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It was mornings such as these that Hasani liked to go on a hunt. They had reached the more savannah like part of the Sahara, which left the hunters open for activity. The night before, Hasani had told his wife that he would be going for a hunt come morning. Their target was prey that they could chase for a long while to tire out, but would make a wonderful feast for many members of the tribe. Especially when they could return with multiple carcasses that could also be dried and portioned out between the families.
While Hasani and Mwenye were not the only two men going out for a hunt, they were two of the men that paired up together in order to spread out across the desert sands. Crawling out of his bed before the morning was fully casting its light over the horizon, Hasani took a few moments to dress, grab his weapons, and then brush a kiss against Tanishe's lips.
Then he pushed his way out of the tent and started to wind his way through the tent village. There were quite a few people under his rule, though he did not lead the largest Gesin of the Sahara. The Zaire numbered 200 strong, but that did not mean that they were weak. If anything, they did find some strength in their smaller numbers. Had Hasani been part of the Mekaki tribe, he might have lost his mind at the large number of tribe members he would have to care for at all hours of the day.
Selfishly, Hasani did like his smaller tribe. He knew everyone in it, down to the last newborn. And he loved them all with his every breath.
Weaving in and out of pathways, Hasani made his way toward Mwenye's tent. Standing outside, he clicked his tongue, "Slow moving hunters catch the least prey!" he called to his friend, ushering him to hurry up so they could get out onto the sands and among the taller grasses of the savannah.
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It was mornings such as these that Hasani liked to go on a hunt. They had reached the more savannah like part of the Sahara, which left the hunters open for activity. The night before, Hasani had told his wife that he would be going for a hunt come morning. Their target was prey that they could chase for a long while to tire out, but would make a wonderful feast for many members of the tribe. Especially when they could return with multiple carcasses that could also be dried and portioned out between the families.
While Hasani and Mwenye were not the only two men going out for a hunt, they were two of the men that paired up together in order to spread out across the desert sands. Crawling out of his bed before the morning was fully casting its light over the horizon, Hasani took a few moments to dress, grab his weapons, and then brush a kiss against Tanishe's lips.
Then he pushed his way out of the tent and started to wind his way through the tent village. There were quite a few people under his rule, though he did not lead the largest Gesin of the Sahara. The Zaire numbered 200 strong, but that did not mean that they were weak. If anything, they did find some strength in their smaller numbers. Had Hasani been part of the Mekaki tribe, he might have lost his mind at the large number of tribe members he would have to care for at all hours of the day.
Selfishly, Hasani did like his smaller tribe. He knew everyone in it, down to the last newborn. And he loved them all with his every breath.
Weaving in and out of pathways, Hasani made his way toward Mwenye's tent. Standing outside, he clicked his tongue, "Slow moving hunters catch the least prey!" he called to his friend, ushering him to hurry up so they could get out onto the sands and among the taller grasses of the savannah.
It was mornings such as these that Hasani liked to go on a hunt. They had reached the more savannah like part of the Sahara, which left the hunters open for activity. The night before, Hasani had told his wife that he would be going for a hunt come morning. Their target was prey that they could chase for a long while to tire out, but would make a wonderful feast for many members of the tribe. Especially when they could return with multiple carcasses that could also be dried and portioned out between the families.
While Hasani and Mwenye were not the only two men going out for a hunt, they were two of the men that paired up together in order to spread out across the desert sands. Crawling out of his bed before the morning was fully casting its light over the horizon, Hasani took a few moments to dress, grab his weapons, and then brush a kiss against Tanishe's lips.
Then he pushed his way out of the tent and started to wind his way through the tent village. There were quite a few people under his rule, though he did not lead the largest Gesin of the Sahara. The Zaire numbered 200 strong, but that did not mean that they were weak. If anything, they did find some strength in their smaller numbers. Had Hasani been part of the Mekaki tribe, he might have lost his mind at the large number of tribe members he would have to care for at all hours of the day.
Selfishly, Hasani did like his smaller tribe. He knew everyone in it, down to the last newborn. And he loved them all with his every breath.
Weaving in and out of pathways, Hasani made his way toward Mwenye's tent. Standing outside, he clicked his tongue, "Slow moving hunters catch the least prey!" he called to his friend, ushering him to hurry up so they could get out onto the sands and among the taller grasses of the savannah.
Mwenye clucked his tongue at his friend as he came out of his tent. "You will drop before the gazelle does, as impatient as that." He was dressed for a long hunt, knowing that, paired with the muscle-bound Hasani, he would be the one responsible for seeing it through to the end. Not a single bit of excess weight, not even a shirt. He lashed his two spears with a practiced twist of a leather thong to the same long strap holding his smallest waterskin and grinned at the Leier. If he had just been going out for the day for a much less arduous task, he might have taken more, but he trusted an exhausted, overheating animal to lead them straight to water.
He slung that equipment over his shoulder and settled it across his back, adjusted the small pouch of mixed nuts and dried fruit and the expensive steel hunting knife at his his hip, and set out at a deceptively easy stride, knowing Hasani's equally long legs would have no difficulty matching his pace. "Do keep up."
As he left the camp and headed in the direction they had chosen when planning the hunt, he kept eyes and ears open for any hint of what they sought. Unlikely they had come this close to this many people last night, but the Zaire had laid claim to a good water source, and sometimes that lured in even nervous prey. Sometimes, too, the voices he heard had advice. Whether it was good advice... well, he was reasonably confident he'd learned to judge that adequately well.
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Mwenye clucked his tongue at his friend as he came out of his tent. "You will drop before the gazelle does, as impatient as that." He was dressed for a long hunt, knowing that, paired with the muscle-bound Hasani, he would be the one responsible for seeing it through to the end. Not a single bit of excess weight, not even a shirt. He lashed his two spears with a practiced twist of a leather thong to the same long strap holding his smallest waterskin and grinned at the Leier. If he had just been going out for the day for a much less arduous task, he might have taken more, but he trusted an exhausted, overheating animal to lead them straight to water.
He slung that equipment over his shoulder and settled it across his back, adjusted the small pouch of mixed nuts and dried fruit and the expensive steel hunting knife at his his hip, and set out at a deceptively easy stride, knowing Hasani's equally long legs would have no difficulty matching his pace. "Do keep up."
As he left the camp and headed in the direction they had chosen when planning the hunt, he kept eyes and ears open for any hint of what they sought. Unlikely they had come this close to this many people last night, but the Zaire had laid claim to a good water source, and sometimes that lured in even nervous prey. Sometimes, too, the voices he heard had advice. Whether it was good advice... well, he was reasonably confident he'd learned to judge that adequately well.
Mwenye clucked his tongue at his friend as he came out of his tent. "You will drop before the gazelle does, as impatient as that." He was dressed for a long hunt, knowing that, paired with the muscle-bound Hasani, he would be the one responsible for seeing it through to the end. Not a single bit of excess weight, not even a shirt. He lashed his two spears with a practiced twist of a leather thong to the same long strap holding his smallest waterskin and grinned at the Leier. If he had just been going out for the day for a much less arduous task, he might have taken more, but he trusted an exhausted, overheating animal to lead them straight to water.
He slung that equipment over his shoulder and settled it across his back, adjusted the small pouch of mixed nuts and dried fruit and the expensive steel hunting knife at his his hip, and set out at a deceptively easy stride, knowing Hasani's equally long legs would have no difficulty matching his pace. "Do keep up."
As he left the camp and headed in the direction they had chosen when planning the hunt, he kept eyes and ears open for any hint of what they sought. Unlikely they had come this close to this many people last night, but the Zaire had laid claim to a good water source, and sometimes that lured in even nervous prey. Sometimes, too, the voices he heard had advice. Whether it was good advice... well, he was reasonably confident he'd learned to judge that adequately well.
