Early one morning Busara, a young Mandrill shaman, was headed far afield to gather Tiko root. It was scarce and very valuable, but he knew some secret places to gather it easily.

Since his income relied on a secret, he was careful not to be followed. He only told his wife where the mint grew, and he was careful never to take the same route twice.

This day, he dared to ford the tall savanna grass. He was surrounded by golden wands that screened his enemies but shifted noisily around him and crackled under his feet. He was very nervous, and felt like he was being watched. He stopped and listened carefully, glancing about for signs of watchful eyes.

He spotted a lioness in the grass and gasped. For a heart-stopping moment, he sized up his situation. She had seen him and was watching his every movement. He began to tremble violently.

He thought about walking quietly away, but knew it would probably trigger a spring and certain death. The moment he ran, she would pursue. “Great Pishtim,” he thought, “hear my prayers. If I must die today, gather up my soul. But please don’t let me die!”

But he then saw the ugly red gash on her shoulder. No one hunted cape buffalo without risk: she had gambled and lost. She would not spring on him. In fact, she was the one who was afraid.

Relieved, he took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. The air felt good, venting the fear from his lungs. He started to walk off, still a little trembly in the limbs. He thought about his wife and home that had for a moment seemed forever lost. “Once I get home, I’m going to kiss that girl!” He would also make an offering to Pishtim, and remember to pray for that poor lioness--may her suffering be cut short.