“What could she do?”

“She could make Shimbekh look for the truth. Shimbekh is his aunt and she doesn’t want to believe he’s guilty, but she will tell the truth once she learns it. I remember my Muti mentioning something about a prophesy. They try to hush it up now, but Shimbekh used to say the son of Gur’bruk would lead us all to ruin. Amarakh knows. All she needs is to be reminded.” Lenti pawed her gently. “We can do it, girl. Where is Jalkort now?”

“He’s out hunting with Gur’mekh. Where else?”

Lenti looked worried. “I’m not gifted, but I’ve just felt a cold wave down my back when you said that. Pray, for your husband! Pray hard!”

Gur’mekh had a certain quiet reserve and calm that he’d lacked before. Jalkort noticed the change at once.

“You seem to be in a very good mood, brother.”

“Indeed I am, Jal! I feel--well--reborn. God has been very good to me.”

“Yes, Roh’kash has blessed you with this great talent, and a great future is ahead of you.”

“Not the future you think. If I want to be truly great, I have to stop raiding the Roh’mach’s pantry. I have to stop thinking about myself so much. I have to help others the way God has helped me. You know Jal, what’s really important in life is this....” He took his paw and patted Jalkort’s shoulder. “I mean a mountain can be big, a river can be strong, but love is something from the Ka. It is the greatest gift of Roh’kash.”

“What a noble thing to say!” Jalkort was all the more convinced of the greatness of Gur’mekh and looked at him almost worshipfully. “You’re going to be the greatest Roh’mach ever!”

Gur’mekh smiled. “I don’t want to be Roh’mach. There are other ways to be great. My Muti and Maleh are great. Someday you’ll understand. It certainly took me long enough. I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for....”

Suddenly Gur’mekh felt dizzy. He staggered and nearly fell. “Oh gods!” He began to gasp for air. “Jal, it’s happening again!”

“What’s wrong?” Jal asked.

“I thought I was free of it!” Gur’mekh cried. “Go find my okash! Tell her it’s back--she’ll know what I mean!”

“Free of what?? What DO you mean?? Oh gods, brother, you look awful! I’ll get Kambra--you just wait right here!”

Gur’mekh took in a deep breath and straightened up to his full height. His eyes shone with a strange light. “I don’t need her now,” he said defensively. “I’m much better.”

“I don’t know. I don’t like this.”

“Don’t you think I know how I feel??”. He scratched the ground. “We have a job to do, and there isn’t much time. Follow me.”

If only Jalkort had been gifted, he would have seen the fear and helplessness in Gur’mekh’s eyes as he was being pulled against his will toward his destiny on the savanna.

Avina was staggering across the grassland, lamenting her crushed face and the death of her happiness. It was a foolish accident, one that she never should have had, and since she was on a solo hunt there was no one to help her. She had leaped for a hartebeest, and all was well until she felt almost like someone had grabbed her ankle and pulled. The hartebeest struck her in the cheek, burying her under a mountain of pain.

She desperately sought out Rafiki, and instead she encountered Gur’mekh....

Gur'mekh saw with horror what the Makei was doing inside him. He was a spectator, helpless in the grasp of an irresistible force. He seized her throat, tasted lion blood, and felt the ground tremor as her once beautiful face struck the grass.

She struggled weakly, begging him to stop in God’s name. For one brief moment, he met her eyes and her horror and sadness came pouring into him. “What’s going to happen to my cubs?” she silently despaired.

“May Roh’kash bless them,” Gur’mekh tried to say--it would not come out. And as a tear trickled down his cheek, he grasped the tender skin of her abdomen and ripped her alive.

Her shriek pierced him like a thorn. “Why, God?? I thought I was free of this! I thought I was free!”

“There’s only one way to be free of me,” a voice echoed inside his head. “You don’t have the nerve to do it, you little coward! Now shut up and eat! You must set a good example for your friends.”

Gur’mekh’s stomach was in knots and his limbs quaked as he was forced to eat the still-warm lioness. The huge bites Melmokh made him take nearly choked him.

“Gur’mekh? Brother? Do you think we should have done this?”

It was Jalkort. Gur’mekh looked around, unable to say what was in his heart. But tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh Gur’mekh!” Jal watched the tears fall silently. “What’s wrong?”

Gur’mekh looked at him pleadingly for a moment, mute against his will. “Oh Jal!” he thought. “My nearly perfect friend. If only you could hear my thoughts!”

As he looked back, blood and mother’s milk ran from Avina’s torn abdomen. “Oh gods! Oh gods, show me the way and I’ll be rid of this thing! I’d do anything! ANYTHING!!”

“Your gods won’t help you now. You told me to kill Demrath of your own free will, and you’re beyond their help. You’re mine to do with as I please!”

A terrible roar shattered the air, and for an instant Gur’mekh expected Melmokh to materialize before him, revealing his shame to all present. The other hyenas looked at him, frozen in terror, wide-eyed with fear as they backed away from him.

Abruptly he realized they were not looking at him, but at something beyond him. He turned his head to see the furious charge of a male lion hurtling towards them, his face burning with fury, fangs bared as he uttered another challenge. Without waiting for Gur’mekh’s command, the hyenas broke and ran. Gur’mekh joined them, stumbling away in a haze of horror.

The Makei fell into mocking laughter as the lion looked up at heaven and raged against the awful crime. "I said I'd pick the next victim! Run, Gur’mekh! Run while you still can! Ha ha ha ha!!"

Free to run, Gur’mekh beat a hasty retreat toward the clan territory with his companions. Muti would know what to do! Muti would know it was not his fault!

Perhaps this demon was stubborn and required a harsh regimen of fasting and ordeals. He would gladly do whatever it took to be rid of the spirit, assuming he could live long enough to find the way. The lion was not faster, but he would not stop.

“Roh’kash, why have you forsaken me! Great Mother, help me!”

Gur’mekh crossed the creek and headed up the eastern meadow. Then he saw Antelope Kopje on his right and the Clan Acacia on his left--right between the two of them stretched an invisible line where the lion’s territory ended and he was on his home soil. Ah, blessed sanctuary of home!

But Shaka crossed the border and continued into the Clan’s turf! He would not turn back! Gur’mekh had only three choices. He could find strength in numbers, and if that failed he could keep running until the lion tired and stopped. If that did not work, he could stage a last desperate battle for his life with his three companions. Good old Jalkort would not run out on him. The other two would probably run in different directions and leave them there to fend for themselves. At least good old Jal really loved him. Maybe--just maybe--they would live to see twilight.

Gur’mekh topped the rise that surrounded the elephant graveyard. He half ran, half slid down the other side, barreling toward the spot where his parents would no doubt be taking their evening nap.

Behind him, he heard a yelp. Turning his head, for one awful moment he saw Jalkort turning end over end down the slope, coming to rest in the dust, then trying to right himself. “Jal!! Get up!!”