Hasani highly doubted he would drop before any gazelle. He was impatient, sure, but there had been times where his hunts had lasted days. Sometimes that was what it took to come back with sizeable prey for the tribe to feast on and save for later. Drying an entire gazelle or other large animal was invaluable and one of the reasons the tribe was able to stay in one place for weeks at a time. If they had both food and water to sustain them, the tribe could thrive for longer than normal.
With the two of them, Hasani was quite sure that they could come back with something large and the pelts from whatever they killed could fill their tents or be used to help a young man or newly married couple start a true life on their own.
"Oh, don't you worry about me keeping up, Mwenye. I slept well and ate a hearty breakfast. It almost seems like you did neither of those things," Hasani bantered back at him with increasing ease. Teasing Mwenye was one of his favorite past times. He found great pleasure in seeing how one of his closest friends reacted to his constantly chipper and happy demeanor at nearly all times of the day.
But soon Hasani found himself quieting, seeming to glance about in search of prints or signs of life in any direction. They would need to walk far. Often, prey remained far from the large tent cities of a Gesin. It was more straining for the hunters to travel so far and to bring such large kills back, but many of the herd animals often congregated together. That, however, brought its own problems. Lions often liked to poach the kills of the hunters.
Hasani had killed his share of lions in his time and he kept their pelts for the pieces of the bed he shared with his wife. They were a point of pride for a hunter to overcome the wild beasts of nature.
Remaining close to Mwenye, Hasani kept his spear firmly in hand, his sword clasped firmly at his belt. "Some of the other hunters expressed last night that the walk was far," he commented finally, his feet shifting through the sand. He took another glance about them to make sure they weren't to be ambushed.
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Hasani highly doubted he would drop before any gazelle. He was impatient, sure, but there had been times where his hunts had lasted days. Sometimes that was what it took to come back with sizeable prey for the tribe to feast on and save for later. Drying an entire gazelle or other large animal was invaluable and one of the reasons the tribe was able to stay in one place for weeks at a time. If they had both food and water to sustain them, the tribe could thrive for longer than normal.
With the two of them, Hasani was quite sure that they could come back with something large and the pelts from whatever they killed could fill their tents or be used to help a young man or newly married couple start a true life on their own.
"Oh, don't you worry about me keeping up, Mwenye. I slept well and ate a hearty breakfast. It almost seems like you did neither of those things," Hasani bantered back at him with increasing ease. Teasing Mwenye was one of his favorite past times. He found great pleasure in seeing how one of his closest friends reacted to his constantly chipper and happy demeanor at nearly all times of the day.
But soon Hasani found himself quieting, seeming to glance about in search of prints or signs of life in any direction. They would need to walk far. Often, prey remained far from the large tent cities of a Gesin. It was more straining for the hunters to travel so far and to bring such large kills back, but many of the herd animals often congregated together. That, however, brought its own problems. Lions often liked to poach the kills of the hunters.
Hasani had killed his share of lions in his time and he kept their pelts for the pieces of the bed he shared with his wife. They were a point of pride for a hunter to overcome the wild beasts of nature.
Remaining close to Mwenye, Hasani kept his spear firmly in hand, his sword clasped firmly at his belt. "Some of the other hunters expressed last night that the walk was far," he commented finally, his feet shifting through the sand. He took another glance about them to make sure they weren't to be ambushed.
Hasani highly doubted he would drop before any gazelle. He was impatient, sure, but there had been times where his hunts had lasted days. Sometimes that was what it took to come back with sizeable prey for the tribe to feast on and save for later. Drying an entire gazelle or other large animal was invaluable and one of the reasons the tribe was able to stay in one place for weeks at a time. If they had both food and water to sustain them, the tribe could thrive for longer than normal.
With the two of them, Hasani was quite sure that they could come back with something large and the pelts from whatever they killed could fill their tents or be used to help a young man or newly married couple start a true life on their own.
"Oh, don't you worry about me keeping up, Mwenye. I slept well and ate a hearty breakfast. It almost seems like you did neither of those things," Hasani bantered back at him with increasing ease. Teasing Mwenye was one of his favorite past times. He found great pleasure in seeing how one of his closest friends reacted to his constantly chipper and happy demeanor at nearly all times of the day.
But soon Hasani found himself quieting, seeming to glance about in search of prints or signs of life in any direction. They would need to walk far. Often, prey remained far from the large tent cities of a Gesin. It was more straining for the hunters to travel so far and to bring such large kills back, but many of the herd animals often congregated together. That, however, brought its own problems. Lions often liked to poach the kills of the hunters.
Hasani had killed his share of lions in his time and he kept their pelts for the pieces of the bed he shared with his wife. They were a point of pride for a hunter to overcome the wild beasts of nature.
Remaining close to Mwenye, Hasani kept his spear firmly in hand, his sword clasped firmly at his belt. "Some of the other hunters expressed last night that the walk was far," he commented finally, his feet shifting through the sand. He took another glance about them to make sure they weren't to be ambushed.
Mwenye just shrugged at his Leier's words. "I ate." A full night's restful sleep was an unpredictable occurrence for the prophet, but he was not prone to complaining, even if he sometimes envied those who could seemingly simply decide to have such a thing. Perhaps sleeping beside a woman helped? He really was old enough to be married by now, but... Neither rich, nor handsome, nor a renowned warrior, he saw little in himself to appeal to a woman, and he was well aware that a wife who didn't like you was a recipe for an unpleasant life. Not that he honestly knew what really appealed to women.
He thought about asking Hasani, but then the older man was speaking again, and he laughed and shook his head. "Every hunt is a long walk," he pointed out pragmatically. "So is moving camp. So is most everything else. Why, does someone have something better to do today?" Tafari had just recently gotten married, and Mwenye wondered if he had been the one complaining.
"Hasani, my friend..." Was he opening himself up to being teased mercilessly? Of course he was. But once the big man was done laughing at him, he was likely to have good advice. "Share your wisdom, if you are willing. Should I be looking for a wife?"
Mwenye had the long, easy stride of a man who regularly walked for most of the day, and usually with a destination in mind. He was paying attention to his surroundings, but he wasn't expecting to find anything this close to the tribe either. His eyes were on the horizon, looking for the dust of herds moving, watching for movement, seeking the same subtle signs in the shape of the land and the presence of trees or brush that the animals themselves used to decide where it was good to den or browse or hide or drink. "That way, I think; there seems likely good grazing there."
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Mwenye just shrugged at his Leier's words. "I ate." A full night's restful sleep was an unpredictable occurrence for the prophet, but he was not prone to complaining, even if he sometimes envied those who could seemingly simply decide to have such a thing. Perhaps sleeping beside a woman helped? He really was old enough to be married by now, but... Neither rich, nor handsome, nor a renowned warrior, he saw little in himself to appeal to a woman, and he was well aware that a wife who didn't like you was a recipe for an unpleasant life. Not that he honestly knew what really appealed to women.
He thought about asking Hasani, but then the older man was speaking again, and he laughed and shook his head. "Every hunt is a long walk," he pointed out pragmatically. "So is moving camp. So is most everything else. Why, does someone have something better to do today?" Tafari had just recently gotten married, and Mwenye wondered if he had been the one complaining.
"Hasani, my friend..." Was he opening himself up to being teased mercilessly? Of course he was. But once the big man was done laughing at him, he was likely to have good advice. "Share your wisdom, if you are willing. Should I be looking for a wife?"
