The dogs howled that night, the first time since he’d seen the strangers’ campfire smoke. It was almost as though they knew that it was time to call them.
The girl’s father, brothers, uncles and grandfathers would never have heard a dog’s howl before: they’d come to investigate.
He hoped they’d come as friends, not enemies. Had the girl explained? Had she understood?
He thought of her smile, the way she’d giggled when she touched Little Girl. If anyone could understand it would be her.
He put green wood on the fire the next morning, to make the most smoke to show the girl’s clan exactly where his camp was. They’d know that much smoke must be a signal, a way of saying, ‘Here I am.’ It could be an invitation — or a threat. In the fire pit the two hoppers lay cooking, hot and moist and tasty under the layer of wet leaves and soil, away from flies. Food in a fire pit kept good for days.
He put on his necklaces of fish vertebrae and hopper teeth. He sat on the ledge by his campfire and rubbed hopper fat into his spears so they gleamed, their shafts thick and straight; they were obviously made by a hunter who knew what he was doing. His obsidian knife hung by the cord about his waist. Little Boy and Little Girl slept beside him. The dog was off somewhere, hunting perhaps, tired of eating eggs.
Suddenly the young dogs’ ears pricked. Little Girl sat up, glancing across at Loa as though to say, ‘Can’t you hear them too?’
At first all he could see was grass moving, as though a giant snake was coming towards them. The ripple grew nearer. It was made by people.
The whole clan had come, not just the hunters, men who might attack a stranger. The girl had convinced her clan that he wasn’t luring them to battle. They had understood each other well that day. He could see a couple of grandmothers, some grandfathers, white hair and long white beards, women with babies slung on their backs, keeping their hands free to carry bags filled with fruits and tubers they had gathered on the way.
Two of the hunters had long-necked birds slung over their shoulders. Loa would have grinned if he hadn’t been so nervous. The hunters didn’t know a feast waited for them.
The girl walked behind the others. He’d hoped she’d be in the front, as eager to see him again as he was to see her, but of course the hunters would lead the clan. Then he saw that she too wore necklaces — shells and bright red seeds.
She wore them for him.
He stood up so she could see him, so they could all see him. He wanted to smile at the girl, but her uncles might resent a stranger smiling so openly before he’d proved his worth. Little Girl and Little Boy stood too, yawning.
Suddenly one of the hunters raised his spear. He aimed at Little Girl …
‘Down!’ But even as Loa gave the order the girl ran forwards and grabbed the man’s spear arm. She spoke to him urgently. The hunter lowered his spear. The man stared as Little Girl and Little Boy sat at Loa’s feet, just as he’d planned, then rolled onto their backs.
But where is the dog? thought Loa frantically. He needed her to be here too, so everyone would see he had three tame dogs, not just two. He bent slowly, and scratched the dogs’ tummies, listening to the mutters of wonder from the strangers.
All at once a grandma pointed.
The dog stood on the rock above them. It’s almost as though she’s inviting a spear, thought Loa desperately.
‘Dog!’ he called, hoping she’d come. Hoping they’d realise that if she did come running down it was because he’d ordered her to, not because she was attacking. He remembered how he’d thrown stones at the rubbish dogs, before he’d known that a human and an animal could be friends and partners.
The dog vanished off the rock. Suddenly she appeared on the path, running towards them, a bird dangling from her mouth.
The hunter raised his spear again. Loa could almost hear the man think, I’ll be the first to kill the new beast. The girl said something, quickly and firmly. But the hunter shrugged her off. This was men’s business.
The spear was long and well made, its point sharp. At this range the hunter wouldn’t miss.
‘Dog!’ he cried desperately.
The dog glanced at him as she ran down the path towards him. There was something in her look that said she knew exactly what was happening, and what she was doing now.
She looked almost amused as she ran up to Loa. She dropped the bird at his feet and glanced up at him again, as if to say, ‘I’m doing this for you.’ Then rolled over, her legs in the air.
It was as though she shouted to every human here: ‘Look! This man is my master! I catch food for him. We dogs are useful. Let us live.’
The hunter put down his spear. Someone laughed. All at once they were all laughing — the grandmothers, the hunters, the girl, even the toddlers on the women’s backs. They pointed at the dogs and at Loa.
Loa laughed too. He bent down to scratch the dogs’ tummies so the strangers wouldn’t see his tears.
A shadow crossed his. It was the girl. She bent down beside him, then, cautiously at first, began to scratch Little Girl’s tummy too.
Soon, he thought, when I can breathe again, I’ll show them all the fire pit and the feast I prepared. Show the girl’s uncles that he was a hunter to be respected and a spear maker, as well as the man who’d tamed the dogs. He’d show the girl too.
He smiled, and met her eyes.
‘Arrunna,’ she said.
He didn’t know if that was her name, or ‘hello’ in her language, or maybe a word for ‘strange animal that likes to be scratched’.
It didn’t matter. They understood each other in all the ways that mattered now. There would be long happy years to find out more. Somehow he knew that from now on things would be good, for him and for the dogs too. His dogs. His friends.
‘Loa,’ he said, and reached over to scratch the dog, his hand next to the girl’s.