“I can’t right now. Later, all right?”
“Sure.” He rubbed his cheek again. “You sure you’re not mad at me?”
“Sure I’m sure.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “There, now it will be all better.”
Metutu looked at Asumini, open-mouthed with embarrassment. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.”
Early the next day, Metutu came to her cave. He caught a rare glimpse of her parents inside. Busara and Kima were the subjects of a lot of nasty rumors, including one about blood sacrifices under the full moon. Still, their daughter was so gentle and kind. How could there be any substance behind those stories?
“Asumini? Can you come out?”
She skipped to him, but saw him holding the smooth stone. In her hand was a grass whiskbroom. “Oh, the creek. I forgot.”
“Yeah.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Can you get away for a moment? I mean, I was hoping we could beat our old record.”
“I’m sorry, but I have chores to do.”
“But Asumini, you promised! I can have one of the servants come over and sweep the cave. They don’t mind.”
“I’d rather do what dad told me to.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
She frowned. “That’s being sneaky. I thought you were better than that, but then how could you be with a politician as a father? You’re growing up to be just like him.”
“And just what did you mean by THAT?”
“My dad said Kinara is a leopard at heart, and he didn’t mean it nice!”
The reference to the leopard made Metutu rankle.
“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do! I come over to throw rocks with you, and you insult my Dad! Well I hear that your Dad is a sorcerer. Tema says he kills goats on nights of the full moon!”
“That’s a mean thing to say! He’s good and gentle and always trying to help sick creatures get well! He’s never killed anyone in his whole life! You’re an ugly little monster, Metutu! Go home!”
Metutu stormed off. Soon from behind him she called, “I didn’t mean it! Oh gods, please come back!” There was an edge of desperation in her voice.
He wanted to forgive her, but there was also a voice inside him that was indignant. It temporarily had the upper hand. “She’ll be sorry she called my dad a leopard! She called me an ugly little monster!” That was what hurt worst of all, for he knew that by mandrill standards he WAS ugly. “Maybe I won’t come back tomorrow either. She can get ALL of her stupid old chores done!”
Metutu went home. He climbed to the crotch of the tree where he often slept. There was a knot there that looked like a rabbit looking back at it. “What about it, Bun? Girls!”
His dad looked up at him in the fork of the tree. “Whew, a storm must be blowing in--I just saw a cold, dark cloud go by.”
“A thunderhead is more like it.”
“Uh huh. So, do you want to talk about it?”
Metutu turned his face to look down at Kinara. “Dad, why can’t more females be like Mom?”
“They are like Mom. That’s the problem.”
“But she doesn’t go trying to make you mad all the time. Does she?”
“No, because I learned the great secret of dealing with her.”
Metutu climbed down. “Really? What is it?”
Kinara looked all around, then whispered into Metutu’s ear. “Give them what they want. They have you where they want you, and the sooner you realize that and play along, the better off you are.”
“But she didn’t want anything.”
“Asumini, I take it?”
“Yeah.” Metutu scratched behind his ear nervously. “Do you know what she said? She said I was growing up to be just like you.”
“Gods forbid!” Kinara gasped and put his hands to his face. “Call the shamans! This is very serious!”
Metutu fought back the smile and tried to concentrate on his anger. “She said her dad called you a no-count politician with the heart of a leopard, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“A leopard!” Kinara laughed aloud. “I’ve been called worse and by more dangerous opponents! I guess I could see how Busara might think it though--being wealthy has dulled his claws. He surrounds himself with comforts and he has all the ambitions of a gopher. He even lives in a hole like one!” Kinara laughed at his joke, then bucked out his front teeth and wiggled his fingers in front of his ears. “That Kinara’s a no-good politician with the heart of a leopard!” he said in a falsetto voice. “Bet he’s out hunting antelopes tonight!”
Metutu couldn’t control himself anymore and he began to laugh. Kinara put his arm around his shoulder and gave him a pat. “Next time you see her, apologize like crazy.”
“For what?”
“Whatever you did that made Asumini spout off like that. And don’t do it again. She has other talents you’re too young to appreciate now, but you might want them later.”
CHAPTER 7: GROWING UP
Metutu’s apology must have worked. As days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, he began to see more of Asumini. From time to time he would hear strange stories about her father, but he discounted them because of his feelings for her.
They had an on-again off-again dating relationship. Usually when it was off-again, he had tried to impress her with some new skill. He almost always failed to do so, for she was very well educated where few mandrill females are. The frustrations she heaped on his struggling male vanity were actually part of her allure to him. With each new failure, she became more desirable, and if he couldn’t impress her with athletic ability or wit, he would pursue more intellectual goals. This would prove to be more of a natural strength for him.
Once he came over to show off what he’d memorized of the Miracle Flower Saga. Because she knew the parts better, she ended up correcting him periodically. It made it difficult for him because the more frustrated he became, the more he forgot. It built on itself.
For a while he was upset, but he grudgingly admired her abilities. He settled back to watch her perform, and paid careful attention.
As she recited verse, her hand gestures melted one into the other with a grace and beauty that made the gods take notice:
She stopped and looked at Metutu’s rapt stare. “Are you all right? Was I doing something wrong?”
“Nothing wrong,” he said slowly. “You were a goddess speaking words as smooth and beautiful as water flowing over stones. They should let you perform for the council.”
“Are you sure it’s my voice you like?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly. “You have special kind of presence too. Your gestures are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful. Uh, you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re very sweet. But if you think that’s something, you should hear me do the leonine ceremony of rising over. I did that for my Auntie Asumini when she died last moon.”
“You did?” He’d never heard of a female doing ceremonies before. “That lioness we’ve always heard about--so she was real?”
“I told you I had a lioness as an Auntie. A second mother was more like it.”
“I’m sorry about your loss. I know you loved her, and it’s sad that you’ll never see her again.”