Mwenye had the long, easy stride of a man who regularly walked for most of the day, and usually with a destination in mind. He was paying attention to his surroundings, but he wasn't expecting to find anything this close to the tribe either. His eyes were on the horizon, looking for the dust of herds moving, watching for movement, seeking the same subtle signs in the shape of the land and the presence of trees or brush that the animals themselves used to decide where it was good to den or browse or hide or drink. "That way, I think; there seems likely good grazing there."
Mwenye just shrugged at his Leier's words. "I ate." A full night's restful sleep was an unpredictable occurrence for the prophet, but he was not prone to complaining, even if he sometimes envied those who could seemingly simply decide to have such a thing. Perhaps sleeping beside a woman helped? He really was old enough to be married by now, but... Neither rich, nor handsome, nor a renowned warrior, he saw little in himself to appeal to a woman, and he was well aware that a wife who didn't like you was a recipe for an unpleasant life. Not that he honestly knew what really appealed to women.
He thought about asking Hasani, but then the older man was speaking again, and he laughed and shook his head. "Every hunt is a long walk," he pointed out pragmatically. "So is moving camp. So is most everything else. Why, does someone have something better to do today?" Tafari had just recently gotten married, and Mwenye wondered if he had been the one complaining.
"Hasani, my friend..." Was he opening himself up to being teased mercilessly? Of course he was. But once the big man was done laughing at him, he was likely to have good advice. "Share your wisdom, if you are willing. Should I be looking for a wife?"
Mwenye had the long, easy stride of a man who regularly walked for most of the day, and usually with a destination in mind. He was paying attention to his surroundings, but he wasn't expecting to find anything this close to the tribe either. His eyes were on the horizon, looking for the dust of herds moving, watching for movement, seeking the same subtle signs in the shape of the land and the presence of trees or brush that the animals themselves used to decide where it was good to den or browse or hide or drink. "That way, I think; there seems likely good grazing there."
Hasani found himself laughing at the notion that yes, everything was a far walk. That notion wasn’t lost on Hasani. But walking the desert in a group was entirely different than walking to hunt. Walking to hunt meant that you were walking short bursts, sprinting others, outright running more still. Sometimes the hunt could be the most exhausting part of life because the body was not as used to such strenuous and sudden activity compared to the consistent movement of the tribe across the sands.
The man kept his gaze forward, not usually inclined to have a full conversation while on a hunt. Often, words scared away potential prey. They would likely set traps later before they returned to the camp, but for now, they were searching for big game and attempting to keep themselves rested for what could be a long day of pulling their catches back to the tribe.
But Hasani entertained the conversation with quiet ease. “You should have been looking for a wife years ago, Mwenye. Though not everyone needs to marry and not everyone needs to have children. But your life would be easier should you find someone that you fancy enough to remain bound to for long years and long treks across the sand,” the leier noted casually. He had come to love Tanishe over time. A long time. And now that he had her, there was no way that he was letting her go.
She was the light of his life and he was inclined to keep her as close and has happy as possible. That was how the two of them stayed so in sync with one another. If one was happy, so was the other. But they both had to work at it. It was like a balance. A scale that could be tipped one way or the other but was often leveled through love and sheer willpower to make things work.
When Mwenye directed them toward a grazing area, Hasani nodded but put his hand out to stop Mwenye before they got too close. “If you do not want to marry, Mwenye, you do not have to. But if you do, I will do my best to attempt to find you a good match. You are a respected member of my tribe and I can expect nothing but good for your future,” Hasani said very calmly, wanting to be that supportive hand for his friend.
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Hasani found himself laughing at the notion that yes, everything was a far walk. That notion wasn’t lost on Hasani. But walking the desert in a group was entirely different than walking to hunt. Walking to hunt meant that you were walking short bursts, sprinting others, outright running more still. Sometimes the hunt could be the most exhausting part of life because the body was not as used to such strenuous and sudden activity compared to the consistent movement of the tribe across the sands.
The man kept his gaze forward, not usually inclined to have a full conversation while on a hunt. Often, words scared away potential prey. They would likely set traps later before they returned to the camp, but for now, they were searching for big game and attempting to keep themselves rested for what could be a long day of pulling their catches back to the tribe.
But Hasani entertained the conversation with quiet ease. “You should have been looking for a wife years ago, Mwenye. Though not everyone needs to marry and not everyone needs to have children. But your life would be easier should you find someone that you fancy enough to remain bound to for long years and long treks across the sand,” the leier noted casually. He had come to love Tanishe over time. A long time. And now that he had her, there was no way that he was letting her go.
She was the light of his life and he was inclined to keep her as close and has happy as possible. That was how the two of them stayed so in sync with one another. If one was happy, so was the other. But they both had to work at it. It was like a balance. A scale that could be tipped one way or the other but was often leveled through love and sheer willpower to make things work.
When Mwenye directed them toward a grazing area, Hasani nodded but put his hand out to stop Mwenye before they got too close. “If you do not want to marry, Mwenye, you do not have to. But if you do, I will do my best to attempt to find you a good match. You are a respected member of my tribe and I can expect nothing but good for your future,” Hasani said very calmly, wanting to be that supportive hand for his friend.
Hasani found himself laughing at the notion that yes, everything was a far walk. That notion wasn’t lost on Hasani. But walking the desert in a group was entirely different than walking to hunt. Walking to hunt meant that you were walking short bursts, sprinting others, outright running more still. Sometimes the hunt could be the most exhausting part of life because the body was not as used to such strenuous and sudden activity compared to the consistent movement of the tribe across the sands.
The man kept his gaze forward, not usually inclined to have a full conversation while on a hunt. Often, words scared away potential prey. They would likely set traps later before they returned to the camp, but for now, they were searching for big game and attempting to keep themselves rested for what could be a long day of pulling their catches back to the tribe.
But Hasani entertained the conversation with quiet ease. “You should have been looking for a wife years ago, Mwenye. Though not everyone needs to marry and not everyone needs to have children. But your life would be easier should you find someone that you fancy enough to remain bound to for long years and long treks across the sand,” the leier noted casually. He had come to love Tanishe over time. A long time. And now that he had her, there was no way that he was letting her go.
She was the light of his life and he was inclined to keep her as close and has happy as possible. That was how the two of them stayed so in sync with one another. If one was happy, so was the other. But they both had to work at it. It was like a balance. A scale that could be tipped one way or the other but was often leveled through love and sheer willpower to make things work.
When Mwenye directed them toward a grazing area, Hasani nodded but put his hand out to stop Mwenye before they got too close. “If you do not want to marry, Mwenye, you do not have to. But if you do, I will do my best to attempt to find you a good match. You are a respected member of my tribe and I can expect nothing but good for your future,” Hasani said very calmly, wanting to be that supportive hand for his friend.
"Thank you, Hasani." Mwenye nodded, accepting the advice easily, as it was confirmation of his own reasoning; he did not need to marry, but doing so, if it was a good match, would be to his benefit. "I suppose it would be easier if any particular woman had caught my eye. But there is no decision that needs to be made today, while there is hunting that needs to be done." He grinned at his friend. "And no man will want to give me his daughter if I get a reputation for coming back empty-handed! So."
He indicated they should set off again, and mulled over his thoughts as they did so. He caught sight of movement - dust? - and nodded to himself. He'd picked a good direction. The young prophet, while not a good enough hunter to get a reputation as such, was certainly not worthy of a reputation as a failure at it, either.
He was quiet for a long while, as they headed towards the possible browse. He had his answer - that it was, indeed, past time to start looking - and had made a decision of what to do - put the next step in such a quest aside for at least a day - and having done so, he fell easily into the mindset of focusing entirely on the hunt. When your own personal success at hunting was the only difference between a full belly and an empty one enough nights, even one's subconscious learned to prioritize it over more theoretical worries.
