ferus rex

Three black men stood around a small fire in the center of a field of tall grass. The orange flames challenged the brightness of the moon, and cast dancing shadows on a crescent-shaped outcrop of pale rock beyond, and nearer on the three brown bellies. Cinched tight under each distended abdomen, a greasy leather ligature held in place a small drape of animal hide, and a pouch. They were otherwise naked.

The three stared intently toward some latent image in the darkness, beyond the light of the fire. The sound of labored and methodical plodding through tall grass reached their ears, and their faces wizened expectantly. A bobbing black movement became visible. It eclipsed the deep blue of the night sky, like a tiny, opaque flame at the horizon, lapping at the star-peppered heavens. The flame of shadow swelled, and took on the rough silhouette of a man. Then a fourth man emerged from the darkness into the circle of fire-light. He cradled a large burlap sack in his arms. His size was small, and he had the same skinny legs, and taut balloon stomach as the other three. The deepness of the furrows in his face, and the exigency of his expression, bespoke his greater years and titular importance among the people of his tribe.