LEANORE 
By Heck



Comments to heck@beadyeye.net

CHAPTER ONE

A BLAZING SUN hammered down on the vast grassland decorated with baobab and
acacia trees and studded here and there by the cathedral spires of tall
termite hills. Grazing herds of placid eland, nervous antelope, and manic
wildebeest moved over the sward, with zebra tagging along for company.
Dangling nests of weaver birds hung like baubles from the trees, and zooming
squadrons of carmine bee-eaters wheeled and twisted across the landscape,
gleaning their fill of insects on the wing.

Moving at a fast dog-trot, a hunting party covered the ground at a rapid pace.
Consisting of both men and women relaxed in their equality, each member was
clad only in a loincloth and covered with a layer of dust to camouflage their
black, shiny skins. Around their necks were brightly coloured discs, torcs,
that varied in thickness according to age and status. They were a lean and
athletic people, carrying spears and short bows for weapons.

This was Leanore's first hunt, and the most important of her young life. She
had seen fourteen summers, and was fast approaching the age of womanhood. Part
of that rite of passage was this, her initiation to admit her to the society
of hunters.

Upon attaining that age all young persons, of either gender, were expected to
undergo this test and, because hunting was a vital part of their culture,
their future status depended on the degree of success or failure. The quarry
was selected according to the abilities and aptitude of the candidate, and the
history of their families. More was expected of Leanore, however, because both
her parents were high-ranking individuals who had proved themselves in the
hunt on countless occasions.

There could be no doubt that Leanore looked the part. Tall and beautiful, she
was already strong and agile past her years. Her exquisitely formed body was
becoming womanly already, with small breasts riding high on her chest. She was
well muscled, with broad shoulders, a slightly thick muscular waist, and long,
powerful legs, showing the promise of things to come.

Her sheer strength was already legendary within her tribe, who called
themselves the Eople, and there were few, if any, men that could match her.

The Eople had a great respect for nature and the environment that sustained
them, so usually hunted only for food, selecting their prey with care and
taking no more than they needed. But this was special. Because of the
expectation laid upon her by the status and achievements of her family,
Leanore was required to hunt a lion. It had to be a big male, and she had to
face and kill it alone.

The leader of the party was a grizzled veteran named Avid. He had led hunting
forays for as long as anybody could remember, and was highly regarded as an
expert in his field. His advancing years had left him grey haired and
stringy-muscled, but he was still strong and could outlast the stamina of many
a younger man.

The terrain they traversed in silence was part of the gently undulating plain.
Stands of acacias and low, scrubby thornbush gave plenty of cover in the
close-cropped grassland, and the hunters moved through it without impact,
drawing no attention to themselves. Some kept an eye on the sky, watching for
the circling vultures that might indicate a fresh lion kill, while others
scanned the ground, alert for the slightest twitch of a black- tipped tail or
tawny rocks that may turn out to be a sleeping pride.

Suddenly, Avid stopped in his tracks, holding up a hand. The whole party
followed suit, crouching low to disguise their outline and following the
leader's pointing finger with sharp eyes.

In the shade of a clump of scrub, just above the grass, a black tuft waved
like a big foraging bee. The hunters spread out, keeping downwind while
encircling the bush, crouching low to the ground.

Leanore felt the excitement as a flush of adrenalin coursed through her blood.
This was it! She crouched close to Avid, strong fingers tightening around her
spear. She felt no fear, surprisingly. She had expected to be terrified, but
all she felt was a great sense of anticipation. She watched the leader,
waiting for his signal.

The lions came into view. It was small pride, consisting of eight lionesses
with several cubs, and a huge, black-maned male. Full bellied, they lounged in
the shade, sleeping off their meal while the cubs wrestled with each other or
batted at the twitching tail tips of the adults.

Leanore's heart sank. Avid would not let her kill this lion. This was a family
unit, with cubs, and the loss of their male would disrupt the structure of the
group. In addition, any new male that moved in would very probably kill all
the cubs. His instincts would drive him to infanticide in order to ensure that
the lionesses would come into season, giving him opportunities to mate and
propagate his selfish genes.

Noiselessly, the hunters backed away. They would have to move on.

A blaring trumpet sounded right behind her. Leanore spun around in fright.

A herd of elephant had moved up silently behind them. The largest land animals
on earth, nonetheless they had the ability to travel without making a sound.
Leanore froze. She knew their eyesight was poor, but she was also aware of
their incredible sense of smell. The herd stood in a loose semi- circle,
calves protected behind them, their great ears flapping and mobile trunks
questing the air.

The enormous matriarch started toward her, walking quickly on sure, columnar
legs. The rest of the herd milled around, rumbling and blaring. They sensed a
possible threat and, while willing to leave the herd leader to investigate,
supported her vocally and loudly.

The lions were on their feet, now, and as if at command the cubs disappeared
into the bush. Even the most powerful predator on the plains gave way to the
mighty elephant.

The others in her hunting party had made themselves scarce. Only Leanore
remained exposed, hardly daring to breathe lest the movement provoke the
matriarch to charge.

