“I don’t have a pride,” he told them. “I live with a baboon troop. I’m a baboon, really.”
All five of them lowered their heads now, gaping at him, their dark eyes wide and astonished.
“I thought you smelled funny,” said one.
“A baboon?” repeated another.
“Well, not really, obviously.” Fearless coughed to clear his throat, making the creatures flinch back just a little. “But I’ve lived with Brightforest Troop forever, and I’m one of them.”
One of the creatures chewed doubtfully on a mouthful of leaves. “So why aren’t you with them now?”
“A hyena killed our leader, and I’m searching for its pack,” growled Fearless. He eyed the tall creatures again, narrowing his eyes. “What are you?”
“We’re giraffes,” said one. “But that’s quite enough about us. Hyenas, you say? Why would you follow them?”
“I’m going to make sure they don’t hurt my troop anymore,” he told them grandly.
“Well,” harrumphed the female. “That’s an extremely bad idea.”
“I’ll say,” agreed her friend. “Hyenas are very dangerous.”
“With respect,” pointed out Fearless, “you would say that. You’re grass-eaters.”
“And you, apparently, are a baboon.” The giraffes began to laugh, a snorting, grunting sound.
“I’m not going back home until I’ve driven the hyenas away,” said Fearless indignantly. “It’s important to protect the troop. And it’s my job. It’s what I do!”
“Well.” The tallest giraffe shared a skeptical look with its neighbor. “I suppose if you insist, there’s nothing we can do to stop you. If you really want to find hyenas—”
“I do,” insisted Fearless.
“Oh well. Follow the line of trees there, toward where the sun sets.” The giraffe nodded toward it, in a rather slow, extended gesture. “That’s where the pack went.”
“Thank you.” Fearless dipped his head and turned to pad away.
“Hey!” one of the giraffes called. “Whatever you do, don’t let the hyenas see you.”
“In fact, you really should go home,” brayed another.
Fearless shook his head irritably and paced faster. Those . . . giraffes are overreacting. Grass-eaters!
But they’d been right about where to find the hyenas; their distinctive scent, rank and musty, became much stronger as he followed the line of the trees. There were several trails running in the same direction, and Fearless’s heart quickened. How many are there? A whole pack?
Soon the hyenas’ pawprints became obvious. The line of trees had come to an end, but the trail was clear across a stretch of grass and then around some yellow-barked acacias. Beyond those the savannah stretched out, open and bright, toward hazy blue hills in the distance. Fearless padded on, determined.
A smear on the landscape—some kind of misshapen shadow—shimmered distantly in the afternoon heat. Hope rising, Fearless broke into a lope. A few rot-eater birds took off as he approached, cawing and flapping in annoyance; the shadow was a gazelle carcass, half eaten and already stinking. Fat flies hummed busily around its tattered flesh.
It’s lain here for a while, and the hyenas certainly ate from it, thought Fearless, huffing in their pungent stench. They’d usually strip the bones bare, but they’re gone.
He glanced up and around, frowning. The birds circling above him were black-and-white crows; a single ugly stork with a huge, fat bill had retreated to a safe distance and was glowering at him. But there was no sign of the vultures that would usually crowd around a feast like this. What’s keeping them away?
His stomach growled again, and something his mother had once said came back to him. The lionesses, desperate after a long dry season, had brought back a dead tortoise. It hadn’t tasted nearly as good as zebra.
Starving Swiftcubs can’t be picky.
He sniffed at the gazelle carcass again. Well, he had to eat. And if crows could choke down something that smelled so foul, there was no reason a lion couldn’t.
He crouched and tore off chunks and strips of rotten flesh, gulping them down as fast as he could. Flies buzzed up in angry clouds, but Fearless shut his eyes and ate, ignoring them. A taste of foulness and decay caught in the back of his throat, but it certainly filled his empty belly better than lizards and rodents.
Satisfied, Fearless rolled over and basked for a moment, licking his paws and rubbing the sticky blood from his face. But he didn’t get long to relax. Something moved against the rippling horizon, and he blinked and sat up, trying to focus.
