The jackal emerged from its den and sniffed the air. The waning sun left a rim of orange on the horizon at the edge of the plain. The smell the jackal detected was human. There had been many of them over the past week disturbing the peace of Lewa Downs. But this was different. It smelt of… food.
The jackal trotted towards the source of the aroma but found its way blocked by the branches and spikes of an acacia bush. It skirted the bush and slid forward on its belly, avoiding the long protruding spikes of other white thorn acacia bushes.
It emerged into a small clearing and stood, alert to the sounds of other creatures. The smell was stronger now, but mingled with another scent, that of hyena. The jackal stiffened and cocked its head. It was alone, but still moved stealthily towards a clump of devil’s horsewhip. Areas of the undergrowth had been trampled and there were tracks made by earlier animal visitors.
The jackal stopped and surveyed the dead body. It had already been attacked by hyenas, and they would soon return. Its attention was caught by the sparkle of a gold ring, reflecting the final strands of daylight. Grasping at the object, it found its supper was not attached to the body, so it closed its jaw firmly.
Hearing the snap of twigs and smelling the stink of hyena, it trotted away across the clearing, through a gap in the trees and out onto the open savannah, still grasping the left hand of a young woman firmly in its mouth.