Chapter One

A.N: I would appreciate it if you share your opinions and thoughts on the book or any of the chapters. 

The photo below represents the area that I imagined the village would be. Anyway, enjoy!

 

The sun had risen over the hill. Birds that were perched on the branches of the surrounding trees chirped before taking flight, resuming their search for food. A small gust of wind blew around the land, causing the leaves and grass to rustle.

"You stupid little ingrate!" a woman had shouted loud enough to scare away the nearby birds before she backhanded her child. The young boy cried out, and every eye that was nearby turned to face the ongoing spectacle.

"How many times have I told you not to go into the forest without my permission?" the mother asked as she reached for a long, dried stick that was lying on the ground.

"Mother--" the child said in tears, but he was cut off.

"How many times?" the mother asked before raising the stick and hitting the boy on his back. A loud cry filled the air as the woman kept disciplining her child.

Mwamba and a couple of people winced as they stared in pity at the child being punished.

"He had it coming," Mwamba's father commented with a chuckle. "That child has been giving the village a lot of trouble ever since he was born."

Indeed, he had. It was the second time that he had made his mother worry about his whereabouts.

"But father, he is just a child," Mwamba stated with a frown. "I believe one hit would have been enough as a punishment. Or maybe, none at all!"

His father stared at him with a bored look.

"What?" Mwamba asked, confused. His father said nothing as he shook his head at him.

"What, father?" his son persisted.

"I am worried about you, my son. How can you become the future leader if the mere sight of a child being canned has you twisting in your seat?"

'Here we go again,' Mwamba thought with a sigh. He had recently turned nineteen years old, and his father had started reminding him of what he was to become in a couple of months. More so than usual.

He was nervous about it, especially since he feared he would become a disappointment to the people. He and his father had different opinions on matters that concerned the village, and they often found themselves contradicting each other.

The village people had looked up to his father for the past two decades, and Mwamba worried people wouldn't look at him the same way.

"...you should be a strong, confident man..." Mwamba zoned out again on what his father was saying as he observed his surroundings.

Mwamba and his father were sitting on a sisal carpet under a tree. The sun was on its way to setting. The ground around them was bare due to an unexpectedly long season of drought, and the heat it had gotten from the sun could still be felt under the carpet, although in small quantities.

"Mwamba!" the chief boomed in front of him, breaking his reverie.

"Yes, father?" he questioned, his heart still thudding from the voice his father had used.

"What have I said?"

Mwamba opened and closed his mouth like a fish, not sure of what to say.

Before his father could sigh in disappointment, he answered: "You told me I should be a strong and confident man."

"Yes," the chief replied with raised eyebrows, and Mwamba's form relaxed. "You should exhume those qualities. Also, the people won't respect you if you don't respect them."

"Dad, I know that," he spoke just as a loud cry filled the air. He turned, noticing that the small boy was still being canned by his mother.

The chief's son considered himself a lucky person. He had been raised in a family that had cared for him. Also, the instances that he had been canned were few, proving he had not been quite a troublesome child.

"Sire!" a couple of men from the village made their presence known as they approached the chief. Mwamba shifted on the sisal carpet, trying to hide the fact that their unexpected appearance had slightly frightened him.

"Yes?" the chief questioned as he stood up from the carpet.

"We have looked for miles, but we have not found any water."

Mwamba's eyes had widened at the news.

"What?" the chief exclaimed.

There was a dry spell that had struck the village, and it was close to peaking five months. The heavy rains were expected to make an appearance about a month ago, but so far, nothing had happened. Even though it rained at times, it would usually last a few minutes, and that water would not be enough.

"What are we to do, your Highness?" one of the men asked the chief. "We've looked around for rivers and lakes, but they are all close to drying up."

The chief stood silent, his lips moving as he tried to find the words to speak to them.

The chief always had something to say. When he had no words, the village would set off in a panic.

"Gentlemen, we are grateful for the news. Let my father, the chief, have a moment to think about it. I am sure he will come up with a solution later," Mwamba jumped in.

'Maybe this way, I can show him I can be relayed on,' he thought.

The men did not question his request. They just bowed before they left to tend to their own duties.

Mwamba turned to look at his father with a smile, but the chief was still in shock. He looked worried as he quickly turned.

"Father!" Mwamba called out, rushing to follow him.

 

Chapter Two

 

 

A day later

"He had nothing to say?" the woman spoke in shock.

"Nope. It has me worried," Mwamba told her as he scratched the back of his head. The chief's son was in one of the cooking huts with his female friend, Wanjala. She was in the process of preparing an afternoon meal for herself and her family. She had placed some maize and beans in a pot to boil over the fire.

Wanjala was a year younger than Mwamba, and they had been friends since childhood. Even though she looked young with her creamy brown skin and beautiful features, she was wise when it came to it; especially during situations like the current one the village was facing.

The rains had still not come. Everyone was worried about what would happen, more so because the food stored in the granaries would barely be enough for the next two months. No word had been given from the chief, bringing up a slight tension in the village.

"Does everyone know?" Wanjala questioned as she looked at him. Mwamba shook his head in denial.

"I don't think so. All I know is that my father is working on a way to fix things."

Mwamba coughed as more smoke started coming out of the burning branches under the pot. Wanjala found it amusing as she added more firewood.

"Why do you choose to cook in this hut? Why not outside?" the chief's son complained with his eyes half-closed.

Wanjala rolled her eyes before replying: "You and I both know why I cook in here. The wind would have blown the fire away, and I would end up spending the whole day trying to light it."

Mwamba smirked at a memory brought on by her words. Like most people, Wanjala had been young when she attempted to light her first fire. She had been outside, and she had gotten frustrated every time the wind blew away all her efforts. Were it not for her mother intervening, she would have indeed wasted the whole day. A couple of the villagers were talented in that area; Wanjala was among the many who couldn't light a fire outdoors.

"What is that look for?" Wanjala asked, and that caused Mwamba to laugh.

"Hey! I thought you said you would not laugh at me after that incident!" Mwamba's friend tried to put on a straight face, but she ended up smiling.

"I lied," Mwamba confessed in between laughs. Wanjala's eyes were lit with humor, but they soon perked in interest.

"Well, look at who your father brought in," she said, staring at something behind Mwamba. The chief's son turned, and he was shocked by what he saw.

A group of people were coming towards his father's hut which was a short distance from the one he was in. They consisted of elders and a couple of young men, about ten in total. Mwamba groaned.

"What?" Wanjala questioned.

"We have guests," Mwamba stated with a bored look. "Unexpected guests."

The chief's son hated it when people visited his family. Specifically, he hated it when people decided to come without informing anyone. The people would come, and they would try to strike conversations with everyone in their vicinity. Even if they had agendas that were as small as fetching a pot of water and they had them finished, they would continue to stay.

Especially for the food.

This forced whoever was in the kitchen to either cook more food or to divide the already-cooked food into small portions.

"Shouldn't you go there?" Wanjala suggested. Mwamba gave her a look that made her chuckle.

"No need. I will only go when I'm wanted," Mwamba replied. "So--"

"Mwamba!" the chief yelled, interrupting whatever it was that Mwamba wanted to tell Wanjala. Mwamba sighed, not believing his luck.

"Coming, Father!" Mwamba yelled back as he slowly got up to stand.

"You'll tell me what happens, right?" Wanjala requested, and Mwamba nodded in agreement.

With a sigh, he walked out of the hut to head to his own.

 

Chapter Three

 

 

"How old is he?" one of the elders asked, staring at Mwamba with a look of wonder.

"He is nineteen years old," the chief replied, staring proudly at his son.

Mwamba decided to smile at his father, even though he felt uncomfortable in his surroundings. In fact, he felt a heating sensation in his cheeks.

It had been hours since the arrival of the unexpected guests. As expected, more food had to be cooked. Since there was barely any space for everyone to sit in the hut, the chief had moved everyone outside to sit under the shades of the surrounding trees.

To pass time, the guests decided to make conversations with the family members and anyone else in their vicinity.

"Do you remember me?" an elderly man who was sprouting gray hair on his head asked the future chief. "I am a cousin of your mother's! I held you when you were a baby."

Is that supposed to be enough for me to remember you? Mwamba thought, but physically, he was smiling at the elder.

That was undoubtedly the ninth time that some unknown person had asked him if he recalled them.

"I am your father's friend! We used to go hunting when we were young. I remember back when you were so little..."

"You don't remember me? I am your aunty from your father's brother's side!"

"Hey! I am the woman who helped your mother give birth to you."

That was another thing that Mwamba disliked about visitors; some expected him to remember them, and when he couldn't, they would indirectly make him feel bad for having no recollection of them.

And Mwamba had met a lot of people in his nineteen years. 

"Food's ready!" Mwamba's younger sister announced just as a couple of people began bringing out the earthen pots that had been used to cook the evening meal. Clay plates with food were soon being passed around, and when Mwamba's plate finally reached him, he sighed in relief.

At least there is something good coming out of this visit, Mwamba thought as he stared at his plate.

It was filled with a huge helping of ugali, boiled spinach and a few diced pieces of beef meat cooked in tomato soup. 

Mwamba moaned once the food reached his lips, and fortunately for him, he was able to enjoy the meal without distractions from the people around him.

A while after everyone had finished their meals, Mwamba found himself seated next to his father. They were with the rest of the people who had come to visit, all sitting around a large fire. The sun was already setting, painting the sky with strips of pink and purple as the cold evening air began to blow around the area.

The conversations had ceased, and the people acknowledged it was time to talk about the main issue in the village.

"As many of you know," the chief began, looking at everyone with a serious expression, "it has been months since the heavens opened to bless us with water. The dry spell has been quite long, and this has brought cause for worry. There is barely enough water left to cater us all for a month and the granaries are running short on supply."

Gasps filled the air before people began to chatter.

"That is why I have gathered all of you here. We need to discuss plans for the village if the drought is to continue."

"I suggest we should all start decreasing the amount of food and meals we take every day," someone stated once the chief had finished speaking.

"Don't be ridiculous!" another opposed. "How can you expect us all to survive with your plan? You might as well be sentencing us to starve!"

"I don't mean it like that," the person who had earlier spoken pointed out. 

"Okay, okay," the chief calmly stated with raised hands. "Stop this before you lose your heads. As I said, I wanted suggestions; I don't mean that everything everyone says will be immediately implemented."

"The matter involves the spirit world," a masculine voice spoke out, and everyone turned to face the person.

It took a couple of seconds for Mwamba to realize the voice had come from his side. He turned, and that was when he noticed the person sitting next to his father.

Mghanga was the name. The definition, according to the tribal language, referred to the man as either a witch or a healer; sometimes, like in the case, it was both. Mghanga was in his thirties with his brown skin starting to lose its youthfulness. He wasn't as muscular or as tall like the other men in the village. What he couldn't cater for in his physical appearance was done so with his brain, which explains how he had quickly succeeded the previous witch of the village.

"Mghanga?" the chief acknowledged the man as the witch stood up.

"Your Highness, if I may," Mghanga paused, awaiting the chief's approval. He nodded, and the witch turned to face the people.

"Everyone, I am shocked as you are about the prolonged lack of rain in our lands. I went to search for answers in the spirit world, and it had been revealed to me that our god and ancestors are displeased with our actions. We have forgotten to appease them, and so the drought is punishment."

