Chapter 14

Deadly Encounters

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

Waka-waka cycles of leaves and twigs formed a thick layer beneath the canopy; the ground was soft, like the downy feathers of a bird’s belly, but also springy from the underground root system, making Eku want to jump and bounce.

There was only so much space and mothers and children got first dibs on the prime location.

Still sleepy, Eku noted slivers of Ulanga shone through scattered gaps in the pinnacles.  

The previous night he tried to get Yathi to sleep outside, near the young hunters, but Yat convinced them they would be better off taking advantage of the grove.

Eku rubbed sleep from his face. Yat was right … as always.

His sister and Yathi remained sleeping along with the mothers and other young people, and Eku carefully crept across the springy terrain to where a tunnel was carved through the underbrush that surrounded the palm grove like a protective barrier.

Emerged from the burrow-like exit into the light of Ulanga, the river before him, and much to Eku’s surprise, there was a reversal to the normal plot line.

Waka grass huts of woven water reeds had been erected for those not sleeping beneath the palms and Eku was pleased (but also uneased), to see Tiuti standing beside a hut, obviously waiting for him.

Powerful feelings arose when Eku saw Tiuti.

Krele told him that once weaned and participated in harvest, he 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 isipor-kee!, which in their case, meant her grandfather revisiting the living world through Eku.

Mother told him that 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, while most young people were terrified of Tiuti, 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.

He jogged to catch up and fell into stride.

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

Eku glanced over his shoulder at shelters clumped together, as if giant turtles climbed from the water to slumber for the night beside a grove of palm.

Ulayo made a sudden change in the direction of her breath and Eku caught a hearty whiff of a dung pile.

There were a lot of people here, for sure.

Eku excused himself and scampered over to a designated area to empty his bowel and bladder as Tiuti patiently waited.

The two continued walking the camp’s circumference.

The land was flat all around, the sky vast.

In the distance, opposing ridges straddling each side of the water converged ahead, where the river appeared to flow between two peaks like a spear slicing a fruit into halves.

The hills closest to the water were dark, but the sky above was bright as Ulanga rose from behind.

Kaleni taught Eku that to face north, point your right shoulder at Ulanga as he rises.

Eku eyed ducks flying upriver, in a v-shape. Pointed north.

Spotted a lone, gray heron, long and narrow, gliding in from the opposite direction for a water landing.

There was a group of the strange crows that lived here, white instead of black, circling above the Abantu encampment.

No doubt the clever birds had already learned 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 easily recognizing the shape, but also catching a glimpse of white when the raptor turned toward Ulanga.

He stifled a yelp when accidentally brushing up against a patch of tall grass.

Thankfully, most plants in this part of Umawa did not have thorns; whereas, brush up against the wrong bush in the Abantu homeland and you were 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 the same phrase at the waterfall.

Aware of the overpowering feelings he had for Ingwe (how could he not be?), Eku 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 having met Ingwe all the more spectacular.

Eku could not stop daydreaming of the time when his eagle talon and her blue pendant became entwined as they lay on top of each other and….

Looking fondly at the top of the young male’s closely shorn head, the old master allowed a brief smile and said, “Give me a reason why the giant lizards are in this land?”

Startled, Eku looked at the old master, who quickly adopted a mock frown.

Baffled, he shrugged.

Tiuti clicked sharply. “I want a reason. Give me one.”

Growing more confused, Eku shook his head.

Tiuti clicked again, but not so loud.

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

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 elsewhere? Any reason?”

The two of them walked as Eku used his mind furiously.

Tiuti wanted a reason?

No, he just wanted Eku to calm down.

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

“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 almost recoiled. “That is scary.”

“Yes.”

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 Tiuti stepped past; stopped.

The grassy plain stretched all around with clumps of palm, tall swaths of purplish bristle grass closest to the water intertwined with swamp grass, much of it now brown.

Eku felt something hot and heavy in his chest.

One of those silly lumps in his throat.

But he hadn’t cried in a long time.

Determinedly swallowed the lump down and scolded himself to be strong.

