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The warm spring wind washed over Sungha like an ocean wave. She embraced it with open arms, letting the breeze ruffle her short fur and tussle her thick, black mane. Her daughter mimicked her, and nearly got blown off her feet.

"Silly Mima," the older wildebeest said, steadying her daughter with a firm grip. The calf giggled in response. She was only a yearling, or already a yearling, depending on who was asked. Her entire life had been spent on the move, following the rains and the long grass, the mobile group doing their best to stay one step ahead of the hostile tribes that preyed upon the weak and the sickly.

Most of Sungha's life had also been spent on the run with her people. Along the way, she found time to learn to cure meats, weave baskets from the dry grasses and prepare medicine from the various plants across wide stretches of territory. The long road had also given Sungha time to make love; her daughter was proof of that. Her lover had also given her a second calf, on a quiet night only two seasons before. Not long now, and Mima would have a sibling. Sungha of course had learned these things from her mother, who had learned them from her mother, and soon, she would soon teach them to her own daughter.

The bray of one of the leading males grabbed both girls' attention.

"Time to go back," Sungha commanded, scooping her daughter up into her arms, Mima's legs dangling awkwardly as she giggled and kicked. She was always going somewhere - here, there, away, over there - never staying put, and that was exactly how she liked it.

The rest of the tribe was setting up camp - the scouts had deemed that nothing was coming after them yet, and the Skywatchers predicted that they could stay in this area for at least three dawns before needing to move further.

Although Mima had no inkling, the potential of rest gave Sungha a great deal of relief. It would

give her at least a moment to prepare her daughter for the next leg of the journey - the mighty river.

"You mean . . .they eat us?" Mima asked, her big, black eyes wide with morbid fascination. Sungha grunted and nodded as she tucked the woven blanket around her daughter. The blanket once belonged to her father, and it too, would pass down to her children in the future, if it lasted that long. Already one of the edges was beginning to fray. It was a difficult thing, explaining to your child how

the Great River was filled with horrible, scaled monsters that preyed on anything that tried to cross it. It was even harder to explain why they needed to cross it anyways.

"The other tribes are too scared of the river-monsters to cross," she explained, "They can't follow us over. If we stay behind, then the other tribes will take our things, steal our food . . .maybe even EAT YOU!" Her cloven fingers went straight for her daughter's ribs, and she shrieked with surprise and delight. Sungha couldn't be blamed for dulling the truth slightly. The other tribes were scavengers, opportunists. Wicked souls, the lot of them. They were always only a few days behind, and they preyed upon the young, the sick and the weak. "The other tribes are small," she said, returning to her kneeling stance at the foot of the mound of straw that served as a bed. "They're afraid of us because there's more of us then there is of them. But if you don't cross the Great River, they'll get you."

"So how do we get across?"

"We need to be quick," she said, "We need to swim fast. There are only so many monsters, and they won't be able to eat all of us at once. As long as we stick together, we'll be fine."

Mima wasn't convinced. "You promise?" she asked innocently. Sungha nodded.

"I promise," she replied. She paused to kiss her daughter goodnight, feeling a small kick from her own swelling belly. "Kiss the calf goodnight too," she smiled, and her daughter eagerly planted a kiss on her midsection. With an an affectionate tussle of her daughter's short mane she rose, walking to the other side of the small wigwam that would serve as home for the next few days.

Both slept, though Mima was plagued by vivid dreams.

Mima dreamt of the 'river-monsters' that her mother had told her about. Mighty beasts, with massive wings, angry, scrabbling claws, red glowing eyes and what seemed like millions of tiny teeth, glinting like stars around an abyssal maw. They came out of an endless sea of water; flying, running, galloping with logic-defying speed towards her family. She tried to run, but her legs quickly sank into the ground, and in a matter of seconds the maw had engulfed her completely, surrounding her in darkness.

She heard a voice, her mother's, calling out from the black, shortly before a firm, familiar hand shook her awake.

"We have to go," her mother whispered urgently, "Grab what you can." Mima had heard that before, but never with such urgency. "Dogs are coming," Sungha answered, as if reading her daughter's mind.

