Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 18

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 18

      Jeremy had limped and struggled for another mile or so, slipping on his walking stick which sent the mad rushing pain coursing up his leg and left him gagging for breath when he stumbled or slipped sideways. He was nearing the end of his day both physically and mentally. The blisters now on his right hand holding his weight away from his blue and swollen ankle had become torn and bloody. The scent from it now firmly in the wet nostrils blowing hard behind him. The hyena had watched him all afternoon as he tried to be limp down the path, becoming weaker and weaker as the sun bore down on him.

Never far from his vision, the stalking hyena skulked to and fro as it watched its wounded prey. Its giggling whooping laughter bearing into him, Jeremy could feel the fear rising now in his blood. The farm could now be seen on the horizon about six or seven miles away. Had it not been for the ankle he would have been home by now. He could only imagine what Claire was going through.

Knowing her, Claire would have sent out a scouting party at first light or at least a few of her trusted help, to track down and find their hunting party. He felt sad, helpless to change or alleviate her pain that he knew she was suffering. She was a strong and courages woman and she would know, until there was a body to mourn there was always hope out here in the out back of Africa.

Claire would be sitting on the veranda now. She would not have moved, watching for any sign of their coming up the long treed driveway, hats wearily waved in the air by the returning young men. Time for tears and laughter, followed by sharp rebuke and condemnation over the hell the selfish men and young boy had brought to her.

A night then ending with loose cotton night clothes, endless kisses amid long talks, her blond and grey long curls tucked closely on a tired sun burned shoulder, a final tear to welcome the days end.

Now Jeremy was limping home in terrible pain with a stalking hyena watching his every move. Poor Matthew, gored by a rhino now in a deep fever, trapped beyond the very end of the estate at the bottom compound below some God-forsaken stone outcrop, tended to by the oldest woman he had ever seen who had one good eye, the other filmed over with white cataract. Whatever the gods of Africa, they must have surly been laughing their britches off at this bloody mess.

Time to start looking for a place to spend the night. He could not imagine a night without sleep, tending to a fire to keep the laughing stalking bastard at bay. The hyena would not sleep, but wait all night until it saw Jeremy's head droop by the glowing fire. Then it would come in slowly without a sound, crawling on its paws and by the time he had realized it had crept close enough to harm him, it would be too late.

He was tired, more tired than he could ever remember. His hands hurt. The ankle had crippled him beyond belief.

Jeremy paused now, resting near a fallen log that had come to rest beside an abandoned ant hill, he slid the water skin off his shoulder and raised it to his mouth. He could feel its weight had gone down, judging the angle of the water flowing into his mouth, he knew he had drunk too much in the hot day. Unless he found new water to drink, it was going to be tough if he was going to make it the last few miles to home and Claire.

He looked around and at the far end of the field of tall grass, he saw a tall twisted tree with a fork in it, wide enough to hold a man where he could sleep through the night. He would be about a hundred yards away from the buck trail so he marked the ground with an arrow sign with his sticks and stones, just in case he nodded off and did not se anyone trying to follow his trail to find him.

Jeremy turned now, then after a pause leaning on his walking stick, he struck out towards the tree and the safety of the night with the hyena skulking in tow behind him.

The full warm sun was falling, skimming the highest blue and violet hills behind the distant farm. It took him a few minutes to reach the tree, slowly making his three legged journey panting and in pain. He turned as he reached the forked tree and slumped into the shadow its narrow trunk had created, little enough but better than being out in the last scorching rays of the sun. Jeremy looked at his stalking nemesis. It had paused, sensing his journey for the day had come to an end. Looking directly into it's eyes he was under no illusion, as patient as it was during the day, the hyena would not leave it's quarry unless forced to and since no other predator had come to challemnge Jeremy as its own, he was the one marked by the now very hungry beast.