By the time they came to where he'd thought he'd seen dust rising, there was nothing but tracks. It was going to be one of those days, then. He crouched down, taking a closer look at both tracks and dung. Oryx, not gazelle, and far enough ahead that the dung had cooled, but not hardened. Worth following, he decided. He straightened, and shared his conclusions with a quiet word and a few gestures, checking that Hasani agreed with him, before setting off at an easy jog, following the herd. He didn't smell water yet, but still, the sooner they caught up the less likely they'd end up chasing an animal that had just drunk it's fill.
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"Thank you, Hasani." Mwenye nodded, accepting the advice easily, as it was confirmation of his own reasoning; he did not need to marry, but doing so, if it was a good match, would be to his benefit. "I suppose it would be easier if any particular woman had caught my eye. But there is no decision that needs to be made today, while there is hunting that needs to be done." He grinned at his friend. "And no man will want to give me his daughter if I get a reputation for coming back empty-handed! So."
He indicated they should set off again, and mulled over his thoughts as they did so. He caught sight of movement - dust? - and nodded to himself. He'd picked a good direction. The young prophet, while not a good enough hunter to get a reputation as such, was certainly not worthy of a reputation as a failure at it, either.
He was quiet for a long while, as they headed towards the possible browse. He had his answer - that it was, indeed, past time to start looking - and had made a decision of what to do - put the next step in such a quest aside for at least a day - and having done so, he fell easily into the mindset of focusing entirely on the hunt. When your own personal success at hunting was the only difference between a full belly and an empty one enough nights, even one's subconscious learned to prioritize it over more theoretical worries.
By the time they came to where he'd thought he'd seen dust rising, there was nothing but tracks. It was going to be one of those days, then. He crouched down, taking a closer look at both tracks and dung. Oryx, not gazelle, and far enough ahead that the dung had cooled, but not hardened. Worth following, he decided. He straightened, and shared his conclusions with a quiet word and a few gestures, checking that Hasani agreed with him, before setting off at an easy jog, following the herd. He didn't smell water yet, but still, the sooner they caught up the less likely they'd end up chasing an animal that had just drunk it's fill.
"Thank you, Hasani." Mwenye nodded, accepting the advice easily, as it was confirmation of his own reasoning; he did not need to marry, but doing so, if it was a good match, would be to his benefit. "I suppose it would be easier if any particular woman had caught my eye. But there is no decision that needs to be made today, while there is hunting that needs to be done." He grinned at his friend. "And no man will want to give me his daughter if I get a reputation for coming back empty-handed! So."
He indicated they should set off again, and mulled over his thoughts as they did so. He caught sight of movement - dust? - and nodded to himself. He'd picked a good direction. The young prophet, while not a good enough hunter to get a reputation as such, was certainly not worthy of a reputation as a failure at it, either.
He was quiet for a long while, as they headed towards the possible browse. He had his answer - that it was, indeed, past time to start looking - and had made a decision of what to do - put the next step in such a quest aside for at least a day - and having done so, he fell easily into the mindset of focusing entirely on the hunt. When your own personal success at hunting was the only difference between a full belly and an empty one enough nights, even one's subconscious learned to prioritize it over more theoretical worries.
By the time they came to where he'd thought he'd seen dust rising, there was nothing but tracks. It was going to be one of those days, then. He crouched down, taking a closer look at both tracks and dung. Oryx, not gazelle, and far enough ahead that the dung had cooled, but not hardened. Worth following, he decided. He straightened, and shared his conclusions with a quiet word and a few gestures, checking that Hasani agreed with him, before setting off at an easy jog, following the herd. He didn't smell water yet, but still, the sooner they caught up the less likely they'd end up chasing an animal that had just drunk it's fill.
Hasani was honestly glad that Mwenye trusted him enough to ask him such personal questions. Hasani was leier, and it was his job to be open to his tribemates. To be open to giving advice and taking some of his own to heart. Mwenye was fr past the marriageable age and it was time that he really started to look toward the future rather than the present. Sure, Mwenye had the gift of the ancestor's talking to him, but that didn't mean the man could not make his own strides in his own life. It was time for him to settle, to take a wife and bear children for the next generation.
That should have been Hasani's next course of action, but the man couldn't truly consider another wife after Neena. At least not yet. Not when the wound was still so fresh and Hasani had too many uncertainties about himself and those he loved as it was. All in due time, he supposed, but he would need to produce and heir before long. One way or another, it would need to happen... and if it didn't, and it turned out that it was Hasani himself that was the problem, then that was just a sign that he was not meant to pass his title onto his bloodline.
A heartbreaking thought after so many years at the helm, but one that Hasani would likely end up accepting as fate.
Hasani let Mwenye lead, knowing for a fact that Mwenye could always use more practice. Not that he was a bad hunter, he wasn't, but Hasani was of the mind that everyone needed to improve on their skills. Mwenye was not one of their best hunters, so that meant that Hasani was going to let him lead the hunt. The more practice he had, the better suited he would be when he finally married and had to provide for his new bride and potential heirs.
He said little as they first walked, and then started to jog after the herd of oryx that they would be looking for. The point was to ensure that they didn't get a chance to drink their fill of water so that they would be easier to catch. It made less work for the hunters and ensured that the tribe would eat if they could cut the herd off. Not at all tired yet, Hasani let his gaze focus on the work ahead of them, and sure enough, Hasani could spot a larger cloud of dust on the horizon. He picked up his pace a little more, "Come now, Mwenye. Let's bring back a few good kills," he puffed a bit, keeping his spear tightly gripped in hand. He could amost taste the roasted meat on his tongue.
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Hasani was honestly glad that Mwenye trusted him enough to ask him such personal questions. Hasani was leier, and it was his job to be open to his tribemates. To be open to giving advice and taking some of his own to heart. Mwenye was fr past the marriageable age and it was time that he really started to look toward the future rather than the present. Sure, Mwenye had the gift of the ancestor's talking to him, but that didn't mean the man could not make his own strides in his own life. It was time for him to settle, to take a wife and bear children for the next generation.
That should have been Hasani's next course of action, but the man couldn't truly consider another wife after Neena. At least not yet. Not when the wound was still so fresh and Hasani had too many uncertainties about himself and those he loved as it was. All in due time, he supposed, but he would need to produce and heir before long. One way or another, it would need to happen... and if it didn't, and it turned out that it was Hasani himself that was the problem, then that was just a sign that he was not meant to pass his title onto his bloodline.
A heartbreaking thought after so many years at the helm, but one that Hasani would likely end up accepting as fate.
Hasani let Mwenye lead, knowing for a fact that Mwenye could always use more practice. Not that he was a bad hunter, he wasn't, but Hasani was of the mind that everyone needed to improve on their skills. Mwenye was not one of their best hunters, so that meant that Hasani was going to let him lead the hunt. The more practice he had, the better suited he would be when he finally married and had to provide for his new bride and potential heirs.
He said little as they first walked, and then started to jog after the herd of oryx that they would be looking for. The point was to ensure that they didn't get a chance to drink their fill of water so that they would be easier to catch. It made less work for the hunters and ensured that the tribe would eat if they could cut the herd off. Not at all tired yet, Hasani let his gaze focus on the work ahead of them, and sure enough, Hasani could spot a larger cloud of dust on the horizon. He picked up his pace a little more, "Come now, Mwenye. Let's bring back a few good kills," he puffed a bit, keeping his spear tightly gripped in hand. He could amost taste the roasted meat on his tongue.
