The Omens

No one knew what the omens were. They’ve been around for as long as anyone can remember, since their mothers were born, and their mothers before them. But most of us didn’t have time to think about these things. So long as they didn’t bother us, we didn’t bother about them. There were more pressing concerns.

The first was food. There was never enough food for the family, even though it grew out of the ground everywhere. The family was simply too big and needed to eat too much. Most of the time in a day was spent eating. Mom would always wake me with gentle nudges, slowing bringing me out of my reveries. After the sky lit up, so would we, blinking the sleep out of our eyes and walking out into the morning cold. There were always patches of sweet green salad just sprouting out of the ground, and we ate it as we picked it, without any reason to carry it. Since it was all we ate, it took a lot of salad to keep us going through the day.

We took a break in the early afternoon. That was when it was the absolute hottest, with the sun having shone all morning. We would look around for somewhere to lie down, either close to some water we could splash around in, or in some cool shade. Unfortunately, there was little of either in our barren home. Most of the time, we sat back down on the dusty ground, waiting for the sun to move a little lower in the sky so we could continue eating. This was my favourite part of the day, because it was then that Mom would tell me stories.

Mom was a great storyteller. I’m sure you know many of the mothers tell the same stories to their children, that it was nothing special: The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar, Where the Wild Things Are, and Goodnight Moon. She would tell these in a whisper, so as not to disturb the other mothers and children who might be sleeping. I would fall asleep to her voice, only to be nudged awake what it seemed like a few moments later to continue our march. I miss those days, the gentle nudges of my mother and the warm embrace of the sun with my family.

The march was something that we did because there wasn’t enough salad for us to stay in one spot. Not only did we have a large family, but there were other families. There were a lot of others around, and if we didn’t wake up early enough, sometimes there would be no more salad for us to eat. So we were constantly on the move, in search of more salad. I’ve been around for nearly two cycles already. That is to say, this is the second time that I’ve come back to this exact place. Every time I’ve been back, there’s salad to eat.

I’ve since then left Mom to live with the boys and haven’t seen her since. Though it’s been fun hanging out with friends, being in a smaller group has made things harder. Sometimes the salad we wind is bitter and withered. Sometimes we go days without grass. The biggest downside however, is the fewer number of guards we now have on rotation. There are many dangerous beasts who roam the land with the intention of making a meal of us. These predators have bigger teeth than we do, and sharp implements on their feet with which to gouge at us with. Some of them are faster, some of them are stronger, and some of them are smarter. All we can do is remain vigilant: if we have a head start and don’t run into a trap, it’s unlikely that we’ll be caught. We’ve been lucky to survive so far.

Earlier today, there was a fire. Fires occur frequently during this part of the march: conditions are dryer, and salad is great fuel. We had a hard time finding food as a result: we had to take a detour, and it seemed like a large family had eaten all the food along the way. So we trudged along on empty stomachs. Then, in the distance, I saw the omens. There were more than ten of them in a line. I signalled to the rest of the group to approach with caution, especially since they were upwind from us.

We had a disagreement then. We all knew this was the way to march, that more salad lay in that direction. Yet I was wary, because I believed in the omens. Those who didn’t believe in the omens said that they didn’t bother us and didn’t smell like anything, so they were completely harmless. Many often pass us when we march, quickly or slowly. Others, including me, note their presence at when something goes wrong, especially in large numbers. When I was still with the family, I remember a large number of them showed up when we were crossing the river. River crossings were always dangerous, but my best friend was swept away that day. Mother also swears that she saw one chasing another family when they were running away from a predator. She doesn’t know what happened that day, but she has had a distrust of omens ever since. Others are quick to note that they also show up in numbers during births. Whatever they are, I believe they portend something, so I call them omens.

We ended up compromising on walking over with extreme caution. We always compromise and stick together, no matter how uncomfortable some of us may be. And it was a good thing we were careful. We smelled the blood before we saw the scene, arriving onto a rocky outcrop. Several predators, crouched on the ground, tearing into what was left of several bodies. Some of them looked up at us, but quickly put their heads back into their food, satiated with what they had in from of them. We silently slunk away. We die another day.

“Wow, crazy that we saw a successful lion hunt! I almost thought the wildebeest were going to get away,” came a voice from within the omen.

Of course, our pack of bachelor wildebeest were too far away to hear it now, and even if they could, they wouldn’t understand a single word.