N’kwaxgu had had enough of this. He had been running down game over the golden sands of the Kalahari since he was a hundred moons of age, and would continue to do so until he became to weak. Then he would be left behind by the tribe, with an ostrich egg full of water and a poisoned knife for when the thirst got too bad.

Everything that he shot with his little poison arrows died within at most two days of him hitting it, but this beast was different. It was some kind of conjoined buck that dragged a strange square appendage behind it.

He had shot it from cover three days ago, and could still see his little dart sticking in its rear appendage. Day after day he followed, but the beast was tireless.

After the fifth day he realised what was going on. This was a challenge by the gods. He had to be tested in the cooking pot of the searing desert, have all of the weakness burnt out of him by a beast that could never be caught.

He gritted his teeth, tightened his stomach band and took up the challenge with gusto.