Chapter 15

Deadly Encounters

Eku woke later than normal, probably because sleep within the dense palm grove was so peaceful.

Waka-waka cycles of debris formed a thick platform, but despite that, the ground had a bounce. The top-most layer was dried and crumbled to softness, not unlike feathers over a network of dense roots that formed a springy base.

Unfortunately, there was only so much space within the comfy grove and the mothers and young people were awarded all the prime locations.

The previous night, Eku at first tried to get Yathi to sleep outside, to be close to the hunters, but Yat talked them into taking advantage of the grove.

Yat was right.

As always.

Still sleepy, Eku noted slivers of light through gaps in the leaflets.

Ulanga was already high!

Rubbed sleep from his face.

He never slept in.

Checked his sister and Yathi, still sleeping.

Stood and crept across the soft flooring, weaving around the dark pillars of tree trunks and stepping between bodies sprawled across bed mats to find the tunnel-like exit.

Emerged into bright light, the river spreading enormously, though the laza sky was even bigger.

There was a reversal to the normal plot line that morning.

Tiuti stood before Eku, obviously waiting and immediately motioned for Eku to come his way.

The old master always inspired strong feelings in Eku.

Krele told him that once weaned and taking part in harvest, Eku also began following Tiuti around.

Being so young, Eku could not remember.

Visiting Tiuti at least once each day was just something he had always done.

For some reason.

When he was old enough, Krele explained that it was isipo-kee!, which meant her grandfather revisiting the living world, through Eku.

Even as a baby, Eku was more curious than a vervet monkey and as soon as he could walk well enough, began chasing after Tiuti, especially when father was gone.

Eku figured that made sense.

Abantu revered their elders, after all.

Nevertheless, most young people were terrified of Tiuti; instead, Eku was drawn to the old master.

Krele’s grandfather was named Jeko.

Jeko and Tiuti were ikanabe.

Jeko died shortly before Krele became pregnant with Eku.

The elders of the southern shores often said that Tiuti and Jeko not only shared the special bond of ikanabe, but also shared the same brilliance of the mind.

Tiuti stood tall in the early morning light, wearing only his loincloth and necklace of small bones, skin weathered and sagged the way that elders’ did; though, his long limbs were lean with muscle, forearms heavily veined.

Eku said respectfully, “Ikiz-izik Tiuti.”

“We will talk.”

Worry was written all over Eku’s face as Tiuti strode away.

Jogged to catch up and fell into stride.

Tiuti paced them along the periphery of the encampment, on the side opposite the river.

Eku looked over his shoulder at huts clumped together, as though a herd of giant turtles climbed from the water to slumber beside a grove of feathered palm.

Ulayo changed the direction of her breath and Eku caught a whiff of the dung pit.

There were a lot of people here, for sure.

Excused himself and scampered over to a designated area to empty his bowel and bladder while Tiuti patiently waited.

The two continued, patrolling the camp’s circumference.

Almost like hunters, Eku thought.

Except real hunters patrolled outside the encampment, ensuring that nothing in the surrounding territory posed a danger.

The land around the encampment was huge, a sea of grass and palm bisected by the river, surrounded by low rolling hills.

Tiuti led them in a direction with the river off Eku’s right shoulder, the direction from which Ulanga was rising.

Before them, in the distance, the ridges that straddled either side of the water converged, so the river flowed between like a spear slicing a fruit into halves.

Eku eyed a group of ducks flying ahead in a v-shape, headed for the gap and thought of his father telling him that to face north, point your right shoulder at Ulanga, as soon as he rises.

A lone, gray heron, long and narrow with feet straight behind, glided from the northern horizon, slanted downward for a water landing.

The strange crows that lived in this land already circled above the Abantu encampment.

The clever birds knew that as soon as two-leggeds left a roost, there were interesting and tasty items left behind.

Auspiciously, a fish eagle soared above all the other birds.

Eku immediately recognized the shape, but watched until he caught a glimpse of the white head and had to stifle a yelp when he accidentally brushed against a patch of tall grass.

Thankfully, most plants in this part of Umawa were not dangerous; whereas, brush up against the wrong bush in the Abantu homeland, you are likely penalized by a nasty scratch or sting.

Being nervous made Eku clumsy.

He took a deep breath and let it out.

Sensing he was ready, Tiuti said, “You want to be a hunter, yes?”

Wary of such a pointed question, he quickly responded, “More than anything.”

“More than anything?”

Eku recalled Kotuta using a similar phrase at the waterfall. Well aware of the feelings he had for Ingwe (how could he not be?), he relished the fact that, despite her hold over him—or perhaps even more because of it!—he desired to be a hunter.

Which of course, made meeting Ingwe all the more spectacular.

Ever more perfect.

