The great maned head nodded slowly. “That is a valid point. Even the most skilled hunter can fall victim to an accident.”
“Besides,” the herdsman went on, “what would we do with all that meat?”
“Ordinarily, I would live nearby until it was consumed.” The litah snorted. “But since we are traveling on a human timetable, something that sensible would be out of the question.” He was silent for a while, pacing easily alongside the herdsman. “Perhaps you are right. I’ll find something else to kill.”
“Thank you,” Ehomba told him.
They camped that night in a depression where a small natural dam of rocks and debris had formed a narrow but deep pool. Not only did it provide them with a source of fresh water, but it also offered a chance to bathe and even, to a very limited degree, to swim. In this Ehomba took the lead, demonstrating once again the natural affinity for water that he had demonstrated on more than one occasion. Simna was a fine swimmer, while the black litah contented himself with rolling about in the shallows and following his immersion with a dust wallow. Unable to swim, Hunkapa Aub splashed about near the shore like a happy child.
It was therefore surprising that Ehomba woke not to the smell of damp vegetation or surroundings, but to an odor that was distinctly acrid.
Sitting up and pushing aside his blanket, he tilted his head slightly and sniffed. The sun was just considering the eastern horizon and none of his companions were yet awake. The smell was as familiar as it was distinctive, but from what direction was it coming? Of one thing and one thing only he was certain: Something in their vicinity was ablaze, and it wasn’t the extinguished campfire.