Tiuti waited patiently.

Perhaps, were his countenance not so severe from countless days exposed to the daily dance of Ulanga and Ulayo, one would more easily see the kind of love that only comes from living so long and seeing so much.

The old master sighed and looked to where Ulanga was peeking over the hills.

The sky was pale laza, clear of clouds, but above the tallest, jungle-green hills, cumulus wafts gathered like wisps of smoke, glowing white and yellow in the early light.

“What is it that beckons us here,” he whispered.

Eku walked up to study the old master’s profile, trying to figure out what was happening.

Tiuti, once so impossibly tall, was not anymore.

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

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

Why was Tiuti waiting for him this morning?

Still looking at the direction 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, who stared back, eyes wide and fearful. Fearful, because Tiuti understood that amongst Eku’s many admirable traits, he 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 … different. Wutota and I have learned so much from each other in such a short time. With the tribes together now.”

Tiuti shook his head again and looked frustrated; Eku was intrigued, but also worried about what troubled the old master, to the point that Tiuti, of all people, struggled for words.

He sighed and said in a way both dismissive and kind, “You will learn, Eku. In time. Responsibility. As your father did.”

Eku said, “I want to be a hunter.”

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

Eku asked, “You mean like a izik-kosa or benzi-kusela?”

“No Eku. This is a new land. We are a new 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.

Saw the mountains still there, of course. All around.

The crows circled.

The ducks were mere specks.

The heron stalked in the water.

The fish eagle had disappeared.

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

“What do you mean?”

Tiuti shook his head.

Eku understood why he would not answer.

The answer was obvious.

For any Abantu.

An Abantu served 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.

But the ground was devoid of life.

No termites or even beetles.

Many flies and bees, but they buzzed up where the leafage began, away from the ground.

Beneath the calm of the palms, her sleep was undisturbed the entire night.

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

And with no unexpected visits from ants or other crawling creatures that happened all too frequently when camping in unfamiliar territory.

Putting such interesting thoughts aside, Krele began plotting how to organize travel for the upcoming day, when Eku rose to disappear outside.

She sat up looking after him, worried, knowing that Tiuti would be waiting.

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

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.

Throughout his long life, Tiuti’s wisdom and inventions touched the lives of waka-waka-waka people.

Tiuti once had a mate, many cycles gone, but they had a good time together and raised two children, both female.

Kreki was the youngest and isipo-bomi, happy on the southern shores, her adult children providing waka grandchildren.

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

Yikuti was Tiuti’s oldest child.

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 a second and third talon while still young and became a scout, but disappeared from the party that was in search of the land of legend prior to Kaleni’s scouting party.

The elders said that since learning of Yikuti’s disappearance, Tiuti was never the same.

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

Krele crept out of the palm grove and through the tunnel of thicket to look around.

Located where Tiuti and Eku walked.

She looked apprehensive.

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

Typical of strong males, Tiuti could be blind to the power of his influence.

More importantly, nobody knew Eku better than his mother.

Krele remembered well when informing Yat and Eku that their family was chosen for this great pilgrimage, Eku’s only question was whether he could still be a hunter.

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

Krele would be keeping an extra close eye on her child.

***

The tribe approached where the river passed through the convergence of mountain ridges; though, now that they were close, Eku could see the hills did not actually conjoin; instead, formed what looked like a narrow gateway through which the river exited.

Beyond which, his father told him, was the bottom tip of the endless lake of freshwater.

Where they would enter the land of legend.

Once again the land was changing.

The large lizards were all but gone.

There was evidence of vubu having recently foraged, but no sight of a pod yet.

The enormous flocks they had seen while traveling along shatsheli-lambo returned, and this time, Eku saw them up close.

Another moment to remember forever.

The tribe marched across a flatland of tall grass, clumps of palm, river grass and water under an endless sky of laza, floating a few, puffy clouds, when suddenly, the land itself seemed erupt.