Eku could not stop daydreaming of a time when his eagle talon and her laza pendant would become entwined as they lay on top of each other and….

Tiuti allowed himself a brief smile as he looked fondly at the top of Eku’s closely shorn head.

Adopted a mock frown and snapped, “Eku, give me a reason why the giant lizards live here?”

A sharp move of the head and Eku looked up.

Caught off guard, he shrugged.

Tiuti scowled and snapped, “I want a reason. Give me one.”

Confused, Eku clicked he did not know.

Tiuti clicked back several times, sharp and rapid.

“This is their land,” Eku blurted. “Where they live. We never saw them before we came here.”

Now Tiuti gave him a look of disdain.

“Oh, you want to be a hunter, but you cannot even give me a reason that giant lizards live here and not anywhere else? Any reason?”

The two of them walked.

Eku used his mind furiously.

Tiuti wanted a reason?

No, he wanted Eku to calm down.

To use his mind instead of walking into things.

You must learn to put aside your nervousness to allow the mind to work properly, his father told him many times.

Focus.

“There are no lions,” Eku said. “Or hyenas or leopards.”

“Much better. That is one reason. Your father and I are sure there are other reasons.”

Tiuti shook his head and looked around with worry. “But we do not understand them, yet.”

Sounding skeptical, Eku asked, “Did the lizards make the lions and hyenas go away?”

“No. Something else kept the lions and hyenas out.”

Eku recoiled, knowing that could only mean a more powerful predator.

A predator more powerful than lions and hyenas were together.

“That is scary.”

“Yes, that is scary.”

And thinking of things that were scary, Eku said, “I want to be a hunter, more than anything.”

“What if the tribe asks you to be something else?”

Eku slowed and stopped.

Tiuti stepped past; stopped.

The old master turned and looked at Eku, who would not meet his gaze.

Tiuti sighed.

This was not easy for him, loving Eku the way he did.

But he also knew the greatness within this child was without limits.

And he knew he was doing the right thing.

For the tribe.

The grassy plain stretched all around.

Purple bristle grass rose along the water; along with it, the rasp and hiss of rubbers and shakers.

Eku felt something hot and heavy in his chest.

One of those silly lumps rose to his throat.

But he hadn’t cried in a long time.

Swallowed the lump down and scolded himself.

Whatever was going on, he needed to keep his wits about him.

Be strong.

Clever.

Like everyone always said he was.

Tiuti waited patiently.

Perhaps, were it not for constant exposure to the daily dance of Ulanga and Ulayo, his countenance would not seem so severe.

The old master sighed and looked away, to where Ulanga had risen over the ridgline.

The sky was pale laza, clear of clouds, but above the tallest, jungle-green mound, lonely, cumulus wafts gathered like wisps of smoke, iridescent, with glimpses of yellow and orange.

So that only Ulayo could hear, Tiuti whispered, “My child, what beckoned you here?”

Eku caught up and stood at Tiuti’s side.

Studied the old master’s profile, trying to figure out what was happening.

Tiuti, once so impossibly tall, was not anymore.

Krele and Shona had recently corralled him and cut his hair so it curled thin and white off the scalp.

The angle of light emphasized his wrinkles: crevices sloped from the corners of his mouth; furrows feathering from each eye; deep forehead lines above crazy curling eyebrows of white.

Why was Tiuti waiting for him this morning?

Still looking at the direction from which Ulanga rose, Tiuti said, “Eku kaleni-yana, you have followed me around like a pesky bug since you could walk.

“I know where your heart lies. I have heard you talk of being a hunter since you could not even mouth the words properly.”

Tiuti looked at Eku, staring back at him, eyes wide and fearful.

Fearful, because Tiuti understood that amongst Eku’s many gifts, this was the rare child growing into an adult who truly feared nothing—other than letting down the people he loved.

“Eku, we Abantu are special above all other beasts. You know that. We take food from both Uwama and Umawa. We benefit from both. We go where we want. Eat what we need. No other creature does that.”

He offered a rare smile and added, “Not even old seals who bask too long under the burning eye of Ulanga.”

Eku’s eyes widened and Tiuti chuckled.

Eku was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “The fish eagle takes prey from both water and land.”

Tiuti nodded and looked at Eku fondly.

“You have always wanted to be a hunter? Yes. Of course. Like your father. And you have always been clever.”

The old master shook his head, as though unsure of what to say or how to say it.

“Your father was a hunter. And then he became something more. And I think that is your destiny, only … Something different. Even greater.”

Tiuti shook his head once again.

Forced himself to quell his own sense of frustration.

Lately Tiuti had been feeling the weight of his age.

His body had slowed long ago and now, soon, his mind would follow.

His remaining days were limited.

Tiuti looked at Eku with his piercing gaze and said, “Eku, Wutota and I have learned so much from each other in a short time. With the tribes together now.”