Hasani was honestly glad that Mwenye trusted him enough to ask him such personal questions. Hasani was leier, and it was his job to be open to his tribemates. To be open to giving advice and taking some of his own to heart. Mwenye was fr past the marriageable age and it was time that he really started to look toward the future rather than the present. Sure, Mwenye had the gift of the ancestor's talking to him, but that didn't mean the man could not make his own strides in his own life. It was time for him to settle, to take a wife and bear children for the next generation.
That should have been Hasani's next course of action, but the man couldn't truly consider another wife after Neena. At least not yet. Not when the wound was still so fresh and Hasani had too many uncertainties about himself and those he loved as it was. All in due time, he supposed, but he would need to produce and heir before long. One way or another, it would need to happen... and if it didn't, and it turned out that it was Hasani himself that was the problem, then that was just a sign that he was not meant to pass his title onto his bloodline.
A heartbreaking thought after so many years at the helm, but one that Hasani would likely end up accepting as fate.
Hasani let Mwenye lead, knowing for a fact that Mwenye could always use more practice. Not that he was a bad hunter, he wasn't, but Hasani was of the mind that everyone needed to improve on their skills. Mwenye was not one of their best hunters, so that meant that Hasani was going to let him lead the hunt. The more practice he had, the better suited he would be when he finally married and had to provide for his new bride and potential heirs.
He said little as they first walked, and then started to jog after the herd of oryx that they would be looking for. The point was to ensure that they didn't get a chance to drink their fill of water so that they would be easier to catch. It made less work for the hunters and ensured that the tribe would eat if they could cut the herd off. Not at all tired yet, Hasani let his gaze focus on the work ahead of them, and sure enough, Hasani could spot a larger cloud of dust on the horizon. He picked up his pace a little more, "Come now, Mwenye. Let's bring back a few good kills," he puffed a bit, keeping his spear tightly gripped in hand. He could amost taste the roasted meat on his tongue.
A few? Mwenye decided not to comment just then. If Hasani wanted to try hauling home more than one, that was his choice, but the younger man had no intention of killing more than he could carry. They would see how the herd split up. Several animals together might decide to turn to fight, near the end; one alone would always run until it dropped, assuming the hunter did not loose track of it long enough for it to recover. Two though? Hmm. Maybe. They would see.
The long walk had warmed his muscles up, and the easy jog was no effort to keep up for a few miles. The sun was high enough to instantly dry his sweat on his skin, and so exercise that might have left a light sheen on his skin in a cooler or damper clime appeared effortless except for the deep, even breathing of a man well-practiced at feats of endurance. They caught up to the herd when about half were already drinking, but Mwenye thought at least some of those who weren't had not yet had any, and slowed to a walk as he unslung his spear. Foals generally neither drank first nor last, but the constant movement of the jostling herd made it hard to pick out individuals - hard, but not impossible, and Mwenye's eyes were good. He assessed the herd, and spoke briefly to Hasani with his hands. The Leier's acceptance of his gestured words proved what he'd expected, that he was letting the younger man lead today. They worked well together, and rarely had to discuss those decisions explicitly.
Mwenye approached the herd at a careful angle, but with far less subtlety than a hunting cat would have, but then, he had no interest in catching his prey yet. Unlike any of the big cats, he would loose that fight. The flightiest of the oryx caught sight of the two hunters and scrambled away, and Mwenye charged the centre of the herd, knowing well the animals' faster reflexes would have the entire herd bolting before he got within kicking range. None of them were at all likely to run towards the humans, but that was only useful if they were close enough.
Not perfect, but the herd split, most of those who'd been drinking running in one direction, and the rest of the herd in the other. "Hah!"
He crouched down by the water himself, and took a cautious sip, then decided the panicked animals hadn't disturbed the water too much, and drank several cupped handfuls before picking up his spear again and following after the animals who had not gotten any water. They were not yet out of sight on the flat savanna, and the Zaire hunter easily fell back into the steady jog that would keep them from getting too far ahead. One could outpace a gazelle even at the walk, but Mwenye was not terribly fond of hunts that lasted through the night and into the next day, even though he certainly knew he was capable. The longer the hunt took, the farther he'd have to haul the carcass back, too, which was not a trivial consideration.
He was still conscious of Hasani's endurance, and had no intention of outpacing his friend yet, nor had he much left of the impatience of youth. They walked when they should, and jogged when it helped, and let their prey outpace them before catching up again several times until the slowest of the herd started to lag behind and the strongest to outpace the others. Mwenye glanced at Hasani and took a careful look at those who were starting to slow. It would be time soon to try to spook the trailing animals into breaking away, and if he misjudged which were weaker, and which lagging simply because their instincts said not to split up, they would have a longer hunt than he liked.
He wasn't really asking for Hasani's opinion. Mwenye's eyes were sharper, and he knew what he was doing - but he'd certainly take advice if any was offered.
Was that one just a little stiffer in the hock than the others, it's colouring a hint more towards grey? Was that other one dropping it's head a bit lower than the others, whenever they slowed again after a sprint?
Was the larger part of the herd ahead slowing, no longer as concerned with the hunters following?
Letting the herd re-groups was no part of the plan. Again, Mwenye pointed out the individuals he thought they should focus on, and suggested a course of action. Hasani was faster, at a full run; if they split to pressure them from two different angles, he could take the longer route.
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A few? Mwenye decided not to comment just then. If Hasani wanted to try hauling home more than one, that was his choice, but the younger man had no intention of killing more than he could carry. They would see how the herd split up. Several animals together might decide to turn to fight, near the end; one alone would always run until it dropped, assuming the hunter did not loose track of it long enough for it to recover. Two though? Hmm. Maybe. They would see.
The long walk had warmed his muscles up, and the easy jog was no effort to keep up for a few miles. The sun was high enough to instantly dry his sweat on his skin, and so exercise that might have left a light sheen on his skin in a cooler or damper clime appeared effortless except for the deep, even breathing of a man well-practiced at feats of endurance. They caught up to the herd when about half were already drinking, but Mwenye thought at least some of those who weren't had not yet had any, and slowed to a walk as he unslung his spear. Foals generally neither drank first nor last, but the constant movement of the jostling herd made it hard to pick out individuals - hard, but not impossible, and Mwenye's eyes were good. He assessed the herd, and spoke briefly to Hasani with his hands. The Leier's acceptance of his gestured words proved what he'd expected, that he was letting the younger man lead today. They worked well together, and rarely had to discuss those decisions explicitly.
Mwenye approached the herd at a careful angle, but with far less subtlety than a hunting cat would have, but then, he had no interest in catching his prey yet. Unlike any of the big cats, he would loose that fight. The flightiest of the oryx caught sight of the two hunters and scrambled away, and Mwenye charged the centre of the herd, knowing well the animals' faster reflexes would have the entire herd bolting before he got within kicking range. None of them were at all likely to run towards the humans, but that was only useful if they were close enough.
Not perfect, but the herd split, most of those who'd been drinking running in one direction, and the rest of the herd in the other. "Hah!"
He crouched down by the water himself, and took a cautious sip, then decided the panicked animals hadn't disturbed the water too much, and drank several cupped handfuls before picking up his spear again and following after the animals who had not gotten any water. They were not yet out of sight on the flat savanna, and the Zaire hunter easily fell back into the steady jog that would keep them from getting too far ahead. One could outpace a gazelle even at the walk, but Mwenye was not terribly fond of hunts that lasted through the night and into the next day, even though he certainly knew he was capable. The longer the hunt took, the farther he'd have to haul the carcass back, too, which was not a trivial consideration.
He was still conscious of Hasani's endurance, and had no intention of outpacing his friend yet, nor had he much left of the impatience of youth. They walked when they should, and jogged when it helped, and let their prey outpace them before catching up again several times until the slowest of the herd started to lag behind and the strongest to outpace the others. Mwenye glanced at Hasani and took a careful look at those who were starting to slow. It would be time soon to try to spook the trailing animals into breaking away, and if he misjudged which were weaker, and which lagging simply because their instincts said not to split up, they would have a longer hunt than he liked.