There were yelps of surprise and Eku thought for just an instant, an enormous chunk of Umawa was somehow falling straight up, but there were countless birds exploding into flight all around, innumerable wings creating a soft thunder.

The swirling confusion of movement thickened the air and temporarily half-blotted out Ulanga.

Somehow, the seemingly infinite numbers immediately began to coalesce, thickening into streams that twisted into channels that merged into a single, great cloud.

The flock filled the sky and performed spontaneous sweepings and undulations over the water, before  rising and then twisting down and over land like a great wave, racing over the humans as a vast, roiling mass, the people screaming and waving; though, their voices were drowned by the beat of waka-waka-waka wings.

Eku saw the birds were similar in shape and size to a turaco, but plain brown, without any vibrant colors.

Seeing such a flock on a day where he never remembered being so sad was uplifting. He wistfully watched the birds billow away like a living part of the sky, knowing the visceral sound of all those wings would stay with him long after his heart stopped racing.

Throughout the day, Yathi and Ingwe had been eying Eku, knowing that something was wrong.

Eku hadn’t had a chance to properly explain what transpired between him and Tiuti that morning. Mostly because … he simply didn’t know what to think.

Low on supplies, the tribe set up a temporary encampment, intent on replenishing.

Fishing was easy to the point of silliness.

Catfish hovered in the shallows to be speared, the bodies so enormous that waka young people entered the water to push and drag the carcass onto land for butchering.

The forested areas along the water reminded Eku of home, the trees similar to those he saw in the forested mountains.

Familiar beasts returned and hunters went into the bush.

Eku and Yathi helped dig fresh corms and tubers, which were cut, cleaned and piled on grass mats for chopping and grinding.

The Mantel used the ever-improving guka-hombe with impressive results.

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

The izik-kosa were even able to attach tiny blades to the more robust of the tiny spears, making them more deadly and 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.

***

Once camp was set for the night, Eku finally told Yathi and Ingwe of his early-morning encounter with Tiuti.

Chores finished, they walked through the middle of the encampment, where all the young people were now required to stay; though, wandering the side abutting water was allowed.

Rain was not expected and the weather had turned hot again.

Only a minimal number of shelters were necessary.

As long as there was no rain, nights were dry and comfortable to the point that only Tiuti and the mothers wore skins over their shoulders.

Eku finished bringing Yathi and Ingwe up to speed with his encounter with Tiuti that morning by concluding—red faced—that he ran back to his mother in tears.

Krele confided in him that Tiuti intended to train Eku to become the new tribe’s first izik-ikiz. Or something like that, which … just made him more confused, actually.

But also overwhelmed at such an honor that at least he was a bit less sad.

Just more confused.

The truth was, Eku had no idea how to feel.

Though still sad, something else was beginning to grow.

He just didn’t know what.

Concern was heavy on Yathi’s normally cheerful face.

He stuck out the lower lip and his chin dimpled.

Eku’s world was turned upside down, while at the same time, becoming izik-ikiz was an incredible honor.

Something neither one 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 wise masters on the southern shores, but no one like Tiuti.

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

He knew how others looked at Eku. They always had.

Even the newcomers, like Kolo and Dala and Longo immediately treated Eku just a little differently than others their age.

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

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, he would never leave the side of his always serious, but always thoughtful ikanabe.

Finally—because he can’t 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 wanted to shout that those are things he has always craved—but as a hunter.

He nodded with a sad look, but clicked at Yathi to show he was grateful.

Ingwe did not say much.

She watched the interactions of Eku and Yathi closely, without interfering.

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

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

And now the same for Eku.

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

The two paused at a pond created by opposing peninsulas of water grass; along the arc, a margin of lily pads with yellow flowers. Different waders stalked the rounded, open area: storks and egrets in carefully orchestrated distances.

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.

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

Across the river were fields of tall grass that led to hills and then mountains, the closest hills looming close enough for the texture of individual trees to show across the canopy.

Directly in front of Eku and Ingwe, the water was shallow and muddied.

They watched coots with brown, duck-like bodies and pale heads prowl on short legs with large lobed feet.