Eku watched Tiuti closely and nodded.

Momentarily putting aside his angst, he was becoming intrigued, but still terribly worried.

What was so troubling that Tiuti, of all people, struggled for words?

The old master sighed and said in a way both dismissive and kind, “Responsibility, Eku. As your father learned. Not just to be a hunter. You are still young. You have time, but I do not.”

Eku said, “I want to be a hunter.”

Tiuti made a dismissive snort. Waved a hand with long fingers toward Ulanga.

Eku asked, “You mean you want me to be like a izik-kosa or benzi-kusela?”

“No Eku. This is a new land. We are a new tribe. A very large and very powerful tribe.

“You are to be something different. Perhaps something that does not even have a proper name yet.”

Eku felt confused.

Tears came to his eyes.

He was angry and didn’t know what to say.

“Look around you, Eku,” Tiuti commanded.

Eku reluctantly looked around.

The heron stalked the shallows.

The crows circled.

The ducks were mere specks.

But the fish eagle had disappeared.

“Eku, the tribe is going to ask you to be something other than a hunter. Something more.”

“What do you mean?”

Tiuti clicked flat, a way of saying no, but with special emphasis.

Tears came to his eyes because Eku understood why he would not answer such a question.

Because for an Abantu, the answer was obvious.

You serve the tribe first.

Always.

But Eku was desperate.

No other future was imaginable; yet, Tiuti, of all people, was going to ask him to be something other than a hunter?

Distraught, unable to stop warm tears from spilling down his face, Eku said, “What other honor is greater than wearing the talons of a fish eagle?”

“To serve the tribe,” Tiuti said firmly.

Unconsciously, Eku put a hand to his chest.

Tiuti saw and understood the gesture.

Laid a hand gently upon Eku’s shoulder and said, “Eku kaleni-yana, you will have a necklace that befits you one day.”

***

Krele lay awake, trying to figure out whether she actually enjoyed the rangy smell of the palm grove.

Thick and hearty.

Curiously though, this piece of Umawa’s earth remained devoid of life.

No termites or beetles or even ants!

Many flies and bees buzzed, but only above, where the leafage began.

Beneath the shelter and calm of the palms, sleep was undisturbed throughout the entire night.

Such a splendid shelter with dry and comfortable bedding without having to do any work!

No unexpected visits from crawling creatures that happened all too frequently when camping in unfamiliar territory.

Putting such fascinating thoughts aside, Krele began to plot travel preparations for the upcoming day, when Eku rose to disappear outside.

Krele sat up, looking at the tunnel-like entrance, knowing that Tiuti would be waiting for Eku outside.

Tiuti had finally asked Krele for permission to make Eku his apprentice.

Something she and Kaleni had felt for some time was coming.

Becoming izik-ikiz was perhaps the single, greatest honor for an Abantu.

The training was very demanding.

Tiuti intended to impart all that he had learned upon Eku in a short amount of time.

The old master was a legend across the southern shores.

During his extraordinarily long life, the wisdom of Tiuti and his inventions touched and improved the lives of waka-waka-waka people.

He once had a mate and they had a good and long life together, raising two children to adulthood, both female.

Kreki, the second born, was now isipo-bomi, a revered, elder mother, happy on the southern shores with adult children providing waka-waka grandchildren.

Tiuti was hard pressed to remain home, to spend his last days near Kreki and her brood, but chose to leave on the pilgrimage.

Yikuti was Tiuti’s firstborn.

There was a time that Tiuti hoped that Yikuti would be his protege; instead, she became something nearly as rare: zi-iz-kusela, a female who was a hunter.

Yikuti gained prestigious second and third talons while still young and became a scout, but disappeared with the party that was in search of the land of legend a generation prior to Kaleni’s scouting party.

The elders said that since Yikuti’s disappearance, Tiuti has never been the same.

Many of the elders thought Tiuti’s real motivation to join the pilgrimage was not to see the land of legend, but in the hope of finding a last connection to his lost child.

Krele crept through the thicket tunnel to emerge from the palm grove.

Looking around.

Located where Tiuti and Eku walked.

Krele knew that Tiuti loved Eku as if he were his own child; nevertheless, she worried over his motivation.

Typical of strong males, even Tiuti was blind to the power of his influence.

More importantly, nobody knew Eku better than his mother.

Krele remembered when informing Yat and Eku that their family was chosen for this great pilgrimage, Yat peppered her with all kinds of inquiries, while Eku’s only question was whether he could still be a hunter.

When she told him yes, he was perfectly fine with everything else.

In the coming days, Krele would keep an extra close eye on her youngest child.

***

After meeting with Tiuti, Eku’s heart was heavy with sadness.

