He paused by the scrubby stand of bush, its thorny leaves sharp against his black, leathery skin. Raising his hand to shield his eyes against the searing sun, he scanned the horizon. Nothing. Jabbing the crude spear into the baked earth he took a sip from the goatskin pouch slung around his neck. The water, warm and tasting of damp soil, slid easily down his parched throat.
    He had forgotten now how long he had been out there. Four days? Six? He thought of his parents back in the settlement, a collection of ramshackled huts set in a sweltering dust bowl. This had been their life ever since the famine. Eking out an existence as best they could. But Amwali knew. Knew it was only a matter of time before they too would succumb to the painful, mind-numbing starvation. 
    He let the goatskin bag drop back onto his chest. The drops of fetid water would keep him going a little longer. Maybe just long enough to see his hoped-for prey padding along the shimmering horizon.
    Things had not been too bad in the beginning. Film crews with their shiny new vehicles and antennas pointing skyward. Then the food trucks, lost in a haze of choking dust dropping their precious cargo of maize and rice. But then there was nothing. The shiny vehicles withdrew, the trucks no longer appeared along the potholed track. They were alone again...
     Amwali slipped from the shelter of the bushes, the mid-morning heat searing into his brain. He had to find something quickly, before he became too weak. Crouching low he began to move out again across the rain-starved plain...
     It had been his idea to try and find food. His father was too old, his mother too weak. They had pleaded with him to stay, told him that the men in their shiny vehicles and the trucks full of food would surely return soon. He`d kissed their unblinging eyes and set of towards the setting sun.
     It had been bitterly cold that first night. He lay huddled beneath a banyan tree and watched the stars as they traversed the inky black sky. He remembered his friends, the mud-walled school house, the scrape of chalk on shiny slate. He had enjoyed school, loved the unfolding of hitherto unknown new worlds. His teacher said he was clever, that he should try for a scholarship in the township. He had run home and told his parents. They asked who would look after them and feed the goats. The scholarship was not mentioned again...
     He moved slowly, the sun boring mercilessly into his blistered, aching limbs.He knew he shouldn`t be out at this time of day, but what other choice did he have.
     Then he saw it, faint and shimmering against the skyline. He shielded his eyes and looked again. A gazelle, young, its legs still wobbly, its head lost in the parched grass as it grubbed amongst the vegetation for anything of substance. He wet his finger and held it in front of himself. He felt the slight breeze on his fingertip and smiled. He was upwind of the young gazelle. 
      He moved cautiously forward until he was only yards from the animal, his slithering body hidden in the gently waving grasses. The smell of urine filled his nostrils as the animal relieved itself against the gnarled branches of a thorn bush. Amwali waited, his body rigid as the gazelle curled its tongue around the thorny leaves of the bush and tugged. As the animal chewed the young boy was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sadness. This animal too, was trying to survive. But then he thought of the settlement and his barely-alive parents, and he knew what he had to do. 
     The cry echoed across the plain as the spear pierced the young gazelle`s hide. For a second its eyes fixed on the young hunter before it collapsed onto the red earth, its legs twitching, the shaft of the spear pointing towards the sinking sun. Amwali quickly crossed the space between his hiding place and the stricken animal, his hand reaching for the knife in his belt.
      The cut was quick and clean, vivid red blood bubbling for a second on the surface before seeping into the pock-marked earth. Amwali cupped his hand and took a drink of the warm, sweet liquid. Now perhaps his family would not die. He brushed his hands briefly across his lips before looking skyward, his mouth twisting into a silent thankyou.
      It was as he was lifting the gazelle across his shoulders that the lioness burst from the long grass. Amwali watched in horror as the beast raced towards him. As the gap narrowed to a few yards Amwali turned his head and gazed for the last time at the setting sun as it dropped majestically below the orange-bathed skyline...