The springbok herd had vacated the plateau shortly after dawn. A ripple of concern had coursed through them, something intangible that each felt but hardly understood. So they had abandoned the tall grass of the height for the tall grass of valley below. It was from this vantage that they watched one of their number fly.
From the edge of the herd, a young male lifted into the air while casually grazing. Confused, he leaned his neck as low as it would go, took a bite at the grass and missed.
He floated six feet off the ground, legs dangling beneath him. His nose wrinkled and moved left and right as he attempted to identify anything untoward from smell. He swung his head around to search. Nothing seemed wrong, except he still floated above the ground.
Those of the herd that were nearby looked up at him with similar confusion. If their brother chose to jump for one reason or another, surely he would come back down eventually. So it was with some surprise that, instead of dropping back to the earth, their fellow springbok began to move away from the herd in mid-air.
No one dared follow. So the herd turned to watch. A few called out with questioning meeps, but their friend simply floated away, calm as could be.
Not twenty minutes later, the floating springbok came to a halt at the top of the plateau. The springbok quietly barked with growing unease. The herd had left this morning for a reason, and he was not comfortable having been returned by agents unknown. There was an unknown scent in the air, and one he worried was growing stronger.
Across the plateau, the grass bent and waved in an unnatural way. The springbok watched as something emerged, a thin fog that soon coalesced into a lion. Though this was no normal lion. When his head moved, golden specks of light shook out of his magnificent mane. When he walked, the ground beneath his paws sang his praise. And when he spoke, it was in the language of man.
“What have you brought for the king of beasts?”
The springbok opened his mouth to answer, though what he was going to say eluded him. He had not brought anything. He still didn’t know what had lifted him from the ground and brought him up here.
“I have brought you two things,” a voice above the springbok answered. It was deep and rich, like a cold river that ran fast after a heavy rain.
Turning his head, the springbok saw that he no longer floated. Rather, he was carried. A large arm, sleeved in intricate tattoos, wrapped over his back and under his stomach. The arm held him to the hip of an enormous man, one both taller and wider than the lithe hunters that occasionally attacked the herd.
“I only see the one thing,” the lion said.
“I have brought you one of our bounty, a healthy young springbok,” the man answered. “And I have brought you a warning.”
The lion raised an eyebrow. “A warning?”
“You let the prides move beyond the agreed-upon boundaries.”
“They have not taken more than the land can provide.” The lion did not dispute the man’s claim.
“I think they have, but that’s not the point,” the man answered. “We agreed to partition the territory. Your lions left their partition for mine, they did it to take bounty that was rightfully ours, and that doesn’t work for me.”
The lion sighed and swished his tail. It left a trail behind it, a ghost tail, which burned off after a few moments like a nighttime mist at dawn.
“We must hunt,” the lion said and shrugged. “The herds avoid our territory. They fear us, their ancient enemy, more than they fear you, their next one.”
The man set the springbok down. “Do you want this or not?”
With a low growl, the lion turned his nose up at the springbok. “It is a scrawny thing. And I take no charity.”
Under other circumstances, the springbok would be insulted. He was a proud young male, and certainly wouldn’t categorize himself as scrawny. Still, this seemed an inopportune time to put pride over prudence.
“Alright,” the massive man said. He leaned down and scratched the springbok’s chin. “A narrow escape, young man.” Then his form began to shimmer and thin and grow transparent.
“Stay in your lands. You do not want a war.” The man’s words were without malice and without doubt.
The lion snorted. “You cannot warn me. You are not strong enough.”
“Test that certainty at your peril, lion.” The man stared at the ancient king of all beasts just as his form finally vanished. In a swirl of golden fog, the lion vanished as well.
The springbok looked around after a few moments. A light breeze blew across the plateau, but otherwise he believed he was once again alone. With a heavy sigh, he turned and started back down the plateau. He wanted to get as much grazing done as possible. Who knew how many of these invisible men would come out of nowhere to pick him up if a war broke out?
The Tall Tale Year 