The elephant came to a halt several yards away. Her trunk was extended toward
the girl, sniffing. With deep rumbles and the occasional squeal, she
communicated with her herd, and Leanore wished she knew what she was telling
them. She sounded irritable.

The periscopic trunk of an elephant had many uses. It was a hand, an arm, of
enormous strength. It could rip whole branches from the toughest trees, or
pick up a single blade of grass with great delicacy. It could be used to
chastise an errant calf, or to caress it with infinite tenderness. It was a
communications device. It could suck up water in quantities of several gallons
at a time and hose it down the owner's throat, and could transfer food to the
animal's cavernous mouth in bulk or in dainty morsels.

It was also one of the most sensitive olfactory organs in the animal kingdom,
and could detect smells in minute concentrations over great distances.

This fantastic sense now allowed the matriarch to detect Leanore, and with a
piercing trumpet of rage the cow charged her.

Leanore turned and sprinted toward a nearby baobab. The pot-bellied trunk of
the ancient tree was smooth, offering no handhold, and the first branches
sprouted high above the girl's head.

Leanore was a fast runner, but elephants are deceptively quick. A glance
behind told her the animal was gaining on her. She ran straight at the tree
and leapt at the trunk. She took two strides vertically up the bole and
jumped, grabbing for a branch more than three men high. Her steely fingers
closed on the limb and her young biceps flexed and rolled into ebony-hard
balls as she heaved herself up. She threw a leg over the branch and straddled
it, panting as she looked down at four tons of angry death below.

It took her only a moment to realise that she was not yet out of danger; not
out of reach of the cow's grasping proboscis. She clambered as high into the
tree as she dared, as high as the strength of the branches would allow. A
troop of vervet monkeys chattered and cursed at her as they scattered out of
her way.

At the foot of the baobab, the elephant reached high with her trunk, screaming
in frustration. Leanore huddled in a crotch, well out of reach, and the cow
raised her great bulk up on her hind legs, trying to get more reach. The twin
fingers of the tip came within inches of her foot

Leanore climbed yet higher, trembling in fear as the thinning branches bent
alarmingly under her weight.

The elephant sank to all fours and placed her head against the tree, her
curving tusks scoring the bark on either side. She began to push rhythmically,
throwing her monstrous weight against it, rocking the big tree to it's roots.
Leanore was fairly confident that the elephant would not be able to push the
tree down, but she was still being shaken about vigourously, being tossed
about like a dinghy in rough weather. She was afraid she would be shaken clean
out of her sanctuary, and clung to her perch with desperate strength.

Commotion. Lion roars and elephant screams distracted the matriarch. The rest
of the herd were chasing the lions, scattering the pride as the young
elephants charged about and shook their tuskless heads. The adults looked on
warily, ready to step in if the lions turned on the youngsters.

The lead cow seemed undecided. She had treed her quarry, and was sure she
could dislodge the human from the tree. On the other hand, the young members
of her herd were getting out of hand, and she needed to stamp her authority
and assert a little discipline.

With a frustrated blare, the matriarch wheeled, huge ears flapping, and
trotted off to see what was going on.

Leanore needed no prompting to take the opportunity. She shinned down the
tree, dropping the last few feet to land, cat-like, and sprinted away to join
the rest of her party.

Without looking back, the hunters jogged away across the plain, unable to take
the time to express their relief that Leanore was unharmed, searching for more
lions.

*

They were two bachelor brothers, just coming into their prime at five years
old. Their manes, fully grown, were black, thick, and luxuriant, and they
walked over the savannah in confident feline power, as if they owned it. In
supreme arrogance, they walked upwind, not caring who knew they were there.

It was their time to find a pride, to spread their seed through the lion
population. To do so, they would have to take over a pride from other males,
would have to fight and perhaps kill their rival, to steal his females away
from him. They were prepared for that through years of mock battles and tests
of strength, honing their skills until, now, they were more than ready.

Figures rose up out of the grass. Black, dusty figures, yelling and ululating,
brandishing spears as they surrounded the lions. The brothers, taken by
surprise, laid back their ears and snarled as they instinctively cast about
for a means of escape.

The trap closed about them. The lions wheeled in place, trying to face all of
their assailants at once, roaring and making random charges here and there.
The hunters danced out of their way, blocking their rushes with sharp pointed
weapons, making them chase first one, then another while, with his spear held
ready at the edge of the circle, Avid watched for an opening.

One of the brothers rushed at a hunter, exposing his flank. Avid cast his
spear. It struck the lion just behind the ribcage, angling upwards and
piercing the animal's heart. The lion roared in pain and rage, pawing at the
spear as it fell, but it was dead before it hit the ground.

A change came over the hunters, then. They all fell silent and formed a ring,
several yards wide, around the surviving lion. The animal spun in its tracks,
showing its six-inch fangs in anger and confusion. The hunters closed in with
extended spears, forming an impenetrable circle of lethal points.

Leanore, who had been waiting her moment, now stepped forward into the ring.
In one hand, she carried a heavy, iron-shod spear about three feet long, a
stabbing rather than a throwing weapon. Her heart pounded in her chest,
flooding her system with adrenalin, as she got her first detailed view of her
lion.