As soon as he returned from his discussion with Tiuti, Eku was surprised to learn there would be no lingering, despite such a spectacular location; instead, the encampment was cleared after the first meal and the tribe was on the move.

Not long after they started, Eku got a better look at where the opposing ridges converged.

The ridges did not actually join; instead, the two sides formed the exit point through which the river departed the endless lake of freshwater.

Where they would enter the land of legend.

Once again the land had changed; hardwood forests grew close to the water, the trees reminding Eku of those encountered when camping close to mountains.

The large lizards were gone; though, the small ones were still darting to and from thickets of boxthorn.

Eku saw other familiar plants and beasts.

Hunters disappeared into the bush to return with fresh antelope and fowl.

While crossing from a wooded grove through a meadow of tall grass, the people were treated up close to a spectacular display of one of the magnificent flocks along shatsheli-lambo, which Eku first mistook for smoke.

Quiet and introspective throughout the early part of the day, Eku walked next to Yathi, who, having recognized his mood, knew best to wait and find out what was bothering him later.

They would talk when Eku was ready.

In the meantime, Yathi occupied the initial part of the day by explaining to Eku the many reasons they should never have left such a splendid sleeping spot after only one night.

His enthusiastic effort to entertain Eku with mindless chatter was interrupted by the most incredible flock of birds they had ever seen.

A moment for the entire tribe to remember.

Forever.

The meadow they crossed was a former floodplain, now permanently above the water line.

Flat.

Grass and scrub.

A scattering of first generation saplings.

The meadow was roughly oval shaped, surrounded by tall trees in all directions but the river.

Above, an endless sky of laza and puffy white clouds.

Eku and Yathi were fortunate to be close to the front when the land all around them seemed to explode.

Yelps rippled up and down the line.

Cries of fear, excited shouts and bellows of disbelief.

When thinking back, at first it seemed to Eku, that an enormous chunk of Umawa was somehow falling straight upward.

But it was birds.

Waka-waka-waka wings creating a sound like thunder, but softer; though, when an eruption of screeching accompanied a sky full of blurred wings, all the people ducked and recoiled.

A swirling confusion of motion rose around Eku, so dizzying that even the light of Ulanga was momentarily dimmed.

Both in a semi crouch, he and Yathi gazed up in awe.

Eku realized the birds were already coalescing.

Though the flock had the density of a locust swarm, there was no chaos; instead, the birds thickened into streams that twisted into channels to merge in a single great cloud only to immediately begin a spectacular display of ever-changing patterns

Like a great, roiling storm cloud the flock performed sponteneous sweeping and undulations before one last swooping plummet set the entire flock sweeping over the humans, who screamed and waved; though, their voices were drowned by the murmuring thunder of waka-waka-waka wings.

Up close Eku saw the birds were turaco shaped, but plain brown, without any vibrant colors.

Wistfully, he watched the birds billow away, knowing the sound of all those wings would stay with him long after his heart stopped racing.

While Eku remained sad, something was growing inside.

After talking with Tiuti, he had been terribly distraught and raced straight back to his mother.

Krele comforted Eku, clarifying what Tiuti truly intended—to make Eku an izik-ikiz, but a new kind, for the entire tribe.

Such an honor was difficult for Eku to perceive, while the crushing disappointment of not wearing the talon of a fish eagle was all too real.

Never in his life had Eku felt such sadness.

Not even when father was away.

Throughout the early part of the day, Eku remained quiet.

He did not say anything to Yathi or Ingwe.

Not yet.

The time had to be appropriate.

Shortly after the memorable encounter with the birds, low on supplies, the tribe set up a temporary encampment.

Fishing remained easy to the point of silliness.

Giant catfish simply drifted into the shallows to be speared by a javelin and young people jumped in the water and pushed the enormous carcasses onto land for butchering.

Eku marvelled at the Mantel hunters, using the ever-improved guka-ombe with impressive results.

Putting feathers on the tiny spears made them accurate over a much longer distance.

Making the weapon more formidable, the izik-kosa knapped off shards of isipo-gazi, then shaped and fitted the wickedly sharp barbs to the tiny spears, inspiring the Mantel to make more powerful stringed bows.

The Mantel hunters returned with waterbirds good for eating as quickly as the Abantu pulled fish from the river.

***

The tribe stopped to make camp on a flatland spread between the river and a low-rising ridge forested by bladed-leaf palms, making Eku wonder what lay within that forbidding, but enticing wall of pale trunks and spiked green crowns.

Though he felt an almost painful level of curiosity to explore, Eku already knew there would be no such opportunity; for as soon as camp was made and the young people began working on shelters, Krele and Shona told Yat, Eku and Yathi that in no uncertain terms was anyone to slip outside the encampment.

A rule to be strictly enforced by all the families.

The message was clear: no sneaking around tolerated.

