‘Why?’
‘Because that’s how bad things are. That’s the position we’ve been forced into. That’s how tiny the corner that we’ve been backed into is. And when I say we, I’m not just talkin’ about us beastwalkers, I’m talkin’ about everythin’ that’s left a’ the natural world, all wild, free things … everything that’s been here on this amazin’ planet for tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, hell, millions of years. All a’ that soul-soaring beauty an’ wonder, girl, the complexity an’ interconnectedness of which y’all can’t even begin to comprehend, not even a fraction of it … it’s all disappearin’. No, no, I ain’t gonna say “disappearin’”, because the implication a’ that word is that it’s a passive process. It’s an active process all right, it’s real fuckin’ active – an’ it’s being carried out by entities like the Huntsmen Corporation, an’ all their subsidiaries … an’ the killing an’ destruction is supported by the billions of people who mindlessly buy not only the products that these clowns sell ‘em, but the fake dreams an’ destructive lifestyles that companies like the Huntsmen, an’ everything they represent, have slammed into seven an’ a half billion human skulls like poisoned bullets.’
‘I … I know how bad things are,’ Chloe murmured. ‘We’re not as ignorant as you think we are. We’ve done research, literally a ton of it, and—’
‘Look, kid,’ Njinga interrupted gently, ‘I ain’t saying y’all are ignorant, an’ I don’t mean to suggest that y’all don’t know that things are bad, that the natural world is being killed, that millions of species are bein’ systematically exterminated. I’m just sayin’ that y’all are too young an’ too inexperienced to grasp the scale of it. An’ that ain’t your fault; hell, a hundred-and-twenty-year-old person who’d spent their lifetime travelling the length an’ breadth of the world would have trouble graspin’ even a fraction a’ the destruction, even a sliver of the true scale a’ the devastation an’ loss that’s going on. Do y’all know that thousands, no tens of thousands of the animals, birds, insects an’ plants that are going extinct haven’t even been named by scientists yet? Y’all know about the more obvious issues, the big animals that are disappearing all over the world; tigers, rhinos, elephants, polar bears, an’ maybe some of the little ones, like pangolins, an’ I’m sure y’all know a lot about the plastic crisis in the oceans, the imminent collapse of fish populations an’ all that … but what I’m trying to explain is that those things are a speck on the tip of a fuckin’ iceberg. So much is vanishing, so very, very much … an’ I don’t mean hiding out, waiting for this storm to pass. I mean gone forever, lost eternally. Extinct. Can y’all, who have only been alive for a couple of years, even start to comprehend what that word means?’
The teens sat in tight-lipped silence while Njinga paused to breathe for a few moments.
‘We satyaduta,’ she continued, ‘the handful of us still alive who remain faithful to the Council’s teachings that I told y’all about, we ain’t only fightin’ for ourselves, an’ for what remains of the dreams of the lost Councils … we’re fighting for everythin’ wild an’ free an’ beautiful in this world. Have y’all noticed what word I’ve been using? “Fightin’”. That’s why I’m makin’ you hold that ugly thing. You can talk all you want, you can do your thing on social media, you can march in the streets, hold rallies, but in the end the Huntsmen don’t give a shit. They wipe their asses with the letters people write to newspapers, an’ grin smugly while they troll online comment sections. They laugh at election campaigns promisin’ change; they’ve got every politician, no matter what party you’re talking about, already bought an’ paid for, nice an’ snug in their pockets. If any a’ you were old enough to vote, would you think those votes actually count for anythin’? An’ you know what an even bigger joke to those fuckers is? Green consumerism. Hell, half the companies that make that so-called “green” tech an’ “green” fast food an’ “green” cars or whatever are owned by the Huntsmen anyway! You buy the usual shit, they win, an’ if you buy the “green” shit, they win again!’
‘Okay,’ Chloe ventured, trying to put the pistol into Njinga’s hands, ‘I get what you’re saying. We need to fight, I understand the metaphor—’
‘It ain’t no metaphor,’ Njinga countered as she pushed the firearm back towards Chloe. ‘I want you to, no, no scratch that, I need you to wrap your damn fingers around the grip a’ that pistol. Do it girl, do it! Feel the weight a’ that thing in your hands! I don’t mean the two an’ a half pounds it weighs, I mean feel the weight a’ it, the heaviness a’ the burden that now lies in our hands – in your hands too, since y’all have been thrust into this fight. The crushin’ mass of what it is to truly fight for somethin’ … to give your life to a cause without hesitation … to take yourself so far beyond what you ever dreamed you were capable of that you don’t even recognise yourself no more, that there’s nothing left a’ you but a phantom, an echo of something that was once alive, an’ is now little more than a machine, a machine with one purpose, an’ one purpose only. Feel it girl, feel it! Press your finger against the trigger, an’ point that fuckin’ gun at me!’
‘I … I can’t,’ Chloe gasped.
Njinga’s eyes were aflame with shining heat, and her nostrils flared out with that same righteous wrath, her jaw clenched tight as a snapped-shut bear trap.
‘I said point the fuckin’ firearm at me! Do it, fuckin’ do it!’
With tears welling in her eyes and her hand trembling, Chloe did as she was told and raised the pistol, holding it weakly and pointing it