He was a magnificent beast. Standing more than waist high to the tall girl, he
was in peak condition, his great muscles rolling under his tawny hide. He laid
back his ears and roared at her, displaying wicked scimitar claws as he pawed
the air.

Warily, half crouched, spear held ready, Leanore faced her lion. The cat
snarled and slashed at her, exposing razor sharp claws and dagger like fangs.
The two circled each other and the lion, more intent on escape, now, rushed
from time to time at the circle of hunters, only to be met by one or more
spearpoints waving in his face.

Leanore tried to get closer. The lion faked a charge, and Leanore danced back,
prodding her spear at his face. This was a waiting game, watched by a silent
circle of solemn-faced hunters.

Once again, the lion tried a charge at the circle. Leanore stepped forward and
thrust her spear at his flank. The point scored a long red line down his side
and he yowled as he whirled, lashing out a paw at the cause of his pain. He
struck the spear hard and, with the weapon at the full extent of her reach,
knocked it spinning from her hand. Leanore skipped back, and her weapon landed
out of her reach, behind her foe.

Avid raised his spear, ready to step in and dispatch the cat. Leanore held up
her hand to stay him. He nodded, but did not lower his spear. Leanore narrowed
her eyes and watched the lion closely with a determined expression.

The lion watched her just as closely. Its great haunches gathered under him
and he made his leap. Leanore stepped in to meet him. She jammed one muscular
forearm under his chin and wrapped the other around his thick neck. Her arm
was lost in the dense mane. She smelled his foetid breath on her face as he
roared his anger. His forelegs encircled her back and he dug in his hooked
claws, dragging them across her skin and scoring eight deep wounds in flesh
and muscle.

Leanore grunted in pain as the claws hooked into her back. She struggled to
keep his wicked teeth away from her face, putting pressure on his vertebrae
with her arms.

For a while, it was a stalemate situation. Tall as she was, the lion on his
hind legs towered over her. She was working at an upward angle, pitting her
formidable strength against that of the animal. Both combatants were oblivious
to their surroundings, each focussed totally on ending the life of the other.
The lion's eyes were full of rage and hate, while Leanore's were filled with
grit and determination.

The cat strove to reach her, desperate to feel its teeth close on her neck.
She was supporting nearly all of his great weight, and spread her feet to
brace against it.

At last, Leanore began to force the big cat's head back, levering against the
fulcrum of her own arm behind his neck. The lion lifted a hind foot, trying to
disembowel her with his rear claws, coming so close that she actually felt the
wind of his foot's passage against the smooth skin of her belly.

She gritted her teeth and poured all of her huge power into the effort. The
muscles of her arms swelled full and round, and those of her back and
shoulders coiled under her skin, despite the terrible injuries the lion's
claws had inflicted.

Growling almost as loudly as the lion, Leanore threw her strength against the
beast. Slowly and inexorably, the great feline head was pushed back and back.
The lion himself began to realise the danger he was in, and tried to struggle
out of her grasp.

Leanore was having none of that, and redoubled her efforts. Her muscles became
as hard as teak and felt as if they were about to rupture her skin, but she
ignored it. Gristly sounds were beginning in the lion's cervical vertebrae,
and his head was almost at a right angle to his back. She had forced it to the
point of no return.

Steely fingers burrowed deep into the thick mane and the fur below the leonine
throat. Leanore kept up the pressure, while her fingers closed on a double
handful of hair. An explosion of power flashed through her arms, and she
twisted the lion's head hard to one side.

With a loud, popping crack, two of the lion's vertebrae parted company,
shearing through the spinal column. Leanore felt his huge body go limp, and
his great weight became hers alone to bear.

She held the weight for several seconds, keeping up the pressure, until it
dawned on her that her lion was dead and she had won. She dropped the corpse,
and fell exhausted on top of it. The dust was streaked on her body from the
free-flowing sweat of her exertions, and she heaved great lungfuls of
life-giving air into her chest, dragging oxygen into her lungs in deep,
sobbing breaths.

The circle of hunters was silent, for a moment. Then, almost as one, they
began to chant, pogoing up and down rhythmically, so that the torcs around
their necks bounced in time.

In a high, piping voice, Avid began to sing. He sang of Leanore's success,
praising her for her bravery in continuing to fight the lion, even though her
weapon was lost and her back was clawed. He sang her a welcome into the
community of hunters, and sang of her proud heritage and that of the Eople.

But more importantly, he sang for the spirits of the two lions that had died
in order to allow her to pass the initiation. He thanked them for their
courage, and asked the gods to clear a place for them in the next life. It was
vitally important, according to the traditions of the Eople, to do this,
especially when a fellow hunter had been killed for the purpose. The were
concerned that, in the taking of these lives, they may upset the balance, and
Avid asked the gods to forgive them.

His song over, Avid stepped over to where Leanore still lay atop her kill. He
gave her his hand and helped her to her feet. She stood panting before him,
eyes glittering with excitement and exhilaration, and he smiled at her with
pride. "This day", he said, solemnly placing a narrow torc about her neck ,
"you have become a hunter".