John Burkitt - Shadow of Makei

“Oooops, I forgot. Thinking requires a BRAIN, and you aren’t equipped with one, are you?!” Pipkah turned and scratched at the dirt with his rear paws, showering the young hyena with sand. “That’s what I ought to do with you, kiddo! When your father hears about this, I promise you he’ll-”

He was cut off as he beheld the hunt mistress emerging from the dust, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury as she took in the downed form of Ajenti lying atop Losara. She paused for a minute, then stalked towards the young hyena, who began scrambling madly, trying to push Ajenti’s bulk away.

“Oh gods! I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” She began sobbing uncontrollably as Uzuri drew near. “It was all dusty and noisy and I thought she was the antelope, I mean they’re the same color in the dark, oh please don’t DO IT!” She tucked her head against her chest, shaking with fear as Uzuri stopped next to her. The lioness looked down at her for a moment, wrapped in a terrible cloak of silence. Lion and hyena held their breath, waiting for the blow to fall.

Uzuri sat up and walked over to Pipkah, who was still cursing softly under his breath. Lighting fast, she drew back and struck him in the face, sending him sprawling in the dirt.

“Great Roh’kash!” Pipkah picked himself up slowly, blood running from his torn cheek. “Why did you hit ME?! SHE’S the one who ruined the hunt!”

Uzuri looked at him coldly. “She made a MISTAKE. You were CARELESS.”

There was no levity on the way back to Pride Rock. Uzuri was going into a slow burn, thinking of a diplomatic way to tell Shenzi and Taka why there was no kill tonight. Of course that was taken care of by Pipkah who ran on ahead. He would find a very undiplomatic way to put it, no doubt. She sighed and resigned herself to the upbraiding she would no doubt receive.

She did not bother going to the cave atop Pride Rock, but went straight to her favorite resting spot and flopped on her side. Perhaps sleep would bring some relief if only Aiheu would catch her bad dreams on his claws.

Before she could surrender to oblivion, there was a rustling of a small body through the underbrush. “It better be a cub,” she murmured spitefully.

Just then a hyena came trotting out with a large legbone in her mouth. It was Losara.

“What are YOU doing here! This is MY bed!”

Bowing and scraping, Losara whined, “You had mercy on me, ma’am. I brought you something to help you sleep.”

She looked at the bone. “There’s no meat on it.”

“Not ON it,” Losara said. She began biting with her strong molars, pushing on the middle of the bone with incredible force. The bone began to notch, then crack. And before long, it split open. It was hollow, and the center was filled with fatty red marrow. “Try this.”

“What is it?”

“Try it and find out.”

Uzuri took a sporting chance and sampled the marrow. “Hey, this is not half bad!”

“Not half bad?? It’s one of the best parts!”

She smiled. “Go get the other leg and join me. I’m not used to eating alone.”

“Thanks, but Ajenti has the other leg. She deserves it.”

Uzuri smiled. “I take back most of the bad things I’ve said about you, Losara. I mean, it WAS dusty and it WAS our first hunt together.”

“You mean there will be others? After tonight?”

“You and I. Leave Pipkah and the others behind and we might catch something.”

She laughed uncomfortably. “That fool Pipkah! He got his job because he makes up stories about his own prowess as a hunter. Once he found a wounded rabbit and killed it. Every time he told the story, the rabbit got bigger and healthier. By the time he finished, it could shove the elephants aside at the water hole.” She looked down. “He made us look like fools out there! We’re good hunters, Uzuri. We’re not all like him, but all our best hunters were loyalists.”

“Loyalists?”

“Loyal to Amarakh, the true Roh’mach. Ber is one of the best. He’s a REAL hunt master. He had this move called Dhourba, the ring. But he gets stuck on guard duty in the East Meadow where NOTHING ever happens. All of our best hunters are on guard duty--Shenzi doesn’t trust them.

“Why not?”

“Ber doesn’t believe Shenzi is God’s anointed. A lot of them don’t.” Losara drew close and said in a whisper. “I’m one of them, frankly. Amarakh was a true follower of Roh’kash. She didn’t like lions very much, but at least she was honest about it, not like Shenzi. Hon, you can’t turn your back on that girl.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

“Amarakh looked like she smelled like she talked like she acted like she believed. And she believed in the true God, not in magic tricks and badger words. Like her or hate her, Amarakh was the real thing. She wouldn’t send a fool like Pipkah out there to lead a hunt, and she wouldn’t sass poor old Sarabi. Gods, what that lady’s been through, and all she gets from Shenzi is grief! And pardon me for saying so, but that King of yours is no Prekh Jakrel, either.”

Uzuri didn’t know who Prekh Jakrel was, but she got the general idea. She looked in Losara’s eyes. “You know something? I think you are the real thing too.” She stirred herself and rose, stretching and yawning. “The night is young. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Hunting. You and I. I’ll get you more than a legbone, I warrant.”

Losara was delighted. “Uzuri, if it’s just the two of us, let me teach you an old custom of our people. We have a blessing before the hunt that we don’t usually use before outsiders. I say ‘Bih ‘malan, Uzuri,’ and you answer, ‘Bih ‘malan, Losara.”

“I never thought I’d be speaking hyannic,” Uzuri said with an embarrassed grin. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”

Losara smiled broadly, her eyes looking directly into Uzuri’s.

“And you say?”

“Oh, forgive me! Bih ‘malan, Uzuri.”

Ajenti poked her head through the grass. “It will take three of us to do the Crescent maneuver.”

“Yeah!” Losara wagged her tail and her ears perked up. “Anything you say, Ajenti!”

Pumbaa and Timon were walking through the forest with Simba tagging along at their heels. Every day for a lion cub is full of new discoveries, but Simba’s friends were especially prone to throw him a curve just when it seemed like he had them figured out.

The day was going slowly, however, and other than a few extra things to eat, there was not much worth staying awake to see. Simba yawned and started to flop down, when suddenly a tall bird stepped out of the brush. “Can you dig it?? The gruesome twosome!”

“Sefu!” Timon cried with obvious pleasure. “Hey, what’s shakin! Good to see you!”

“Good to be seen!” Sefu ogled Simba. “Who’s the cat, cat?”

“That’s Simba, no lion!”

“Oooh, good comeback!”

Sefu timidly patted Simba on the head, then took Timon aside. None too discretely, he said, “Hey cat, he’s the deluxe model. Comes with large protective devices called ‘folks’ that eat Meerkats for less than this, you dig?”

“The little guy’s in trouble. We found him on the desert.”

“What’s the story?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”

“If it’s cool with him, it’s cool with me.”

Smiling broadly, Sefu stalked over to Simba on his lanky legs. “Yo, cubby! I’ve always wanted to be this close to a lion and live to tell about it. So have you always been this small?”

Simba thought for a moment, then he saw the mischievous look in Sefu’s eyes. “Oh, I get it!”

Timon said, “This is one hip hawk. One ravin raptor. One absurd bird! You ought to hear him groove.”