It all made sense right then. Apart from the usual prayers, the village usually held ceremonies to appease their ancestors every four months. But with the way the drought was threatening everyone with the lack of food, people had been reluctant to do so.

"But we don't have enough food to sacrifice to them," a voice spoke out loud. Mghanga turned to the person.

"Trust me. If we appease the ancestors, they will end the drought in the area."

More voices started speaking up, asking the witch if he was crazy.

"What do we have to do?" the chief questioned as he stared at Mghanga, making everyone stop to listen to him.

"Well, every family in the village will have to offer a sacrifice. You can choose to give out your grains or your animals. We will burn them and pray for their reception into the spirit world."

"How are we sure that your plan will work?" a man questioned the witch. 

"Well, it's either we do that or we start rationing our food," the chief chose to answer for Mghanga.

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the witch's words.  

"I'll do it," a voice spoke out in the group. Everyone turned to face the person who had spoken, and Mghanga realized it was one of the men who had dropped the distressing news about the drought a day ago.

Mumblings had started once again in the group, and a while later, everyone had agreed to the witch's suggestion. After that, everyone dispersed to their homes.

 

Chapter Four

 

 

True to the witch's words, no sooner had every family offered their sacrifices than the wet season commenced. It had started as a small gathering of clouds in the sky on one day. More clouds appeared as the hours passed, and it was dark by the time sunset had reached.

The rain had come with a thunderstorm that evening. The villagers were quick to prepare their food and to head into their huts. Mwamba could remember the sound of the numerous drops hitting the hut's thatched roof coupled with the sound of the wind blowing outside. It was music to his ears, and that had helped him fall into a deep slumber.

The storm had stopped when morning came, but the rains returned in the afternoon and continued for the following week. Every farmer in the village had gone to tend to the fields, planting crops to be stored in the granaries.

"Look at all that rain," Wanjala said in amazement as she stared out the open window of her hut. It was another afternoon, and it was raining heavily.

"I know," Mwamba replied with a smile. "I have missed it."

Wanjala grinned back at him before turning her attention back to the open window of the hut. As the raindrops pelted on her face, she remembered playing in the rain with Mwamba and other children when they were young. It had been fun, even though their parents had scolded them later on.

Mwamba looked at his friend with a smile, and by then, he started feeling an emotion he couldn't acknowledge. His heart was beating fast, and he found himself memorizing his friend's features in his mind. It was as if he was looking at her in a different way.

"Mwasindamana?" a child's voice greeted in the traditional language, asking how everyone was doing, as she entered the hut.

"Wakio!" Wanjala exclaimed, stretching her hand out to pull her wet sister farther into the hut. "What were you doing outside? Weren't you with Mother?"

"I was playing," Wakio replied just as a small gust of wind entered the hut, making her shiver.

Wakio was seven years old, and she looked like a younger version of her sister. The only thing different was that she had more of her father's features than Wanjala.

"Oh," Wanjala sighed as she led her sister to sit next to the fire . There was a pot above it, and it contained water furiously boiling with beans and maize. "Here. Come sit next to the fire."

Wakio obeyed her sister, sitting on the sisal carpet a few feet from the pot that was being used to make the afternoon meal. That was when she noticed they weren't alone.

"Mwamba?" Wakio exclaimed in surprise. Before the chief's son could reply, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asked with a frown.

"Oh, nothing," she replied with a cheeky smile. "It's just that I didn't know that you two were alone in here."

Mwamba went to reply, but then he stopped himself, not knowing what to say. Meanwhile, Wanjala was a blushing mess.

"Wakio!" Wanjala chastised, and that was enough for Mwamba to smile.

"So, what were you guys doing? What were you talking about?"

"Nothing much," Wanjala replied. "We were just talking about the rain."

Her sister stared at her in boredom.

"That's so boring. Can't we play games here?"

"Wakio, I am cooking here," Wanjala told her sister.

"Okay. Then could you guys tell me a story?"

The elder sister scoffed, making Mwamba smile.

"Fine. There once lived a hare and a hyena—"

"I have heard that one before," Wakio cut her sister off, earning a scowl. "Let me guess: there was a race with the animals, and the hare won."

"No—"

"The hyena tried to eat the hare, but the hare tricked the hyena into either cooking himself or being eaten by a larger predator."

There was a moment of silence as Wanjala glared at her sister. The younger sibling just smiled with a shrug of her shoulders.

"What about a scary story?" Wanjala smirked. Her sister looked interested, and that sparked laughter out of Mwamba.

"Do you really want to be telling her one of those?" Mwamba questioned his friend. "Remember the last time you told a child a scary story? The parents complained that they couldn't get him to sleep that night!"

Wanjala ignored him, choosing instead to smirk.

She was definitely going to do it. With a sigh, Mwamba made himself comfortable on the floor. Meanwhile, Wakio was excited.

"Okay, I will tell you a scary story: Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Mcharo. He was around your age, and he was the only child in his family. Mcharo was a troublesome and selfish person, rarely ever thinking of others but himself."

"I already don't like him," Wakio commented, but that didn't stop her sister from continuing with the story.

"One day, when evening was approaching, Mcharo started thinking about the world at night. He had only seen his surroundings during the day, and he was curious to know how they looked like in the evening. He did not care about his parents' warning of venturing into the night. The village people had told him stories about evil spirits and demons, but he believed they were all lies to get him to behave. And so, without informing anyone, Mcharo left the hut while everyone was preparing to make their supper.

He was amazed by what he saw as he wandered farther away from home. He could see the setting sun and the stars as they appeared. At a point, Mcharo had stopped walking to settle himself on the ground to stare at the view. As he looked around, he wondered why his parents kept warning him about wandering into the night. He had been out for about an hour, and nothing had happened to him.

Believing that he had seen enough, Mcharo turned to head back home. He couldn't wait to tell the other children about how exciting it could be to stay awake at night.

That was when he had noticed how dark it was becoming."

Wakio shifted in her seat, and that made Wanjala smile.

"A feeling of dread instantly filled him. Even with the moon and stars present, Mcharo could barely make out anything around him. So he began walking around, trying to find his way back. However, he found himself wandering deep into a forest he had not seen on his way. 

Mcharo kept walking in the dark, and without his knowledge, he kept wandering far from home. He felt lost, and that made him cry.

Mcharo started calling out into the night for his parents. It was then that he spotted a black, clothed figure in the distance. He could make out the shape of a person. Mcharo was filled with hope as he started running towards it. It was when he was a few meters from the person that he noticed something was wrong.

The figure had bright green eyes, and that was the only thing Mcharo could see. He felt frightened. He turned to run away, hoping that the person had not seen him. However, the figure had spotted him, and with lightning speed, it had grasped onto Mcharo's arm.

Mcharo tried to move away, but he felt frozen. He realized some power had him caged, and that was enough for him to know he was in the presence of a bad witch. He tried tugging his arm off of the witch's cold ones, but the hold on his wrist tightened.

'I'm going to eat you for supper tonight,' the witch said with an evil smile before laughing."

Wanjala expertly copied an evil, maniacal laugh, and her sister screamed, rushing out of the hut. Wanjala laughed at her sister's running figure.

"You've done it now," Mwamba commented with a smile. Wanjala rolled her eyes as she turned to the contents boiling in the hut.

"She asked for it. Would you rather I told her the one about the witch that was heard walking on someone's roof at night or the ones about those demons that appear on the hills in the dark?"

Mwamba shivered in fear, recalling how both stories had frightened him when he was a child.

"It doesn't even help that the latter could be true," Wanjala added, and Mwamba stared at her in shock.

"Oh. You didn't know? Apparently, some of the men who had been searching for water weeks ago had encounters with the demonic beings. They believe they appeared when they were trespassing on cursed land, but I don't think that's true."

The chief's son stared at his friend with a smile, wanting to end the conversation.

"So, how about that meal?" he stated.

 

Chapter Five

 

It was another morning, and Mwamba found himself walking towards the chief's hut. He had been summoned there for reasons unknown to him.

Mwamba entered the open doorway of the hut, glancing at the few men situated close to the walls on his sides. The men served as the warriors of the chief.

"Father?" he called out. The chief was having a conversation with a couple of village elders.

"Mwamba!" the chief called out with a smile as he stood from the bench he and the elders were occupying. "Come!"

Once Mwamba had reached the chief, he started greeting the elders.

"What did you want to talk about?" Mwamba asked once the greetings had passed.

"We have been talking with the chief and elders from the neighboring village," his father said, motioning towards himself and the elders in the hut.

Mwamba stared at him, not sure of what he was implying.

"And?" he questioned. The chief frowned.

"Mwadime, if I may," one of the village elders spoke out, and the chief nodded to allow him to speak.

"Your Grace, what your father is trying to tell you is that we have been talking about joining our village with the other one."

Mwamba's eyes widened in surprise.

"We'll have a lot of benefits," the man continued. "Think about the access we'll have to the other side of the hill! I heard it rains more frequently there. We'll have enough resources to cater for food and water, and we will also have enough men in case war breaks out with other tribes."

"I know, right?" the elder next to him said. "I've been hearing stories about people who are as yellow as the sun and as white as the clouds. Apparently, they have extraordinary weapons that can kill a man in a second!"

Mwamba resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man's words, believing it was one of the many rumors going around the village. It sounded more ridiculous than the one about people being kidnapped from tribes far away from his homeland and being sold as slaves.

"I understand what you are all saying, but how do you suppose we do that?" he questioned, referring to the joining of the villages.

"That is where you come in," Mwadime, the chief, stated. "The chief has a daughter--"

Mwamba saw where it was going, and his eyes widened in shock.

"Father!"

"You'll love her," he went on. "She is the eldest of the five children he has. The girl is around your age, and she is quite a beauty."

Mwamba opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"You will be doing me and the whole village a huge favor if you do this."

"But I don't even know her!"

"You will get a chance to do that. She'll be here in two days."

Mwamba's eyes widened in surprised anger as he dropped his jaw in shock.

"Are you kidding me?" he stated, not caring about the village elders who were observing the ongoing spectacle. "She is coming here in two days? How long have you been planning this?"

The chief remained quiet for a while before saying, "A month."

Mwamba's anger grew.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew this is how you would react!" Mwadime boomed. "I know how your brain works, and I realized you would not want to do this if I ever spoke to you about it."

Mwamba fumed.

"Oh, grow up, Mwamba! You are nineteen years old, and you are my son. You are the future chief of the village! It is about time you started acting like a mature leader! It is time to think of people other than yourself! Yes, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I am not apologizing for going on with this without your approval."

There were so many words Mwamba wanted to yell at his father. Most of them would have left a couple of the villagers gasping in shock. 

By then, he was shaking in anger. But then, his father's words about his immaturity returned to him. They angered him further, and he decided he needed time away from everyone around him before he could say something he would regret.

"I need a moment to think," he said instead, turning quickly and heading out of the hut.

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"Wow," Wanjala commented as she stared at a moody Mwamba. "He actually said that?"

Mwamba's lack of response was all that she needed to know it was true. With a shake of her head, she turned to add more branches to the fire.

It was evening by then, and it had started to rain. Mwamba and Wanjala were in her hut, sitting next to the open fire. It was also the only source of light in the hut.

