The Kudu’s hooves were heavy and yet graceful on the moist ground that lay out before her. She had been here many times, spent many hours, many seconds on her visits here. The natural formation rose up out of the cliffs proud and strong. It was old and wise, carved by the relentless hands of time itself. What a master artist it was. It was nearly sundown, the time of day when the orange glow faded from the sky, painting the world in all its gorgeous colors. She raised her head, crown of horns haloing her skull. It was a mighty pair of decorations. Glistening eyes began to greet her from the dark as the daylight crept away and the night took the reins. And then they came. Rushing from the cave on the sound of beating, leathery wings, swirling and churning like one living entity. The Kudu grinned. What good old friends they were, the mystic bats of the old place. They surrounded her high shoulders whisking around her like a great shadow, greeting her with fondness.