“Fire!”
Hawk gasped. He touched his finger to the blaze and jerked away, skin already blistering.
“It is like ours.”
His head swiveled between Zvi and Seeker with a new respect. Nightshade shook his head while staring at his feet.
“One-called-Zvi, go with Water Buffalo and do the same magic to our fire pit.”
By the time Xhosa and Hawk entered his communal cave, a huge fire blazed, eating the dry tinder and reaching for the roof. Nightshade’s eyes snapped open and his muscles tightened though he didn’t retreat. One of Hawk’s warriors tossed tree limbs into the flames from a nearby pile. Xhosa tried to withdraw but Hawk held her arm.
“See the stones around the pit? Fire cannot burn stone or dirt.”
Xhosa thought of the one that chased her People down the Rift. It burned out at the cliff, bare of plants or scrubbrush. Relaxing, she realized that inside this cave was as warm as her homeland, and more comfortable than her People’s caves.
Hawk patted a spot next to him. “You rest there, as a Leader.”
Xhosa nodded and motioned, “Pan-do is also a Leader.”
Hawk looked surprised but motioned Pan-do to his other side and then Zvi and Seeker to Xhosa’s side. Across from them stood Nightshade, Water Buffalo, Sa-mo-ke, and many of the groups’ warriors. Xhosa squatted, knees touching the cave floor, butt resting on her feet. She breathed in, catching sweat, baby dung, burning wood, and ash. When everyone settled by the flames, Spirit tucked in between Zvi and Spirit, a hare in his mouth. The smell of wet fur wafted heavily over everyone.
Hawk asked Zvi, “He has no fear of fire?”
Zvi smiled. “He has known fire since a pup. It is as natural to him as me.”
“Does he share what he hunts?”
“Of course, as I do with him.”
“And he helps you hunt?”
Zvi’s face lit up. “He can drive prey over a cliff or towards us. And he’s agile—never injured by hooves or teeth. I came from a tribe the size of yours. It took all our hunters to kill enough meat. Seeker and Spirit and I do this alone.”
Hawk cocked his head, intrigued, as was Xhosa. Nightshade too listened intently.
Hawk motioned, “How did you partner with a wolf?”
“Spirit was a tiny pup when his mother was killed by hyaena. When I stopped them from killing him, he allowed me to be his pack.”
Spirit heard his call sign and alerted, tail wagging. Zvi patted between his ears and he settled his big head on the hare.
Hawk looked like he would ask more questions but Zvi leaned over to speak to Seeker so Hawk turned to Xhosa.
“How do you stay warm without coverings?”
“My homeland is much warmer than this, even during the rain.” She rubbed her palm over the skin that adorned Hawk’s body. It was Cat’s fur, the entire pelt.
“Though this would also keep the flying and biting insects off.”
“Here,” and he tossed one to her. “For the meat you brought.”
Xhosa held the skin on her lap, enjoying the warmth on her legs and chest, until Hawk bent over, his hand brushing her leg, and looped it over her neck. He smoothed her hair over the pelt, taking longer than necessary, and moved his hands to her knees.
“We put a hole at the top so it rests easily around your shoulders.”
Sun warmed her body though that was impossible. It slept. “I feel it!”
Hawk guffawed and then hid it with a grin.
When he began eating, so too did everyone. They shared equally the meat, plants, seeds, berries, snails, ants, and more. As Xhosa ate, Hawk’s leg comfortably pressing against hers, she paid attention to his warriors. They ate but never stopped checking the cave’s entrance, ears perked for out of place sounds. One remained outside, spear and warclub ready. They were tough and devoted to their Leader, much like her warriors.
So why did Nightshade disapprove?
Hawk finished the meal and then cleared his throat. Silence fell over the group.
He motioned, “Tell us your story, Xhosa. How did you end up so far from your homeland?”
She told of her People’s peaceful life until the Big Heads drove them away.
Hawk interrupted. “Big Heads—who are these?”
She described them, the oddity of their over-sized heads, their control of fire, and their far-throwing stone-tipped spears.
“I don’t smell them here.”
Hawk eyed each of his warriors and all shook their heads.
Xhosa slumped, relieved.
