They were being followed.
His senses tingled, prickling the fur on the back of his neck and shoulders. And yet he didn’t look back. Didn’t look around. Didn’t slow or change his course or give any sign that he was aware of it. Then, when at last they reached their shelter he lay in wait, his head rested across a forepaw and his eyes closed. To the average onlooker it would appear as if the adolescent were sleeping except that one ear was poised forwards and the other back; covering as much distance around him as possible. His nostrils, too, twitched as he scented the air in gentle puffs.
Wakala, on the other hand, was fast asleep, curled up so tight that it looked as if it would take incredible strength to pry her apart.
It took perhaps thirty minutes for his pursuer to make an appearance, the form ghostly pale in the darkness. And, without a sound, he rose onto his paws and slipped after her. He was within striking range before he finally spoke, his voice startling her.
“What are you doing?”
Her eyes flashed around to look at him, large and pale in the moonlight. Though fully grown she was not a huge lioness and even in adolescence he easily matched her height.
“Just passing through.” She replied with steel in her voice. He had to admit that she was good at keeping the fear from her expression and her words. Had she been given reason to practise that skill?
“Then it’s a coincidence that we meet twice in the same day?” He asked.
She nodded.
“Stop following me.” He rumbled warningly. “I won’t tell you again.” And, with that done, he turned and began to head slowly back, surprised at the steady thump of her paws as she hurried to catch up with him. What was wrong with her? Was she incapable of heeding warnings?
“What had that lion done?” She asked, her voice carefully curious.
Tu-Bana narrowed his eyes and whirled back to face her. “How much did you see?”
“I saw the fight. I saw him fall.” Her face grew serious and she looked away. “Were you aiming to kill him?”
Silence.
“I’ll take that as a yes. You should have checked the body.”
“Why?”
“When I went to look…” They paused again. “He was gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’? That’s impossible.”
“He was gone.”
“Why are you here?” He asked, his tone low and suspicious.
“I don’t like injustice.” She replied.
“Injustice?”
“If the lion did something wrong he should pay for what he did.” Her expression grew wary. “What did he do, anyway?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
She shrugged. “I guess not.”
“Your curiosity will get you into trouble. You don’t want to stick around here.”
“Could I maybe…stick with you for a while?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I work alone. I don’t have tag alongs.”
“You have the jackal with you.”
“She’s different.” And on that note, he ended the conversation, leaving her standing alone in the growing darkness without even a single glance back.
--
He woke as the sun peeked out from over the horizon and stretched, casting a wary look abut him for any signs of the pale lioness. She was gone but her words remained with him. If the white lion was still alive and his father found out somehow, then he would be in serious trouble. And he dared not share this information with Wakala. He considered her a friend but her allegiances were, ultimately, with his father. If she found out that he had failed she would tell him and he would be made to suffer.
Or the female could be lying.
His father had told him that they couldn’t be trusted. But his father had told him a lot of things that, deep down, he wasn’t sure he believed. Still, he should be grateful. He was growing strong thanks to him. And perhaps one day he wouldn’t even need to fear his master. One day he could win his freedom.
He turned his head to slide his gaze over the undergrowth and, for a moment, thought he saw a flash of pale fur. He faltered just a moment but as quick as it appeared it had gone again. Just his imagination? He shook his head fiercely, scowling, and pressed on – but not before the jackal had noticed.
“Something on your mind?” Wakala asked, peering up at him.
“No.”
“You look tense. We could have a duel if that would help?”
“I don’t think you have the energy for a duel, little jackal.”
“That’s what you would like to believe.” She quipped, slapping at the air with her tail. “But perhaps we should focus on getting back. Master will be waiting and he’ll want to know what happened.”
“Do you know what that white lion did? Why Master targeted him for me?”
The jackal shrugged. “He doesn’t confide such things in me, Tu-Bana. Or anyone. You should know that. It’s likely that they met sometime in the past. Old grudges. That sort of thing. And now, pitting you against his old enemies ensures your training is as good as it can be. It also means he gets rid of those who have stirred trouble with him in the past. But it’s all just assumption. Who knows. He scares me.”
He scares me, too. Tu-Bana thought silently, though he showed nothing of it on his face.
“You’ve taken on many targets successfully now, Tu-Bana. It can’t be long before you are ready to face your final test.”
“Whatever that is.”
“You’ll know when you need to. And when it is done you will have your freedom.”
“And you, yours.”
“It has been a bizarre experience so far, I will admit.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment and then, as the sun rose higher still and their ‘home’ territory came into view, the jackal sidled closer to the lion and asked: “Who was the girl?”
The adolescent male kept his eyes directed forward and gave a small, unconcerned snort. “Just some rogue, too curious for her own good.”
“Hm.” The jackal responded. “Let’s hope her curiosity has been sated.”
And they both knew what would happen if it wasn’t. It would mean her life.
