Spirit Beasts
From Book 5 – Rock My Soul Rock
Secora James wiped sweat out of her eyes while running from cave to cave on the Ennedi Plateau. The melted formations which were part of the mesa she was racing across seemed surreal, like shrouded statues, anthills, or dung heaps. She stopped at the first cave.
“I thought I heard a man screaming. It sounded like it could have been Mosa, the water witcher. Or maybe I just imagined it.”
There was nobody in the first cave, only the tracks of small rodents and the snakes that followed them. Just two more to check. She recalled that Anthony, the tracker, had mentioned three distinct caves near their job site. Her mouth and throat were parched, and she prayed she wouldn’t sprain an ankle as she ran on through the rugged terrain looking for another cave.
Suddenly, she noticed she wasn’t alone. Where did these dogs come from? Why are they running with me like they know me? The beasts resembled thin pointers or small greyhounds, with pale dun pinto spots on a mostly white background. Their eyes focused ahead as they ran between and around her legs. I’m gonna trip for sure.
She cautiously approached the entrance to the second overhang, taking a moment to arm herself with a Maglite and a can of pepper spray from her belt. The dogs stopped in their tracks, listening. What could these dogs possibly eat or drink out here, and why didn’t this cat eat them? As if in answer, they moved forward, wagging their tails in a playful manner. That’s a good sign.
“Hello, anyone there? Mosa? Hello?”
There was only silence and shimmering heat. Secora rallied and stepped inside the cave entrance, playing the flashlight around and illuminating the small room. There were large bones mixed with the cave dust, but the remains were not human – and they were not from recent kills. She called again, “Mosa? Anyone in here?”
She listened intently for a response. Could it be that she heard the water witcher’s faint voice? She shook her head and then turned to leave to find the third and final cave. Anthony had cautioned the crew about a “Shadow Cave”, the lair of a large, strange cat that had been picking off calves and young camels from the flocks of the wandering Toubou nomads. In the distance, a dust cloud drew her eyes. Squinting, through a sandstone arch, she thought she saw her husband, Gideon Yellow Thunder, and her grad student, Tarkio Cyr, in a jeep headed toward the base of the formations of twisted rocks – many of which resembled mushroom caps, or cloaked stone-people on top of the mesa.
She imagined it would take them several minutes to race up to her position. What she did not expect was the humongous tiger materializing from behind bushes not ten feet directly in front of her. The cat was longer than the distance between them. She slowly replaced the Maglite on her belt. Its eyes were calculating her every move, waiting for Secora to flinch. That wasn’t going to happen.
With no chance for escape, Secora stepped forward as she lifted the camera from around her neck. She was fascinated by this beast, a relative of the great saber-toothed cats of the past. Its shape was more like that of a cave hyena, taller in the shoulders, with a sloping back, shorter back legs, and a stubby tail. Most notably, its canine teeth were flattened like knife blades, and only protruded a few inches beneath the lower jaw.
They weren’t quite as long or round as the ones on Smilodon, or a bull walrus skull. This animal was extremely large, and had short reddish-brown fur with vertical white stripes. She couldn’t see any black stripes like on a Bengal or Siberian tiger. Long fur surrounded its toes and padded the feet. She guessed it helped the animal to walk more easily across shifting sand, or to protect its toes from sharp rocks.
The phrase “scimitar toothed cat” popped into her mind as she snapped several photos. The mechanical noise made by the automatic film advance caused the beast to blink, and the dogs, emboldened by that reaction and her advance, backed up Secora’s legs with low growls and exposed teeth. They stepped toward the beast in a stalking manner.
The unanticipated results were more than the cat could take. It wheeled and sprang down from a pinnacle, disappearing about thirty feet below their position. “Secora, wait.” The guys were catching up fast. The dogs whirled to face them and yelped a sharp warning.
Gideon pleaded, “Weah Witco,” Crazy Woman, in Lakota. “What are you doing in that cave?”
“I think Mosa, our water witcher, is up here somewhere. I heard a voice that sounded like he was calling for help.”
Anthony, the team tracker and translator, said, “Not likely, madam. Unless he is in the kingdom of the unseen. Only the voices of the dead are carried through these rocks by the caressing winds – You can hear them all around this area.” She sighed. “I can understand that, but Anthony, I’m sure it was Mosa. Do you know where these dogs came from? Surely they can’t live out here alone in this dry desert.”
Everyone became quiet. Eventually, Gideon gently asked, “Dogs? What dogs…?” Secora looked around with increasing concern, then saw no dogs and immediately fainted. She roused back at camp, thinking she’d had an awful dream. “What happened?” she asked. Gideon, Tarkio, and Anthony anxiously surrounded her. Her husband responded gently, “You fainted, dear.”
“Where is the water witcher? Is Mosa okay?”
Anthony responded, “He must be around somewhere.”
Secora said plaintively, “No, I heard his voice calling for help. It was very faint at first, but clearer as I closed in on the second of the three caves you told us about. There was nothing inside the first one except for the tracks of small rodents and snakes. I heard a faint voice at the second cave entrance but saw only a few dried antelope bones. When I turned around to get to the last cave, a mountain tiger stepped from behind some shrubs and would have attacked me if it wasn’t for those snarling dogs that were protecting my legs.”
“The animals must have been your imagination,” Anthony suggested.