Though the tribe had marched through plenty of dangerous lands in which such rules were necessary, Eku found it curious here.

If anything, this land appeared more tame than most; there had been no sightings of large predators in some time.

But there was no mistaking a serious change in demeanor amongst the adults.

Mothers and benzi-kusela kept everyone busy while the hunters and nesibindi patrolled the periphery.

Eku rarely saw his father and Nibamaz.

They were ibe-bonakalio, somewhere within the forest of bladed palms.

What were they looking for?

What made the mothers and benzi-kusela so nervous?

At one time, Eku could fortify himself with a patience that came from knowing that be one day he would be guarding the periphery, like his father.

The hunter outside the periphery, finding out things and learning the land.

But now?

What did his future hold?

At least for the moment—chores.

The river faithfully provided stands of hearty water reeds that made shelter raising go quick and easy.

Though far into sika-yaka, the air remained warm and rain was sporadic, which would not be the case on the southern shores.

Eku and Yathi often wore only loincloths.

Only the mothers and Tiuti consistently wore vests or wraps.

The land where they travelled seemed permanently warm.

With chores finished, Ingwe, Eku and Yathi walked through the encampment, along with waka-waka other young people, stuck within the boundaries.

***

Eku finally had a chance to tell Yathi and Ingwe of his early-morning encounter with Tiuti.

Went as far as to admit running back to his mother in tears; embarrassed to say so in front of Ingwe, but she had only smiled in sympathy.

Eku explained how Krele went into more detail about what Tiuti intended, as concern weighed heavy on Yathi’s normally cheerful face.

The lower lip stuck out and his chin dimpled.

Eku’s world had been turned upside down; yet, becoming izik-ikiz was an incredible honor.

Something neither of them had ever considered or even talked about.

The tribe’s izik-ikiz was always Tiuti.

How could it be someone else?

There were other izik-ikiz amongst the many tribes of the southern shores, but no one was as famous as Tiuti.

But then, Yathi had to admit he was not that surprised.

He saw how others looked at Eku.

Even the strong and belligerent Tuve—though he would never admit it—was in awe of Eku’s cleverness.

And the newcomers, like Kolo and Dala and Longo?

They already treated Eku a little differently than anyone else.

And Dokuk? The most capable hunter of all the young males told Yathi in secrecy that before long, Eku would surpass him, even though he was much younger.

Yathi knew that Eku was destined for great things.

Curiously, the only person who didn’t seem to know that was Eku.

Yathi vowed, as he had countless times before, to never leave the side of his always serious, but always thoughtful ikanabe.

Finally, because he could not stand the sight of Eku looking so glum, Yathi clicked in a way that expressed both solace and congratulations.

“It is a great honor,” he said for Ingwe’s sake more than Eku’s. “But that is a lot of responsibility.”

Eku nodded with a sad look, but clicked to show he was grateful for Yathi’s support.

Ingwe did not say much.

She observed the interactions of Eku and Yathi, without interfering.

When Yathi went off to make fish traps with Lume, Ingwe and Eku were left to their mutually favorite activity: watching the never-ending variety of birds.

The encampment spread wide enough for them to gain separation for privacy.

They wandered side by side, toward the downriver portion of camp, a natural entry point into the water, where opposing lines of swamp grass and water reeds curved away in either direction, avoiding an area too shallow and muddy for either to prosper.

Ingwe was thinking of her father, so young when so much responsibility was placed on his shoulders.

And now the same was true for Eku.

They are similar, as she suspected and wondered what that meant.

The two paused at a shoreside pond created by the opposing banks of swamp grass and water reeds. Along each side, a margin of lily pads with yellow flowers. Across the open water, a pair of waders stalked, a white egret and a laza stork, maintaining their distance.

Ingwe asked, “Do you think they wonder why we walk on two legs, as they do?”

“Birds' wings are arms. They probably like having wings.”

“Silly people can only walk,” she said in a way that Eku knew was meant to be humorous.

Ingwe liked to compare birds to people, the same way he did.

Just another reason she was so perfect.

Eku managed a smile, but did not have the energy to laugh, even for Ingwe, who continued to look at him with worry.

On the far side of the river, vast fields of tall grass led to hills and then mountains; the closest hills looming close enough so the texture of individual trees appeared across the canopy.

Directly in front of Eku and Ingwe, the shallows receded to a film of water over mud, where coots with pale heads and brown, duck-like bodies and large, lobed feet, boldly slid across.

Where the mud ended, water reeds rose and a gray snipe slipped past the edge of the stand, stepping daintily into the soft mud; slender, ivory legs, beady eyes bright at the base of a long and curved yellow beak, poised to stab at the first tasty ubhak-unda that dared to wriggle.

Portly boubous, with feathers alternating black and white, darted back and forth between the protection of the reeds and the water; while above, diminutive wagtails, also with black and white feathering, flapped once as they skipped from thistle to thistle.

