My arrival there the previous day had caused lots of local excitement. Because of the way the Hyena poachers had died shortly after the curse border sign went up, I was the only one in the rest house. The owner was rather unhappy, but said nothing. He knew he would make a killing after I had left, when everyone came to see the place where everything happened. But he also, was afraid, at first.
Jackals are like that.
So I sat on the porch alone, drinking Coke. And then they came, the ones for the city. Two pulled up in a Land Cruiser, and got out. The way of their getting out was the way of men with an overly high regard for themselves and that which they carry between their legs. Slow, ponderous and done in a manner calculated to strike fear into the hearts of mortal men.