"Don't listen to him, Mwamba. He doesn't know you like I do."

It was not the first time Mwamba and his father had an argument, no less in public. His father kept on insisting that he was still a child, and that had always angered him. It made him feel embarrassed and ashamed, more so because people would be present to witness their exchanges.

"But what if he's right?" he asked, hating the way he sounded then. "What if I actually am immature? And if I take over as chief, would people take me seriously?"

"Stop it, Mwamba!" Wanjala chastised him with a frown. "You are none of those things. You are a responsible man. I believe that you will be a great chief, an even better one than your father."

"Thank you," he said, and Wanjala smiled at him.

"So, what actually caused this argument once again?" Wanjala teased, but something on Mwamba's face told her she wasn't going to like it.

"He had me betrothed to another chief's daughter without telling me."

There was a moment of silence in the hut.

"WHAT?" Wanjala finally exploded, and Mwamba went on to tell her what had occurred earlier in the day.

"I can't believe this. That father of yours had no right to do that behind your back."

"I know, but there is nothing I can do. I'm going to do it. I have to do it," Mwamba stated in a calm fashion, and that angered Wanjala even more.

"WHAT?"

"I have been thinking a lot today, and I made up my mind to do this."

Wanjala was shocked.

"Mwamba, you can't just do this. You should yell at him! Make him beg for your forgiveness--"

"I can't," Mwamba cut her off.

"Why?" she asked him.

"Because he was right, and he rarely ever is."

"Mwamba, there has to be another way--"

"He was right, Wanjala. I was thinking of myself this morning. I was wondering, 'How will I ever manage to do this?' I mean, it is a damn wedding! I don't think I'm even ready for marriage yet!"

"Mwamba--"

"I am next in line to rule the village. I have to start acting like a leader, even if that means making sacrifices for the good of the people."

"But, Mwamba, what about everything? What about what you want? What about m—" Wanjala cut herself off, making Mwamba furrow his eyebrows.

"What were you going to say?"

Wanjala revealed a smile, and Mwamba sensed it was fake.

"Nothing important," she said. Mwamba's eyebrows furrowed when he noticed her eyes were beginning to shine in the lighting.

"Wanjala--"

"I have to get more firewood," she said in a whisper, quickly walking out of the hut.

Mwamba was left thoroughly confused, wondering why she had gone out so quickly and why she never came back to the hut thirty minutes later. Surely, it couldn't take that long to get branches outside.

Then again, it was raining. Wanjala was probably having a hard time finding dry tree parts. 

Mwamba soon got up to leave. The food boiling in the pot was far from being ready so there was no need for him to continue staying there. Also, he decided he would talk to Wanjala at another time.

 

Chapter Six

 

 

Two days had passed. Just as the chief had informed Mwamba, the woman he was to marry had arrived in the village. She had come with her father, the chief of her village, and a couple of guards that afternoon.

"Welcome, brothers!" the chief greeted and led the guests into his hut. Mwamba was present at that time, and all he could do was stare as Mwadime made conversations with the visitors.

The chief's son took his time observing the guests. The guards were dressed just like those of his village, but the clothes they wore were more orange than brown. It was probably due to the dust they had encountered on their way to the village. On the other hand, the daughter...

Mwamba was at a loss of words. The daughter was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and a creamy yellow, a contrast to her father's dark brown skin. She had big eyes that exposed her brown iris in the lighting. Her lips were plump, and her legs and curves accentuated her slim figure.

"Thank you for receiving us, Mwadime," the other chief spoke with a smile.

"It must have been quite a long journey. What would you want? Are you hungry? Thirsty? In need of a bath?"

"I'm fine," the guest chief replied. "I don't know about the others."

"Guards!" Mwadime called out to the men in his hut.

"Yes, Sire!" they all replied.

"Summon the maids to help our guests feel at home."

"Yes, Sire!" with that, the guards turned to leave the hut.

"So, how have you all been on your way here? I hope you didn't encounter any troubles."

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The two chiefs spent most of the afternoon talking to each other. Mwamba and his intended wife remained silent. It was only after the chiefs were done talking when they were allowed to disperse.

Mwamba made quick work of heading towards his friend. He found the inside of the hut was lit with fire as night approached, and that made him feel relieved.

"Wanjala, can I talk to you?" Mwamba said as he entered the hut. Wanjala was crouched on the ground, feeding more firewood into the fire she was using to boil her evening meal.

"What is it?" Wanjala asked, not looking at her friend. Something about the tone she had used made Mwamba uncomfortable. It was as if there was some kind of tension between them, but he had no idea of what caused it.

"She's here," he stated. Wanjala already knew who he was talking about.

"I know. I saw her when she was entering the village."

Mwamba remained quiet, waiting for Wanjala to say something else. She didn't.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, finally looking at him. "You accepted the marriage, and who am I to say anything about it?"

Mwamba furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Wanjala, what is it? What have I done wrong?"

He wondered what was going on, and he felt awful when he saw tears in her eyes.

"Wanjala--"

"You still don't get it? You still haven't gotten it?"

"I don't understand--"

"You need to leave," she said with a disappointed sigh.

Mwamba felt shocked. He was silent as he wondered what to respond with.

"What?"

"It is not good for you to be seen with another woman right now. People will think that something is going on between us."

"Wanjala--"

"Please, leave. We'll talk later," she insisted. Mwamba stood for a moment in silence. With a nod, he turned to walk out the door.

************************************************ ********************** ***********

It was another day. The entourage that had brought the intended wife for the chief's son had left the village earlier that morning.

Mwamba had to think about what he would do about his upcoming marriage, but something else took precedence over that; he was still confused over what had transpired with Wanjala on the previous night. He had gone through every conversation he had with her, but none of them could clue him in on what had made her act differently towards him.

His mind then redirected him to the time when he had told her about his engagement to the other chief's daughter. It was at that moment when Wanjala had started to act strangely around him. He knew there was something he was missing, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

With a shake of his head, Mwamba continued walking along a trail that led him away from the village. It was mid-morning, and the air was still cold due to the ongoing rainy season. The earth felt cool under his feet, and he saw green all around him. The various baobab trees that had started shedding their leaves were growing their leaves back, and pods of baobab seeds were growing on their branches.

Mwamba looked forward, staring a little bit at the hill in front of him as he continued walking along the trail. He passed by a few xerophytic trees, and moments later, he found himself approaching his destination.

It was a secluded area he had found when he was a child. It offered the vast few of the vegetation and the other neighboring hills around him. A huge mango tree was present, and it served to provide him shade whenever it was hot. Mwamba continued walking, and he abruptly stopped when he noticed someone was there.

Not just any someone, but the other chief's daughter. She was lying on the grass with her eyes closed.

Mwamba was taken aback, and his nerves took hold. For a moment, he had no idea of what to do. The girl had not noticed him yet, and it was not too late for him to turn back.

Mwamba went to do just that, but his mind replayed his father's remarks about his immaturity. With a sigh, he turned to approach her.

"Hey," he greeted once he was a few feet in front of his intended wife. The girl jumped up in surprise.

"Oh, it's just you," she commented, going back to lie down on the grass.

The chief's son decided not to take that as an insult as he shuffled his feet on the grass.

"I'm--"

"Mwamba, I know," the girl said, rolling her eyes.

Mwadime's son was at a loss on how to react to her behavior.

"And you are?" he prodded.

With a sigh, the girl answered, "Mkanyika."

Mwamba went to sit next to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sitting," he answered with a tone that stated it should have been obvious.

"Aren't you, like, suppose to wait to see me until after the wedding?"

"I already saw you yesterday," Mwamba stated as he looked down at her. Mkanyika nodded in remembrance.

"I know that this is the first time we are talking to each other, but I want to know; do you really want to do it?" she questioned.

"Do what?"

"Don't act like an idiot," Mkanyika scoffed. "You and I both know why I am here."

"Our fathers want to create a union between our villages, and the only way they can do it is by forcing us to wed," Mwamba stated.

Mkanyika sighed again.

"There are other ways to bring an alliance between our villages, but our stubborn fathers are insisting on wedding us to each other. So, do you want to go through with this?"

Mwamba took his time to reply: "I don't know."

"I know I don't," his intended wife replied, making him look at her in shock. "What? This is an arranged engagement—an arranged marriage! How do you expect me to act? I mean, we don't even know each other!"

Mwamba knew how she felt, and he too was slightly terrified about the near future. That did not mean he would allow the both of them to panic.

"We can rectify that," Mwamba stated with a smile, hoping it would calm her down. "Let's get to know each other better."

Mkanyika glared at him. More seconds passed with silence between them.

"Okay," she finally said. "I mean, what do I have to lose from this?"

**************************************** ********************************* ********

In the two weeks that followed, Mwamba found himself in the company of Mkanyika. Their first conversation made him think she was a spoiled brat, but as he continued spending time with her, he found out that it was not true. Mkanyika was actually a nice person; the problem was that she didn't trust people that easily, especially if one of those people were to be her future husband.

Anyway, things were going great between them. It should have made him content, but he was worried about other things; specifically, the lack of communication between him and Wanjala. She had been busy every moment he had gone to see her, and it was later on that he realized she was trying to avoid him.

But why?

Mwamba was half-asleep and preoccupied with those thoughts when he was woken up by the sounds of people outside his hut. The quick and anxious manner they were speaking clued him in that something was wrong.

He quickly got out from his hut and headed outside. The villagers were talking amongst themselves. The shocked expressions on their faces proved he was right.

"What happened?" Mwamba questioned one of the villagers.

"Sire!" he greeted him with respect. "The other chief's daughter has been kidnapped!"

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

It was noon, and by then, news of Mkanyika's kidnapping had reached the whole village.

"We are looking into the matter," Mwamba's father stated with a grim expression. "For now, we have received no other information."

The chief was in his hut with his son and some of the village elders. Many of the villagers had wanted to question the chief themselves, but since they had their own duties to tend to, they decided to send the village elders. 

"I don't get it," Mwamba commented. "How could she have been kidnapped?"

Interrogation of the villagers who had witnessed the scene had informed Mwamba of panicked screams being heard very early in the morning. The sun had barely even risen when Mkanyika had been taken.

At the sound of her screams, a couple of people had gone to her hut while others followed the fading panicked sounds. At a point, they had died down and the men weren't sure of where to go. Whoever had kidnapped Mkanyika were smart in doing so.

"For now, the only thing we can do is send a search party to look for her."

"Sire, what if we can't find her?" a village elder interrupted. "For all that we know, cannibals might have taken her."

"They weren't cannibals," another elder opposed. "Their attacks are rare, and they tend to target the isolated huts. Her hut was surrounded by other huts, and whoever took her knows about her. They must be bandits, and they want to trade her for something."

"You make excellent points, Mwachofi, but I don't think they were bandits," the old man who had started the conversation stated. "They would have left a message by now."

"Okay," Mwadime cut in. "I don't think it is the time to wonder who took her. We should be looking for her and return her as soon as possible. That is why I want to send some men to search for her."

"Father, if you don't mind me interrupting," Mwamba spoke. "I would like to help in the search."

There was a sudden moment of silence in the hut.

"What?" Mwadime finally replied.

"I want to do it. I want to help," Mwamba repeated.

"What nonsense is this?" 

"Father!"

