while back. I’ve been trying to find them.’ A thought struck him. ‘How did you get across the river?’ he asked. ‘I think I’ve seen you before, but not on this side.’
‘We walked across, of course,’ Kifaru told him. ‘What a foolish question.’
Moja stared. ‘Across that?’ he gasped. ‘But how could you?’
‘It was much lower then,’ the calf explained. ‘Why are you so interested?’ He gave a little skip which dislodged the oxpeckers.
‘I want to cross it,’ Moja explained.
‘Oh. Then you’ll have to wait until after the rainy season,’ said Kifaru. ‘Sometimes it almost dries up altogether.’
‘How long will it be until then?’ Moja asked at once.
‘Who can tell? You’ll have to be patient.’
Moja looked crestfallen. ‘Is that my only chance?’
The rhino calf watched the oxpeckers flit away. ‘Yes. Unless you turn into one of those.’
Moja failed to be amused. The idea of waiting for the river to dry up was just too daunting.
The young rhino tried to cheer him up. ‘Don’t be depressed. Can you swim?’
‘Well, yes, a little, of course,’ Moja replied hesitantly. ‘But I’ve been in that water and it sort of took control of me. It was very frightening.’
‘You’ve been in it?’ Kifaru echoed. ‘But why?’
‘I had to escape from a pack of hyenas. And a leopard,’ Moja added and shuddered.
‘Poor young creature,’ Kifaru said with sympathy. ‘And no adult to help you. How long have you been on your own?’<
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Moja reflected and sighed deeply. ‘It seems almost for ever,’ he murmured sadly.
‘Can’t we help the little lion?’ the young rhino asked his mother. He imagined what life would be like if he were on his own with no parent to protect him.
‘I don’t know, son,’ she replied dubiously. ‘What could we do?’
‘Couldn’t we perhaps look after him a bit? You know – until he finds his family again?’
‘You can’t look after anybody,’ his mother told him. ‘You have to be looked after yourself. And that’s a difficult enough job with all the dangers and threats around here – drought and predators and humans with their terrifying weapons.’
‘Oh, Mother. Humans with terrifying weapons? There hasn’t been anything like that since I was born. You told me so yourself. The only humans I’ve seen have never come close. They just sit watching us.’
‘It only needs one of the other kind to come back for that to change again,’ Kifaru reminded him. She had lived through a period when poachers had brought rifles into the game park to slaughter rhino and elephant for horn and ivory. It was never out of her memory. ‘We seem to be the last black rhinos here,’ she continued, moving closer to her calf. ‘I shall be content to see you grow to adulthood and independence. My job will be done then.’
Moja had listened carefully. ‘Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?’ he asked the young rhino.
‘No. No relatives,’ he answered sorrowfully.
‘Rhino calves are born singly,’ his mother explained. ‘When I was younger there were more of our kind here. But they disappeared one by one, slaughtered by men. All of them, I believe. I’ve never lost my fear of humans, no matter how peaceful they might seem.’
‘What happened to your father?’ Moja asked the young rhino.
‘Slaughtered like the rest, my mother taught me. I never knew him.’