“Many of the birds that live here have the colors of a zebra,” Ingwe said. “To a Bwana, that is good luck.”

Eku pointed out a pair of mated crows, circling.

The birds had white bodies with black-tipped wings, but conversed with the signature caws and rattles.

“I know,” she said. “Even the crows are different. I did not think they were crows until I heard them talking.”

“I thought that also.”

Eku spoke in a wistful tone that Ingwe was unfamiliar with.

She looked at him with concern and Eku glanced away, embarrassed.

He was sad, but Ingwe helped immensely.

He just didn’t know how to tell her how much he appreciated it; spontaneously, he reached to fondle the pendant hanging between her breasts, accidentally brushing a nipple, which caused Ingwe to smile.

They walked a bit further.

The grassy patch before them was interspersed with thick stalks flowered by puffs of lavender, protected by rings of hair-like spines.

Both Eku and Ingwe knew those spines were not meant to come into contact with human skin.

Eku sighed when they stopped.

They held hands and Ingwe leaned her shoulder against his shoulder.

They were the same height now.

A yellow-billed oxpecker came bobbing along.

Landed on a stalk of tall grass and looked around in every direction.

Launched to bob and weave to another tall seedling.

Looked around in every direction

And repeated.

Ingwe said, “Silly bird is lost because there are no buffalo to ride on.”

Eku smiled.

Cutting harshly through the background of trilling and croaking and whistling and chirping came the ear-splitting wail of the grey ibis.

“Kraw-wah-ke-ke-keee!”

And repeated.

Ingwe said, “And I think some birds only want to screech again and again. At somebody.”

Eku’s smile broadened.

She pointed at the white egret, standing immobile and said, “While others just like to stand and stare into the distance.”

Ingwe giggled and Eku was entranced by her laughter.

Her eyelashes were long and her nose had such an interesting curve.

She caught him staring and now, instead of being embarrassed, Eku kissed her.

Then he blushed.

Ingwe smiled in her perfect way and said, “But I think the clever birds are only interested in grooming.”

And she kissed him back.

***

The people were close to the land of legend.

Excitement rippled up and down the length of the parade.

Perhaps that was why the danger was missed and tragedy followed.

Or perhaps, as the Abantu say, when something is meant to be, something happens.

The hills on the left had grown close, each riser unique in height and shape, as though when unleashing the tectonic pressure that forced the land to shift and buckle, Uwama was feeling a bit whimsical.

Or maybe distracted.

Whereas the land to the left seemed impulsive, to the right of the direction the tribe marched, beyond the river, rounded hillocks rolled into the distance.

The hunters approached where the river curved along a floodplain of palm that gave way to riverine forest, tall, broadleaf hardwoods capped by circular canopies that leaked waka-waka vines.

Led by Kaleni and Nibamaz, all of the hunters carried javelins.

They gathered where the sycamore and palm merged, the air warm and moist, thick with the chatter of parakeets, the whine of insects.

Ahead of them, the land rose and forced the river to turn, resulting in a wide, shallow area, shaped like a half-bent elbow.

Along the inside of the turn, in front of the hunters, a sandbar of silt spread smoothly across the crook of the elbow, burnt gray by exposure to Ulanga.

Whatever geologic disruption caused the water to redirect had also thrust a triangular slab of limestone into the center of the river, a natural divider that separated the already wide main channel from a pond that bulged off the far side.

The hunters crept past sycamore trunks marbled pale green and ivory.

Crouched below the comb-like leaves of riverside palms.

Walked deliberately into view across the sandbar, those at the front stepping into ankle-deep, slow-moving current.

Studying the rocky point protruding midway across, leafy branches drooped over the sides; beyond which, the pond expanded into a teardrop shape, surrounded by thick forest.

Vubu were clustered at the muddied far end of the pond, submerged, but for heads and rumps. A good-sized pod, the first the hunters had seen in some time.

Clicking quietly amongst themselves, the hunters agreed the vubu were too far away to be a threat. If any of them began to wander toward the main channel, the people had plenty of time to adjust their path and if necessary, alert the hunters.

The lead hunters continued; the parade of people followed.

***

What the hunters did not know was a clan of bubinzwana came through the same area, but on the opposite side of the river, where they circled the pond and later returned to bait a trap, capturing and killing a cow out foraging at night.

Butchered the beast at the kill site and made fire for the entire clan to feast.

Leaving what little remained for vultures.

To a vubu, a bubinzwana appeared the same as a human; thus, when more two-leggeds appeared, the main pod herded as far away as possible.

But not all of them.

The rocky peninsula that separated the pond from the wide and shallow turn of the river was broad enough for plants to find purchase.

