Hours later, Derek was still smiling at the thought of Shawu’s family ghosting through the trees somewhere ahead of them, when he suddenly drew to a halt. There were a great many sounds in the bush that gave one reason to pause – to tread carefully or even to change one’s course – but only one stopped you dead in your tracks and made you want to turn around. Made you want to run for your life.
Lions.
They were close, at the top of a nearby rise. By the sound of their snarls they had cornered some poor animal whose time on earth had almost certainly run its course. Derek cupped his hands over his eyes and searched anxiously for a route around the hill. Absurd as it was, he felt himself hold his breath. He had absolutely no desire to announce himself to a pride of warring lions. He looked across at Shawu and noticed, with a sudden pang of concern, that she did not share his view and, inexplicably, was still heading for the rise. This was not an oversight on her part, nor was it a lapse in her hearing; she was clearly aware of their presence. If anything, it seemed to be drawing her forward. As the cries of the ill-fated animal drifted towards them, something in her walk changed.
‘No, Shawu,’ he urged, his mind trying to get a handle on the moment. He wanted to yell out to her, to call her back, but it was an absurd notion. He had as much control over her movements as he did the rise and fall of the moon. ‘Shawu … please!’ he said in despair.
But as she moved away from him, he knew he couldn’t abandon her now. He simply didn’t have it in him. And so, left with no real alternative, he reached for his rifle and followed after her. ‘This is madness,’ he chided himself. ‘What are you doing, Derek?’
As they made their way up the slope, he could feel his heart pounding between his shoulder blades. What were they about to walk into? Would the lions back down at the sight of Shawu? Turn and run? Please, Lord. Or would they stay and fight?
As more dark thoughts gathered, threatening his resolve, Shawu increased her pace.
They were now less than fifty yards from the top of the hill.
Hearing the lions snarl and snap at their prey, Derek puffed out his cheeks and glanced down at his rifle. He felt like he was about to charge into the colosseum with only a child’s wooden sword to defend himself. But what choice did he have?
Twenty yards.
Something heavy thrashed in a bush, clearly fighting for its life.
Ten yards.
Five.
As Shawu crested the rise, Derek was practically in her shadow. And then, when he looked up, he was standing in the middle of an imagined world. The first thing that struck him was the immediate change in the atmosphere. It felt as though they had crossed over some unnatural divide, through an unholy curtain where the air was so still you had to suck it into your mouth. A place where they were the intruders.
Five adult lions surrounded a battle-worn buffalo whose coat was now a pinstripe of brown and glistening red. The old bull was in shock. Derek could see it in his eyes. Either out of fear or fatigue – or both – his legs trembled in the tall grass.
The predators, muscled slabs of bullion in their prime, snapped their heads towards Shawu. There were two immensely large males and three smaller females, their necks slung low and their legs set wide apart. There was a trancelike lull of a few seconds during which nothing happened. The two colossuses of the bush appeared to be weighing each other up. But then, and without warning, Shawu charged. The felines held their ground, gambling that she would pull out of the attack.
But this was no mock charge. There was no flapping of ears or trumpeting, no theatrics. It was plainly about doing damage. As Shawu got to within striking range, the three females lost their nerve and sprang away. The two males, however, remained, crouched down, ears pinned. Shawu connected the first lion with the side of her left tusk, a glancing blow that somersaulted him onto his back. The second lion ducked under the attack and swiped at her legs. Having passed them, and now standing in front of the old bull, Shawu shook her head, displaying her lethal tusks. Before Derek could think to do anything, she charged again. This time, both males skilfully avoided the attack and each used their powerful claws to draw thick grooves across her legs. Again she charged and again they avoided impalement. Instead, more angry red lines opened up on her body.
As unfathomable as it seemed, Derek suddenly began to understand that even an elephant as enormous and powerful as Shawu was vulnerable to a pack of determined lions. Together, they could do her real harm. They could tire her out and, with fortune on their side, maybe even drag her down. Off her feet, she would be at their mercy. As Derek tightened his grip on his rifle, hurried thoughts colliding in his mind, he noticed Shawu was now staring over and beyond the lions towards the old bull … who was now limping down the back of the hill to the safety of his herd. Back to his family.
Suddenly, it all became clear to Derek. What he thought was an unprovoked attack on the lions, fuelled by some inbred and ancient hatred, was not that at all.
It was a rescue mission.
Oh hell, Shawu, Derek thought, his pulse now hammering in his fingers.
Having saved the old buffalo, and as if to confirm Derek’s suspicion, she began to back away from the lions. But, robbed of their meal, the hunters were not prepared to let her leave. Incensed, the two males stalked towards her, large fistfuls of muscle coiling under their tanned shoulders. What Derek saw in their eyes stole the spit from his mouth.
Confidence.
They believed they could have her.
There was no longer any doubt. He knew what he had to do. Although concerned by what effect the gunshots would have on Shawu, there was no other option. He would have to use his rifle to ward off the attack.
Instinctively, the two males split up in a pincer movement and arced around Shawu, dividing her attention. As they moved, Derek remained invisible to them – a tick on a rhino’s back. They hadn’t even glanced in his direction. Not yet, at least. Then, from a bank of low bushes, the three females launched themselves at Shawu, clawing and ripping at her back legs.
‘Shit … shit!’ Derek recoiled in surprise and quickly raised his rifle.
While Shawu wheeled around, trying to free herself, the males leapt at her. The slightly smaller of the two went straight for her neck. The larger one clawed his way onto her back. And in the breath of a single moment, all five lions were attached to Shawu, tearing at her body. It was an impossible scene. Derek pointed his rifle up at the sky and pulled the trigger. But instead of gunfire, there was only a faint and despairing click.
He wrenched back on the Lee Enfield’s bolt, frantically trying to free the bullet lodged in its throat. Shawu was now spinning around in a tight circle, trying to shake off her assailants, but they held on stubbornly, their claws sunk into her hide. The large male on her back had wrapped his powerful front legs around the base of her neck, his teeth searching for a vein that would end her resistance.
Punching his rifle in frustration, Derek finally managed to dislodge the bullet. He snapped the bolt shut and, running towards Shawu, fired wildly into the sky.
Mercifully, the lions relented at the sound of the gunfire, scattering away into the tall grass. Shawu stumbled, threatened to topple over, but managed to regain her balance. Having emptied its chambers, Derek quickly reloaded and fired again, driving the lions further down the hill. Vaguely content that they weren’t coming back, he instinctively dropped the rifle to show Shawu that he meant her no harm, that he was only trying to help … to protect her.
More weary than wary, she blinked back at him. Although she was bleeding from several places, her injuries did not appear life-threatening. Not for the moment, at least.
Derek kept his hands in the air.
She regarded him for a few moments before limping forward. As she drifted past him, a light rain beginning to fall, she stretched out her trunk and touched the back of his hand.
It was the merest of glances, but it was meant.
‘Can we please,’ he said softly, his voice trembling in his throat, ‘… not do that again.’