Blood Ties
The next morning dawned pale and cold, the sky painted with ribbons of soft pink. Doctor’s battered Land Cruiser idled in the Etali parking area, a thermos of sweet rooibos tea wedged between the front seats.
The bushveld was quiet that early—just the soft coo of doves, the distant bark of a kudu, and the rumble of the engine as they left the lodge behind.
They drove west, past thornveld scrub and dry riverbeds, the tracks narrowing until the Cruiser bumped over nothing more than hardened earth. Villages began to appear—clusters of rondavel huts, goats picking through the dust, children waving as they passed.
“This is where the roads end,” Doctor said, easing the vehicle to a stop in front of a shaded homestead ringed with mopane trees. “Beyond this point… we walk.”
They followed him through a narrow footpath to a hut with a roof of sun-bleached thatch. An elderly woman sat outside in a low wooden chair, her posture ramrod straight despite her years. Her skin was lined but taut, her eyes the sharp, unfaded black of polished obsidian.
“Mma Matilda,” Doctor said with reverence, using the Bakwena honorific. “This is Judd Knight, and his family.”
She smiled faintly. “My Bakwena name is Kgomotso. But to you, I am Matilda.”
Judd bowed slightly. “We’ve come a long way to hear your story.”
Matilda’s voice was deep and steady. “The story is not mine. It is the story of the blood.”
Over the next hour, she told it—how, generations ago, a sickness had swept through the Bakwena lands. A fever that burned hotter than the Kalahari sun, killing whole kraals in days. But a single family did not fall ill. Their children stayed strong. Their skin did not wrinkle. Their elders lived beyond the years of any neighbor.
“Some thought they were blessed,” Matilda said. “Others feared them. But their blood—” she tapped a finger against her arm—“held a secret. The sickness could not change them. Not then. Not now.”
Judd’s pulse quickened. “You’re saying their blood rejects change.”
Matilda nodded. “It will not take the sickness. It will not take… new instructions.”
Cindy’s brow furrowed. “Like a virus engineered to rewrite DNA.”
Matilda studied her. “If your enemy’s magic works by changing the blood, this blood will refuse the change. But you will not find many with it left. The line is thin now.”
They spoke until the midday heat pushed them into the shade. It was then that Judd noticed a young woman approaching the hut, a notebook under her arm and a camera slung across her chest.
“This is Claire,” Doctor said. “She is from America. A student at the University of Gaborone.”
Claire smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her sunburned cheek. “I’m working on venom research—snake venom proteins and antidotes. Southern Africa has the deadliest snakes in the world, but some venoms are also rich in enzymes that interact with DNA repair mechanisms. It’s… complicated.”
Judd caught the link immediately. “You’re saying venom could be used to… activate something in the blood?”
Claire shrugged. “In theory. If the Bakwena blood has a unique protein structure, certain venom-derived compounds might amplify its resistance. It’s not far-fetched. Nature’s been running the experiments for millions of years.”
It was a thought Judd would carry with him back to the lodge.
By dusk, they were back at Etali, the air cooling as the sun sank low. The waterhole in front of the deck was busy—elephant, zebra, and impala sharing the last light of day.
The four of them sat in near-silence, the smell of the evening braai drifting on the breeze. Judd’s mind was alive with possibilities—the fusion of ancient bloodlines and modern science, the chance to counter Wolf’s engineered virus not with tech, but with nature’s own code.
Mary’s phone buzzed. She stepped away to answer. When she returned, her expression was tight.
“That was Richard,” she said quietly—Judds’s uncle, her brother. “He didn’t say much. Just that I need to be in Cape Town when we leave here. Urgently.”
Judd studied her face, but she offered nothing more. The stars began to appear overhead, one by one, as the night settled over Madikwe.
Whatever lay in Cape Town would have to wait—but Judd knew it wouldn’t wait long.