"Dogs" referred to the pack of brightly-coloured canines that had been chasing them for the last few days. They were wild things, and their chittering and chattering carried for miles on the calm days. There were two kinds of dogs: the two-legged ones that carried bows and sharp, pointed spears, and the four-legged ones that ran fast as the wind blew, and tripped up the stragglers so their masters could deliver the killing blow. Sometimes the four-leggers didn't even wait until the catch was dead to begin eating, a memory that made Sungha sick to her stomach. Dogs had been responsible for the death of her own parents, and she prayed to the four winds that history wouldn't repeat itself today.

"Dogs?" Mima parroted. She had been blissfully unaware of the exact demise of her grandparents. Sungha never had the heart to tell her the story.

"Dogs," Sungha repeated, "An enemy tribe, quick as the wind and deadly as the river-monsters. Now hurry, put all your things into the blanket, I'll help you tie it up."

The wildebeest tribe was nothing if not efficient. They were practically born on the run, and they had spent several lifetimes making sure that they lived as lightly as possible, and that 'homes' could be set up and taken down in a matter of minutes. Everyone had a job, even little Mima.

"Duma is dead," came the news from one of the leading males as soon as Sungha's tent was rolled up. "Ambushed. The dogs are closer than we thought." A younger male beside him nodded between heavy snorts, his hands resting on his thighs. He was a scout, and had clearly just escaped with his life.

"Mima dear," Sungha asked, trying not to sound terrified, "Do you have everything?" Mima nodded. Oh, to have a yearling's simple needs again . . .

Sungha nodded back. "Good, let's run."

"But what about the tent?"

"Someone will grab it," she said quickly already walking away, "Or we can come back for it later." That last part was mostly wishful thinking, but every once in a while, the tribe came across a relic from a previous migration. A tool, a basket, something the other tribes had either missed or purposely passed by.

Sungha's advanced pregnancy excused her from most of the heavy lifting, and also put her and her daughter squarely in the middle of the pack, to prevent either one from becoming a straggler. She took a basket in each hand and broke into a relatively quick trot, joined by her springing daughter within a matter of moments. All around her she saw the same thing. Everyone took what equipment they could, whether it belonged to them or not, and joined the herd.

The wildebeest were on the move.

They moved as one solid mass. If one had to slow, enough slowed with them to prevent the herd from separating. They did their best to move at a fairly quick trot, knowing that they could keep this pace for hours if need be, while the dogs could only sprint in short spurts. It all went quite well until they actually came to the Great River, and stopped.

No amount of training, practice, or storytelling had ever prepared the tribe for crossing the river. If they hadn't done it before, they were afraid of the unknown. If they had, they knew firsthand the absolute certainty of death that came with the crossing. At least a handful of them would die, that fact was unavoidable. And no one wanted to be first.

And then the river-monsters gathered. Large, green, scaly things, longer than one of the tribe was tall, with thick, stumpy legs, long, slender dagger-filled mouths and broad, fat tails. They looked like fallen logs until coming up for air. And there were many of them - waiting.

The tribe took the opportunity to rest. They knew that not all of them would make it to the other side. The older ones had taken to telling their special stories, reserved for such an occasion, Skywatchers passed down secret techniques to yearlings and calves to ensure the talent would not be forgotten, and young lovers conveniently refused to be found. The gravity and importance attributed to the Great River made the approach almost as sacred of an event as the crossing itself. If they made it, they would be born anew on the other side. If not, the River's flow would carry them off the edge of the world, into the Great Beyond.

All this was told to Mima by her calm mother, just in case one or the other didn't return. They embraced, perhaps for the last time, as the rest of the herd gathered at the river's edge, staring down the floating beasts. They might have waited there forever, had the wild chattering of dogs from behind not startled them from their trance. The four-leggers arrived first, more than a score of them, with two-legged masters not far behind.

Now they were trapped; death was staring them down from the front and closing rapidly from behind. One of the leading males jumped into the River, setting off an irreversible chain of events: Not eager to be left behind, three others jumped in shortly after, and another six or seven less than a second later. After that it hard to tell how many followed, or when. A few brave souls had opened the gates to a constant stream of ungulates, carrying their belongings on their backs or over their heads as they swam for their lives.

Sungha saw, and urged her daughter to join them. Mima fought back, not wanting to leave her mother behind, and in the short second they had spent discussing the matter, the dogs were upon them. Sungha pushed her daughter violently away as she stepped in front and shielded her body with her arm. Her hoof connected with one of the dog's faces, sending it sprawling to the side. Her daughter got the hint, and ran for her life.