Bushes and small trees sprouted across the top; branches heavy with leaves drooped over a sheer side, creating a nice, shady spot for the pod’s alpha male, the water deep enough to submerge the gigantic body, but for snout and eyes and ears.

The vubu remained perfectly still; hidden within the leafy shadows; thus, went undetected by the hunters.

Enormous, even by vubu standards, as was often the case, the alpha male had an aggression equal to its bulk.

The vubu remembered how the two-leggeds came through before.

Returning to kill a member of the pod feeding away from the water.

Leaving another cow riddled with deep cuts from a futile attempt to drive off the killers; lucky to have survived.

Vubu that lived in these lands instinctively knew that two-leggeds, though puny, were dangerous predators in numbers.

Below the leafage, within the shadow, the vubu lurked while the anger smoldered.

Two-leggeds.

So many of them.

Trodding in the pond.

All of them.

Right there.

Trodding in the pond.

His pond.

***

Branches shook violently and the vubu burst from concealment as a nightmare conjured into broad daylight, barrelling straight at the humans just as a group of young ones came along.

Perhaps that was why the beast waited for that particular moment, sensing that the smaller bodies were less dangerous.

More vulnerable.

Perhaps there was no other reason than that being the precise moment the vubu’s anger became volcanic.

The hunters with the javelins were well ahead when the ambush occurred; whereas, Eku was at the centerpoint of the pack upon which the nightmare bore down.

At the first screams, the hunters sprinted back, but there were many people between where they were and where the attack was happening.

***

Later, Eku would think of the vubu’s charge as a shark slashing through a school of fish in the shallows.

He walked with Yathi, Goguk and Kolo amidst a pack of young people through warm, ankle-deep water.

There was talking and singing, everyone enjoying the soft silt beneath their toes when out of nowhere a monstrous vubu churned toward them, mouth opened impossibly wide and grotesquely pink, fangs the length of an adult arm, browned at the tips.

The bellow of the beast was ear shattering and resulted in a surge of people.

Screams and splashing.

Frantic movement.

The thud and slap of bodies colliding.

Eku and Yathi spun toward shore and the safety of the sycamore and palm, lifting their knees high, instinctively following the pack, struggling en masse to move away from the river.

Dokuk and Yat splashed at their side, Yat, a graceful and capable runner, keeping one eye on her little brother.

Bodies were all around and there were screams of terror.

Eku saw Kolo move up beside him, impressed at his speed and just as he wondered about Goguk, a high-pitched cry pierced the cacophony, a sound so gut-wrenching that everyone turned to look.

Goguk had always been a little slower.

Eku saw the monstrous vubu moving so fast that frothy white waves billowed.

And he saw Goguk, terrified and helpless, struggling through water up to his knees.

The juxtaposition told his mind what was inevitable; though, for the smallest instant, Eku’s heart pleaded for any other outcome.

Eku remained wary enough so that when Yat screamed as Dokuk spun to race back and try to save his brother, Eku threw his body in front of him, blocking Dokuk and allowing Yat to seize an arm and dig in her heels.

Before he could pull free, strong Yathi joined the fray, leaping to cling to his waist as Dokuk wailed in anguish.

The vubu was already upon Gokuk.

Lowered its horrible jaws and snatched up the tiny body, tusk-like teeth ripping through flesh as easily as an Abantu bit into a mussel

Eku, Yat and Yathi pulled and tugged at Dokuk, forcing him to stumble backward.

They began running again.

The mad vubu flung away what was left of Goguk’s body and angled itself after the closest, fleeing two-leggeds.

More people were certain to die.

Eku looked back once more to witness another moment seared into his mind forever: a lone figure moving against the tide of bodies—the nesibindi with the wounded leg.

Screaming at the vubu while holding his spear aloft.

Hobbling into the path of the beast to draw its attention.

The vubu adjusted its angle and bore down on the nesibindi, who jammed the spear into its mouth before his entire head and torso disappeared into the gaping jaws with a sickening crunch and horrifying gout of blood.

A moment later, multiple javelins sliced deeply into the side of the enraged beast.

The hunters had finally gotten through the crowd.

Blood sprayed and spittle flew as the vubu bellowed like thunder and turned toward its attackers; started forward, but paused, shaking its head to toss off the body of the nesibindi impaled on its tusks.

Started again for the attackers and twisted in pain as more javelins penetrated flesh from a different angle.

Eku knew his father would be leading the fight, but it was his duty to flee with the others and he turned to run for the safety of the trees, tears blurring his vision.

***

The people regrouped and made camp up the river.

The hills darkened quickly as Ulanga disappeared behind.

Clouds grayed by moisture circled the tallest massif to refract his final fire in orange and red and even hints of violet, a fitting display for a day disrupted by violence.

There was no harvest.

No one would be eating.

Wails of anguish would last through the night.

