Animal Activities #78
The midday savanna vibrated with heat; it softened the horizon but Kojo kept his eyes fixed on the cracked red clay under his paws. He was a pattern-dog, a creature unlike the other dogs in his pack that would lunge after the gazelles in a frenzied head-long chase. In the shade of the great acacia tree the others slept, while Kojo hunted their prints amongst the dust of their slumber.
He could differentiate the terror-stricken gait of the fleeing gazelle from that of one ambling in its feed.
Where the pack saw the flashing panorama of movement, ignited by the thrill of the chase, Kojo saw the coded map of the plains. They would see the movement, and he the smudges, the twigs, and the tiny ballet of a billion motes of dust. For weeks the pack had made not a single kill. The migrating herds had evaded them, and a sense of desperation began to settle over the gaunt shapes, their gaudy flanks shrunken with hunger.
Silas, their leader, scarred and with gold eyes set eternally in the hardened mould of the dry seasons, was ready to commit his pack to a grueling journey south into the barren hills of rock, where young pups rarely survived the journey.
Kojo's spine bunched. His enormous ears cocked in the direction of a narrow cleft in the eastern rim of the escarpment. Kojo lowered his bulk and whined.
Nearly obscured by the deeper crimson clay was a tiny indentation.
Beside it were the heavier recent imprints of a wildebeest. They had not gone south. They had retreated back into the sheltered valley, where the grass was still green. Silas nudged the imprints with his snout and looked up, meeting Kojo's eyes.
A volley of excited yips directed at the pack followed, an unspoken signal that the rookie was to be followed.
The dogs set off together in a tight formation, Kojo’s nose seeking not just the fading scent, but snapping stalks of grass and birds that flushed from their resting spots, leading them into the dark mouth of the ravine. Less than an hour later, they spilled out of the chasm and found a teeming herd sprawled across a lush expanse of green grassland. The chase was fast, sure, and over in a few minutes.
Back under the acacia that night Kojo ate his fill, accepting a respectful, solid bump of Silas’s flank against his side, a quiet acknowledgement of his worth, then curled in their cool shadow. His paws twitched in sleep as tomorrow's patterns formed behind his eyelids.
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