“We are not without our own enemies here, Leader Xhosa.” His hand moved rigidly, his body tense. Some deep part of Xhosa’s brain sensed a danger greater than Big Heads, but Hawk changed the topic.
“Your People are the first to come here since I was a child. We considered the Crocodile River uncrossable. How did you do that?”
“We had to or be eaten by the cannibals. We hoped this land would welcome us.”
“I am amazed so many of your People survived Crocodile River. Your Lead Warrior—Nightshade—must be powerful.” He smiled at the sturdy male who showed nothing. Only Xhosa recognized his pleasure at the compliment, which made Water Buffalo grind his teeth.
Hawk motioned, “And the cannibals?”
“They killed only a few scouts.”
He couldn’t hide his shock. “How was that possible?”
“Pan-do,” and nodded toward the Leader who had no idea he was now the topic of conversation, too busy whispering to his daughter who crouched by the wolf, one hand petting his furry neck.
Xhosa saw Pan-do as Hawk must—too slender to defend himself, muscles weak, without a basic awareness of his surroundings to notice all eyes were now on him. Hawk would consider him bereft of the commanding presence required of a Leader. His cleverness could only be judged in the context of his peaceful approach and the loyalty of his people—that they would fight to the death for him. Xhosa wondered about explaining that but decided to let Hawk discover it himself, as she had.
When the group fell silent, Pan-do glanced up quizzically.
“Pan-do tricked the cannibals by coughing into a hand he blooded with his cutter. They thought—who wouldn’t—that he was sick.”
Hawk jerked upright. “I know this illness.”
Xhosa placed her hand on his arm. “He is healthy. It was to persuade them to release us.”
Pan-do interceded, “I mimicked the symptoms I’ve seen in one of our females.”
At Hawk’s increased distress, Pan-do added, “We left her at our camp. She knows to stay away from others, whether coughing or not.”
Hawk harrumphed, satisfied for the moment, and motioned to Zvi and Seeker, “I know of no one who traveled as far for as long as you. How did you do this?”
Zvi told how they fled their home after a ball of fire fell from the sky and burned everything—trees, homes, people, and animals.
“It killed my best friend, Giganto. He was taller than you, Hawk, and wider than the one called Stone, but gentle. In all the places Seeker and Spirit and I have seen, never have I found more of his kind. Maybe because he eats only bamboo.”
“What is this ‘bamboo’?”
When Zvi finished explaining, Xhosa motioned, “Did you see Big Heads as you traveled?”
“Similar creatures confronted us.” Zvi opened and closed his hands over and over to indicate how many. “But when they saw we were protected by a blue-eyed wolf, they fled, calling him a ‘spirit’. That’s how he got his name.”
“What is a spirit?”
Zvi chewed her cheek and gulped but Lyta answered, “A formidable invisible creature that appears out of thin air. A Spirit protects any he chooses.”
Zvi looked surprised at her description and Seeker slapped his hands together. Zvi motioned, “They passed the word to other tribes and no one bothered us. Many even left us food.”
“An offering to Spirit.” Lyta motioned, not a shred of doubt in her movements.
>
The wolf cracked an eye, huffed a sigh, and returned to sleep, nose touching Zvi, paw on Lyta’s lap, and tail curled around his body.
“What happened to your leg, Seeker?”
He mumbled about a snake and an injury and how dizziness made him fall and seemed to think that made sense. Zvi watched her friend as though entranced by his every move. When he finished, Zvi bobbed her head up and down.
“A snake did bite Seeker but that healed long ago. This injury happened when he fell into a crevice and broke his leg.
Xhosa regarded first Zvi and then Seeker, who busily drew his finger through the dirt at his feet. “How did he climb with such an injury?”
“Nothing stops him.”
Seeker chanted, “Unhurriedly,” and he leaned into Lyta.
Zvi continued, “We tied a tree limb to his leg to keep it straight and made a crutch out of two forked branches.”
Xhosa was impressed. “I’ll call you for broken legs.”
When Zvi talked of their travels, over areas empty of people, rich with animals, and dappled in sparkling waterholes, he made it sound like the adventure of a lifetime. Nightshade was repelled but most stared in awe, intoxicated by the stories. None had seen so many different lands, such an array of tribes and Others. Xhosa had trouble believing what she heard but why would they lie?