Secora thought his smile looked a bit patronizing. “I’m not sure exactly how large this cat was, but I took pictures – even though I won’t be able to develop them until I am back in my lab. If it wasn’t just a spirit beast, there should be a clear image of an ancient tiger that looked about eleven feet long and stood as tall as my chest.”
“I believe there are tales of a legendary Ennedi Tiger. But it is a spirit beast. So don’t be too surprised if nothing shows in the photo but rocks.”
“Fine, but we still have to go back and check out that third cave.”
Anthony cautioned, “Not interested. Those caves belong to the spirit cat.”
Tarkio asked, “You mean, the cat you just told us was imaginary?
Secora, what are these dogs you’re talking about?”
She didn’t feel like answering that question, as concern for Mosa was her priority. “Has anybody heard from Mosa since I left for the caves?” Tarkio said, “Not that I know, but maybe he left to go home since he had staked out all of the areas that were above subterranean aquifers.”
Gideon agreed, “That makes sense. I doubt anyone would stay here after their part was done. Even Raffique left for Afghanistan yesterday after he finished setting up the collectors at the wadi.”
“But,” Secora insisted, “Can anyone confirm that Mosa went home?”
Her persistent concern prompted a trek with the others to the third cave.
There they found Mosa’s torn robes and bones mostly cleaned of flesh, among the vestiges of camels and calf heads. Remembering the large cat, Secora felt forlorn, realizing she couldn’t have saved his life even if she had made it to the third cave. Suddenly she flashed on a memory of the crew eating breakfast at a restaurant. It had been one of Mosa’s favorite occasions, rare, and to be savored.
The image made her smile, a comforting contrast to the way she felt inside while looking at what was left of her friend’s mortal remains inside the cave. Mosa? Is this you trying to keep me from being morbid?
She smiled. It would be just like you. Safe passage, my friend. Go with God.
On the way down the rocks, Anthony carried poor Mosa’s remains while explaining that although he’d always believed the Ennedi Tiger was a spirit beast, there were persistent legends of cave-dwelling cats, mountain tigers in the Tibesti and Ennedi mountains of Chad. “It was supposedly larger than a lion, perhaps twelve feet long, with short reddish-brown fur marked with vertical white stripes.” Secora responded, “Well, they are more than spirits if they’re stealing animals from the Toubou at the drinking wells, and are willing to attack people during the light of day.”
The Photographs
After returning from the trip to Chad to work with a “water seeking” project during summer break, Secora groaned as she sat back at her office desk. With a coffee in hand rather than her usual tea, she called one of her grads, Bill Hoffmann, and asked him to stop by the office to develop a roll of film with images from the desert.
“Okay… see you in five.”
A few hours later, Bill popped back into the office bearing a handful of prints as if they were golden treasure. He handed them over as Secora set her files aside. She savored the first few images, but was shocked when the last few shots showed two snarling dogs stepping toward a scimitar cat – plain as day! Bill asked, “What’s all this about? Did you pick up a few pets while you, Gideon, and Tarkio worked on that water project in Africa?”
Tarkio bounced in, dumped his backpack on the desk, and sidled up to peek over Bill’s shoulder at the photos. “Dang! What… the heck is that!?”
Secora pushed her desk chair back to answer, but choked on a sip of coffee. When she could speak, she responded, “It’s an Ennedi scimitar toothed tiger, and two snarling, spirit dogs.”
Bill remarked, “Spirit dogs! Looks like a fang flashing orgy?”
Tarkio wordlessly shook his head from side to side, his eyes wide and his lower jaw sagging.
Secora calmly said, “I think the dogs may have been some spirit guardians of sorts because until now, I thought I was the only one who saw them. No one else believed they were real.”
Bill squeaked, “Where was this?”
Near the second in a series of three taboo caves in the Ennedi Mountains. I’d thought I heard the water witcher cry out for help, and followed the faintest voice up that hillside to the place our guide, Anthony, told us about.”
Bill said admiringly, “Hey, you managed to get a tail shot as he left. That tiger was definitely a boy. How come you were taking pictures? Looks like that thing could have reached out and licked you to death.”
“Maybe. It was impossible to run – what would you have done?”
Tarkio considered. “She’s got a point, Bill. You’d have taken the pictures too.”
“Guess that’s true,” Bill smirked. “Those courageous dogs remind me of the old mama cat back home. She was brave enough to hunt in the forest with whatever lived there, Bear Dogs included!
“Good comparison. Surprised she lived through that – and the Sasquatches.”
“Right,” Bill reminded, “I remember that older guy made it clear that we weren’t to leave that place with his mugshot.
“Hey, did you know I brought Mamma Cat with me so she would be safe when I moved to Missoula?”
Tarkio queried, “Is she bored to death?”
Bill did a double-take. “What, you mean living in town? No, she’s a princess now – spends her time curled up on the couch or my bed.”
“What a slacker.”
Bill made ready to leave. “Hey Secora, I’ve got about half an hour before class. Tell me more about the scimitar cat and what happened to that water witcher guy?” “Long story short, Bill, the water witcher was beyond my ability to help. We found his remains in the third cave. But I wasn’t eaten, and all three of us were able to attend his funeral.
I’ll tell you more another time.”
Bill smirked, “Gonna hold you to that.”
Then he wandered out the office door…
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Sincerely,
~Author Diane Olsen
Diane Olsen Award Winning Author 