The sun was lowering in the sky, and its golden intensity made the shapes hard to see clearly across the vast stretch of grassland. Still, he could make out that there were three of them, and they were definitely getting closer. Fearless propped himself up on his forepaws. Some instinct told him to glance behind him, and he saw two more creatures, bulky and heavy-footed, coming from the opposite direction. At last they were close enough to see clearly, and Fearless could only stand up and stare.
A cubhood memory sparked in his head. He knew he’d seen these thickset, stocky creatures before. Their heads were wide and square, with a thick horn on the nose; their creased hides were gray, leathery, and furless. Billowing yellow dust rose in thick clouds as they trotted toward him. Rhinoceroses, Swiftcub. His mother’s voice drifted back to him across the long seasons. Don’t get too close.
“I’m looking for hyenas,” he yelled as soon as he judged they were in earshot. “Have you seen them? Do you know where the hyenas live?”
No answer came; instead the rhinos broke from a brisk trot into a run. Lowering those fearsome horns, they galloped toward him, their great hooves pounding up clouds of sunlit dust. On the still air, he heard the low rumble of menace from their throats.
Fearless ducked and bolted to the side, then sprinted as fast as he could away from both groups. They hadn’t looked fast, but appearances had been deceptive. He could still hear their heavy feet thundering as they swerved after him, and the ground shook.
The long grass. If I can reach that—
Fearless put on another burst of speed. His breath rasped in his throat and a sudden pang of fear struck painfully in his chest. I can’t keep up this pace for long! The long grass was still too far away. He glanced back and saw that the rhinos were closing in. He could make out their tiny, black, malevolent eyes.
His lungs stung as he dragged in desperate breaths and his muscles burned with effort. I can’t outrun them!
Now Fearless understood why the vultures had stayed away, and why the hyenas had abandoned the carcass. The rhinos must have driven them off. Wait—did they actually kill the whole hyena pack? His blood ran cold with fear. They’re going to catch me. They’re going to kill me!
There seemed to be only one thing left to do. Fearless skidded to a halt in a flurry of dust, spun around, and faced the charging creatures. Bunching his shoulders, he gave the loudest roar he could.
The animals skidded to an abrupt halt, so close their hot clouds of breath billowed over him. It didn’t smell of flesh, which was reassuring; it smelled of smashed grass and leaves.
But they looked angry—really angry.
“Who do you think you are?” bellowed the biggest of them, pawing at the ground. “This is our land! This is rhinoceros territory!”
Fearless held his ground, baring his teeth. “I didn’t know,” he growled.
“A lone lion who doesn’t know rhino territory? You’ve got a nerve.” The leader raked her massive, three-toed hoof across the sand again. “The hyenas had the sense to run from us. So should you!”
There was a small bush beside her; she tore at it with her fearsome horn, scattering leaves and scraps of twigs. Turning back to Fearless, she narrowed her small eyes.
“Why,” she rumbled, “are you still here?”
She lowered her horn again, this time in his direction. Fearless tensed, waiting for her to make her next move—but it was a hor
rible shock when she did. She lunged into a brutal, direct charge.
Twisting and leaping, Fearless bolted again, only to glimpse another rhinoceros, cutting across to intercept him. He dodged and ducked, fleeing back the way he’d come—and had to swerve again, out of the path of another. They were forcing him back, he realized, driving him toward the edge of a sharp slope. He slithered to a halt. Backing away from the rhinos, snarling, he sensed the empty air at his rump where the ground fell away.
They’re heavy. They’ve got huge shoulders. Maybe they can’t run downhill well?
I hope not, anyway.
Spinning, he sprang down the slope. His paws hit the incline and didn’t stop, slithering wildly beneath him, and he only just stopped himself tumbling head over tail to the bottom. Grit and dust flew up, burning his mouth and nostrils with the hot scent of sand and stone. The clouds settled as he reached flat ground again; recovering, he spun back to face the rhinos, opening his jaws aggressively.
But the rhinoceroses hadn’t followed. They stood on the crest of the slope, glaring down at him, grunting in frustration.
