Loa hauled another log onto the stack under his overhang, glad that his knee was nearly better now. The wood should stay dry there. He’d moved the fire under shelter too. The overhang was smoky now, but that was better than letting his precious fire go out, plus the smoke kept away the mosquitoes that swarmed up in great clouds these days.
It rained most days now: not the heavy deluges of the Rain Season proper, but the regular rains of the Thunder time. The way back to the sea was cut off by rising swamp waters. Part of the grasslands had turned to swamp too. The mangrove forest that had saved him from the fire was a swiftly flowing stream. Fish lay wriggling in the tussocks after every new storm brought a quick rise and fall of flood water.
He feasted on fish and crab. The figs were sweet and ripe now too, as well as a black fruit. He’d tried only a taste of them first, then a little more when they didn’t make him sick. He still limited himself to a few a day, as a change from the figs.
The dog ate the leftover fish, but there were no fruit bats to give her now. Either they’d finally realised he was attacking them as they slept and moved their roosting spot, or they always moved camp at this time of year.
He knew the dog hunted lizards and frogs and birds to feed her puppies. There’d been no more monster lizards — though at least that one had given her all the meat she could eat for days. When he’d arrived the next day she’d hauled the carcass away from her crevice. He supposed that was so it didn’t attract other meat eaters that might then be tempted by her puppies.
Something moved behind him. A pair of hoppers: the small ones, not the big ones taller than he was. The grass was long now from the rains. He’d noticed that the big hoppers only ate grass while the small ones ate leaves and shrubs too.
His spear was better now he had been able to straighten the new shaft in hot sand, but the hoppers still never came close enough for him to spear them. He’d tried sneaking up, or even standing still, leaves about his waist, his legs together, looking down to hide his eyes, all the hunting tricks to disguise himself as he waited for them to come and graze. But they seemed to be able to scent him long before he was close enough to harm them, even if he covered himself in swamp mud and approached them from downwind.
It’s like pig hunting, he thought. Pigs were wily. You needed another hunter or, better still, many men, to drive the pigs towards the spears. Or luck, he acknowledged, grinning at the memory of that last pig hunt.
Would he ever hunt pig again? Ever get home, or even find other people? There was no way to even attempt it now until the next Dry.
What was his clan doing now? Did his mother still hope he’d return after the rains, bringing a bride with him? Or had Leki even forgotten she’d spoken to him in the excitement of marrying Bu? Perhaps she had left with Bu before he’d been missed. His family might think he had been eaten by a shark, or taken by a crocodile. Perhaps they’d searched for him.
He shut his eyes for a moment. He hoped they weren’t still searching. But deep down he knew his mother would always scan the horizon for her son’s canoe. Every time his father tracked game in the forest he’d look for a print that might be Loa’s.
But there was no way to tell them he was safe.
He shivered. He needed to do something. He’d collected enough food and wood, which left him with the rest of the day to fill.
At least he had the puppies to watch now. He picked up the second fish he’d caught at dawn and limped down the track then up again to the dog’s crevice. He sat on a rock just below it, out of the mud — he’d noticed that the dog always had to sit higher than him. Her nose appeared as she caught wind of him and the food.
He put the fish down. She crawled out on her belly, grabbed it, then dragged it slightly uphill. The puppies followed.
Their eyes had opened now. They were fat-bellied and fuzzy, with gold fur like her. He had a sudden memory of eating roast puppy last year, but thrust it away.
The puppies tumbled about the dog as she ate. Finally she stopped and let them drink, then gave a short cough. Regurgitated fish, and what might have been bird too, landed on the rock. The puppies began to eat, their tiny tails wagging. The dog watched them. Loa did too. It was fascinating to see the puppies grow. He’d watched animals and birds and fish all his life, but only as food.
At last the puppies finished eating. The dog lay back. She seemed to be sleeping in the sun, but her ears were still pricked.
One of the puppies lifted his tiny nose. He was the smallest one, a boy Loa had named Little. He sat for a second, thinking, then trotted down the path.
Loa froze. Was he coming to him?
He was too small to be a danger, of course — those tiny teeth would be mere thorn pricks. But what if the dog thought he might hurt her puppy?
Little had reached him now. Loa sat perfectly still as the puppy sniffed his hands — the fish smell, he supposed — and then his feet and bottom and then his hands again. The tiny whiskers tickled.
‘Hff,’ Little said. And climbed onto his lap.
Loa glanced at the dog, trying not to move at all. The dog raised her head. She stared at him, then at the puppy on his lap.
Did the puppy think he was a warm rock? Maybe Little liked sitting on the highest point around, just like the dog did?
‘Hff,’ said the puppy again. He wasn’t trying to eat him. It was … almost … as if he was trying to play.
Loa reached out his hand cautiously, still glancing at the dog. But even as he looked she put her head back down on her paws. Had she given him permission to touch her puppy? He stroked one finger down the puppy’s back. He had felt dog fur many times, but until the dog had allowed him to rub her stomach it had only been when the dog was dead. Puppy fur seemed softer. The puppy rolled over, wriggling with delight.
Another puppy approached, a girl this time. He helped her scramble onto his lap.
The dog lay still, listening, watching.
‘Ow!’ Tiny, needle-sharp teeth bit into his finger. ‘No!’ he said, tapping her nose automatically.
The puppy grunted. Loa flashed another look at the dog. But it seemed she was even happy to have him discipline the pups too. Like a human with a baby, he thought. Did dogs teach their puppies not to bite each other, to share food and how to hunt?
He grinned as the puppies tried to grab his fingers again. He was going to find out!