Emerging from a thicket of tall grass draped with small, white flowers, a gray snipe crept daintily into the mud on slender, ivory legs, beady eyes bright at the base of a long and curved yellow beak, poised to stab at the first tasty crustacean that dared to wriggle.

Where the mud ended, a patch of water reeds rose.

Portly boubous, colored black and white, darted between the shelter of the reeds and the water, while above, diminutive wagtails, also with black and white coloring, flapped once or twice as they skipped from thistle to thistle.

Ingwe said, “This land has many birds with the colors of a zebra. 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, rattles and clicks.

“I know. Even crows are different,” she said. “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 and she looked at him with added concern.

Catching the look, Eku glanced away, embarrassed.

He was sad, but Ingwe helped immensely. He just didn’t know how to show it. Or tell her how much he appreciated it.

Eku spontaneously reached to fondle the pendant hanging between Ingwe’s breasts, accidentally brushing a nipple, which caused her to smile.

They walked further along the shoreline to watch swifts with shiny black feathers and crescent-shaped wings slash through blooms of insects.

A grassy patch before them was interspersed with thick stalks, flowered with a single puff of lavender, protected by rings of hair-like spines that both Eku and Ingwe knew were not meant to come into contact with human skin.

Eku sighed when they stopped.

Ingwe leaned her shoulder against his shoulder.

They were the same height now.

A yellow-billed oxpecker came bobbing along the tall grass.

Landed and looked in every direction and immediately launched to bob and weave to another tall seedling.

And repeated.

Ingwe said, “Silly bird cannot find a buffalo to ride on.”

Eku couldn’t help a grin.

Cutting harshly through the background of trilling and croaking and whistling and chirping came the ear-splitting wail of a black egret.

“Kraw-wah-ke-ke-keee!”

And repeated.

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

Eku smiled.

She pointed at a white stork, standing as though made of stone and said, “While others like to just 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 are prone to say, when something is meant to be, something happens.

The mountains on the left had grown close, each hill 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, gentle mounds and hillocks rolled into the distance.

The tribe marched alongside banks of bristle grass and palm mixed with riverine forest that grew jungle thick as soon as the floodplain ended.

Kaleni and Nibamaz led the hunters, all of whom carried javelins.

They gathered amidst pale and mottled trunks of sycamore alongside criss-crossed trunks of palm.

The air was thick with the chatter of parakeets and the whine of insects.

Ahead of them, the river broadened into a wide, shallow area, shaped like a half-bent elbow, the result of the river taking a sharp angle away from the rising land to the right.

Along the inside of the turn, spread across the crook of the elbow, a sandbar of silt, burnt pale gray by Ulanga.

Whatever geologic disruption caused the water to redirect also thrust a rocky point into the center of the river.

A triangular slab of limestone formed a peninsula that separated the main channel from a large pool that bulged off the far side of the elbow.

The hunters moved from beneath the sycamores, crouched under bowed palms and paced across the sandbar into warm water up to their ankles.

Studying the rocky point protruding midway across, leafy branches drooped over the sides.

Beyond the rock slab, the pool expanded into a teardrop shape, surrounded on all sides by thick forest.

A pod of vubu was clustered at the far end, submerged, but for heads and rumps.

A good sized pod. The first the hunters had seen in some time.

Clicking quietly amongst themselves, they agreed the vubu were too far away to be a threat.

If any vubu started to wander toward the main channel, the people had plenty of time to adjust their path and if necessary, alert the hunters.

The hunters continued; the parade of people followed.

***

What the hunters did not know was a few days before, the bubinzwana came through on the opposite side of the river, where they circled the tear-drop shaped pond to trap and kill a pregnant cow out foraging at night.

Butchered the beast and made fire to feast on the choicest flesh, leaving the rest for vultures.

To a vubu, a bubinzwana appeared the same as a human; thus, when more two-leggeds appeared on the opposite side of the river, the pod moved as far away as possible.

But not all of them.

The rocky peninsula separating 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 the sides, 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 is often the case with the species, the alpha male had an aggression equal to its bulk.

