But for Isha, the insult was not so easily forgotten. As the hyena started to pass her, she stepped in front, blocking his path. She stared at him, sniffing him carefully.
“Hey, watch the merchandise lady!”
She smiled sweetly. “I just wanted to remember you. You’re the hunting party leader. Pap Kuuh is it, or Pip Kahh?”
“Pip Kahh is close enough.” He smiled. “Well, good. I worked hard for this position, and I’m glad to get some recognition.”
Isha’s smile widened, but her eyes remained hard as diamonds. “Oh, definitely. As hunt master of the hyenas, you‘re responsible for their actions. If we make a good kill tonight, you’ll doubtless be rewarded appropriately.” She moved next to them as they walked, her breath soft in his ear. “And if one of your people injures one of mine, you will also be rewarded appropriately. I can’t eat tactics, but I think I could eat a whole hyena.” Without waiting for a response, she trotted ahead to rejoin the other lionesses.
Pipkah watched her leave, hatred evident on his face, but a hatred tempered with fear. He turned to see the other hyenas looking at him curiously. “What’re you guys mooning at?! Spread out for cryin’ out loud!”
The breath of night whispered gently through the leaves, teasing the beard on Rafiki’s chin as he picked the precious Alba leaves from their delicate stems. One by one he placed the leaves in the bottom of the small wooden bowl he held in his lap, until a thin layer covered the bottom. Giving a satisfied grunt, he picked up the small bone pestle Makedde had given him long ago and begin to grind away at the leaves in smooth, steady strokes. The task was a familiar one, and he found his thoughts wandering as he gazed contemplatively out across the darkened savanna.
A rumbling snort cut the air, and he looked down to see one of his guards sprawled at the base of the tree, face composed in bliss as he slumbered away the boring duty of guarding one old monkey in a tree.
Rafiki glanced around surreptitiously to make sure he was not being observed. Oh, of course, doubtless there was an outer perimeter of guards to keep him detained; he had seen them before. Even if he managed to get down and escape into the grass, one of them would intercept him before he got away. No, escape was impossible.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have any fun.
He quietly reached up and plucked a gourd from an overhanging branch of the baobab. The branch swished sharply as it sprang back into place, and the guard below snorted and shifted slightly. Rafiki froze, waiting until the hyena had settled himself again. Patiently, he examined the stars, gazing familiarly at the constellation of The Blessed, naming the stars one by one to himself. He had gotten through perhaps half when snores again rose from below.
Grinning, he took careful aim, and dropped the gourd. It fell through the air and glanced off the hyena’s skull with a sharp THUNK. The guard leapt up, snorting in surprise.
“What the-” he looked down, rubbing his abused head gingerly, feeling the welt rising on his skull as he saw the gourd lying on the ground a few feet away. Snarling, he looked upwards at the mandrill who sat in the fork of the branches high above, stirring his bowl and staring innocently out at the stars. “All right, I’ve HAD it! That’s the third time this week! Don’t tell me the wind knocked THAT one down.”
Rafiki looked at him and smiled. “Oh, you found it! I knew I must have dropped it or something!” He cackled as the hyena bristled at him.
“That’s it. You’re gonna be laughing out of the other side of your head when I get through with you-”
“Shut up, fool.” The guard froze in the midst of preparing to go after the mandrill. He turned his head to see Krull sitting behind him, eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight as they bored into his own. “You’re right. That’s the third time this week he’s done it. And you were asleep on duty all three times. Now what should I do about that, hmm?”
The guard stammered for a moment, then rolled on the ground. “I beg forgiveness, Roh’khal Krull. Bih gah’kh’resh mal! Bih mal!”
Krull looked at him sternly for a moment, then nodded. “Gah’kh’resh nih.” The guard looked up, surprised, gratitude shining in his eyes as Krull jerked his head over his shoulder. “Go get Henneh to relieve you. Go on, now.”
“Yes sir!” The guard scrambled away into the grass. Krull looked up at the mandrill who was watching with no small interest.
“What was that all about?” Rafiki asked.
“The boy fell asleep three times while on duty.” Krull scratched behind one ear. “Technically, I should have killed him the second time.”
Rafiki’s eyes widened. “Technically, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“His wife is near to delivery, and he’s been hunting for two instead of sleeping days.” Krull sat up and shook himself busily. “Some things tend to get overlooked. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Oh, of course.” Rafiki watched the hyena trot off and disappear into the grass. The wind followed him, ruffling the plants in living waves that rippled across the savannah. As Rafiki watched, one wave appeared to die abruptly, as if it had struck a rock or kopje hidden in the grass.
He sat up, interested, as he saw the forms of several hyenas moving through the grass. His eyes saw something vaguely familiar about the way they were walking, almost as if they were-
He was jolted by the realization that the hyenas were moving in one of Uzuri’s well known sweep patterns. His eyes flicked busily across the grass. Keeping them unfocused, he scanned the area quickly, remembering how she had explained this pattern worked and--there they were. Barely discernible at this distance, the supple forms of lionesses glided though the savannah, moonlight gleaming off their pelts. Noting the direction of their travel, Rafiki looked and saw the small group of antelope that huddled together, drowsing the night away in the security of numbers.
Down below, Uzuri was also eyeing the antelope, but for a different reason.
The hunt mistress paused, one forepaw lifted, frozen in statuesque beauty as she assessed the situation. Without taking her eyes from the herd ahead, she flicked her left ear twice, as if deterring a particularly bothersome fly. But the nuances of the motion, lost on one unfamiliar with the hunt, were crystal clear to her sisters. Isha saw the signal and immediately complied, stealthily widening her distance from Uzuri by approximately two body lengths. Uzuri repeated the motion on the opposite side, and Sarabi mirrored the maneuver to her right. The other four lionesses, despite being out of sight on her flanks, were doubtless adjusting their positions as well.
As Uzuri resumed creeping toward the antelope, she wondered if the hyenas were even in the correct positions on the far side of the herd. She could only hope; her instructions had been terse and precise, but even the simplest of commands were often lost on those imbeciles. If only one of them got out of position, the whole group might not catch anything-
She berated herself for letting her thoughts wander so; there was work to be done. Rising slightly, she flicked her tail, and the lionesses slowly began closing on the herd.
Rafiki shifted slightly to get a better view at the lionesses began moving towards the antelope herd. He strained to see in the grayish light cast by the moon overhead, and looked up angrily at the slight clouds which scudded over the moon, dimming the luminance into near nothingness.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Give an old monkey a break.”
As if in answer, the clouds tattered from the forceful winds high overhead, and the savanna below was suddenly alive with moving shapes. He picked out Uzuri at the center of the arc of lionesses, her slight form strange and beautiful in the silver light.
“Careful, honey tree, oh so careful,” he whispered. He watched her pick her way across the grassland, silent as the night sneaking in on the heels of twilight.