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ASunriseontheVeldbyDorisLessingEverynightthatwinterhesaidaloudintothedarkofthepillow:Half-pastfour!Half-pastfour!tillhisbrainhadgrippedthewordsandheldthemfast.Thenhefellasleepatonce,asifashutterhadfallen;andlaywithhisfaceturnedtotheclocksothathecouldseeitfirstthingwhenhewoke.Itwashalf-pastfourtotheminute,everymorning.Triumphantlypressingdownthealarm-knoboftheclock,whichthedarkhalfofhismindhadoutwitted,remainingvigilantallnightandcountingthehoursashelayrelaxedinsleep,hehuddleddownforalastwarmmomentundertheclothes,playingwiththeideaoflyingabedforthisonceonly.Butheplayedwithitforthefunofknowingthatitwasaweaknesshecoulddefeatwithouteffort;justashesetthealarmeachnightforthedelightofthemomentwhenhewokeandstretchedhislimbs,feelingthemusclestighten,andthought:Evenmybrain–eventhat!Icancontroleverypartofmyself.Luxuryofwarmrestedbody,withthearmsandlegsandfingerswaitinglikesoldiersforawordofcommand!Joyofknowingthattheprecioushoursweregiventosleepvoluntarily!–forhehadoncestayedawakethreenightsrunning,toprovethathecould,andthenworkedallday,refusingeventoadmitthathewastired;andnowsleepseemedtohimaservanttobecommandedandrefused.Theboystretchedhisframefull-length,touchingthewallathisheadwithhishands,andthebedfootwithhistoes;thenhesprungout,likeafishleapingfromwater.Anditwascold,cold.Healwaysdressedrapidly,soastotryandconservehisnight-warmthtillthesunrosetwohourslater;butbythetimehehadonhisclotheshishandswerenumbedandhecouldscarcelyholdhisshoes.Thesehecouldnotputonforfearofwakinghisparents,whonevercametoknowhowearlyherose.Assoonashesteppedoverthelintel,thefleshofhissolescontractedonthechilledearth,andhislegsbegantoachewithcold.Itwasnight:thestarswereglittering,thetreesstandingblackandstill.Helookedforsignsofday,forthegreyingoftheedgeofastone,oralighteningintheskywherethesunwouldrise,buttherewasnothingyet.Alertasananimalhecreptpastthedangerouswindow,standingpoisedwithhishandonthesillforoneproudlyfastidiousmoment,lookinginatthestuffyblacknessoftheroomwherehisparentslay.Feelingforthegrass-edgeofthepathwithhistoes,hereachedinsideanotherwindowfurtheralongthewall,wherehisgunhadbeensetinreadinessthenightbefore.Thesteelwasicy,andnumbedfingersslippedalongit,sothathehadtoholditinthecrookofhisarmforsafety.Thenhetiptoedtotheroomwherethedogsslept,andwasfearfulthattheymighthavebeentemptedtogobeforehim;buttheywerewaiting,theirhaunchescrouchedinreluctanceatthecold,butearsandswingingtailsgreetingthegunecstatically.Hiswarningundertonekeptthemsecretandsilenttillthehousewasahundredyardsback:thentheyboltedoffintothebush,yelpingexcitedly.Theboyimaginedhisparentsturningintheirbedsandmuttering:Thosedogsagain!beforetheyweredraggedbackinsleep;andhesmiledscornfully.Healwayslookedbackoverhisshoulderatthehousebeforehepassedawalloftreesthatshutitfromsight.Itlookedsolowandsmall,crouchingthereunderatallandbrilliantsky.Thenheturnedhisbackonit.Hewouldhavetohurry.Beforethelightgrewstronghemustbemilesaway;andalreadyatintofgreenstoodinthehollowofaleaf,andtheairsmelledofmorningandthestarsweredimming.Heslungtheshoesoverhisshoulder,veldskoenthatwerecrinkledandhardwiththedewsofahundredmornings.Theywouldbenecessarywhenthegroundbecametoohottobear.Nowhefeltthechilleddustpushupbetweenhistoes,andheletthemusclesofhisfeetspreadandsettleintotheshapesoftheearth;andhethought:Icouldwalkahundredmilesonfeellikethese!Icouldwalkallday,andnevertire!Hewaswalkingswiftlythroughthedarktunneloffoliagethatinday-timewasaroad.Thedogswereinvisiblyrangingthelowertravelwaysofthebush,andheheardthempanting.Sometimeshefeltacoldmuzzleonhislegbeforetheywereoffagain,scoutingforatrailtofollow.Theywerenottrained,butfree-runningcompanionsofthehunt,whooftentiredofthelongstalkbeforethefinalshots,andwentoffontheirownpleasure.Soonhecouldseethem,smallandwild-lookinginawildstrangelight,nowthatthebushstoodtremblingonthevergeofcolour,waitingforthesuntopaintearthandgrassafresh.Thegrassstoodtohisshoulders;andthetreeswereshoweringafaintsilveryrain.Hewassoaked;hiswholebodywasclenchedinasteadyshiver.Oncehebenttotheroadthatwasnewlyscoredwithanimaltrails,andregretfullystraightened,remindinghimselfthatthepleasureoftrackingmustwaittillanotherday.Hebegantorunalongtheedgeofafield,notingjerkilyhowitwasfilmedoverwithfreshspiderweb,sothatthelongreachesofgreatblackclodsseemednettedinglisteninggrey.Hewasusingthesteadylopehehadlearnedbywatchingthenatives,therunthatisadroppingoftheweightofthebodyfromonefoottotthenextinaslowbalancingmovementthatnevertires,norshortensthebreath;andhefeltthebloodpulsingdownhislegsandalonghisarms,andtheexultationandprideofbodymountedinhimtillhewasshuttinghisteethhardagainstaviolentdesiretoshouthistriumph.Soonhehadleftthecultivatedpartofthefarm.Behindhimthebushwaslowandblack.Infrontwasalongvlei,acresoflongpalegrassthatsentbackahollowinggleamoflighttoasatinysky.Nearhimthickswathesofgrasswerebentwiththeweightofwater,anddiamonddropssparkledoneachfrond.Thefirstbirdwokeathisfeetandatonceaflockofthemsprangintotheaircallingshrillythatdayhadcome;andsuddenly,behindhim,thebushwokeintosong,andhecouldhearthegu