He wasn't really asking for Hasani's opinion. Mwenye's eyes were sharper, and he knew what he was doing - but he'd certainly take advice if any was offered.
Was that one just a little stiffer in the hock than the others, it's colouring a hint more towards grey? Was that other one dropping it's head a bit lower than the others, whenever they slowed again after a sprint?
Was the larger part of the herd ahead slowing, no longer as concerned with the hunters following?
Letting the herd re-groups was no part of the plan. Again, Mwenye pointed out the individuals he thought they should focus on, and suggested a course of action. Hasani was faster, at a full run; if they split to pressure them from two different angles, he could take the longer route.
A few? Mwenye decided not to comment just then. If Hasani wanted to try hauling home more than one, that was his choice, but the younger man had no intention of killing more than he could carry. They would see how the herd split up. Several animals together might decide to turn to fight, near the end; one alone would always run until it dropped, assuming the hunter did not loose track of it long enough for it to recover. Two though? Hmm. Maybe. They would see.
The long walk had warmed his muscles up, and the easy jog was no effort to keep up for a few miles. The sun was high enough to instantly dry his sweat on his skin, and so exercise that might have left a light sheen on his skin in a cooler or damper clime appeared effortless except for the deep, even breathing of a man well-practiced at feats of endurance. They caught up to the herd when about half were already drinking, but Mwenye thought at least some of those who weren't had not yet had any, and slowed to a walk as he unslung his spear. Foals generally neither drank first nor last, but the constant movement of the jostling herd made it hard to pick out individuals - hard, but not impossible, and Mwenye's eyes were good. He assessed the herd, and spoke briefly to Hasani with his hands. The Leier's acceptance of his gestured words proved what he'd expected, that he was letting the younger man lead today. They worked well together, and rarely had to discuss those decisions explicitly.
Mwenye approached the herd at a careful angle, but with far less subtlety than a hunting cat would have, but then, he had no interest in catching his prey yet. Unlike any of the big cats, he would loose that fight. The flightiest of the oryx caught sight of the two hunters and scrambled away, and Mwenye charged the centre of the herd, knowing well the animals' faster reflexes would have the entire herd bolting before he got within kicking range. None of them were at all likely to run towards the humans, but that was only useful if they were close enough.
Not perfect, but the herd split, most of those who'd been drinking running in one direction, and the rest of the herd in the other. "Hah!"
He crouched down by the water himself, and took a cautious sip, then decided the panicked animals hadn't disturbed the water too much, and drank several cupped handfuls before picking up his spear again and following after the animals who had not gotten any water. They were not yet out of sight on the flat savanna, and the Zaire hunter easily fell back into the steady jog that would keep them from getting too far ahead. One could outpace a gazelle even at the walk, but Mwenye was not terribly fond of hunts that lasted through the night and into the next day, even though he certainly knew he was capable. The longer the hunt took, the farther he'd have to haul the carcass back, too, which was not a trivial consideration.
He was still conscious of Hasani's endurance, and had no intention of outpacing his friend yet, nor had he much left of the impatience of youth. They walked when they should, and jogged when it helped, and let their prey outpace them before catching up again several times until the slowest of the herd started to lag behind and the strongest to outpace the others. Mwenye glanced at Hasani and took a careful look at those who were starting to slow. It would be time soon to try to spook the trailing animals into breaking away, and if he misjudged which were weaker, and which lagging simply because their instincts said not to split up, they would have a longer hunt than he liked.
He wasn't really asking for Hasani's opinion. Mwenye's eyes were sharper, and he knew what he was doing - but he'd certainly take advice if any was offered.
Was that one just a little stiffer in the hock than the others, it's colouring a hint more towards grey? Was that other one dropping it's head a bit lower than the others, whenever they slowed again after a sprint?
Was the larger part of the herd ahead slowing, no longer as concerned with the hunters following?
Letting the herd re-groups was no part of the plan. Again, Mwenye pointed out the individuals he thought they should focus on, and suggested a course of action. Hasani was faster, at a full run; if they split to pressure them from two different angles, he could take the longer route.
Hasani was incredibly keen to follow Mwenye's lead. This was a hunt that the leier was more than happy to leave in the capable hands of one fo the tribe's prophets, and though Mwenye had not been trained to be a hunter, most men still learned and had at least minor skill in the trade. Hasani made it his own mission to be at least proficient in everything, though he knew he would never be the best nor the greatest. He simply needed to be able to keep up and take the lead when more experienced men were not available.
Besides, a leier who could not do nearly everything when needed would not be successful. Allowing Mwenye to lead them, Hasani kept up with each step, not finding the long chase to be taxing and rather enjoying the warmth of the glaring sun. When they followed the herd to the watering hole, Hasani stopped with Mwenye to get a drink, knowing that they could be at this for quiet some time before they brought any sort of fruitful prey back to the tribe.
The leier didn't see the need to speak much. He spoke only when spoken to, keeping his gaze cast out for any sign of trouble that they may have come across. Other predators were likely to be hunting the sands just as they were, and the likelihood of them running into a cheetah or other carniverous creature was high. That was his second largest concern compared to actually returning to the tribe with food.
With the two of them finally cornering one of the two sides or the herd, he started looking for the individuals. Mwenye suggested that they corner the individuals and not allow the herd to regroup. He was right, Hasani could run faster and they could corner their prey into a more precarious position if they truly worked together at it. Giving a calm, solid nod, Hasani glanced toward Mwenye, "I'll wait for your signal," he stated slowly.
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Hasani was incredibly keen to follow Mwenye's lead. This was a hunt that the leier was more than happy to leave in the capable hands of one fo the tribe's prophets, and though Mwenye had not been trained to be a hunter, most men still learned and had at least minor skill in the trade. Hasani made it his own mission to be at least proficient in everything, though he knew he would never be the best nor the greatest. He simply needed to be able to keep up and take the lead when more experienced men were not available.
Besides, a leier who could not do nearly everything when needed would not be successful. Allowing Mwenye to lead them, Hasani kept up with each step, not finding the long chase to be taxing and rather enjoying the warmth of the glaring sun. When they followed the herd to the watering hole, Hasani stopped with Mwenye to get a drink, knowing that they could be at this for quiet some time before they brought any sort of fruitful prey back to the tribe.
The leier didn't see the need to speak much. He spoke only when spoken to, keeping his gaze cast out for any sign of trouble that they may have come across. Other predators were likely to be hunting the sands just as they were, and the likelihood of them running into a cheetah or other carniverous creature was high. That was his second largest concern compared to actually returning to the tribe with food.
With the two of them finally cornering one of the two sides or the herd, he started looking for the individuals. Mwenye suggested that they corner the individuals and not allow the herd to regroup. He was right, Hasani could run faster and they could corner their prey into a more precarious position if they truly worked together at it. Giving a calm, solid nod, Hasani glanced toward Mwenye, "I'll wait for your signal," he stated slowly.
Hasani was incredibly keen to follow Mwenye's lead. This was a hunt that the leier was more than happy to leave in the capable hands of one fo the tribe's prophets, and though Mwenye had not been trained to be a hunter, most men still learned and had at least minor skill in the trade. Hasani made it his own mission to be at least proficient in everything, though he knew he would never be the best nor the greatest. He simply needed to be able to keep up and take the lead when more experienced men were not available.