Another dog quickly took the place of the first, jumping up and latching onto Sungha's arm, the two of them hitting the ground with a thud. A third dog quickly followed, its powerful jaws sinking into the wildebeest's swollen midsection - the most obvious target. She writhed and bucked frantically, but by now she was pinned down by a veritable legion of canines, nipping, biting, drawing blood as she did her best to squirm away. She only hoped her daughter couldn't see her now.

The dog with its teeth in her stomach finally tugged and tore away a great flap of flesh, and the floodgates opened. Blood quickly stained the ground, matting the predator's face as it happily carried away the disgusting, pulpy mass that had once been her stomach. Drawn by the scent of blood, the rest of the dogs converged on the wound. Intestines were slurped down like thick noodles, and unidentifiable bits and pieces were quickly ripped and torn away. Her unborn calf spilled out of its own accord, the limp body flopping onto the ground before being torn to sloppy bits in a tug-o-war that nearly made Sungha vomit. Not that she could, being minus a stomach. Her arms swatted and flailed at the predators around her midsection as she tried in vain to shove her guts back in, but they only started biting at her arms instead, dragging her away from the river and leaving a grim trail of blood and viscera. It didn't hurt as bad as she thought, but her body was too overwhelmed with shock and adrenaline to really focus on the pain. She hardly noticed as one of the canines actually stuck its head inside her chest with the intent of tearing out her heart and lungs. It must have succeeded, she thought, because she felt a sudden, crippling tightness before quickly passing out.

Mima never thought to turn back to witness her mother's fate. She was quickly drawn into the stampede, pushed along from behind until she slid down the bank, nearly hitting the water before regaining her footing and springing forward into the muddy water. She aimed well enough to actually land on the body of a river-monster, waving her arms to regain her balance and leap off again. But by then it was too late.

She heard the noise before she felt the pain - jaws snapped around her left leg, cracking the shinbone in half. By then she was already in the air, and the weight of the rest of her body forcibly popped her hip out of place. The pain shot through her while she was still airborne, and she brayed loudly, collapsing face-first into the water. She twisted herself face-up to breathe just in time to see another river-monster open wide and come crashing down on her undeveloped chest. She beat furiously on the tip of the monster's snout in hopes of getting it to let go, but that only seemed to make it mad. It tugged roughly backwards, but the other monster was still attached to her leg. Blood leaked from the numerous wounds on her chest, the water stinging her as it turned an unsettling pinkish colour.

Suddenly, as quickly as her leg was trapped, it was free. To even think of moving it was agony, though, and she was still stuck inside the jaws of another monster. Not much of a reprieve, in her mind, but it still beat what happened next. The river-monster returned, its jaws clamping around her slim waist and pulling the other direction. She was getting torn apart!

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she felt her spine snapping out of place, the rigid bones not able to adapt to the incredible forces rending it. She couldn't resist a quick look, and was completely mortified by what she saw. She wasn't being torn in half, at least not any more. Her legs were sticking out of the mouth of a rather satisfied monster, eager chomping and chewing. At least, they looked like her legs. She couldn't really tell, and was certainly in no position to investigate. But her own lower limbs were curiously missing, replaced by a dark crimson stain on the surface of the Great River, and several tendrils of unidentifiable viscera. Was that what she looked like inside? She didn't picture it to be quite that colourful . . .

She didn't exactly get much more time to think on the subject. Getting eaten alive had made her so very tired, and without her legs, there wasn't much more she could do to escape. She flailed her hands limply, but lacked the strength to deal any considerable damage against her killer. Still, she must have made him mad enough to clench down, crushing her ribcage. Her vision flickered, and she fell into a deep, dark sleep.

On the other side, the remainder of the herd looked solemnly onwards. With the pressing of the wild dogs, they had lost much more than they had planned for. The dogs were busy feasting on the other side, the two-legged scavengers figuring out how best to make use of the multitude of abandoned tools and materials. The river-monsters, never interested in material wealth, were content to sun themselves, digesting their massive meals while the ragged remains of tents and blankets washed downstream.

Prayers were spoken in hushed tones, and newly-orphaned calves and yearlings were hastily paired with guardians. Questions were asked, as they were each and every time, about why they ran, why they travelled, why they died.

"The rain calls us," a surviving skywatcher replied, dressing a wounded leg, "She calls, and we must answer."