Sounds of sorrow the Abantu or Bwana did not put into song, but the memories they would.

The adults gathered around a fire to tell stories and make new songs.

A song for young Goguk, the first Abantu to die on the pilgrimage.

And a song for the brave nesibindi, who sacrificed himself so that others may live.

***

What was his greatest fear?

Dying?

No.

Fear of the dark.

Not anymore.

Fear of the unknown.

Well … Maybe a little.

Eku’s greatest fear, like any Abantu, was to end up alone.

A fate considered worse than any death.

But even more scary, was what if your time came and your ancestors could not find you?

Eku knew that during his time as an Abantu, he was bound to the living world.

To one day die and return, like all living things, to Umawa and eventually Uwama.

To be recycled and returned to the living world again.

Somehow.

Yathi said, “Do you think he hears the tribe singing his song?”

Eku, knowing he meant Gokuk, said, “I do not know.”

They lay on bed mats within the near total dark belly of a rounded hut woven from water reeds.

Sad, but comfortable.

Alone, but happy to be together.

Yat was outside with the adults.

Yathi asked, “Do you think he knows where to go?”

Eku clicked yes.

“Where?”

“I do not know. But father says elephants know where to go. When they die. There are special places.”

“Where do they go?”

“I do not know. Father has seen their bones. But the hunters do not go too close. The elephants do not like that.”

“How do the elephants know they are dying?”

“I do not know. Somehow, they know.”

“Maybe they go to that place to be with their friends, who have died before, and they go to that place so they can find each other sooner in the afterlife.”

“For sure.”

“Father says our ancestors will be there to help Goguk.”

Eku clicked his agreement.

Yathi said in a quiet voice, “isipo-kee! It will be good to see him again.”

A moment later, adding, “But not for a long time.”

Eku smiled sadly in the dark. “For sure.”

The two went silent as angry words rose from outside.

The hunters were berating themselves for not being more alert.

Eku and Yathi listened in the dark.

The hunters were angry for failing to recognize the vubu’s unusual behavior for what it was.

Fear.

Something different walked this land.

Two-legged beasts that dare to hunt what no other beasts dare to hunt—not even lions—not even humans!

And the hunters know those beasts have been sniffing around the tribe.

The hunters have known since before the canyon with the waterfalls.

They know this because Kaleni always sends the best scouts in advance.

Often, it was Eku’s father and Nibamaz themselves who stealthily explored ahead.

Ibe-bonakalio, as always.

The hunters have watched the bubinzwana.

They investigated the old camps.

Both tribes were keeping track of the other.

From afar.

For now.

***

Only the land along the river was tame.

Palm trees dotted the floodplain, but as soon as the terrain began to rise, hardwood canopies covered the hills with green knobs, interrupted by sheer walls of pale granite.

The tribe marched along the water.

No straying.

Eku and Yathi—all of the young people, were obligated to remain together, no movement up or down the length of the column.

The tribe remained in the same formation.

Waka-waka young people paraded together would normally prompt the Abantu into festive singing, were it not for the demeanor of the adults.

Kaleni and Nibamaz remained at the front with Abantu hunters who wore at least two eagle talons, javelins resting against a shoulder, lethal blades rising dark against the sky.

Hunters with an unsheathed ula-konto in hand and one or more strapped across their backs brought up the rear.

Up and down the outside of the parade marched nesibindi with sturdy, stabbing spears and several throwing axes hung at the waist.

At least one ax hung off the hip of every other adult.

We walk like a giant caterpillar, Eku thought.

A caterpillar protected by deadly spines.

Holding hands with Ingwe amidst the young people, Eku had satchel, bed mat and ula-konto strapped to his back.

Ingwe wore a zebra loincloth and a supple sack of skin cured soft and brown, strapped to the shoulders.

Her long hair was braided with dark and pale straps to look like a zebra tail.

Eku’s feelings for Ingwe are so strong now that simply holding her hand provided warmth from his scalp to where his toes feel the slip and grab of flattened river grass.

A series of fast-rising massifs rose before them, the path of the river sweeping away in a gentle curve along a bank of smooth sediment peppered by chunks of fallen rock.

The people marched at a crawl and then slowed to mushroom around whatever caused the lead hunters to halt.

Realizing it was okay to move about, Eku and Ingwe kept their hands clasped and worked through the crowd to reach the front.

The nearby ridgeline thrust an outcropping alongside the river; the result was a near vertical wall of granite, rising from the flat riverbank, as though to force anyone following the water to walk past and see.

A broad rock wall striated by ledges lined with skulls bleached white by Ulanga.

Elephants, hippo, giant buffalo and other, menacing beasts.

Skull after skull after skull placed in rows and stacks as a clear warning for anyone or anything that dared to advance.

The people had reached the land of legend.