A Whisper of Wings (42 page)

“No one’s giving any orders. What’s wrong with you?” Kïtashii jerked her head towards her teacher. “Share it! Mrrimïmei needs the blood. When she’s drunk, we can all divide the flesh.”

“Have you learned nothing about what She’s tried to teach us? Sharing, respect, community! Three simple little rules! Is it too much to ask? We share it, but Mrrimïmei gets the blood. She needs it for the baby.”

Kefiru ashamedly handed out the kill. Mrrimïmei weakly tried to wave the beast away, but Totoru hacked its head clean off and drained the blood into a cup, forcing her to drain down every reeking drop. She coughed and spluttered, but somehow kept the foul mass in her gullet.

Tingtraka parted the lizard flesh into thirteen equal pieces. One by one the hunters slumped into the dust to eat. Kïtashii brought a tiny morsel to Shadarii, who tried to pass her food to Mrrimïmei. Kïtashii snatched it back and forced Shadarii to sit down and eat her share.

Kefiru crammed raw lizard in his mouth, eating it bones, scales and all. He wiped his bloody hands against his tongue and glared over at Shadarii.

“She sits up there like lady muck! Look at her. She’s just as thirsty as anybody else! Why won’t she just give up and turn around? She’s no immortal; she can die just like the rest of us!”

A change somehow seemed to creep across the ïsha. The pilgrims slowly lifted their antennae and lifted up their eyes in sudden wonder.

Something soft and beautiful was dancing in the dust; Shadarii spread her smile of love. The pilgrims laughed as she pantomimed an enormous hopping toad, puffing out her chest in pompous pride.

<

One day the toads peaceful world began to change. The lake fell on hard and dreary times. The sun grew hot, burning at the toads’ nice warty skin. The lake began to shrink, leaving a ring of mud cracking all around the banks. Every day the lake seemed slightly smaller - a little shallower. The toad community grew afraid, and held a meeting to decide what they should do.

The toad spokesman sat upon a majestic lily pad and waved his claws in fright.

“
Fellow toads! Our lake is shrinking. Soon there will be no cool mud for us to sit in - no lovely water in which to bathe our feet. Something must be done! How shall we deal with this threat to our way of life?”

The toads croaked amongst themselves in consternation. They puffed out their chests and argued bitterly, each person filled up with his own opinions but unable to find any answers.

Finally one old creaky toad waddled forth before the others. The assembly fell silent as he made his muttering way towards the lily pad. He settled back and spoke out in an ancient voice.

“
Cousin toads, hear my words. The lake has dried before. The lake shall dry again. There is no need for panic and alarm. We merely need techniques for survival.”

“
What! What techniques could these be?” The other toads hopped eagerly up and down. The old toad puffed out his chest and made the youngsters quieten down.

“
We shall create a simple set of rules. There is enough for all if we will be satisfied with a little less. Water will be scarce, but if we all share, we shall live happily through the summer. There is not enough space around the lake’s edge for everyone to sit snuggled in the mud. We shall take turns, with each toad getting a fair share of what we have. When the winter rains come, the lake will swell with water. Life will go on as normal once again.

Hardship is always temporary. All bad times pass, if only we have fortitude and patience.”

The other toads croaked out their applause! Only the fat toad at the back seemed unhappy with the arrangement. He waved his pudgy claws and tried to shout the others down.

“
Stop! You can’t just listen to this old fool! What use is knowledge of the past? These are modern times! The world is changed and new. I say this is a disaster! Something must be done!”

No one was listening to him. The other toads put their heads together and began to lay out plans for their survival. They would dig tunnels in which to hide their skins from the burning sun. Each would have a set time of day to bask beside the lake. The toad community all went off to start their new found work.

The fat toad watched everything in disgust. All around him toads burrowed down into the soil. Dirt flew and mud clods tossed. It all looked like too much hard labour! Finally everyone had a nice deep hole to hide in. The fat toad gave an irritable sigh and dug his own hole in the bank. Although the idea was silly, he was unwilling to be left looking like a fool.

At dawn the toads began their roster. Group by group they settled by the water, each giving up his time when the appointed moment came. Everyone gained enough pleasure to last the day. There was just enough for each toad to get by.

Long days passed. Each morning the sun rose high and burned the trees and grass until they cracked. Each evening the lake grew lower. The toads clung onto their plan, sure that in the end everything would turn out right. In truth, life was really very tolerable.

Not everyone was happy. The fat toad scratched his belly and paused carefully in thought. He looked at the falling lake and sourly sucked his lips.

“
How can I trust a doddering old fool? Of what value is the knowledge of the past? The lake is shrinking! There isn’t enough water for us all. Soon it will be gone, and when that happens, I’ll not die of thirst like all these other stupid fools.”

