The tribesmen then discovered the remains of the fallen. It was a grizzly scene. Ripped flesh and exposed muscle laid bare the rarely-seen inner workings of the human body. Organs like a butchered animal's were spilled in the tumble of grass. In the mess of it all, the man's deformity became unremarkable and seemed to fit in with the surrounding carnage. Buzi observed it all the same. He realized had it not been for this twisted foot, this burden on the settlement, the next slowest of the bunch would have surely fallen victim. Less would not have been more, it seems. Fascinated by the raw display of gore and death, an extreme consciousness of his physical makeup washed over:
Are we all just blood and vein and muscle and bone?
What sets each of us apart from other humans?
What sets any of us apart from the animals?
What makes any life...life?
His head swam as the clan continued on. Minus-one man and plus-one wildebeest, the group – a procession of blood and vein and muscle and bone – made their way back to camp. They trudged up the hill which gave Buzi another chance to observe the father-son pairs. Knowing what his fellow men were made of, their striking resemblances were now illuminated in a new light. Like-built muscles and identical frames were apparent as they worked in concert underneath the fragile protection of old and new skin – with each fathers' outer layer only somewhat more scarred and sun-leathered.
As they crested the hill, the settlement was a-buzz with mothers, wives, daughters and sisters rejoicing in the safe return of their sons, husbands, fathers and brothers. And the bounty of the felled game, of course. All around, family units joined together in embrace and Buzi was astonished to see the vividly apparent combinations of mom-and-dad within each their offspring. Skin color, eye shape, nose length, mouth orientation and body type: each child a perfect mixture of his or her parents. On cue, Buzi's own mother located he and his father, and promptly squeezed their all-too-similar faces. Like looking in a still pond (mirrors wouldn't be invented for several millennia), he stared into his mother eyes knowing that in many ways his very own stared back.
After the joyful homecoming, and not-so-joyful remembrance of their fallen, the womenfolk began processing and preparing the fresh kill – the wildebeest, that is – for a celebratory meal. Its red blood spread across the ground while an orange hue crept over the surrounding landscape. The Sun God was giving way to the Moon God to culminate another plentiful day on the savanna.
The men rested, which allowed Buzi an opportunity to sit in thought. Overlooking the vast grasslands, he reveled in the events of his first hunt as well as the gravity of his genetic revelations. The lands before him stretched as far as his eyes could see, but he knew very well they extended far beyond the limitations of his sight. His parents' passed-down sight, that is. He saw the fading horizon as akin of his tribe's existence, representing the possibilities of both their unknown past and their limitless future. And again, of his own lineage.
Buzi had seen firsthand today how unforgiving life could be, and how the strongest and fastest among them had the best chance to survive. For his children and his children's children to live – to thrive – in this unrelenting existence, they would need every advantage they could get. They would need to be stronger, faster. They would need to be better, smarter. He would need to find a mate that possessed the very best of these traits.
Dinner was served and the wildebeest wasdelicious. Buzi chewed with a sense of pride knowing that his efforts went intothe provision of the meal. While he savored the meal, the Sun God's orange huefaded into pink then into black. The Moon God took over and cast its soft glowupon the plains. With the stressors of the day catching up with him, Buzi easedinto a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