Lyta scooted to Xhosa. “Seeker will travel until he finds the stars. Then he intends to settle with me.”
Again, Lyta spoke lucidly when her topic was Seeker.
Xhosa asked, “Tell us your story, Leader Hawk?”
Hawk nodded agreeably but motioned instead to Pan-do. “First, Pan-do, tell us how you ended up with the Xhosa People?”
Pan-do rolled to his haunches and began.
“When our Leader died, I became Leader because no one else offered. During the rainy time, a small band of Big Heads stumbled into our camp, starving. We fed them and welcomed them to our territory. Others came, whole tribes, and soon they outnumbered us. It didn’t take long before they insisted we leave our caves; they needed the room for more of their Others. When we refused, they slaughtered our few warriors—none with the skills of Nightshade or Water Buffalo—and we faced the decision to allow more to die or flee.”
He didn’t need to clarify their choice.
“When we entered Xhosa’s territory, she welcomed us. As importantly, Lyta felt we were safe with her, that Xhosa would lead us along the Rift to a new home. Among our People, that is important.”
Xhosa needed to ask something that had bothered her since they met. “Pan-do. Lyta’s call sign is nothing like any among your People.”
“All my pairmate told me was that Lyta discovered her name in a dream.”
Xhosa stiffened. How could that be? ‘Lyta’ was similar to the call sign of the ancient female in her dreams, Lucy. A hint of a smile crossed Lyta’s face, as though she read Xhosa’s thoughts and enjoyed her confusion.
Hawk interrupted her next question with his own. “What is this Rift you speak of?”
Xhosa motioned, “A massive deep chasm with steep, jagged walls. We didn’t run into the cannibals until we crossed it, trying to find a way across the Endless Pond.”
“Our Endless Pond?”
“Yes but another part of it.”
Hawk turned to Pan-do. “So if not for Xhosa and her Lead Warrior, you would be dead? Is that what you’re saying?”
Pan-do’s face paled. Before he could correct Hawk, the Leader marched outside, beckoning. Pan-do followed, face pensive, worry lines framing his mouth. Xhosa joined them, not sure what to expect.
Without the fire to light the cave, the night sky was as black as Leopard. Even Moon and its subdued light had not yet arrived.
Hawk squared off to Pan-do, his body steady and cold. “Those unable to wield a warclub are worthless to us, Leader-named-Pan-do.”
Xhosa strode to Pan-do. “He has proved his worth to me, Hawk. Without his cleverness, the cannibals would have eaten us.”
Hawk heard her without acknowledgment.
Xhosa added, “My Lead Warrior, Nightshade, considers him a valued hunting partner.” No need to add that despite Pan-do’s skill with throwing stones and spears, Nightshade disliked him.
Nightshade approached. “I have seen him outrun prey.”
Hawk perked at that, a flash of anger brightening his eyes. “We run over that hill, to the tallest tree and back. If you beat me, you are welcome to stay with my People.”
He drew a line in the dirt at their feet and pulled Pan-do behind it, to his side.
Xhosa was angry. “He doesn’t know the way as you do, Hawk, and it is too dark!”
Pan-do chuckled, “If I am as clever as you say, Leader Xhosa, I will figure it out.”
Without warning, Hawk took off. Pan-do grinned and sprinted after him. He ran with a speed and joy Xhosa had never seen in a runner. He said for those brief steps, he could outrun his memories. In no time, the pounding feet, the rustle of bushes, and the occasional hoots of disturbed animals disappeared.
Lyta bumped against Xhosa. She expected the girl to worry but heard only a yawn.
“He will win. He always wins,” and sauntered over to squat next to Spirit.
Xhosa shivered despite the skin. By the time Moon appeared for its nightly travels, the pounding of fast-moving feet reappeared, two sets, one measured and smooth, the other clomping erratically as though the owner could barely continue. Slowly, the blurry smudges took shape in the darkness. Pan-do was in front and Hawk close but hunched over, driving forward on willpower alone, breath nothing more than labored wheezing.