So when it was time for the fat toad to take his place beside the water, he shuffled down obediently to his spot. The creature peered slyly back and forth and then scuttled over to the shadows. He dipped his nose into the water and sucked in a great huge gulp. He stored the drink beneath his skin and hoped the others wouldn’t see.

“
No one will miss a little bit of water! I’ll just take this and keep it until it’s needed.”

Greed always spreads. When one person takes something, another person covets it. What someone else has, we always want. The other toads saw their fat brother sucking in the water and felt a surge of panic. Someone was hoarding water! Perhaps there wasn’t going to be enough water after all? Each toad scuttled off into the shadows and slyly took a suck of cool, refreshing drink. They licked their lips and quietly crept back into their holes. At the end of the day, every toad living by the lake was smugly sitting in his tunnel feeling very fat and full. Each one was convinced he was the cleverest toad in all the world.

In the morning, a nasty shock awaited them. The lake had somehow shriveled overnight. The water had dropped to an alarming level. Clearly a disaster was at hand!

The toads duly shuffled out to take their turns beside the banks. Each glanced suspiciously at his neighbour, suddenly noticing how sleek and fat he seemed. When each toad was sure that no one else could see, he swiftly took a gulp of water, desperate to snatch his share before the supply was gone.

It was a sour, hostile day. Toads rarely spoke to one another. Each creature glared at his companions and shot them dark, suspicious looks. In the evening each toad waddled down into his hole, so grossly swollen that they could scarcely squeeze in through the door.

Day by day, the lake shrank with terrifying speed. The toads forgot their rosters. Each creature simply shouldered his way down to the lake and sucked up all the water he could find. The lake dwindled away, wasted by the toads’ dreadful, selfish greed.

Finally the lake was dry. The toads were bloated up with stolen water. Each creature burrowed down into his hole and sealed shut the door, afraid the other toads might come to steal his horde. The toads sat in their burrows in smug, suspicious silence, thrilled that they alone were smart enough to survive the awful drought.

The lakebed dried and cracked. The water lilies withered up and blew away. There was only dust and silence - hot sun and stifling air. Soon there was no sign that the lovely lake had ever been…

The summer fled. Autumn flourished as the wet season came again. The rain fell at the appointed time, just as it always had since time began. Only this time there was a difference. The lovely lake had gone. Water poured down into the lakebed and simply drained away. It leaked out through the cracked, dry mud and turned the soil to dust. Other ponds began to grow, but the toads never came up from their holes to see.

Deep beneath the earth the toads still hid, oblivious to the world. They sat swollen up with jealousy, guarding their little treasures even when there was no longer any need. Though each toad had more than he could use, their selfishness had made them poor. No mud, no lake - no nice evenings paddling their feet in fellowship. Nothing but an empty life of greed.>>

Kefiru winced unhappily, stung by the moral to Shadarii’s tale. She came and kissed him warmly on the nose, then led him over to a strip of hard-baked mud. The other hunters gathered in amazement as Shadarii took a digging stick and opened up the earth, then plunged her hand into the dirt and hauled up a struggling prize. Before their startled eyes the girl held up an enormous bloated toad. Shadarii grinned and squeezed it to release a delicious drink of water. She drank half of the toad’s stores, smacking her lips as she stuffed the furious amphibian back into his lair.

Water! She had found water in the desert!

Shadarii read the ïsha waves and found the toads far beneath the ground. She led her followers to them one by one, showing them the places they should dig. Soon the little group was covered in a cloud of flying earth. The Pilgrims laughed as their prizes were hauled from the ground.

Shadarii sat and watched her children with a smile glowing on her face, then curled up beneath the dead accacia tree and quietly fell asleep.

***

Harïsh shot bolt upright in bed and blinked into the dark. Her chest heaved, and her fur was drenched in sweat. The household spirit writhed frantically in the air about her , desperately trying to drag her from her bed.

Keketál!

The girl flung herself into the sickroom. Keketál lay thrashing in delirium, dripping wet with sweat. He was burning hot to touch. The girl sobbed and desperately dragged the huge man out of bed.

Suddenly Harïsh’s father pushed his daughter clear, then lifted the tall stranger up into his arms. Harïsh led the way down to the river, tears spilling unnoticed down her face.

They burst out onto the riverbanks. Totli-kana stared down at his daughter with his wise grey eyes.

“What now? Where must I take him?”

Harïsh hurtled her arms about Keketál’s body and dragged him down into the icy water, gasping as the cold stabbed through her like a knife. She had to get Keketál’s temperature down, even if it meant a massive shock to his body.

“Mama, the healers will need hot water, blankets and boiled root bark from a wattle tree. Crush a green ant’s nest and save the juice.”

“Well it won’t be from you not trying to save him.” The old potter took a seat upon the bank. “Is it really worth such a fuss girl? If he’s dying anyway, it might be a kindness to let him slip away in peace…”