Besides, a leier who could not do nearly everything when needed would not be successful. Allowing Mwenye to lead them, Hasani kept up with each step, not finding the long chase to be taxing and rather enjoying the warmth of the glaring sun. When they followed the herd to the watering hole, Hasani stopped with Mwenye to get a drink, knowing that they could be at this for quiet some time before they brought any sort of fruitful prey back to the tribe.
The leier didn't see the need to speak much. He spoke only when spoken to, keeping his gaze cast out for any sign of trouble that they may have come across. Other predators were likely to be hunting the sands just as they were, and the likelihood of them running into a cheetah or other carniverous creature was high. That was his second largest concern compared to actually returning to the tribe with food.
With the two of them finally cornering one of the two sides or the herd, he started looking for the individuals. Mwenye suggested that they corner the individuals and not allow the herd to regroup. He was right, Hasani could run faster and they could corner their prey into a more precarious position if they truly worked together at it. Giving a calm, solid nod, Hasani glanced toward Mwenye, "I'll wait for your signal," he stated slowly.
Hasani had the right idea, in that there was not much to say on a hunt. Both experienced, both fit, in good health and with good endurance, it was simply a matter of making sure they were coordinated, and then doing what they both knew would work to net them their prey in the end. Unlike the other, he was not overly concerned with watching for predators; with Hasani's silent agreement that he should take the lead, Mwenye focused on their prey and their tactics, and trusted his partner to look out for whatever else needed looking out for.
Mwenye's solid, perfectly competent but not uncommonly brilliant guidance eventually singled out a buck old enough to be just that bit slower than the rest of the herd, but without driving it in any particularly useful direction. Some hunters were able to drive their prey vaguely back towards the tribe by the end of the hunt, and save themselves an hour of hauling the meat back, but much as he might envy them the trick, he wasn't in the habit of taking creative risks and thus never practiced such things.
He sipped at his water intermittently, carefully rationing it for the long day. He would be tired helping to haul the meat back, too. They lost sight of the animal a few times, not foolish enough to exhaust themselves running all the while they were encouraging their prey to do so, but Mwenye found him again each time. He was a bit slower at reading the tracks than some, but he didn't have to ask Hasani for advice, though he left space each time he spoke for the leier to give it if he chose. Not out of deference to his rank, but because Mwenye had been taught that you always listen to the observations of everyone on a hunt like this. Leadership didn't stop everyone else's eyes from working.
When finally the buck seemed no longer capable of sprinting even for a short while, and Hasani was starting to lag just a bit, Mwenye rolled his shoulders in preparation for the last long jog. Ahead but just in sight, the buck's head came up tiredly and his nostril's flared. The Zaire prophet wrinkled his nose two. "I hope he smells water and not another herd," he muttered, and handed Hasani his waterskin. He sped up then, an easy lope that, even tired, he could keep up for long enough. With the possibility of the animal finding the reprieve of a drink, he wasn't going to let it out of sight if he could help it. Hasani could pause to refill the waterskins if the opportunity came.
The water the buck had found was little more than a large puddle, and Mwenye's approach wasn't enough to spook it past it's thirst until he actually threw a spear. He gripped the other firmly as he continued to approach, aware of the danger of this moment, that the animal might choose this moment to turn and defend it's life, but the buck chose to scramble away instead, and Mwenye continued to jog after it.
Three times the buck stumbled and lay down briefly, then scrambled exhausted to his feet and continued on, until finally it stayed down, panting hard but otherwise unmoving. When a thrown spear lodged in it's ribs was not enough to get the dying animal to raise it's head, he judged it safe enough and finally closed in to slit it's throat.
Panting hard himself, Mwenye pulled his spear out and leaned on it as he looked back, waiting for Hasani to catch up.
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Hasani had the right idea, in that there was not much to say on a hunt. Both experienced, both fit, in good health and with good endurance, it was simply a matter of making sure they were coordinated, and then doing what they both knew would work to net them their prey in the end. Unlike the other, he was not overly concerned with watching for predators; with Hasani's silent agreement that he should take the lead, Mwenye focused on their prey and their tactics, and trusted his partner to look out for whatever else needed looking out for.
Mwenye's solid, perfectly competent but not uncommonly brilliant guidance eventually singled out a buck old enough to be just that bit slower than the rest of the herd, but without driving it in any particularly useful direction. Some hunters were able to drive their prey vaguely back towards the tribe by the end of the hunt, and save themselves an hour of hauling the meat back, but much as he might envy them the trick, he wasn't in the habit of taking creative risks and thus never practiced such things.
He sipped at his water intermittently, carefully rationing it for the long day. He would be tired helping to haul the meat back, too. They lost sight of the animal a few times, not foolish enough to exhaust themselves running all the while they were encouraging their prey to do so, but Mwenye found him again each time. He was a bit slower at reading the tracks than some, but he didn't have to ask Hasani for advice, though he left space each time he spoke for the leier to give it if he chose. Not out of deference to his rank, but because Mwenye had been taught that you always listen to the observations of everyone on a hunt like this. Leadership didn't stop everyone else's eyes from working.
When finally the buck seemed no longer capable of sprinting even for a short while, and Hasani was starting to lag just a bit, Mwenye rolled his shoulders in preparation for the last long jog. Ahead but just in sight, the buck's head came up tiredly and his nostril's flared. The Zaire prophet wrinkled his nose two. "I hope he smells water and not another herd," he muttered, and handed Hasani his waterskin. He sped up then, an easy lope that, even tired, he could keep up for long enough. With the possibility of the animal finding the reprieve of a drink, he wasn't going to let it out of sight if he could help it. Hasani could pause to refill the waterskins if the opportunity came.
The water the buck had found was little more than a large puddle, and Mwenye's approach wasn't enough to spook it past it's thirst until he actually threw a spear. He gripped the other firmly as he continued to approach, aware of the danger of this moment, that the animal might choose this moment to turn and defend it's life, but the buck chose to scramble away instead, and Mwenye continued to jog after it.
Three times the buck stumbled and lay down briefly, then scrambled exhausted to his feet and continued on, until finally it stayed down, panting hard but otherwise unmoving. When a thrown spear lodged in it's ribs was not enough to get the dying animal to raise it's head, he judged it safe enough and finally closed in to slit it's throat.
Panting hard himself, Mwenye pulled his spear out and leaned on it as he looked back, waiting for Hasani to catch up.
Hasani had the right idea, in that there was not much to say on a hunt. Both experienced, both fit, in good health and with good endurance, it was simply a matter of making sure they were coordinated, and then doing what they both knew would work to net them their prey in the end. Unlike the other, he was not overly concerned with watching for predators; with Hasani's silent agreement that he should take the lead, Mwenye focused on their prey and their tactics, and trusted his partner to look out for whatever else needed looking out for.
Mwenye's solid, perfectly competent but not uncommonly brilliant guidance eventually singled out a buck old enough to be just that bit slower than the rest of the herd, but without driving it in any particularly useful direction. Some hunters were able to drive their prey vaguely back towards the tribe by the end of the hunt, and save themselves an hour of hauling the meat back, but much as he might envy them the trick, he wasn't in the habit of taking creative risks and thus never practiced such things.
He sipped at his water intermittently, carefully rationing it for the long day. He would be tired helping to haul the meat back, too. They lost sight of the animal a few times, not foolish enough to exhaust themselves running all the while they were encouraging their prey to do so, but Mwenye found him again each time. He was a bit slower at reading the tracks than some, but he didn't have to ask Hasani for advice, though he left space each time he spoke for the leier to give it if he chose. Not out of deference to his rank, but because Mwenye had been taught that you always listen to the observations of everyone on a hunt like this. Leadership didn't stop everyone else's eyes from working.