"If you don't mind, your grace," one of the village elders interrupted, "we would like to leave. This seems like a private conversation."

"It's fine," Mwadime said. The elders nodded before shuffling out of the hut. Once they were gone, father and son resumed their spat.

"I won't allow it," the chief said.

"Why?" Mwamba questioned.

"Because I said so!" Mwadime boomed. "You are not ready yet for this kind of--"

"That's why I want to do it," he said. "I know I am next in line to rule the village after you, and I know there are some things I have to prove about myself."

"And you think that if you do this--"

"If I do this, it might as well tell the village that I am capable of being their future leader, Father."

The chief was gobsmacked. He did not know what to tell his son.

"I have gotten to know Mkanyika in the last two weeks, and she is a good person. I have become fond of her."

"Mwamba--"

"She is my future wife! No one will take me seriously as a chief if I allow other men to do the work that I should be doing."

Mwadime remained silent in his thoughts as he stared at his son.

"Mwamba, you do know you are gambling with your future here. I mean, what happens if you get lost, or worse, get killed? No one in the family can succeed you."

Mwamba sighed: "Let me do this, father. Please."

Mwadime remained quiet for a moment before saying: "Give me time to think about this."

Mwamba went to speak, but his father cut him off again.

"And you should seriously think of what you are proposing."

The chief then turned to exit the hut.

************************************* ****************************** ** ************

Two days later, Mwamba found himself walking away from the village. He wore a smile as he waved at the people he passed. News of his departure had reached the village in minutes, and everyone congratulated him and admired his courageous suggestion to help in the search for his kidnapped fiancé.

On the previous day, the village witch had been summoned into the chief's hut. Someone had suggested that Mghanga could help with finding where Mkanyika is, and it turned out to be true. People were shocked, especially since the witch's powers were doubted to be that helpful.

Anyway, through a couple of rituals that involved a couple of herbs, it was revealed that Mkanyika was on the hill neighboring the village; Mghanga could not pinpoint where.

A couple of village men, including Mwamba, had been gathered afterward. They were suggested routes to take to help in the search. Some were told to go up to the hills; others were to go to the left side of the hill. Mwamba had been told to head towards the right side. Since he was the future village chief, he was also requested to go to the other side of the hill; the side where Mkanyika's father's village resided.

Mwamba's path was longer because it was a test of endurance for him. It was also a test to see if he possessed the qualities of a good chief. Nonetheless, he accepted the orders.

It was still noon by then, and it was partly cloudy. Mwamba had eaten before he had started the search, and he had carried a sisal-woven basket that held enough food to sustain him for the next three days. He had also carried a sharpened knife and two mats to sleep on. 

Mwamba hoped for the success of his task and also for the other men involved. He also prayed that Mkanyika was okay wherever she was.

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Hours filled with walking through rough paths and bushes had passed, and the sun was on its course to set. By then, Mwamba was so far from his village that he couldn't even make out any hut. If he had lacked the sense of direction, he would have been lost.

On other matters, he was getting tired. His feet were already aching from the walking he had done, and so he decided to stop underneath a large, blooming baobab tree.

Mwamba's surroundings were composed of green patches of small, growing grass everywhere; other trees apart from the baobab he was sitting under were present. The thorn bushes that he used to see in his village were also there, and they looked less threatening with the green leaves sprouting on their branches.

Even though it was deserted, the area looked safe. Mwamba felt at ease as he turned his head to look at the sun setting behind the large hill in his view. He had not even reached the point where he would turn to the hill's opposite side, and thinking about all that distance he had to cover made him groan in exhaustion.

Mwamba decided to make himself comfortable. He took out one of the mats that had been packed for him, placing one on the ground and sitting on it. 

He then proceeded to take out some of the food in the basket. He delved into two handfuls of cooked groundnuts, and he later finished with a small ripened mango. He also drank a bit of water from his gourd, intending to fill it back up when he would come across a source of water.

(A.N: A gourd)

Once he was done, he settled himself on the mat and took a sleeping position. Mwamba closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take over him. However, he found it hard with the wind blowing around him. He was not used to the sound, especially with the loudness of it as it passed through leaves.

Apart from all that, a weird sense of quietness had taken over. It confused and freaked him out at the same time. 

'How do they do it?' Mwamba thought, referring to the men who would leave his village to carry out certain errands. He wondered how they could sleep in forests without any signs of civilization.

'What am I doing?' he suddenly asked himself.  What he was doing seemed to fully dawn on him. He felt doubtful and scared of what his decision could cost him. What if he got lost? What if he truly lost his life like his father had warned? What if an animal came and attacked him? He had heard stories of hyenas and elephants making appearances in other people's villages. The only difference was that Mwamba was outside, in the wild. He was in no village, and he was alone.

Mwamba started crying as his thoughts delved deeper into all the negative aspects of his decision to search for Mkanyika. He was panicking.

It took him a while for Mwamba to think of stuff that would calm him down. He shook his head as if he was shaking the frightening thoughts away from him. Once again, he reminded himself that he was the future chief of the village. Other than to rescue Mkanyika, he had to look for her to test his knowledge, strength, and willpower. If he were to return to the village on the next day, people would make fun of him.

With his mind made up, Mwamba tried again to go to sleep. He tried to, but it did not come. Usually, he slept when it was already nightfall. One could assume that he was not used to sleeping earlier than that. 

Going to slumber became harder when Mwamba watched his environs darken around him. His mind started playing tricks on him, and he thought he was seeing monsters, even though he knew it was just the sight of the flora at night. 

The bushes around him looked like unknown beings watching over him. Mwamba felt scared, thinking that frightening creatures would come to get him, even though he knew it was impossible. His fear soon exhausted his body of its energy, and he found himself sleeping.

************************ ***************************************** **************** *************

The sun was rising once again, its rays illuminating everything in its path. The birds on the trees had woken up, chirping as they flew around in search of food.

Mwamba groaned as he opened his eyes. At first, he was confused as to why he was not in the village. But then, the memories of the previous day reminded him of his whereabouts.

He got up, dusting off a couple of leaves that must have fallen on him when he was asleep. He yawned as he turned to the basket on his side. Mwamba ate more groundnuts for his morning meal, planning to save a mango for later.

Mwamba felt glad he had survived his first night in the outdoors. It gave him a sense of courage that he could make through the next nights that would follow.

"Well, I might as well continue with this search," Mwamba told himself. He took the mat he had been lying on and bunched it up before placing it in his basket.

He soon resumed his task. At one point, he had come across a seasonal river. He drank from it and quickly filled up his gourd.

The periods of the day passed, and it was evening again. By then, Mwamba had reached the right edge of the hill. At that side, it was much narrower than the wide side he was used to seeing in the village. In fact, he could see how the mass of land rose to a high point of the hill, and it was densely populated with trees. 

Mwamba realized it would take a short time for him to turn and to find himself facing the opposite side of the hill.

Without wasting time, he started looking for a spot to sleep, and he later found himself settled under a mango tree. It was already bearing fruit, but it had not ripened yet. Mwamba picked some of them before settling to eat a short meal. Once he was done, he took out his mat and quickly fell asleep.

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

Mwamba shifted on the mat when he heard a hissing sound coming from his side. He soon felt something glide on his skin, and it made him shiver slightly. 

It took a couple of seconds for Mwamba to shriek and jump away from the animal. The hissing sound came again, and without thinking twice, he reached for something to use to attack. He found a large stone on his side and quickly threw it at the snake. The stone landed with a thud. The snake continued to hiss, and after a short while, the sounds died down.

Around that time, Mwamba looked around his surroundings. It was still night, and a crescent moon was present to shed light. It was better than a moonless sky because it could have been hard for Mwamba to make out the objects in his surroundings. He couldn't tell how long he had been asleep, and he was certainly not planning to continue sleeping after what had happened with the snake.

Mwamba located his mat and his basket. After sorting them out and taking a quick sip of water from his gourd, he went to walk away from the tree he had been sleeping under. However, an earth-shaking sound was heard. That ceased his movements, making him turn towards the source.

Gray clouds were gathering, and they would soon block the sight of the moon. By then, part of Mwamba's surroundings seemed to have gotten darker.

A flash of lightning quickly followed, and Mwamba groaned in disbelief. He could not believe his luck.

The flash of lightning came again. It provided for him enough light for a moment to be able to make out his surroundings. Without wasting time, he began walking quickly.

Mwamba hated the snake for waking him up. If the small creature hadn't appeared, he would have been asleep until the morning came. In fact, he was sure he could have slept through the storm. Now because of it, he was forced to walk around in the night.

A short while later, the view of the moon had been hidden by the clouds. Lightning continued to appear at certain intervals, giving Mwamba some light to make out his directions. However, it soon started raining.

Heavily.

Mwamba then took off in a run. Water splashed each time his feet hit the ground, increasing the chances of him losing his balance. The air around him mixed with the feeling of the rain pelting on his form made him feel colder than he already was.

After he had covered a couple of meters, Mwamba spotted another large tree, and he quickly went under it to shelter himself from the storm. Once he was under it, his mouth opened to pant due to exhaustion.

Mwamba moved to stand with his back supported by the tree as he waited for the storm to pass.

It didn't. In fact, it seemed to rain harder.

Mwamba sighed, realizing he would have to wait under the tree for a while longer. By then, the earth under him was drenched with water. He wanted to fall back to sleep, but the rain was making it hard for him to do so. He knew that if he were to lie on the ground, he would get sick.

As much as he tried to fight it, his eyes started to feel droopy. The sounds and sight of the rain and the storm were making him want to slumber.

Mwamba was starting to fall asleep, but it was after another flash of lightning when he spotted something shifting in the distance. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to focus on it. Unfortunately, the rain was making it hard for him to make out the shape of whatever was moving.

Luckily for him, another flash appeared. Mwamba tried to make out the figure again, and he was able to notice that something was undoubtedly moving towards him.

'Maybe it's an animal,' he thought, and traces of sleep quickly disappeared. Mwamba stood in alert, wondering if what he had spotted was a carnivore. 

The figure continued moving towards him, and when another flash of lightning lit the sky, Mwamba spotted green eyes. They even looked to have a shade of yellow.

'What animal has green eyes?' he thought again. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, especially when he realized the eyes of the creature were positioned too high for it to be of an animal's. In fact, they looked more human.

Mwamba's heart thudded as fear wrapped its cord around his form. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and it certainly wasn't from the rain.

"Hello?" Mwamba called out, clutching his basket in case he had to run. The creature, who was large enough to be a person, kept coming.

And then the eyes disappeared into thin air.

At first, Mwamba was shocked and confused.

Could it be that he was still tired and his exhaustion was making him see things?

He sighed, feeling relieved all of a sudden.

Another flash of lightning appeared, and the figure with the green eyes was suddenly in front of him.

Mwamba chocked on a gasp when he was able to make out the features of the animal. It looked like a man, but its skin was in a range of colors between sky blue and black. It had the usual unkempt hair that most of the men in his village had. However, what frightened Mwamba were the creature's appendages. It had claws and talons for fingers and toes respectively. 

Without another thought, Mwamba took off in the rain. Sleep had completely evaded him, and the only thing that he could focus on was the need to escape from whatever abomination he had seen.

Mwamba was close to screaming when he heard feet coming behind him. Moreover, the creature that surely resembled a demon made a terrifying sound between that of a lion and an elephant that chilled him to the bone.

