Though his only weapons were a long dagger and a stout wooden staff, Ahmadu was able to sustain himself on meat gleaned from meager kills of lizards, rock-rabbits and jumping-mice. He obtained moisture by tapping the stems of certain desert plants that resisted the drought. Grudgingly, Ahmadu admitted to himself that he had learned the latter aspect of survival by observing the behavior of the black calf.
Time passed slowly for Ahmadu, as is usual for lonely exiles. Bitterness and despondency grew in his heart like mold on a dying tree. He began to focus his resentment on the calf, which he blamed for his banishment from Ougon. He had come to believe it was a demon-creature that had ensorcelled him into saving its life.
Inexplicably, he could not kill the beast, though the urge to do so often came upon him. Instead, he treated it with harshness and abuse, often attempting to drive it from his presence. The scrawny beast would flee those outbursts of frustrated anger, bleating piteously as it ran. Yet it always returned. To Ahmadu, it was beginning to seem that the beast would be a constant reminder of that terrible day when his father struck him down and spat at his feet ...
The day finally came when Ahmadu was in a particularly foul mood. Seeking attention, the calf pushed its damp muzzle against the youth’s skin. Almost automatically, Ahmadu whipped out his dagger and slashed viciously at the face of the beast. He hadn’t intended that his blow land ... but it did, laying open the calf’s face farm eye to nostril.
Shocked at the sight of the blood welling in the wound, Ahmadu stepped back. Not uttering a sound, the calf stared up at Ahmadu. Regret and sorrow were mirrored in its bovine eyes. Then the calf turned and trotted away from Ahmadu, soon disappearing across the horizon of the desert.
Ahmadu felt an inexplicable pang of remorse at what he had done to the creature he regarded as a nemesis. As time passed, he began to realize that in the wasteland, only the calf was a creature that was neither foe nor prey. Though he despised its existence, the beast had been his only companion. Now that it was gone, Ahmadu learned the true meaning of solitude.
Occasionally, the youth thought of the lands that lay beyond the wilderness: Imal, Gaungara, Kaoka. But he knew he would find no refuge in those hostile kingdoms. Within moments of his first utterance of Ku-Djenne speech, he would be a target for a spearpoint. And Ku-Djenne was the only language he knew.
The small bands of nomads that roamed the desert would have proved no more hospitable, for they were hereditary blood foes of Djenne. For that reason, Ahmadu gave the high, spiraling strands of smoke from their cook-fires a wide berth whenever he saw them.
Eventually, the struggle to survive exacted its toll. A form of madness stole insidiously into Ahmadu’s mind. He began to take increasingly foolhardy and dangerous risks.
One of the reasons he had lasted nearly a year in the wasteland was that he hunted only prey that was beneath the notice of the more formidable desert carnivores. Now, having fashioned a spear from his dagger and staff, he stalked the addax and gazelle – which were also the food of the swift cheetah and the fierce desert lion. Eventually, Ahmadu would come into conflict with the great cats. The conflict came sooner than the youth had expected ...
CONFIDENTLY – OR, PERHAPS foolishly – Ahmadu crept closer to a gazelle chewing laboriously on tough desert foliage. Downwind, he moved silently as a phantom, tightly gripping his makeshift spear. Wilderness-honed though he had become, Ahmadu was unaware of the death that stalked him in turn.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shook the sand. In a flash of motion, the gazelle was gone. Ahmadu turned to confront a sight that would have terrified even the most fearless of warriors. Bounding toward him was a gaunt, bristle-maned lion, teeth bared and talons poised to rend.
Before the youth could thrust out his makeshift weapon, the huge feline was upon him. Its great weight bore him to the ground, and cruel claws hooked into the flesh of his shoulders. Hot, fetid breath beat onto his fear-frozen face; mighty fangs drove downward toward the youth’s unprotected throat, and Ahmadu cried out as death’s yellow eyes stared hungrily into his own.
Then the giant jaws closed ... short of their goal. The lion looked up, startled by the sudden sounds of onrushing hooves and a booming bellow. As the hoofbeats drew closer, the lion released its hold on Ahmadu. It growled furiously at the interloper, and its great thews rippled in anticipation of battle.
Now a huge black shape loomed over the lion and its prey. Ahmadu saw only a hurtling head and a flicker of horns as the mysterious intruder slammed into the leaping lion and sent it flying. The carnivore landed a dozen feet away. Before the stunned lion could rise, its gigantic foe leaped effortlessly over Ahmadu.
Then the black beast, which Ahmadu finally recognized as a bull buffalo that was a giant even among its own kind, drove its horns into the body of the lion. Squalling in agony, the great cat fought to free itself. But the buffalo continued to gore the lion unmercifully. As well, its hooves trampled like mauls, splintering the bones of its thrashing foe. Powerful though it was, the lion could not long withstand such punishment. Within moments, the huge cat became a battered, bloody corpse.
As the buffalo turned from its flattened kill, Ahmadu stared at its hulking form. The youth’s mind whirled in confusion. He had heard of the ill-tempered ferocity of such beasts from travellers who had come from the southern countries. But he also knew that the buffalo did not live even as
