Pygargs

by Pil Lee

Let me take you down, said the short man.

No, I’ll wait for the others, I said.

He shuffled backwards and forwards on the cliff edge.

It will be dusk soon, he said. It’s easy to fall in the half light.

I looked over the edge, into the dim green beneath me. I was in no hurry. I didn’t answer.

Black bitch, he said.

I stared out over the forest canopy below, not sure what I’d heard. I looked over at him, still shuffling his tiny feet, and saw that maybe he was a dwarf. He was looking away, staring a little open-mouthed at the clouds, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard himself correctly either.

After a moment I looked out to the sky as well, and we remained silently beside each other, our foreheads creased, as if both slightly puzzled, until the rest of the tour group clattered down to join us on the landing.

The other guide was tall but weedy, stoop shouldered under a cheap tan cotton shirt. He and his dwarf colleague wore the flimsiest of old leather sandals. I glanced around the group at the tough canvas clothes and mountain boots we’d been told to wear. Even the young Chinese boy sniffing nervously beside me was expensively protected from whatever elements might await us below.

Let’s go, hey, said the tall guide, smiling round at everyone. Hey hey, Calla, he said to the short guide.

Calla ignored him and almost ran to the top of the steep steps. He was over and out of sight in a moment.

Hey hey, okay everyone else follow Calla, yes, yes, said the tall guide.

We moved into some kind of queue and he waved us all down the steps. They were very steep, and for a second I wondered if I could make it all the way. They’d said it would take two hours to the bottom. But down I went too, following the flat rump of an older blonde woman.

The first flight was surprisingly short. After two quick switchbacks we were at a landing, almost touching the leafy top of the canopy. I realised I could see no birds. I didn’t hear any either. There was only quiet rustling where I thought there’d be forest din.

Here is a five minute rest, said the tall guide.

We all took off our packs. I sat down right by the edge so I could look down. The husband of the blonde woman stood beside me.

How long to the bottom? he asked in a thick German accent over his shoulder.

A very long way, said the tall guide. Rest please sir.

How far through the forest then to the animals? he asked.

Another hour after the bottom, sir, said the guide.

Some of us were excited by the very mention, I could see. Some just sighed. The flat bottomed woman had out her drink bottle already.

How many of these pygargs are there? she asked in a thin voice.

A silence stretched. The tall guide and the short one, Calla, looked at each other, and then looked away at the ground. Some of us caught the look. The man beside me glanced at my face, to see if I had registered it. He moved impatiently toward the guides, and Calla spoke up from his space over by the steps.

Hundreds, he said. Thousands. Millions.

The man beside me harrumphed. That’s ridiculous, he said. They’ve just discovered this tiny family. I’ve read all about it since we booked our trip. There’s only a few.

Another man, he must have been the Chinese boy’s father, spoke up for the first time. They thought they were extinct, he said. I think there are only about twenty.

Others nodded their agreement.

There are millions, said the dwarf again. Then he suddenly vanished down the steps.

Hey, yes, yes, time to go down more please, said the tall guide.

We slogged down for another quarter of an hour. The Chinese man talked to his son as we went, pointing to foliage as we entered the canopy, but the effort soon robbed him of his breath and he stopped. None of us were fit, from the sounds of it.

At the next landing the German man, who seemed to have become the leader, the chairman, of our group, surged toward the guides even before his pack had touched the ground.

What do you mean by ‘millions’? he demanded.

Very many I am sure sir, said the tall guide.

The dwarf turned to the German. Millions, he repeated. He looked at me then. Everywhere, he said.

The German shook his head. The Chinese man whispered something to his son. Someone else laughed. We all took out our drinks and moved towards the edge of the lookout.

A young woman with long dark hair, who hadn’t spoken before said, I don’t think they were really extinct you know. She looked tentatively at the German, our new leader. They were called something else. They haven’t called them pygargs for a long time.

What are they called, asked the German, giving her permission to go on.

They’re addaxes, she said.

Most of the group looked blank.

Well even if they had another name, they were still extinct, said the blonde woman.

They’re not extinct if there are millions below us, I said.

The others glanced at me — some smiled. I moved over to Calla, impatient now to get down. Let’s go, I said loudly to him. He looked at me, alarmed, and moved away.

I won’t touch your clean white skin, I said to him in Afrikaans. Mutant dwarf, I added loudly.

He didn’t understand me. I don’t know if anyone else did.

The tall guide suddenly leapt up into the awkward silence. Yes yes down down more down, he said.

So we hefted our packs and yes yes more downed obediently after him.

The next landing was many metres below. It was at least half an hour since the last words were spoken, and we all sank to the ground gratefully. No-one said anything. The rest was brief, and then we all moved to the steps as one and started down again.

Now the steps were covered thickly by vines and forest debris. I wondered how often the tours must come through, to leave such little sign of their passing. Looking back up behind me, our group stretched raggedly, hard to see through the leaves. Then I stumbled and almost fell. The man in front of me had stopped suddenly, and craning forward I saw that the short guide had come to a halt. There was no resting place or lookout, and no obvious difference in the steps past him. He started to sniff the air, and as we all copied him, I could smell a sweet, cloying odour, almost like honey.

Like butterscotch, the young woman behind me said.

The dwarf started to race now, down the steps, and like horses released at a gate we rushed headlong after him.