It took a lot for Mwamba to increase his speed. However, the creature was still approaching him.

He screamed, especially when he heard another pair of feet coming after him. The sound of the creatures' running feet resembled large stones hitting the ground with loud thuds.

Mwamba clutched his basket firmly, determined to get away from the creepy beings. To his shock, something sharp grazed his back, and he screamed again.

There was no doubt that it was one of the creature's claws.

Mwamba took a short moment to think of what to do, and that was when an idea came to his mind. He quickly turned to his right, and then he ran straight; he kept making turns in order to keep his distance from the monsters.

They followed him, not even exhausted by the sudden turns that Mwamba was taking.

By then, the sun was close to rising. The rain had stopped pelting on his back, and the clouds were becoming more visible. In fact, they seemed to be becoming bluer.

Mwamba realized he was able to make out his surroundings. He turned around, and he soon wished he hadn't. Two monstrosities were closing in on him.

By then, his feet were aching from all the running he had done. He was close to giving up and allowing the creatures to do what they wanted to do to him. 

It was after a while when he noticed there was silence. Mwamba stopped running and turned to look behind him, noticing he wasn't being chased anymore. He soon felt confused.

For a moment, he thought he had been hallucinating the creatures. He started walking back towards the route he had come from. Any notions about the creatures being hallucinations were wrong. The monsters were actually real, and they had stopped at a tree meters away from him. Moreover, they were both staring at him, baring their sharp teeth at him.

Mwamba felt fearful once again. Seconds passed, and he watched the creatures slowly fade into thin air. He looked around him, and that was when he noticed the rising sun.

Mwadime's son did not know how to feel. He started walking once again, away from where he had seen the monsters disappear. It was a good thing that it was exactly the direction he was intending to take. He soon stopped to sit under a mango tree. He was able to rest his aching feet, and as much as he wanted to stay awake and see if he would be attacked again, sleep began taking over him.

 

Chapter Ten

 

Meanwhile, at the village...

"Someone's coming!" one of the villagers yelled loudly. At the same time, everyone stopped what they were doing to head towards the person who had yelled. That also included the chief and the village elders.

Indeed, a couple of people were on their way towards the village. The villagers were wondering if it was the chief's son who was returning. However, it turned out to be two people heading towards the village.

Mwadime's mood immediately turned sour. It was not Mwamba returning, but it was the men who had been sent to look for Mkanyika at the top areas of the hill facing the village.

The men were well-received by the people. It was evident that they were tired and hungry.

"Did you find her?" one of the village elders asked the men as soon as they were in his view.

"We didn't find anyone," one of the men replied.

It was hard for the chief to swallow. Nonetheless, he nodded his head before excusing the men to go rest.

So far, all the men who had been sent to look for Mkanyika had returned. All except for Mwamba. 

The chief could not help but worry about his son. Was he safe wherever he was? More importantly, was he still alive?

"Well, Sire, it is now all up to your son to find the girl," Mwachofi, one of the elders, said.

"You are right, Mwachofi," Mwadime said. "Let us all pray that he finds her and that he returns in one piece."

************************* *********************************** ********************* *************

Mwamba had been having quite a rough two days. After the incident involving the demonic beings, he had been hesitant to fall asleep. He kept forcing his eyes to remain open all the time due to the paranoia that the creatures would come after him again.

On other matters, Mwamba had made progress with his task. He was already on the opposite side of the hill, making his way through the tall trees as he continued his search for Mkanyika.

Mwamba had noted the side of the hill was quite different from the side that faced his village. It had evergreen trees, and it never failed to rain on each day; it didn't matter if the rain was light. There was also a constant presence of fresh air in the mornings and evenings. The land was suitable for agriculture, especially since the climate favored it.

Yes, the other side of the hill was wonderful. Mwamba even understood why his father wanted access to it. However, there was one thing that was bothersome to him: its steepness. The ground was uneven at certain points, and he found himself walking up and later moving downwards. It was really exhausting and it was slowing down his pace.

Mwamba later found himself sitting on his mat under a tree, eating a mango that he had packed in his basket. He was exhausted from all the walking he had done on that day. The sun was already setting, and it was almost time for him to go to sleep. However, he was still scared of the monstrous creatures making another unexpected appearance and coming after him again.

Mwamba continued to fight off the urge to sleep. Unfortunately for him, after he had finished feeding himself, it started to rain again. The sound of the rain hitting the leaves above him was like a lullaby, even when some drops escaped and landed on his form.

"Do not fall asleep. Do not fall asleep," he kept chanting to himself. It did not do the trick because he soon found himself yawning. A short while later, he fell asleep.

*********************************** ********************** ************************

The sound of approaching footsteps roused Mwamba from his slumber. He silently cursed at himself for sleeping before he shot up and quickly took out a dagger from his basket. He held it firmly as he looked around, searching for the figure approaching.

It had stopped raining, and the sun was on its way to rising.

Mwamba found his thoughts wandering back to the attack he had faced with the frightening monsters. Could it be that they could survive in daylight? 

The sound of approaching feet becoming louder made Mwamba more alert. Without wasting time, he rushed towards the source.

"Stop!" he yelled, aiming the dagger at the figure.

It was a boy.

"What the--" Mwamba stopped mid-curse. "Who are you?"

"I'm Njumwa," the boy replied with wide eyes and his arms raised in surrender.

His skin was a light brown shade. He looked to be around twelve years of age, and he was a foot shorter than Mwamba.

Mwamba shuffled his feet with his dagger still aimed at the child, not sure of how to proceed.

"Please don't kill me," the boy pleaded. Mwamba sighed, suddenly feeling bad. He dropped his hand, still clutching the weapon.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked him.

"I got lost," he said.

"Where is your village?" Mwamba asked him.

"I don't know," Njumwa replied. "I just know it is around the area. I have no idea of how to get there."

Mwamba sighed again as he started thinking about how to handle the situation.

He did not need this. He had a task to complete. He had to look for Mkanyika and make sure that she was safe. He had to return with her to his village. What would happen if he were to prolong the search?

Mwamba groaned, earning a look of confusion from Njumwa.

He couldn't just leave the boy to fend for himself in the forest. Maybe his family was around, and so he could help him find them.

"How long have you been lost?" Mwamba questioned.

"I think two days."

He was shocked. There was no way the boy's family was close if he had been in the area for two days.

"Here. Have something to eat," Mwamba said, reaching for his basket to take out some of the roasted groundnuts that were remaining. Njumwa took a handful after another, eating the food like a starved man.

Mwamba felt bad for Njumwa, and after a short while of thinking filled with Njumwa eating the food, he had come to a decision. He would have to help the boy return to his village before he could continue with his search for his intended wife. Moreover, if he were to do so, he would have to speed things up.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

Another day had passed. Whatever feelings of wariness that had been between Njumwa and Mwamba had quickly passed. They got to talk, and they found some things about each other.

They each told each other about their homes. Specifically, Njumwa had told Mwamba that the leader of his village was a person named Mwanyumba. He had two daughters, and one of them was named Mkanyika.

Mwamba believed it was not a coincidence.

It was both a good thing and a bad thing for Mwamba. Mwanyumba's village was around the route that he would use to search for Mkanyika. It was a good thing that Njumwa and Mwamba were headed towards the same direction. However, it would be a bad thing if Mwamba were to meet up with the chief. What would he tell the chief, especially when his appearance would be unannounced and look suspicious? Would he have to tell him of his daughter's absence?

Mwamba shook his head, intending to focus on his surroundings. He and Njumwa were walking down from a raised part of the hill.

"...she screamed when I showed her the cockroach..." Njumwa rambled on, telling Mwamba a story about how he had tried to win a girl's affection. With the way that it was going, Mwamba immediately knew it didn't work out well.

Mwamba had not told Njumwa about his position in his village. He believed it would have the boy silent and respectful around him, and Mwamba did not want that. They had days of walking ahead of them, and the silence that could ensue between them would be uncomfortable.

"She was mad, but to the rest of us, it was funny," Njumwa chuckled. Mwamba couldn't help but let a smile slip.

"So, what about you?" Njumwa asked Mwamba.

"What about me?" Mwadime's son countered.

"Have you ever had encounters with girls? I mean, with how you look, you must have quite many."

Mwamba suddenly felt uneasy.

"Umm, they aren't quite that many."

Njumwa stopped in his tracks and eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm serious. I mean, there were quite a few. Like, there was a time I accidentally saw girls bathing near a river."

Njumwa guffawed, and the sound traveled through the area. It was rather loud, and it had some of the birds on the nearby trees flying away.

"I was young then, and I finally understood what people were talking about when they talked about becoming a man."

Njumwa kept on laughing. Mwamba raised his eyebrows at him.

"Aren't you too young to understand what I'm talking about?"

"I'm fourteen," Njumwa countered.

"Really? I thought you were ten," Mwamba said, earning a punch in the arm from his partner.

"Seriously. Isn't there any other girl in your life?" Njumwa pressured. Mwamba sighed.

"None. I only have this friend who is a girl--"

"Wait. You have a friend who is a girl? Isn't that strange?"

"You could say that it is rare to find a friend in a girl, but I have, and we do get along well. I understand her and she understands me. Only lately she has been acting weird."

Mwamba never meant to let the last part slip.

"What? How?" Njumwa persisted.

"Eh, it's nothing," Mwamba replied.

"With the way you said it, it does not look like nothing."

With a sigh, Mwamba proceeded to tell Njumwa about his predicament. He told him of how he was being forced to marry a girl, being careful to not mention Mkanyika. Then he talked about telling Wanjala about the news and how she had been acting oddly towards him ever since.

"Wow," Njumwa said.

"I know. I have no clue as to why she was mad at me," Mwamba said.

"No. I mean, wow, you're an idiot."

Mwamba was shocked, and he voiced the emotion with the word: "What?"

"You don't get it, do you?"

Mwamba was quickly infuriated. What was Njumwa seeing that Mwamba himself couldn't see? If he knew something and he refused to tell him what it was, he was going to explode.

"What am I not getting?" Mwamba spoke in exhaustion.

"You wouldn't like what I tell you. Do you really want to know--"

"Of course I want to know! Can't you just tell me right now? I mean, she said the same thing you are saying. What am I not getting? I have been thinking about it for weeks now, and I still do not understand."

"Mwamba, calm down. The answer is simple; she likes you."

There was a moment of silence between the two.

"Uhm, what?"

"She may even love you."

"Alright. Let me get this straight, Njumwa. You think she likes me?" Mwamba asked, and the boy nodded in response.

"That sounds ridiculous," Mwadime's son snorted.

"Think about it. It explains why she has not been talking to you recently. Obviously, hearing that you are going to marry another woman made her sad, and she's trying to protect herself from you."

"Protect herself? What do you mean--"

"You hurt her feelings. She's distancing herself from you because she doesn't want to be reminded that you don't want her. In fact, I think this is her way of trying to get rid of the feelings she has for you."

Njumwa proceeded to walk forward, leaving Mwamba standing as he tried to process what he had been told.