The vubu knew that two-leggeds attacked a member of the pod feeding away from the water.

Killed and devoured the cow after another was left riddled with deep cuts from a futile attempt to drive off the killers; lucky to have survived.

Two-leggeds were puny, but in numbers, became dangerous predators.

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

There were so many.

Even more than those who came through before.

Trodding in the pond.

All of them.

Right there.

Trodding in the pond.

His pond.

***

The vubu burst from concealment as a nightmare thrown into broad daylight, barrelling straight at the humans 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 went 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 beast 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.

Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo were moving in the midst of a large 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 the monstrous beast 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 vubu was ear shattering and resulted in a surge of people.

Screams and frantic splashing.

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 ran to 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 observed the monstrous vubu moving so fast that frothy white waves billowed.

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

The juxtaposition told his mind what was inevitable; though, for the smallest instant, his 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 his arm and dig in her heels.

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

The vubu was already upon Gokuk.

Tilted and swung 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 dragged at Dokuk, forcing him to stumble backward.

The mad beast 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 then witnessed another moment seared into his mind forever: a lone figure moving against the tide of bodies—the nesibindi with the wounded leg.

Hobbling into the path of the beast, holding his spear aloft, drawing 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.

An instant later, multiple javelins slammed into the side of the enraged beast.

The hunters had finally gotten through the crowd.

The vubu bellowed like thunder and turned toward its attackers; started forward, but paused, shaking its head to fling 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.

He turned and ran for the safety of the trees, tears blurring his vision.

***

The people regrouped and made camp a ways up the river.

The hills darkened 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 did not put into song, but the memories they would.

The adults gathered around a communal 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.

***

Eku and Yathi lay upon their bed mats, sad in the dark, but warm and comfortable within the confines of a round hut woven from water reeds.

They were alone. Yat remained outside with the adults.

Yathi said, “Do you think he hears everyone talking?”

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

“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 them sooner in the afterlife.”

“For sure.”

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

Eku clicked agreement.

Yathi added softly, “isipor-kee! I hope I see him again.” After a few heartbeats, adding, “But not for a long time.”

Eku could not help a sad smile in the dark. “For sure.”

The two went silent as loud and angry words rose from the direction of the communal fire, the hunters berating themselves for not being more alert.

Eku and Yathi listened.

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

Fear.

Something different walked this land.

Beasts that walk on two legs and hunt other beasts that no other beasts dare to hunt—not even lions—not even humans!

And the hunters know the tribe has been watched by those very same beasts.

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

Kaleni sends the best scouts in advance.

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

Be-bonakalio, as always.

They have seen evidence of the bubinzwana.

They investigated their old camps.

Both tribes were observing the other.

From afar.

For now.

***

Only the land along the river remained tame.

Palm trees dotted the floodplain, but as soon as the terrain began to rise, thick canopies covered the hills with dark green stubble interrupted by sheer bald spots of 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 entire tribe remained in the same formation.

Waka-waka young people parading 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.

The forward hunters carried javelins vertically over a shoulder, blades darkly outlined against the sky.

Hunters with ula-konto brought up the rear.

Up and down the length of the parade marched nesibindi with sturdy, stabbing spears.

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

We walk as a giant caterpillar, Eku thought, a caterpillar covered with lethal spines.

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

Ingwe wore her zebra loincloth and a supple sack of soft skin slung over her shoulders, hair tied with dark and pale straps to drape over the pack 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 felt the slip and grab of trampled river grass.

The first of a series of fast-rising massifs rose directly before them, the path of the river sweeping past along a wide and flat bank of sediment and rock.

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

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

Reached the front.

The mountain rose steeply from the flat river bank, directly from the silted shoreline, a near vertical wall of granite, including a broad cliffside striated with ledges.

Placed upon every available ledge were rows and stacks of skulls bleached white by Ulanga.

Bare-boned skulls of elephants, hippos, giant buffalo and other, menacing beasts.

The people had reached the land of legend.