The leopardess was not Metutu’s only problem, nor was she his worst, for she had a sense of honor and fairness. As the favorite target of the troop’s bullies, he was subject to almost daily harassment. And eventually the time had to come when matters would come to a head. Wandani could not be the permanent solution to the problem, and threatening Duma with telling Kinara would be trumped.
That day, Duma, with triumph in his wicked leer said, “Yeah, tell his daddy. The little baby can’t take care of himself. Go tell his daddy before he starts crying.”
“I’m no baby!” Metutu said.
Duma knew he was already winning. “Don’t cry, baby! Your daddy would punish me if I made you cry. We all know he wouldn’t let his ugly little babykins get hurt!”
“I’ll tell you who’s ugly!” Metutu said as tears streamed down his poor, plain face. “I hate you! I hate you!”
“I’m telling if you hit him!” Wandani shouted at Duma.
“But you can’t!” Metutu protested. Metutu took him by the shoulders and shook him. “I’m not a baby. I have to fight my own battles, and you aren’t going to tell my Dad, understand? Promise me.”
“But I can’t!”
“You have to! If you’re really my friend and not just a servant, promise me!”
The tone of that remark stung Wandani who really loved Metutu. “If you’re really my friend, please don’t do it. He’s bigger than you. He’ll chew you up and spit you out! Please?”
“You better listen to your friend,” Duma taunted. “If your face got much uglier, you’d have to wear a basket over it.”
Metutu looked at his friend right in the eyes. “I have to do this, my Rafiki Wandani. Don’t make it harder on me than it already is. The moment you run to get dad, I’ll fight him.”
Tears began to stream down Wandani’s cheeks. “All right. Do your best.”
In fear, but with defiance in his eyes, Metutu pulled up his fists and told Duma, “Just the two of us. Leave him out of it.”
“Anything you say.” Duma saw his hands up protecting his face. He made a quick feint at his chin and when Metutu brought his hands together, Duma’s other fist hit him squarely in the stomach. Metutu doubled over with pain. He quickly straightened up and tried a few weak swings at Duma, but he paid for them with repeated blows to the face and stomach that battered him to the limits of his endurance, and as he lost control were more like events happening to another person standing on the same spot. He was about to pass out. Finally Metutu crumpled to his knees. “I give up.”
“It’s not that easy,” Duma said. “You started this, and you’re going to finish it!”
Wandani pushed Metutu on the ground and fell over him.
Duma kicked Wandani in the side and struck him in the back. When Duma tried to lift him off, he put his arms around Metutu in a tight clinch and gritted his teeth.
“Leave him alone!” Wandani cried. “Go away!”
“I’m going to finish this!” Duma viciously kicked Wandani in the ribs.
“You’ve hurt him enough! Go away, or I’ll fight you myself! I may not win, but I’ll mark you!” Wandani sprang up like a rabid animal and grabbed Duma by the fur on his neck, startling him. His fingernails pierced the skin and brought blood. “I swear, I’ll mark you for life even if you kill me for it! You can’t get me off that fast! I’ll mark you!”
Duma saw the fun was over, he shoved Wandani away and made a forced laugh to his friends. “You just name the time and place, short stuff! Hey fellows, let’s get out of here before the baby starts crying again!”