********** ****** ***** ********** ******* ***** ***** ****** **** ******** ****** *****

It was another morning. It was a cloudy one, and Mwamba and Njumwa were making their way through an area filled with trees. The ground they were walking on was close to the low points of the hill. Mwamba could see the type of vegetation that was similar to that of his village far away on his right. He could spot a couple of acacia trees. Tall, green pastures were growing on the land, and animals were grazing on them.

The sight of gazelles and zebras grazing together was rare, and as much as Mwamba wanted to spend time watching them, his mind kept going back to what Njumwa had told him. Even if he wanted to deny it, the memories in his mind proved Njumwa's words to be true.

Mwamba looked at the experiences he had shared with Wanjala in a different light. She always seemed to light up when he went to see her. She trusted him as much as he trusted her, and she always looked like she was interested in every word he said. She was even rarely ever shy in front of him.

Those might not have been enough to convince Mwamba of Wanjala's feelings for him. It showed the nature of their friendship. However, the one reason that proved Njumwa's words to be true was the fact that Wanjala never spent time with the other boys in the village unless it was necessary.

There was no denying it any longer. Wanjala was in love with him, and he did not know how to proceed from there.

"Water!" Njumwa yelled, turning Mwamba's attention back to him. The boy was pointing at a seasonal river flowing a short distance in front of them. The two went to it at a quick pace. They were soon kneeling on the ground as they started to drink from it.

A short while later, their thirsts had been quenched. Mwamba was busy filling his gourd with water when Njumwa called out.

"Mwamba?"

The boy sounded scared. In confusion, Mwamba turned to face whatever Njumwa was seeing.

A short distance in front of them stood a hyena. 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

The hyena laughed, baring its teeth.

"Run, Njumwa!" Mwamba whisper-yelled and the boy quickly took off. Mwamba quickly followed. 

He knew it had not been a good idea to take off because he heard the sound of the hyena laughing as he and Njumwa rushed through the area. The animal could be heard approaching them with its feet hitting the ground.

Njumwa was a fast runner, and so he had passed Mwamba hurriedly without looking back. Mwamba was conflicted on how to feel about that as he quickly reached for his dagger in his basket. Once he held it, he stopped running and quickly turned to face the animal.

The hyena ceased its movements, baring its teeth at Mwamba as saliva drooped from its lips.

"Stay back!" Mwamba yelled in a panic, waving the dagger in front of the hyena.

The animal seemed to listen, but it did not move from its spot. It just stood there with its mouth closed. It could have made anyone think it had given up, but the glint in its eyes told Mwamba that it was hungry.

He was damned if he would let a freaking hyena eat him.

Mwamba charged forward, thrusting the dagger towards the animal. It backed off, but only by a couple of centimeters.

It was one stubborn animal.

"Move!" Mwamba yelled again, thrusting the dagger towards the hyena. It moved a bit, but not before laughing again.

The animal seemed to be making fun of Mwamba. He thought it could sense the fear in his voice and could see through the front he was trying to pull off.

Unexpectedly, the hyena moved to jump at him. Mwamba backed away a foot, and that distance was quickly covered by the animal.

The hyena lunged again, aiming for Mwamba's arm. The claws grazed at his skin, but it was not enough to draw blood. Mwadime's son acted quickly, using a hand to hold onto the animal's head before it could try to attack again. By then, the hyena was thrashing wildly. It opened and closed its jaws, trying to reach for Mwamba's fingers.

Without wasting time, Mwamba stabbed the animal in its stomach. It mewled in his hold, and he quickly released it. Mwamba pulled out the dagger and made a disgusted sound when he saw it coated with blood.

He took another look at the animal lying on the ground. Blood was coming out, coating the animal's furry skin in its color.

Mwamba knew the animal would soon die, so he did not have to worry about another attempt of attack from it. He then quickly took off towards the direction that Njumwa had taken.

"Thank the gods you are alive!" Njumwa sighed once he saw Mwamba running towards him. It was then that he caught the sight of blood smeared on his skin.

"Did it hurt you?"

"Barely," Mwamba replied. "This was all from the hyena."

Njumwa shuddered. He had no idea of what he could have done if Mwamba had not been there to save him.

"I must be lucky. I mean, I survived my first kill with barely any scratches on me."

"That was your first kill?"

Mwadime's son shrugged in reply with a smile.

"Well, let's keep walking," Njumwa said. "We need to find a stream so that you can wash yourself of the blood."

He started walking, and then Mwamba followed him.

"And Mwamba? Thank you," the younger man said.

*********** ************** ******************* ******************* ******************

It was once again another evening. Night had rolled in, and the sky was clear. Mwamba and Njumwa could see the stars as they settled underneath a large tree. They had lit a fire in front of them since it was colder than usual.

Earlier, Mwamba and Njumwa had found another stream. They quickly drank from it, and Mwadime's son bathed himself in the water. Once they were done, they started looking for food around the area. They found nothing but fruits. Other than mangoes, the two had found oranges and pawpaws.

"We must be getting closer to my village," Njumwa had informed Mwamba. They continued walking, hoping they would get closer to signs of civilization. When it was sunset, the two had not made any progress, and so they started to look for areas where they could settle to spend the night.

"Something tells me we will soon reach my village," Njumwa commented once again. He had said that earlier. Mwamba was doubtful of his words. Any plantation would have clued in that they were approaching a village, but they had found none so far.

The two remained silent, waiting for sleep to take over. Mwamba stared at the cackling fire while his thoughts started running through his mind. He thought of how he missed his family and the people in his village. He missed eating meat, and he missed having boiled beans mixed with boiled potatoes and chapatis (a form of flatbread).

Then his thoughts took an unexpected turn to Wanjala.

Mwamba had accepted the fact that she could be in love with him. But if he were to return, how would he act? He was already involved in plans to marry Mkanyika. To make things more complicated, he wasn't sure of his own feelings.

Did he love Mkanyika, or did he love Wanjala? Could he picture loving either of them? Could he picture starting a family with one of the two?

Scenarios started playing in Mwamba's mind. Most of them favored Wanjala because he had known her for most of his life. Mwamba had only known Mkanyika for a short time, and he was yet to feel something for her.

So Mwamba favored Wanjala. But then, if he were to approach her in the manner of a man interested in a woman, wouldn't that break their friendship, especially if things were to not work out?

'Your friendship might as well be broken with you planning to marry Mkanyika," his own voice pointed out in his mind.

Mwamba sighed, noticing how the situation with Wanjala had become unexpectedly difficult. Even if he decided not to wed Mkanyika, wouldn't Wanjala still act the same if he were with another woman?

He decided to delve away from his thoughts. A yawn escaped his lips, and minutes later, Mwamba fell asleep.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

The rising sun illuminated Njumwa and Mwamba's figures as they resumed their journey to Njumwa's village. They had started just as their surroundings had begun to become more conspicuous. 

Mwamba was determined to help Njumwa reach his village as soon as possible, even if that meant wandering around in the night. He was ashamed of himself for having his attention diverted for two days when he could have been using that time to look for Mkanyika.

'What could have happened to her? Am I too late?' Mwamba thought.

"Could you slow down?" Njumwa said as he tried to catch up with Mwamba's fast movements. "This area is not really flat, and you could trip if you keep walking like that."

The two of them were walking along another steep path.

"We need to reach your village soon," that was all Mwamba said.

"Why?" Njumwa questioned. "Is there anywhere you have to be right now?"

"No," Mwamba lied.

"Then slow down!"

Mwadime's son sighed, but that did not slow down his pace.

"Mwamba!" Njumwa yelled, quickly getting irritated. He was ignored.

It was at that moment that the chief's son tripped on a stone and fell on his front. Njumwa said nothing, but the raised eyebrow on his face was enough to tell Mwamba that he had been warned.

"Let me help you up," Njumwa offered a hand to Mwamba. Mwadime's son stretched out his hand to grasp onto Njumwa's. Once he was standing, he quickly went to walk.

"No," he was stopped. "This time you should lower your pace."

Mwamba wanted to yell out his frustrations, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. Fortunately, they both resumed moving but at a slightly-quickened speed that Mwamba felt comfortable with. His form was still aching from the tripping incident, and he hoped that the aches would subside by the end of the day.

Mwamba and Njumwa were once again passing another area that was densely populated with trees. Mwamba started looking around the area, but he did not find any sign of civilization.

He sighed, reverting back to his thoughts on how to tackle the issue with Mkanyika. He had spent two days with Njumwa, and around that time, he had been silently looking around for Mkanyika or anyone as they walked. Sadly for him, he and Njumwa were the only people that were present.

That was when he thought of searching around the top of the hills once he had delivered Njumwa safely in his village.

"I know you lied to me back then. Why is it that you are suddenly rushing us to reach my home?" Njumwa asked.

Mwamba suddenly felt like a zebra caught in a lion's jaws.

"You do know that you can trust me, right?" Njumwa persisted as he looked at him with worry.

Mwamba did not know what it was. It could have either been the way Njumwa spoke or the look on his face. It could also have been the fact that he felt comfortable around him; something just told Mwamba he could trust the boy.

"I am actually the son of Mwadime," Mwamba started.

"Who?" Njumwa queried a couple of seconds later.

It was afterward that Mwamba explained his situation, right from the beginning.

"So you are telling me that Mkanyika is missing?"

"Not missing. Kidnapped," Mwamba corrected and immediately winced, realizing that neither of the two was good.

"Why can't Mwanyumba know about this?"

Mwamba looked at Njumwa with a look that stated the answer should be obvious.

"He could decide to kill me. He could even decide to send his men to my village and attack!"

"I don't think he would do that," Njumwa stated, and Mwamba snorted.

"Just picture yourself in Mwanyumba's situation. If it was your child who ended up missing in the care of another village, what would you do?"

Njumwa quietly processed the words before saying: "Shauri yako."

In other words, and not directly translated, Mwamba was dead meat.

**************************************************** **************** *************

Mwamba was glad Njumwa was not mad about him hiding his identity. In fact, the boy ascertained to Mwamba that he would not tell Mwanyumba about his daughter. He even agreed to Mwamba's request of quickening their pace. No more time could be wasted when Mwamba was still looking for Mkanyika.

"I see that your skin has been healing," the boy noticed. Mwamba looked at him.

"Yes," he replied. "The hyena didn't hurt me that much."

"Really?" Njumwa questioned. "Then what is that cut on your back?"

Mwadime's son took his time to say: "What?"

Njumwa went to move behind him, and he pressed a finger onto a healing wound he had forgotten about.

Just like that, Mwamba tensed. He recalled the mark all of a sudden, and the memories of what had happened one early morning came back to him.

"That was not from the hyena," he stated. Njumwa furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

"It wasn't actually from any known animal," he continued, adding to Njumwa's confusion.

Mwamba was not sure of how to tell him about--

"It was the blue monsters, wasn't it?" Njumwa commented, and Mwamba stopped walking to stare at him in shock.

The boy looked down as he shook his head before looking back at the older man.

"I knew it. What I had seen was not from a nightmare or--"

"How do you know about them?" Mwamba cut him off. Njumwa stared at him with an uneasy smile.

"They chased after me one night when I was in the area."

Mwamba was still shocked by Njumwa's words. They confirmed that what he had experienced was true.

"I'm sorry," he had no other words to tell the boy.

"Ever since then, I've been having trouble sleeping. But now that I'm around you, I feel safe."