“Don’t let us see you around here again!” bellowed the leader. “We’ll stomp you to bits of cat-flesh if you come back!”
“Don’t worry,” muttered Fearless, shaking himself briskly. “I’ve no intention of coming near you again.”
Fearless strutted along the grassland, heading toward a line of dark forest. The hyena scent was back in his nostrils and the trail was clear; even better, there was no more sign of strange-looking, oversize enemies. He was nearly there when he found another carcass in a shallow dip: a kudu this time, recognizable only by its huge spiraling horns and a few scraps of brindled hide—the bones were stripped quite clean. Finally, it seemed, the hyenas had found a kill where they could eat undisturbed by the rhinoceroses.
Picking the scent up again on the other side of the carcass, Fearless determinedly followed the trail, skirting the edge of the forest. Beyond the trees, where the plains swept out once more, he saw the darkness of a broad, rocky escarpment, clearly silhouetted against the low sun. He tightened his jaws and padded toward the steep bank.
Pausing, one paw raised, Fearless narrowed his eyes. Now he could make out details: low on the slope, half hidden by scrubby bushes, there was a darker smear of shadow. He took another few cautious paces and saw it was a hollow cavern—one that penetrated deep into the bank, farther than he could see.
As the sun melted below the horizon in an amber glow, Fearless crept stealthily closer to the rocks, his belly low to the ground. The shadowed hole was right ahead of him, and it wasn’t just any tunnel; it stank strongly of hyenas. Fearless felt his excitement rising. This must be where they live!
Crouching low, he crawled inside, dragging and squeezing his haunches after him. The coldness within was almost shocking. Twisting his head awkwardly, he could still make out the sky, a round, dark blue patch behind him.
I’m a lion, he told himself. And a lion hunts by night. All the same, he had to shake off a tremor in his spine.
Fearless knew he must smell like a hyena himself now; their rank odor clung unpleasantly to his fur. But he’d found them, and he was soon deep enough into the tunnel to be in pitch darkness. Pausing, taking slow breaths, and summoning his confidence, he let his eyes adjust.
Shapes formed clearly in his vision; he could see the tunnel walls in shades of sludgy blue and green. Not much, but enough. He made out blacker blobs of shadow, too, where more tunnels branched off.
From deep inside one of them came the sound of a high-pitched, echoing squabble. The noise raised the hair on Fearless’s spine, but he clenched his jaws and crept toward it, his belly low.
Far too close by, claws scrabbled on stone. Fearless stopped, his heart racing. Somewhere there was the click of rapid, running paws, but the echoes made it hard to pinpoint their source.
Are they behind me?
Uneasiness prickled his spine, but he couldn’t stop now. He picked his way along in the darkness. He could make out only the occasional ridge of jutting rock, outlined by a pallid glow. It was his nose and his hide that told him when the tunnel opened out into a broad cave; the air simply seemed emptier. Fearless came to a halt, breathing as silently as he could.
Starlight must have leaked in from somewhere high above; several pairs of eyes glowed as they turned in his direction. His own eyes began to adjust, showing him the outlines of five hyenas, their hackles raised.
The hyenas were first to recover. One of them sprang to confront him with a squealing growl and showed its vicious fangs.
“What are you doing here?”
It was huge. Its fangs, bared and dripping saliva, were sharp and lethal, and its eyes burned a hideous yellow. Its fur was spotted, greasy tufts standing up from its long legs and broad, sloping back. Yet its vicious head looked almost small, hunched in front of its massive, thickly muscled shoulders.
Nut was right after all, Fearless realized with a plummeting heart. The one that attacked our troop was a sickly weakling.
These ones, quite clearly, were not.
His courage deserted him. Baring his teeth, trying not to tremble, Fearless backed away, one paw at a time. Then he heard a sniggering voice behind him:
“Not so fast, baby lion.”
One hyena had indeed been sneaking up behind him; now it emerged from the tunnel, grinning in vicious glee.
No escape. Panic rose in his chest.
“Straight into our den, brothers and sisters,” snarled the big hyena facing him. “Straight into our den he crawls.”
