Page 11 of The Rival in South Africa
He wove us through the sand and shrubs, and I often had to lean away from the branches that thrust into the open-air Jeep as we passed. Rex, in his special seat, was unprotected but dodged with a practiced weave.
Sometimes, Thomas would slow down and shout out to Rex in one of the local languages. The sounds were soft and melodic, unlike the Germanic Afrikaans, so I guessed they spoke Xitsonga together. They’d converse for a minute, serious, before Thomas would give a chuckle and lurch us forward again.
After twenty minutes of driving, we emerged from the bushes to an open plain. The tire tracks in front of us were still clear, but Thomas paused us for a moment, and I watched as he and Rex scanned the surroundings.
We lurched again, up and over the hill, driving on toward a small lake. Rex pointed off in the distance, and Thomas whooped. “We got ’em!”
I squinted. Got what? As we approached, I realized the tiny dots of darkness in the golden grass were moving. As we closed on the animals, I could make out the lanky, lean figures, like mongrel dogs looking for tidbits off the street.
We slowed, and some of the dogs stopped to watch us. Thomas eased us to a stop and set the brake. He slung an arm over the empty passenger seat and faced us.
“These here are African wild dogs, a distant—very distant—relation to domesticated dogs. There aren’t that many of them in Kruger, so this is quite a treat.”
I lifted my camera up, zooming completely in as far as I could. In profile, it looked just like a dog I’d see back home: panting, lolling tongue, canine teeth, and a black snoot. And then the dog turned its head, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I pulled back as the Jeep crept forward.
“What?” Alex asked, a smile tugging his lips.
“Those ears! It looks like two satellite dishes on their heads!”
“We will get closer,” Thomas assured us as the Jeep eased along. Heads turned towards us as the dogs watched, some of them standing, ears perked and guarded while we crept toward them. Their coats were covered in small spots of brown, black, and white, some blending in well with the brown and black of the landscape. I stifled a giggle again. As we got closer, all I could see was a field of round ears pointed at us.
I don’t know what signal Thomas was waiting for, but I thought at any moment that the dogs would startle and run away. He kept inching forward and then finally stopped and set the brake.
For a moment, we all sat there in a standoff, waiting to see what would happen. I saw a shift of movement, a wriggle of hips, and put my camera up to my eye. Just in time, I caught the pounce. Two wild dogs tussled in the grass, another yawned. We were insignificant to them.
Our whole Jeep gasped and giggled as the dogs played. One went belly up in the dirt, kicking its heels up and lolling its tongue like a golden Labrador at the neighborhood dog park after a good soggy rain. Ears were chewed, tails were nipped, and my shutter—silent thanks to mirrorless DSLR technology—clicked away.
“Amazing.” Alex’s voice was breathless and surprisingly close. I looked over my shoulder, and he had a pair of travel binos against his eyes, leaning toward my side of the vehicle. With his palm on the back of my seat, his body curved around me.
I watched his profile for a moment as his eyes moved around, his lashes sweeping against the eye cups and his mouth slightly open. His tongue came out and wet his lips, and my stomach tightened.
The binoculars dropped down, and Alex glanced over at me. “Sorry,” he said, straightening up in his seat.
“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
His lips curved up into a smile. “I am.”
Our eyes held for just a moment before a gasp from Olivia snapped me out of it. I refocused on the dogs and tried not to wonder too hard if Alex was surrounding me again.
As the African wild dogs played, Thomas spoke quietly, telling us about the endangered species and the loss of their habitat, and the efforts to keep them away from livestock while still maintaining healthy packs in the park.
After ten minutes—and over a hundred photos—Thomas started the Jeep up again, and we lurched off. He took us along the edge of the lake, pointing out birds in flight and different plants on either side of us. A herd of zebras was off in the distance, too far off the track for us to approach, but he assured us they were common and we’d see plenty in our week-long stay.
The sky was starting to tinge darker, a warm filter settling over the land. We climbed up and over the hill, and the Jeep jerked to a halt. “Alright now, this is where we stop for a bit. You can get out and stretch your legs, but don’t go too far. We’ll have apps set up shortly.”
Alex climbed down from the Jeep first, offering me a hand, but I gripped the door instead and hopped down. He put his hands in his pockets and shuffled behind me. Our hill was overlooking the lake, and I chided myself. I should have brought a tripod on the drive—rookie mistake. And a wide-angle lens wouldn’t be remiss either.
But it was only our first drive. I would have a week of this, so for now, I’d take the best pictures I could.
I snapped photo after photo, wandering around and looking for anything interesting to stick in the foreground. Alex followed, always behind me, lifting the binos up to his eyes and taking it all in. For a few minutes, I was uncomfortable, wondering if he was watching me, but we moved around each other in silence, just enjoying our own view.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Thomas’s voice cut into my thoughts, “drinks are served.”
Mark and Olivia were still near and eagerly stepped up to the guides. Thomas and Rex had set up a cocktail hour; a small bar cart waited with a selection of drinks, and Rex stood behind it. Four wood and canvas chairs were set to look out over the lake, and a small table sat between each pair of chairs.
Alex brushed lightly past me as he headed toward the bar cart. “Gin and tonic, Nikki?”
My eyebrows raised. Alex remembered my favorite drink? “Please.”
