I remember, years ago, when my mother settled me down and told me, "Darling, there's people out there, looking out for you."
"Who are they, mummy?" I asked, surprised that meople would want to look after me.
"They're dead, honey." my mother went on. I drooped, disappointed. "But they'll alway's be here." My mother poked my chest, just where my heart was.
"Oh." I repilied quietly. I hadn't really thought about death before. It was an abstract notion, the fact that you would float away and never return, the fact that your family would cry and weep. But these people were dead.
"Who are they?" I asked my mother.
"Well, it's a long story." she sighed. But I begged and begged and eventually, she told me.
I must admit, I was stunned. But now, as I wait for Kivuli, I realise that it's all OK. That he was right. That we can make it...
I feel the cold night wind on my face. It always gets cold at night. I know they will be looking for me back at the pride, searching for me because they ar