The party soon reached the bottom of the hill and took cover in a patch of high grass. The tallest tribesman, and his equally tall son, craned their heads to scout the nearby game. Wildebeest: confirmed. The Chief gave orders, and the pairings spread out. On his signal (yelling at the top of his lungs) the men were to charge the herd with the goal of enveloping the slowest-moving of its members.
Buzi and his father made their way to their position and hunkered down in the grass. Anticipation built as they waited, and Buzi's heart began to pound in his chest. Pure excitement arose and manifested itself in a joyful smile across his face. His father, however, countered this display of innocence with a stone cold expression of his own. Buzi's brazen happiness vanished in an instant. Those damn emotions.
His father had said more with that glower than he ever could have articulated in their still-developing language. And with this prehistoric 'game face', he expressed that their imminent decisions and impending actions were not to be taken lightly. Their lives depended on this. But Buzi also understood this not only meant the survival of himself and his fellow hunters, but for everyone back home as well.
Yet it went beyond that. Buzi then realized that their fate today impacted the fate of their future children, and of their future children's future children. He began contemplating the immense possibilities of his people – of his own specific lineage. And next of existence itself:
How far in the past had time stretched?
How far in the future could time stretch?
What exactly is time?
Who are we exactly...
What are we exac—
His deep contemplation was cut short, however, as the Chief began yelling at the top of his lungs.
The group was off, sprinting out of the high grass in a widening arc toward the unsuspecting wildebeest. In his periphery, Buzi took account of the faster boys and noticed each of them matching their fathers, even grandfathers, step-for-step. He pushed harder to keep up his own pace.
Very alike in form and movement, Buzi noticed for the first time the undeniable similarities across generations. The anatomical proportions between torsos, arms and legs were uncanny. Each pairing's mannerisms at full speed highlighted more than learned skills, but rather physical information ingrained deep within their bones. Buzi then looked to his left, to one of the slower boys, and saw both father and son lagging behind, failing to keep the shape of the arc intact. Their uniform strides appeared uncomfortable at a sprint. Buzi could see gaps widening between the men on either side of the slow pair – recognizing these as weak points through which a wildebeest could easily escape. Running ever faster, Buzi re-focused on the task in front of him.
They closed in on the large herd which readily dispersed. Unlike the humans, the wildebeest did not pair off or run in strategic groups. Each individual instead tore off on a mad dash with personal survival on the brain. Stragglers emerged, mainly the young or injured, and lagged behind the main body of the stampede. The arc of homo-sapiens instinctually shifted toward the slowest of the herd without any need for outward communication.
In this shift, Buzi looked to his direct right and noticed another lapse in the arc's shape. A solitary hunter with no son, or father for that matter, was struggling to keep up. His weight seemed to transfer with every stride, clearly favoring one leg. Upon closer observation, Buzi knew this man. Ostracized in the community, the man was born with a foot twisted in the wrong direction. Although sharp of mind and having overcome many challenges of his deformity, he was an outcast that no woman wanted to wed and few men chose to befriend. Many actually feared him to be unfavored by the Gods. Buzi wondered if the hunt as a whole would have been better off without the man in its ranks, creating a stronger overall force. 'Less is more' we might say nowadays. Fearing that their prey would slip through the lagging line, Buzi faded to the right to close the gap.
But as he did, a violent flash of gold and black tore across the landscape and the crippled man disappeared. He might have heard a growl. He absolutely heard a scream. Confusion and fear began coursing through our young hunter, and he now ran for his life. The arc was closing in on their target so Buzi had no time to look back, much less stop and help (not that he wanted, or would be able, to). Instead, he and his father edged further and further to their right to plug the now gaping hole that the man had occupied.
Exhausting its final stores of energy, an adolescent wildebeest zigged and zagged in the center of the enveloping arc of man. A shrill call came from the chief and spears were sent flying. Buzi set his feet (a lesson learned from his father) and chucked his in kind. He tracked the path of his spear's flight and watched it land far short of their fatigued target's back legs. His father's, however, struck the 'beest in the right haunch. Another man's spear hit the neck. Another's lodged securely in the ribs. The animal slowed, staggered and dropped, releasing its final breath in a cloud of pitiful, dry dust. Cheers rang out across the hunting party. But Buzi's eyes were to their rear, scanning the horizon.
What could have such speed?
The young man had heard tales of dangerous creatures that roamed the area. Some of enormous size, others with sharp teeth. Ultimate quickness seemed to be this creature's weapon. Buzi could not have imagined, though, that anything could possibly be that fast. He figured that something had to be the fastest something in the savanna, and he now knew it certainly wasn't man. Buzi felt a sense of inadequate dread.
It's probably still watching us.
And it was. Staring over her kill and through the countless stalks of swaying grass was an adult female acinonyx jubatus. More commonly known as the Southeast African cheetah, the man-eater was rushing through her meal. In most instances, cheetahs typically consume their catches quickly to avoid having it stolen by lions or, more annoyingly, hyenas. But in this instance, she ate with her eyes fixed on a young human man. She had seen Buzi notice her during her attack, and didn't want to risk the hunters coming back to avenge their delicious comrade – no matter how slow they had proven to be.
Back across the plain, Buzi explained to his father what he saw and his father relayed the message to the chief. Asserting a defensive position, the hunters regained their spears and formed a tight circle around the men responsible for lifting the wildebeest carcass onto their shoulders. The party then reversed course and began traversing their path back to the hillside with caution. With every breeze, huge swaths of grass were jostled and the men tensed with panic. But Buzi kept his eyes on the spot where the crippled man disappeared, feeling the creature's presence.
They crept on, nearer and nearer to the killzone. With palms sweating, Buzi tightened the grip on his spear. Emotions yet again. Another few steps and he could see the bright red sheen of fresh blood peeking through the thick stalks. His heart rate sky-rocketed – a much different sensation than the pre-attack excitement which had produced that boyish smile. With this rush, his blood was pumping at a much greater cadence. The exciting emotions had been replaced by absolute fear.
In an instant, the huddled cheetah sprung from her cower, and raced away from the men and their sharp sticks. In full view, Buzi saw the cheetah's brilliance, its unbridled ability, and undeniable—
Beauty.
Memorized by her streamlined body and musculartail, the young man watched the big cat tear across the field at full tilt. Shemoved faster, more fluid, than anything Buzi had ever seen. His fatherconfirmed this dangerous creature was a female cheetah, and the lame man waslikely not her first victim. But while his fellow hunters were frozen in fear,the teenage boy remained entranced in a profound admiration. Strange emotionsindeed.