As they came within a spear throw, Hawk closed the distance and the two crossed the finish line together. Hawk doubled over, chest heaving. Pan-do sauntered over to his daughter and Spirit, his brow damp but breathing calm.
When Hawk recovered, he motioned to Pan-do, “You are a worthy opponent and welcome to the Hawk People.” His face showed no anger and much appreciation for a well-fought skirmish. Without another word, he re-entered the cave and crouched at his original spot by the fire.
When Xhosa rejoined him, he leaned toward her. “You are right. This Pan-do is clever. He sees in the dark, never stumbled, and made less noise than I. He is also smart enough to know not to embarrass the one who may provide his future.
“I like him. My warriors may be stronger but he is clever.”
As Pan-do squatted beside Hawk, the Leader beckoned, “Tell us how you see in the dark!”
Pan-do’s face flushed, not from the run but with embarrassment. Spirit settled next to him, licking his skin with a gusto.
“I heard the bushes sway and felt the change in the air when rocks rose in my path but really, all I did was follow you, Leader Hawk. You showed me how to get there. Then, I knew how to return.”
He fixed Hawk with a straight-forward, honest gaze. “You are fast. It was close.”
Hawk guffawed, face bright with pleasure. “People of Xhosa and Pan-do, you may stay, in your caves or with us.”
Xhosa wanted to hear Hawk’s story but he made it clear the meal was over.
Just outside of the cave, Hawk caught up. “The coughing illness of your female—it killed many among my People before we discovered a treatment. Tomorrow, we go to harvest the herbs.”
With that, he re-entered his People’s cave and its warm fire.
Xhosa headed back to the People’s cave, wondering at the feeling inside her body. Hawk’s confidence, his conviction that he was right, even his open-minded attitude, were traits she had admired in her father, but this other sensation—it frightened her. Never, not with Nightshade or anyone else, had her body tingled as it did now.
Then there was Seeker—he made no sense. His relentless need to ‘find the stars’ drove him onward despite Moons of travel through strange and dangerous lands. Didn’t he know they were overhead?
With a mental flick, she dismissed the question. What pushed him—and his friends—mattered nothing to her.
Nightshade joined her. “What do you think about these Others—Seeker and Zvi?”
“It is not up to us. If Hawk accepts them, so too shall I. The one called Zvi and his ability to make fire—I think Hawk wants that.”
Nightshade scoffed. “He wants more than a stone that creates a flame.”
Xhosa tried to see his face but his head drooped. “We must be patient.”
“Of course. I will get to know Hawk’s warriors. If the time comes they reject us, I will be prepared to conquer them. This will be our home, Xhosa, of that you can be sure.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “He will accept us. I feel it, Nightshade. Together, we are more commanding than either alone.”
“The People are already commanding!” and he stomped off. Xhosa stared after him, wanting to call out but instead, pressed her lips into a tight line. Did he think a Leader of Hawk’s physical strength and charisma, with the unquestioned loyalty of his people, would replace her Lead Warrior?
If so, he was wrong.
As her thoughts drifted into darkness, warm under the mammoth skin, something pulled her back from sleep. She slit her eyes to see Seeker dancing in the moonlight wearing only the loin-skin, eyes closed as he bounced on the balls of his feet, crooning something Xhosa couldn’t make out. If the cold bothered him, he hid it. His naked body glowed like the white rhino on a moonless night. Never was anyone so happy.
At his feet, the wolf Spirit danced with him, huffing, nipping at his pack member as he might a sibling. And
From Pan-do’s cave, a pair of dark eyes watched with occasional giggles.
Chapter 43
Hawk nudged Xhosa awake.
“You killed many animals. Their hides must be treated before they spoil. Water Buffalo will take your females to our cave. My females will explain how to turn skins into coverings for your people.
“Seeker and Zvi will take your Lead Warrior Nightshade and others to harvest firestones.”
Xhosa rubbed her eyes. “I thought Seeker and Zvi were going to teach you hunting with the wolf, Spirit.”
“That will wait. Your female must be cured or allowed to die. I won’t risk infecting my People,” and he left, heading toward the open fields, not bothering to see if she joined him.
Survival of the Fittest Page 24