When finally the buck seemed no longer capable of sprinting even for a short while, and Hasani was starting to lag just a bit, Mwenye rolled his shoulders in preparation for the last long jog. Ahead but just in sight, the buck's head came up tiredly and his nostril's flared. The Zaire prophet wrinkled his nose two. "I hope he smells water and not another herd," he muttered, and handed Hasani his waterskin. He sped up then, an easy lope that, even tired, he could keep up for long enough. With the possibility of the animal finding the reprieve of a drink, he wasn't going to let it out of sight if he could help it. Hasani could pause to refill the waterskins if the opportunity came.
The water the buck had found was little more than a large puddle, and Mwenye's approach wasn't enough to spook it past it's thirst until he actually threw a spear. He gripped the other firmly as he continued to approach, aware of the danger of this moment, that the animal might choose this moment to turn and defend it's life, but the buck chose to scramble away instead, and Mwenye continued to jog after it.
Three times the buck stumbled and lay down briefly, then scrambled exhausted to his feet and continued on, until finally it stayed down, panting hard but otherwise unmoving. When a thrown spear lodged in it's ribs was not enough to get the dying animal to raise it's head, he judged it safe enough and finally closed in to slit it's throat.
Panting hard himself, Mwenye pulled his spear out and leaned on it as he looked back, waiting for Hasani to catch up.
Hasani was an endurance hunter. If he needed, he could go for days if it meant that the prey he returned to the tribe was was worthwhile for all. If the meat filled their bellies and did not require the use of their precious liquid resources, it made things all the better. Some thought it was gross, but the blood from game could be useful when one was struggling to keep water in their system. They could also boil the meat in it, though the taste left much to be desired in the grand scheme of things. Hasani liked the taste of antelope, but surely only really enjoyed it when it was prepared in particular ways.
Whatever they caught today would be used to feed the tribe and then dry the rest for jerky and smaller repasts. Often times, the children of the tribe enjoyed the jerky because it fit with their active lifestyles of running around with constant energy. It was not unusual to find a child running with a fist full of dried meats, eating it as they shuffled quickly through the sands of the desert.
He did not speak for most of the hunt, even when Mwenye left the opportunity open to him. There was no need, and Mwenye's observation that he hoped there was water and not another herd did not fall on deaf ears. Hasani was not going to panic about what could not be controlled. Because they could go for as long as physically possible before they would need to turn back to the tribe. As they moved through the sands, Hasani watched the positioning of the sun, always aware of what direction they were heading so that navigating back with a heavy antelope was not going to take as long as hunting the creature.
A more direct route would be required for the return trip, and that was mostly what Hasani was watching for. He let Mwenye land the killing blows, lagging back both out of fatigue and his quiet calculations of what direction their camp was. With the two of them dragging the now dead animal, things would move much faster. At an easy pace instead of at a hunter's pace. Where their prey could bolt at any second and they would not be able to find it once more.
"Good strike," Hasani observed as he finally moved to meet Mwenye and his kill, the animal bleeding out onto the sands. They would have to move before the desert's predators caught scent of blood and felled game. "The camp is back that way," he pointed directly perpendicular to them and then glanced up to catch sight of the moon's position as well, nodding to himself that he'd gotten their direction correct. "We should hurry before the lions come for our prey. I am not keen on sharing this time around," Hasani declared calmly, reaching to his sash. Before they'd started their hunt, he had supplied himself with rope in addition to his hunting weapons.
They would secure the rope around the dead animal and drag it entirely back to the tribe before moonhigh.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hasani was an endurance hunter. If he needed, he could go for days if it meant that the prey he returned to the tribe was was worthwhile for all. If the meat filled their bellies and did not require the use of their precious liquid resources, it made things all the better. Some thought it was gross, but the blood from game could be useful when one was struggling to keep water in their system. They could also boil the meat in it, though the taste left much to be desired in the grand scheme of things. Hasani liked the taste of antelope, but surely only really enjoyed it when it was prepared in particular ways.
Whatever they caught today would be used to feed the tribe and then dry the rest for jerky and smaller repasts. Often times, the children of the tribe enjoyed the jerky because it fit with their active lifestyles of running around with constant energy. It was not unusual to find a child running with a fist full of dried meats, eating it as they shuffled quickly through the sands of the desert.
He did not speak for most of the hunt, even when Mwenye left the opportunity open to him. There was no need, and Mwenye's observation that he hoped there was water and not another herd did not fall on deaf ears. Hasani was not going to panic about what could not be controlled. Because they could go for as long as physically possible before they would need to turn back to the tribe. As they moved through the sands, Hasani watched the positioning of the sun, always aware of what direction they were heading so that navigating back with a heavy antelope was not going to take as long as hunting the creature.
A more direct route would be required for the return trip, and that was mostly what Hasani was watching for. He let Mwenye land the killing blows, lagging back both out of fatigue and his quiet calculations of what direction their camp was. With the two of them dragging the now dead animal, things would move much faster. At an easy pace instead of at a hunter's pace. Where their prey could bolt at any second and they would not be able to find it once more.
"Good strike," Hasani observed as he finally moved to meet Mwenye and his kill, the animal bleeding out onto the sands. They would have to move before the desert's predators caught scent of blood and felled game. "The camp is back that way," he pointed directly perpendicular to them and then glanced up to catch sight of the moon's position as well, nodding to himself that he'd gotten their direction correct. "We should hurry before the lions come for our prey. I am not keen on sharing this time around," Hasani declared calmly, reaching to his sash. Before they'd started their hunt, he had supplied himself with rope in addition to his hunting weapons.
They would secure the rope around the dead animal and drag it entirely back to the tribe before moonhigh.
Hasani was an endurance hunter. If he needed, he could go for days if it meant that the prey he returned to the tribe was was worthwhile for all. If the meat filled their bellies and did not require the use of their precious liquid resources, it made things all the better. Some thought it was gross, but the blood from game could be useful when one was struggling to keep water in their system. They could also boil the meat in it, though the taste left much to be desired in the grand scheme of things. Hasani liked the taste of antelope, but surely only really enjoyed it when it was prepared in particular ways.
Whatever they caught today would be used to feed the tribe and then dry the rest for jerky and smaller repasts. Often times, the children of the tribe enjoyed the jerky because it fit with their active lifestyles of running around with constant energy. It was not unusual to find a child running with a fist full of dried meats, eating it as they shuffled quickly through the sands of the desert.
He did not speak for most of the hunt, even when Mwenye left the opportunity open to him. There was no need, and Mwenye's observation that he hoped there was water and not another herd did not fall on deaf ears. Hasani was not going to panic about what could not be controlled. Because they could go for as long as physically possible before they would need to turn back to the tribe. As they moved through the sands, Hasani watched the positioning of the sun, always aware of what direction they were heading so that navigating back with a heavy antelope was not going to take as long as hunting the creature.
A more direct route would be required for the return trip, and that was mostly what Hasani was watching for. He let Mwenye land the killing blows, lagging back both out of fatigue and his quiet calculations of what direction their camp was. With the two of them dragging the now dead animal, things would move much faster. At an easy pace instead of at a hunter's pace. Where their prey could bolt at any second and they would not be able to find it once more.
"Good strike," Hasani observed as he finally moved to meet Mwenye and his kill, the animal bleeding out onto the sands. They would have to move before the desert's predators caught scent of blood and felled game. "The camp is back that way," he pointed directly perpendicular to them and then glanced up to catch sight of the moon's position as well, nodding to himself that he'd gotten their direction correct. "We should hurry before the lions come for our prey. I am not keen on sharing this time around," Hasani declared calmly, reaching to his sash. Before they'd started their hunt, he had supplied himself with rope in addition to his hunting weapons.
They would secure the rope around the dead animal and drag it entirely back to the tribe before moonhigh.