Mwamba had been about to cut off Njumwa, but when the boy told him of how safe he felt around him, he decided to keep his mouth shut. There was no need to frighten Njumwa with the fact that he couldn't even fend for himself in the presence of the creatures.

"Okay. Let's keep moving," Njumwa stated as he resumed walking. Mwamba followed thereafter.

******************** ***************************************** ******************** *************

A while later, the sun was on its way to setting. It emitted an orange-pink glow all around the area with the sky slowly turning a purple-pink shade. However, Mwamba and Njumwa were not even close to reaching the village.

The both of them were still walking, pushing past tall grass, branches and leaves on their way.

"I don't get it," Njumwa stated. "We should be there by now."

Mwamba did not comment as they both moved past the surrounding vegetation.

About a minute of walking later, Njumwa spotted something in the distance.

"Mwamba!" he yelled, and that had Mwamba in alert. Their eyes zeroed in on a banana plant growing far in the distance. Bananas were only grown near villages, and that meant...

"We must be close," Mwamba stated as they rushed towards the growing plant. As they ran, he made a silent prayer that what he was seeing was real.

Once they had reached the plant, they found themselves staring at a field of growing crops. Vegetables and fruits such as onions, potatoes, oranges, mangoes and the lot were growing along the flat ground in front of them.

A smile broke onto Njumwa's face.

"Let's keep going," Mwamba suggested.

"Wait," Njumwa spoke. "I'm tired, and I'm sure you are too. Can't we just rest for a while?"

Mwamba went to speak, wondering why the boy wanted them to stop when they were so close to reaching his home, when Njumwa cut him off:

"And don't you need to come up with a lie in case people recognize you and start wondering about your presence?"

Mwamba reluctantly agreed.

The two of them sat under a nearby baobab tree to rest their sore feet. They quenched their thirsts, each drinking from the gourd that Mwamba had brought from his village. Once they were done, they resumed their walk towards Njumwa's village.

The stars were slowly becoming conspicuous by then as the sun disappeared in the horizon. Mwamba and Njumwa had made their way through the plantation, careful not to step on any growing plants. The plantation was large, and it took minutes for the two of them to make their way through.

Once they were past the growing crops, Mwamba and Njumwa found themselves walking into another tree-populated area.

"You have got to be kidding me," Mwamba commented when he saw what was in front of him. Njumwa paid him no mind as he continued walking further.

"Njumwa!"

"I know this place. This was the route I passed when I left the village. Trust me when I say we are close."

Mwamba sighed, knowing he had no option but to follow the boy. Some minutes filled with more walking later, he found out Njumwa was right.

The two could see the village from where they stood. It was a couple of meters below them, and fortunately, the area was not that steep. A couple of fires had been lit outside some huts to illuminate the surroundings of the village. The light was enough to uncover a couple of trees hidden in the dark. Moreover, at the far end of the area, a river was flowing.

"We are here, Mwamba," Njumwa said with a smile.

Mwamba could not believe it. They had actually reached the village. He was happy, but then he was also worried about meeting Mwanyumba.

"Let's go!" Njumwa said with excitement. Mwamba smiled at him as he followed the boy down the path to the village.

As they descended into the village, Mwamba felt a cold breeze. It was nothing new to him; it was just that the area was much colder than his village at night. Was it because of the different climate on the hill's side?

"Hey! Someone's approaching!" Mwamba could hear a male voice announce once he and Njumwa had walked past the first hut. A few people came out of their huts to witness what was happening. In fact, a man who was taller than Mwamba approached the two.

"Who are you?" he asked. Mwadime's son was tongue-tied, and he felt a bit frightful once he spotted the dagger the man was trying to hide behind his back.

"I'm--" Mwamba went to speak.

"Njumwa!" a feminine voice yelled as approaching footsteps were heard. The three turned to the person. A woman soon tackled Njumwa into a hug.

"Mother!" Njumwa sighed in relief as his shoulders relaxed. The woman looked like Njumwa, but there was a difference in their facial structures.

"Where have you been?" the woman questioned, close to tears. "Anything could have happened to you!"

"I'm so sorry, mother," Njumwa replied with his eyes tearing up. 

"What is going on?" another male voice yelled as approaching footsteps were heard. Mwamba turned to the source. A couple of young men, no doubt warriors, approached Njumwa and Mwamba with spears in their hands. Moreover, some of the village people had followed them.

"Wait! This is my lost son!" Njumwa's mother pleaded.

"Njumwa?" one of the warriors called out.

"It is me," the boy replied. The warrior's face broke into a smile, and he too collapsed to embrace the boy in a hug.

Mwamba did not know what to make with the bold display of affections.

"I thought you were lost. We all thought you were dead!"

"I was lost," Njumwa replied, "but this man helped me find my way back."

At once, every eye turned to Mwamba. Mwamba felt uneasy with the attention he was receiving.

"Thank you," the warrior told Mwamba. Mwadime's son had no idea of what to do, other than to nod.

He had been hoping for a silent entrance into the village, but that had not happened. As seconds passed, more people began to approach them.

"What is happening? Why is there a crowd forming over here?" a feminine voice called out. Mwamba felt that he knew the voice. But whose was it?

"Seriously. What--" the person was speaking as she made her way through when she cut herself off at the sight of Mwamba. Mwamba mirrored her shocked expression.

'What the--'

Mwamba had to blink to make sure that what he was seeing was right.

"Mkanyika?" he finally called out in disbelief and shock.

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

It was one tense evening in Mwanyumba's home.

After Mwamba had spotted Mkanyika, he had been led to the chief's hut. Mkanyika had followed, and she was present with her father, a couple of the village elders and a few warriors.

Two benches were present, each placed opposite one another. While one of the benches was occupied by Mwamba, the other one was occupied by Mwanyumba's people. And by the look of their expressions, there was no doubt that they knew what had happened.

Silence had fallen once everyone was in the hut. It was so thick that one could hear the moon rise. The air was filled with tension, and the level of awkwardness was huge. Mwamba didn't mind it, seeing that he was the one making everyone feel uncomfortable.

He did not know what to make of the situation. Mwamba could not comprehend how and why Mkanyika was in the village. Her village; back at her own home.

In one piece.

He had questions, and he was unsure of how to start. From all that, one thing was certain:

He was extremely pissed off.

Mwanyumba decided to break the silence with an uneasy laugh as he shifted on the bench.

"Ah, Mwamba! This is quite a surprise! I wasn't expecting you," he started, but Mwamba said nothing.

"How is your father? How is the village?"

Someone sighed in the room.

"Father, you are just making things more unbearable than they already are," Mkanyika stated. Mwanyumba decided to shut up, knowing his daughter's words were true.

"So, now you know that I'm here," Mkanyika decided to address Mwamba herself.

"I--" Mwamba started speaking, not knowing how to begin. "How--?"

"I wasn't really kidnapped from your village," she said, lowering her eyes to the ground before looking back at Mwamba. "It was all a ploy to get myself out of a marriage I didn't want to have."

Mwamba took his time to process the words.

"I am so angry right now," he commented.

"Look. I know that you were looking forward to marrying me--"

"No," Mwamba cut Mkanyika off. "I am so angry right now because I have wasted my time. I've wasted days looking for you when you were actually here. I almost got myself killed because of you!"

There was a short moment of silence in the hut that lasted a few seconds.

"Do you know how worried I was? Do you know how the people at my village were concerned about your well-being?"

"Mwamba--"

"We thought you would be raped! We all thought those men would torture you before killing you. In fact, I started thinking you were going to be sold off as a slave to another village! We all thought so many bad things would happen to you."

"I--"

"Do not even get me started with how everyone worried what your father would do if he discovered you were missing," Mwamba cut her off.

"I didn't expect anyone to start looking for me!" Mkanyika yelled back, glaring at Mwamba. "I thought everyone would give up and think I was dead!"

Mwamba snorted.

"You were going to be the wife of a chief. Of course, people would start looking for you! Should have known all of that would have been a waste if we had the idea that you were here."

Mkanyika went to yell back, but then she bit her tongue and sighed.

"Why are you enraged?" she questioned. "Yes, I know you wasted your time and effort looking for me. But if I remember correctly, you too did not want this marriage."

"You are right. But I was willing--"

"Really? Even with the knowledge of that friend of yours being in love with you?"

Mwamba hesitated for a moment before saying: "Yes, I would have. I would have done all that for the sake of my village."

He looked around, noticing that the chief and the warriors were still present. They were yet to say something.

"Well, I'm not you, Mwamba," Mkanyika said. "If I wanted to marry someone, I would have done it for love."

"I could have loved you."

"No, you wouldn't," Mkanyika opposed. "You would have gotten bored with me, and you would have regretted that decision for the rest of your life."

"Mkanyika--"

"You don't even know the kind of love I'm talking about. It's not the kind between family and friends. I'm talking about the kind that makes you want to spend every day with someone. The kind that makes your heart beat every time you see the person; the kind that makes you go crazy and sad if you are not with that person. The kind that makes you think you wouldn't be able to live if that person doesn't love you back, or even dies.

Do you think I'm that person, Mwamba?"

Mwadime's son was silenced. There was no way he could answer that question. 

"Okay, I think we've talked enough for tonight," Mwanyumba decided to intervene. "Mwamba, I know you must be tired from all that walking you have done to reach here. I could have someone prepare a hut and a meal for you. You should rest."

Mwamba did not know how to respond to that. He had been yelling at Mwanyumba's daughter, and right in front of him. He was shocked by his kindness.

"We will talk further in the morning," the chief stated, and Mwamba soon found himself being escorted out of the hut.

 

Chapter Fifteen

Mwamba was still infuriated with what he had discovered, and he still could not believe it. Mkanyika had faked her kidnapping, and she had done it with her father's help. 

That was something he could not understand. Mwanyumba had looked all set, ready and proud of having his daughter wed him a couple of weeks ago. It was all to be done in order to unite the villages and to have more access to the lands in use. It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience for both villages. Mwamba could not understand what had propelled the chief to change his mind.

So on that morning, after having a decent meal in days, he was set on meeting up with the chief of the village. The sun was up, and the people were already occupied with their activities.

Mwamba shivered as he got out of his temporary hut, remembering once again that the village climate was much colder than that of his home's. In fact, there was a fog that had encompassed the higher sides of the hill when the sun was rising.

It had not even rained on the previous night.

He turned his attention back to his surroundings. There were other huts positioned closeby. At least the ground he was walking along was flat, unlike the rest of the hill. 

Mwamba walked towards the people nearby, asking for directions to the chief's hut. After receiving the replies, he made his way towards a large hut.

"Do come in, Mwamba," Mwanyumba called out before he had even entered the structure. "We have a lot to talk about, especially when you will be returning to your village soon."

"Good morning to you, too," Mwamba said as he walked into the hut. He soon remembered that he couldn't allow himself to get too comfortable in Mwanyumba's village, more so after finding out that Mkanyika was not in danger. There was nothing keeping him there unless the chief decided to imprison Mwamba for fear of him exposing what he had been told on the previous night.

Mwamba made his way to the chief and sat down on a bench opposite him. A couple of warriors were in the hut as well, ready to strike if anything were to go wrong.

'Are they going to kill me?' Mwamba thought with dread.

"As you know," Mwanyumba started, "my daughter's kidnapping was faked. She is safe here, so there is nothing for you to worry about. I do apologize for all the trouble we have caused you and the men who were sent to look for her."