“Lions,” spat another. “So full of themselves.”
The one behind him giggled again. “Not usually quite so stupid, though.”
Fearless swung around to eye him fearfully, then spun back to face forward again. How am I going to fight when I’m surrounded?
“I never ate lion before,” whined another from the cave. “I wonder how it tastes?”
“This one might be a little bitter,” sniggered the leader. “So much regret. For being so stupid.”
Fearless tried to ignore their taunts. His heart thundered in his chest as he glanced desperately around for a way out. However good his eyesight was, it was hard to distinguish one pool of shadow from another. He pressed his flank to the wall, widening his eyes as he tried to peer beyond the cave.
“Stand aside, brothers and sisters. The first bite of lion is mine.” The leader bunched her haunches and sprang.
Fearless flung himself away from the wall, rolling and scrabbling in a desperate effort to escape the snapping jaws. He felt sharp fangs graze his flank, but as he dodged those, another hyena pounced, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. He gave a roar of pain and flung it off. More teeth stabbed into his hind leg; he twisted sharply and had the satisfaction of feeling his own fangs bite into hyena-flesh.
But there were too many of them. Lashing, roaring, snapping, Fearless spun and struck out as hard as he could, but he was tiring already, and the hyenas were smart, ducking away from his jaws and letting the ones at his rump spring in to bite.
Under their relentless assaults, Fearless staggered back, and he and the hyenas tumbled into the larger chamber. He shook off the beast that was fastened to his neck and rolled again, lashing out with his claws. His breath rasping, he glanced wildly around. In the chaos, he’d struck a single moment of luck—the hyenas were suddenly all on one side of him, next to the tunnel. Scrambling to his paws, he bolted away from them, deeper into the cavern, heading instinctively for the darkest patch of shadow he could see.
It’s another tunnel! He leaped and clawed his way into it, kicking hyenas away from his rump. They howled and screeched with rage, biting at his hindquarters; they were right behind him, but his way forward was clear for now. Trying to ignore the pain of their snapping teeth, Fearless dragged himself on.
As the passage widened, he picked up speed, the pounding of his paws echoing from the rock that enclosed him. The hyenas were s
till in pursuit, yammering and barking, but he could hear something up ahead, too—another set of paws. He caught the glow of eyes turning toward him, and his heart missed a beat.
I can’t turn back. Clenching his jaws, charging on, he sprang at the new hyena. Taken by surprise, it squealed as it fell under his pounding paws. Fearless bounded over it and kept running.
The tunnel was rising now, and more light filtered in. He could see details again: rough sandstone walls, and an empty circular gap, and the glitter of distinct starlight. Oh please, please . . .
He burst into the open, gasping a lungful of fresh night air. The vast sky was filled with stars, and the sight of them gave him a new surge of energy.
He was out of the awful tunnels and still running, but the hyenas hadn’t given up the chase. He could hear their harsh-throated cries of greed as they gained on him. Fearless’s breath rasped. He knew he was tiring, and when they caught him—
I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think!
Even the night air was overwhelmed by the stench of hyena now. But as his nostrils flared, Fearless smelled something else, something familiar: a rich, deep scent that was nothing like the rankness of hyena.
Lions!
Hope surged in his aching chest. Summoning the last of his reserves, Fearless opened his jaws and gave a grunting, desperate roar for help. It echoed back from the rocks around him, and Fearless couldn’t help but think the land itself was mocking him. When he curled back his muzzle to try again, he was slammed to the ground, and the roar stuck in his throat.
A hyena clung to his hindquarters, biting and tearing. The others were quickly on him too, piling on with snapping jaws. Terror rushed through Fearless’s blood as he twisted and writhed on his back. He tried to rake at his attackers with his hind claws, but they were too fast, too agile. The leader lunged for his throat with a snarl of triumph—
The hyena was knocked flying as a great tawny force slammed into it. Gasping, half blinded by fear, Fearless could only gape as a huge, sleek lioness fought and grappled with his attacker. The rest of the hyena pack was under attack, too: more lionesses had charged into the fray and were fighting savagely.