The sun was falling now, quicker than he had realized. It always caught him, this sudden African night. It could catch you as you left the house to see to something quickly before nightfall, and leave you stranded without light by an out building no more than a hundred yards away, If it wasn't for the home lights, some nights he could have sworn he could have walked out into the moonless night and never have returned and none would have been the wiser as to what had happened to him.

He rose now in the slow dimming light and looked closer up into the thorn tree. He would have liked it a little taller but it was tall enough to keep him out of harms wary, as long as he stayed in the tree. He stuck the walking stick now in his belt and with his wounded leg, tried to wrap it around the back of the trunk and use his strong upper body and long forearms to pull himself up. He had no choice as it was out of the question to use his good leg to climb and use the wounded limb to stand on.

Jeremy's first attempt failed miserably, he had not enough leverage. It caused a moment of severe gripping pain again as he had to rest from almost falling back to the ground. Grimacing, the lines in his face etched with weariness. This time, he raised his wounded leg as far up as it could go and then, when he felt he was at his absolute limit, Jeremy jumped up and grabbed hold as hard as he could.

Once his panting evened out and feeling secure to move, he carefully reached up, hand trembling with fatigue, Jeremy managed to touch the lower single branch that offered him a ledge to hoist himself up into the fork or "Y" of the tree. Grunting and sweating from pain, exertion and the cumbersome leg that just could not offer him any help, he finally managed to haul himself up and then sit cumbersomely of the lower branch.

Jeremy paused for a moment to catch his breath, his body trembling. He could not go much further, he needed to rest. The low whinny and giggle below reminded him of the necessity of this high home for the night. Finding the last reserves of strength, he reached forward, found his grip and pulled himself up and into the fork. He finally took a deep breath and now had the time to survey the field and burned stones around him.

The sun had now slipped behind the purple hills, the evening glow surrounded with the last of the pastel and gentle hues of coming night. In minutes the indigo and soft yellows had merged with the outer edges of new night, the dark blues hiding the coming stars and night dreams.

Suddenly, it was dark, all was dimly illuminated and outlined with the blue light of the full moon's second night. Jeremy's skin cooled rapidly, and the sunburn adding to his inability to hold body heat, his teeth began to chatter. He loosened his belt with his one hand. Realizing he had to tie himself to the tree in the event he fell asleep. Better to be awake half way up a tree, that to land, stunned and in the dark with an eager predator waiting below.

Jeremy had forgotten he had put his walking stick in his belt. A he loosened it, he heard it fall, strike the lower limb and spin in the air and land in a thump as it hit the soft sand below.

"Shit to hell and back! Damn! Of all the bloody useless…" Jeremy paused for a moment, realizing his tiredness had caused the mental error. "OK, OK!, just take a deep breath and hold on, it's not a train smash. Just get the bloody thing in the morning when you get back down."

It wasn't the walking stick that had troubled him. It left him no mallet or hand weapon if anything else crawled up this high in the night. A lion, leopard or any other creature of such, all known to climb when the need was great. He could only hope that all of God's creatures had fed well today and the small meal he would make not being enough for one to choose to climb up for well burned English dinner.

He was afraid. Not like the war when he sat with comrades-in-arms in the middle of a blown out battle field. This was man and beast alone and the fight for survival. Not because of geo-political boundaries or fighting to stop the spread of either a religious or economic culture. Nor was it a fight for grain, winter storage of the harvest or for slaves to work at the mines and fields.

This fight was of opposing animals, one who walked with four legs, the other two. One was wounded and desperate. One was a hunter of men and beast.

The stars winked at him below. From far away, he heard the roar of a lion rise up and roll over the land. It held in the nighttime air and lingered. The African night cloaked him and hid him from preying eyes and danger.

Below, sat one who did know. Patient, hungry, thirsty.

Paws straight ahead, the hyena rested its head staring intently forward and waited. What went up in the night, came down in the new day for water.

It was just a mater of time. The night moon illuminated the light tree against the darker sky and glittering stars.

Closing one eye, the hyena rested.

A long night for man and beast.