"Why did you agree to it?" Mwamba asked, wanting to know. "I still do not understand. You were ready and willing to hand your daughter to me for marriage. Why did you change your mind about it?"

"So we are going to discuss this issue after all," Mwanyumba stated, mostly to himself. "Okay. I had a couple of men ask your warriors about you. They told me you were a good fellow; a good man who could take care of my daughter. However, I heard that you were not really accepting towards being forced into the union."

Mwamba felt embarrassed. He momentarily wished he knew who had ratted him out to the chief, but then he realized it did not matter.

"Most people who are being forced to wed strangers would act like that. You know about this, your Grace. I don't think that is what pushed you to have your daughter kidnapped from my village."

"Mwamba, I adore your father and I respect him. I too am a man, and at times, we all have weaknesses."

Mwanyumba shifted closer towards Mwamba before saying, "I missed her."

"What?" said a shocked Mwamba.

"Could you blame me?" the chief added. "I am very fond of my children, and seeing them moved to places where I couldn't easily reach them will break my heart. I could barely handle giving my daughter to you on the day we arrived at your village. I love them so much."

Mwamba was surprised by the chief's honest revelation. That was not something he was expecting when he was approaching Mwanyumba's hut. Either way, he admired the chief for confessing how he loved his children.

"Besides, my daughter had already fallen in love with one of my guards."

That shocked him more.

"Wait. Was the guard in the room--?"

"Yes," Mwanyumba confirmed. "The two of them have been friends since childhood. They have been inseparable since then, and they fell in love. Mkanyika was not willing to have any other man but him wed her, and I hate the thought of her hating me for taking that away from her."

It all made sense. Mkanyika was truly not in love with him. Mwamba was expecting to feel something at the information, but he felt nothing.

"I am sorry for all the time you have wasted in the search for my daughter," Mwanyumba repeated. 

Mwamba was at a loss of words on how to answer. Fortunately for him, the chief changed the subject.

"I know there were agreements made if you were to marry my daughter. The marriage may not carry on, but I would still want to keep them."

Mwamba was surprised by what he had heard. He went to speak, but the chief went on:

"I would still allow the people from your village to use the land on this side of the hill."

"Are you serious?" Mwadime's son was shocked.

"I am serious. In fact, I was thinking of going down there to have this discussion further with your father."

Mwamba could not believe what he was hearing.

"That would be wonderful," he replied with a smile. He was surprised by what was happening.

The chief nodded before saying, "I believe that is all. You may leave."

************************ ************ ************** ******************* ***********

Hours passed. It was another afternoon, and Mwamba found himself walking along the path he had used to enter the village. Njumwa was also present to accompany him.

"So it all worked out?" Njumwa asked, looking as shocked as Mwamba was.

"I know, right? I'm still thinking this is a dream. Well, I am still angry about what Mkanyika and her father had done. But then I don't feel that pissed off at all."

"Do you think you wasted your time?" Njumwa inquired.

"No," Mwamba replied, and he was shocked when he realized he was telling the truth. "I don't think I did. In spite of all that has happened, I believed it was necessary for me to make myself aware of places away from the village.  I have learned to fend for myself if I were alone."

"Have you really?" Njumwa doubted.

"...No, but I know enough to survive in the wild."

Njumwa smiled.

"Well, at least I got the chance to meet and return you back to your village," Mwamba commented.

The two went quiet, enjoying the comfortable silence as they looked at the surroundings around them.

"Will you start heading back to your home tomorrow?" the boy asked.

"Yes," Mwamba replied. "I don't want to make my people worry more about me. More so, I don't want them to think I'm dead."

Njumwa laughed, and that caused Mwamba to look at him in confusion.

"What?"

"You do look like the type who could die in a forest," Njumwa stated.

"Shut up," Mwamba replied, causing more laughter to erupt from the boy.

Even though he had known the boy for a short time, there was no doubt he was going to miss him. He hoped that he would get to see him again in the near future.

 

Chapter Sixteen

A.N This is the final chapter.

 

 

It was another cloudy morning in the village of Mwadime. The people were already awake, and they were busying themselves with the activities they had to do for the day.

"Look! I see someone coming!" a villager yelled. Everyone dropped whatever they were doing to head towards the person who had shouted. 

Indeed, a person's figure was spotted heading towards the village. 

"Wait. There are more than one," someone corrected, spotting a couple of other figures behind the first one.

"Is that--?"

"Mwamba!" someone yelled, and that had everyone erupting in cheers.

Some people quickly went to Mwadime's hut. He was with a couple of the village elders.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your Grace, your son is coming right now."

Mwadime ended the meeting and headed towards the group that was forming at the side of the village. He pushed his way through until he was at the front of the crowd.

He saw it for himself. It was not a dream; his son was coming home. He then broke into a smile as he sighed in relief.

However, that smile shifted slightly when he saw who was heading into the village with Mwamba.

*********** *********** ****************** *********************** ******************

"My son!" Mwadime was not ashamed to welcome his son with a clap on his back. Mwamba welcomed the greeting with a grin.

"I have missed you too, father. It is good to be back home," he replied.

"Mwamba!" a villager called out, and that had Mwamba turning his attention towards the person. He went to walk towards them, leaving Mwadime with the known visitors. 

The chief quickly turned to face Mwanyumba. He had been accompanied by some of his warriors and his village elders. 

Mwadime had to deal with the important visitors, even though he wanted to immediately spend time with his son.

"Mwanyumba! What a surprise," he greeted the other chief. His presence was unexpected, and Mwadime felt slightly worried.

"We have to talk," Mwanyumba told him. Mwadime nodded, and the two headed into the main hut. Some of their warriors followed them, and Mwamba's father sent others to call the village elders.

******** ******************************** *************** **************************

"WHAT?" Mwadime boomed once he was told of what had happened with Mkanyika. He had been planning to ask about her, but he did not like what he had heard. He was about to yell in anger at the other chief, but Mwanyumba cut him off before starting to speak of why he had come to the village.

Mwadime's elders advised him to listen to what Mwanyumba had to say. The other chief spoke, and Mwadime found himself reluctantly liking what he was hearing.

Do not get him wrong; he was still pissed that people were sent to look for a person who had faked a kidnapping. Mwanyumba and his people had brought onto themselves an air of distrust. However, that didn't stop Mwadime from negotiating with him.

Mwanyumba had requested the use of both of their lands. Mwadime's people could use Mwanyumba's side of the hill to plant crops whereas Mwanyumba would use Mwadime's side for everything related to cattle keeping.

The two came to agree a while later with the elders and guards present. With that settled, they relaxed to bowls of chapatis and boiled meat.

*********** ************* ***************** *************** *************************

It was finally evening. The whole village had been bustling with Mwamba's return all day. Once they were done talking and listening to what he had gone through, they went back to their lives.

Mwamba felt a sudden sense of freedom. He loved the villagers, but he had wanted some time alone. Talking to them had increased the exhaustion he had felt after arriving at his village.

There were some things he had to think about, and most of them involved his future as the next chief. Mwamba thought and decided to think of that at a later time. What mattered then was that he had been looking forward to seeing a specific someone ever since he had returned to the village; however, he had not seen her all day.

Mwamba knew where to find her, and so he started walking around the area. He greeted a couple of villagers who had been outside preparing their meals, wishing them a good night.

It wasn't until he was standing a short distance from the entrance of a hut that he stopped. There was no doubt of a fire having been lit in the hut for it showed the shadow of a hunched figure.

Mwamba had no idea of how to approach her. He shook his head and made quick steps towards the clay-built structure, not even bothering to make his presence known.

He stood at the entrance with his eyes transfixed on Wanjala. She had squatted on the floor, checking the crackling firewood under a pot.

"Wanjala?" he decided to call out. Mwamba noticed her form tense, but she did not reply. He chose to remain silent, still standing at the hut's entryway. A while passed with no word from her.

"Are you still not going to talk to me?" he suddenly said. Wanjala paid him no mind as she stood to check the contents boiling in the large, brown pot.

With a sigh, Mwamba said: "I'm sorry."

It was at that moment that Wanjala turned to face him with a harsh glare. It scared Mwamba enough to make him move a few steps back.

"Are you really?" she asked with anger.

That was not the kind of welcome Mwamba was expecting.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize what made you angry with me, but now I do."

"Well, good for!" Wanjala said. "Let's give the mighty future chief a warm welcome and congratulations for not having realized something so obvious for weeks!"

"Okay. Are you seriously still mad that I didn't discover you have feelings for me?"

"It's not only that!" Wanjala snapped. "Do you really think I'm so dense?"

"I--"

"I am also angry because you decided to leave the village without telling me!"

Mwamba's face fell. He shifted on his feet, not knowing how to approach the subject.

"I couldn't because you were angry with me," Mwamba tried to save face. "I didn't think you would want to see me."

"Of course I wanted to see you, you idiot! Even if I were mad at you, I would still care about you."

Wanjala sighed before adding: "That could have been the last time I would see you. I have worried about your safety ever since you left the village."

It was then that she started crying.

Mwamba's heart clenched. He hated the sight of his friend's tears. He knew it was because of him, and he was hating himself for the mistakes he had done to make her cry.

Without a second thought, he quickly went to approach her.

"I'm so sorry, Wanjala," he said as he embraced her in a hug. Wanjala kept on crying on his shoulder, and his heart broke for her.

He started caressing her right cheek to try to wipe away the tears, and that action caused her to angle her head to face him.

Mwamba caught himself staring into her brown orbs, and his heart thudded in anticipation. Foreign feelings started to overcome him as he stared into his friend's eyes.

"Mwamba--"

"I wanted to tell you that I have strong feelings for you," he said, and that made Wanjala tense in shock. She went to escape his embrace, but he held on tighter.

"I don't know how to explain it, but I know that I have been thinking of you ever since I left home."

"Mwamba--"

"I feel like I want to stay like this with you for a long while. My heart is beating so fast, and I have a strange urge to just claim your lips with mine. I don't know--"

"Then do it," she dared him. Mwamba opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what he wanted to say at first.

"I don't want to hurt you, Wanjala. I don't think I know what love is--"

Mwamba was cut off by Wanjala's lips. He was shocked at first, more so by the oddly addictive emotions that quickly followed.

Mwamba agreed to the kiss, and he found himself enjoying it so much. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. Sure, it was his first time locking lips, and the sight of people doing it usually made him queasy. However, with it being him doing it with Wanjala, it made a difference.

It made it special.

After a while, their lips parted with the both of them breathing heavily.

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before kissing again. It was as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

Mwamba held Wanjala in his arms, exploring her back with his hands as they deepened the kiss. He wanted to take it further, but the smell of burning food ended their moment.

"Oh no!" Wanjala yelled as she abruptly ended the kiss and turned to add more water to the pot. She had been boiling beans, and the water had been running out.

Mwamba smiled at the scene in front of him.

There was no doubt that things had changed between them. He could no longer look at Wanjala as a friend but as something more. 

Mwamba found he didn't mind it. He was still doubtful about kissing Wanjala out of lust, but with the way she had kissed him, he wondered if he did truly love her.

Who knew? Maybe he was already falling head over heels for Wanjala without knowing it. 

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.03.2018

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