“Oh, we’ll be back in plenty of time. Now you’re it!” Jal tapped her and ran.
“Not fair! I didn’t say ‘start’ yet!”
“OK.” Jalkort came trotting back and stood next to her. “Say it now.”
“No you don’t! Stand over there first.”
“Over here?”
“Further back.”
“Now?”
“Further back!”
“Geez, I’m not a wildebeest! What do you want me to do, migrate?”
It was the dry season. In the human camp, an unattended campfire shot out a coal that crossed the ring of rocks and fell in the grass. A small trail of smoke went up, then with an almost shy beginning, the first flame sprang up, greedily consuming the first tuft of grass, then looking around for more.
The rabid flames quickly infected the grass with a fatal fever, overwhelming the golden shafts and turning them into blackened ash. A light wind fanned the flames which spread rapidly over the savanna.
High above, a hornbill spotted what appeared to be a large black thundercloud, then stopped in flight, turning back toward Pride Rock as fast as he could go with the news--brush fire!
A dead acacia stood in the way, but it was soon overwhelmed by the destructive tide. It soon turned into a giant torch, raining limbs of golden light.
Some Thompson’s gazelles were trying to get some good out of the dying grass. They looked up and saw the wall of flame coming. In a panic, they sprinted away. “Fire! Fire! Get out!”
The choking, blinding pall of smoke dimmed the sun and the searing heat was enormous. Some sleeping hyenas were nudged by the Roh’mach.
"What the...."
"Brush fire! Get out while you still can!"
The father looked around and quickly spotted the smoke. He looked in the other direction where escape should lie, but there was more smoke. "Get up, everyone! Up, up!! We have to get out of here!!" He looked around desperately. “Where is Fabana??”
Fabana was hiding from Jalkort. She wondered why it took so long for him to find her, since hyenas had a keen sense of smell.
She looked out. “Jal? Jal!”
That’s when she saw the flames spreading all around. She forgot the game and thought about her family. "Muti! Maleh! Oh gods!"
A zebra went galloping by madly, then balked at the flames and reared up with flailing hooves. She was nearly trampled by his hooves.
"Muti! Maleh!"
Like a predator, the flames sought to surround and drive their victims. Most head toward the river and safety. In the mad rush, Fabana could not tell which way led back to her parents. She ran around in the confusion looking for some sign of her family.
At Pride Rock, young King Ahadi stared at the gray cloud with anxiousness. Zazu landed next to him, but by the time he had reached his King, the message was too obvious.
"It's sheer panic, Sire. The jackals will feast tonight."
The wind shifted the progress to and fro, and blowing sparks that spawned new fires in its wake. Vultures had already began to gather, looking for victims.
A meerkat pushed past Fabana in a mad desire to escape, then encountered a fresh wall of flame. He ran around in circles staring wide eyed at nothing in particular, shouting, "We're all going to die! Oh gods, we're all going to die!"
Flames had surrounded Fabana completely. Perhaps the meerkat was right. And then suddenly bounding over the flames came Fabana’s okhim (father) who grabbed her up by the scruff of her neck in his strong jaws and took off running.
He plunged through the flames, ignoring their hot embrace. Picking out the best routes, he managed to jump most of the flaming ground and come through unhurt in a deadly game of hopscotch. Then finally he saw freedom behind one remaining wall of fire. There were no easy routes, so closing his eyes he plunged directly into the fire. The swirling flames hurt Fabana's nose, the tips of her ears and her eyes. She reached up with a paw to ward off the heat.
Finally they burst through on the other side. Her okhim dropped her quickly with a loud yelp. "Run!! Run quickly!!"
Fabana looked back and saw her okhim become a living torch.
"Maleh! Oh gods!"
"Go!" he screamed. "Run! Run!!" He staggered a few steps, then fell into a crumpled heap, jerking spasmodically. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot. She would draw in a breath and shriek, and do it again. "Maleh!! No!!!"
Finally her fur began to singe. She had the presence of mind to turn away from what was left of her okhim and head away from the flames. She ran sobbing and howling across the ash, raising small clouds with her feet and getting soot in her nose and mouth.
Too late she saw some game wardens with shovels and picks trying to outflank the fire before it consumed their camp.
“I wish I could wring the bloody poacher’s neck! Three elephants weren’t enough--he had to burn up the whole damned place!”
One of them said, "Look at that!" Large hands circled her, and before she can snap at them, they rubbed her behind the ears gently. "There now, fellow, it's going to be all right."
"What are you going to do with it, Ed?"
"We'll see."
Fabana strained to look through the flames. "Okash!" she yelped. Then she began struggling frantically and crying, "Muti, Muti!!!"
"You're a loud little bugger, aren't you! Hey, It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Muti!!!" Tears came to her eyes. "Muti!!!"
CHAPTER 10: YOUNG GUR’MEKH
Gur’mekh had a powerful gift, one that could have been used for great good or evil, but could not be ignored.
While Shimbekh or any of the priests would have been happy to teach him to control that power, Gur’mekh had plans of his own.
“I will not spend my life telling lovesick young bak’rets which male to pursue! I will not sit around on my haunches telling others where to find the best hunting!”
Gur’mekh felt that his powers carried an awesome responsibility. He often said with pride that through him would rise up a great race that would take second place to no one, not even the lions. And to those he trusted, he would describe a puphood vision of standing on the promontory of Pride Rock. “It is my destiny. I must prepare for it with heart, mind and body.”
When he was hungry, Gur’mekh and his adolescent friends would raid the Roh’mach’s private cache of food. They knew they would be safe, for Gur’mekh could feel a guard coming and escape.
He was a braggart and a manipulator. His perception of others’ thoughts gave him the power of effective flattery and effortless lies. His friends would say that he could charm the feathers off a weaverbird and get handouts from a cheetah. His enemies said similar things, but their language was less flattering.
Though Gur’mekh felt himself superior than his associates, he spoke kind words to them, telling them what they wanted to hear with ease. So he was idolized by the ragtag group that ran around with him, particularly young Jalkort who thought the moon and sun rose solely for Gur’mekh.
Gur’mekh actually loved Jalkort, for Jal’s heart was noble and unselfish, and he believed in the greatness of Gur’mekh’s ideals. To Jalkort, every liberty Gur’mekh took was justified by his great goals.
Once Gur’mekh was angry because Jal was late for the hunt, and he began fuming and complaining to the others. But someone told him that Jal was out hunting him a rabbit for him. Gur’mekh was silent and waited patiently until mid-moon for Jal to come proudly bearing his “surprise.”
“I’m sorry I was late,” Jal said, depositing a fat hare at Gur’mekh’s feet. “The other one was too scrawny. I wanted to get you a good rabbit.”
Gur’mekh looked into Jalkort’s eyes and saw the love there. “My brother,” he said, nuzzling Jalkort, then tearing into the small carcass with more pride than hunger. And from that moment on, Jalkort and Gur’mekh were always referred to as “the brothers.”