A pair of lionesses from a pride near Fig Tree Camp maraud on a vehicle track late one evening in search of prey.

They wear coats of flax fashioned from the grasses in which they hide from the day-star until the slanting rays of sunset stir them free of their still cradles. The cooling wind now carries them to ever-dulling shores where they amble pejoratively to see the sun off down the rolling horizon into banishment, as if to avenge its twelve-hour tyranny. These are creatures even darkness fears. For in the inky absence of daylight they see brighter than the moon, and there’s no sanctuary from their gaze for those who strive to outlive their time.