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Chapter 5

  There was a deep, wordless silence in the wind.

  Mūkami hadn’t spoken since they left the banana grove. Her fingers stayed clenched in the loose cloth of Wanjohi’s traveling robe, her small frame shifting occasionally with the jostling of the cart’s creaky wheels. The donkey pulling them—Mūgīkuyu, old and nearly as stubborn as the gods—grunted like it shared in the confusion of their mission.

  “She's not crying,” Wanjohi noted under his breath.

  “Yet,” said Kaikara, walking alongside. “Or maybe she's done with tears. I would be.”

  She hadn’t looked back once.

  The path narrowed, framed by dense bushes and the towering mbari trees, their roots like gnarled hands clutching secrets underground. Somewhere high above, a bird of prey screeched and disappeared into the clouds.

  “Do you even know where we’re taking her?” Kaikara asked, sidling up to the cart, voice low.

  “Nope,” Wanjohi replied honestly, flicking the reins.

  “...You're serious.”

  “As a crow circling a sick goat.”

  “Of course you are,” Kaikara sighed, then muttered, “Wizards. Always winging it.”

  “She’s not a package, Kaikara,” Wanjohi said, softer this time. “She’s... a Herald.”

  Kaikara blinked. “Come again?”

  “That song. That moment. That madness.” He looked ahead. “She's the beginning of something.”

  A rustle in the bushes interrupted them. Kaikara drew her blade reflexively, motioning Wanjohi to stop the cart. Mūgīkuyu brayed in annoyance but halted.

  Nothing.

  Then—

  Two boys burst out, laughing breathlessly. One had feathers in his hair and the other wore a mask made of banana bark, holding a wooden spear.

  “Warriors of Ndemi!” the feathered boy shouted. “You dare cross the lands of the Great Matoke Empire?”

  Kaikara stared.

  Wanjohi laughed. “Ayo, Njoroge! I should’ve known your mischief by the smell of fish oil and stolen porridge.”

  The feathered one straightened, puffing his chest. “I am not Njoroge, old man! I am Chief of Chiefs, Slayer of Potatoes, Ruler of Matoke! And this—” he pointed at the masked one, “is my general!”

  The masked kid waved.

  “Your empire ends at that ant hill,” Kaikara deadpanned, gesturing behind them. “And we’ve already crossed it.”

  “Then we declare WAR!” Both boys charged—

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  —and stopped dead when Mūkami slowly turned her head toward them.

  Her eyes, those dark obsidian pools, held no tears, no rage. Just something ancient. Watching.

  They froze.

  “Mūkami,” Wanjohi called gently.

  She turned back around without a word.

  The boys took a few slow steps back.

  “Uhh... Great Matoke Empire has reconsidered,” said feather-boy. “Diplomacy is our true strength.”

  “Very wise,” Wanjohi smiled. “Now run along. And remember—don't go chasing fireflies after dusk. They're not always what they seem.”

  “Yeah yeah,” the masked one muttered, yanking off the bark. “You sound like Mama Njenga.”

  “That's because Mama Njenga is always right.”

  They vanished into the brush, giggling again.

  Kaikara sighed in relief. “Those two’ll be trouble one day.”

  “They already are,” Wanjohi muttered, clicking his tongue to get Mūgīkuyu moving again.

  They traveled in silence for another hour, passing the scattered shrines and spiritual stones of the old gods. Some were still tended to; others choked in vines and cracked with age.

  At a bend near a lone acacia tree, Mūkami finally spoke.

  “Where’s home?” she asked.

  Wanjohi didn’t answer immediately.

  Kaikara opened her mouth, paused, then said gently, “Where do you feel it is?”

  Mūkami tilted her head. “I don't remember. But I don’t think it was behind me.”

  Wanjohi’s eyes flicked to her. That was not a normal thing for a child to say.

  Kaikara cleared her throat. “Well... forward it is.”

  They stopped near a clearing for the night. As Kaikara set up a modest fire, Wanjohi opened a small bag of dried ugali crumbs and roasted termites. The stars above blinked to life like shy witnesses.

  “Do the stars ever forget where they shine?” Mūkami asked, out of nowhere.

  Kaikara blinked. “Huh?”

  “The stars. When they move... do they forget the places they used to watch?”

  Wanjohi chewed slowly. “Maybe they don’t forget. Maybe they just don’t look back.”

  The silence was longer this time. Mūkami watched the flames dance.

  “They hurt people... for me.”

  Wanjohi put a hand on her head, fingers surprisingly warm. “You didn’t ask them to. Some people follow storms because they want to drown.”

  “But I started it.”

  “No,” Kaikara said firmly. “You are it.”

  Mūkami looked up.

  Kaikara held her gaze. “You’re not a pebble tossed in a river, Mūkami. You’re the river now.”

  And the river, she thought, doesn't ask permission to flow.

  That night, Mūkami dreamed. Of drums she didn’t recognize. Of fire and feathers, and voices calling her name in languages she hadn’t learned yet.

  When she awoke, she whispered the word:

  “Mbūri…”

  Wanjohi was already watching her.

  “You remember something?” he asked.

  “No. But that word... it wants to be found.”

  Kaikara finished sharpening her blade and glanced up. “Then we find it.”

  The cart began to move again, wheels creaking like bones whispering secrets.

  Far behind them, unseen, a masked figure watched from the branches of an ancient tree.

  And he smiled.

  Author’s note:

  Finally found the customization option of this damn thing. No offence but hearing my bastard of a friend say that his Chat calls him darling I nearly had a stroke. Like dude I know you love flirting but why did you not even spare you AI. Don’t you think your girlfriend will be jealous? Can’t have peace because the dude keeps sending me texts about their conversation. Dude do you want to die? Go to the hospital.

  Anyway thanks to this option the story sidetracked And the damn think thought it nice to add it’s own characters in the mix. Like bro….I gave you the damn blueprint of the story. But don’t worry I will make it work…..eventually. Peace.

  Finally found the customization option of this damn thing. No offence but hearing my bastard of a friend say that his Chat calls him darling I nearly had a stroke. Like dude I know you love flirting but why did you not even spare you AI. Don’t you think your girlfriend will be jealous? Can’t have peace because the dude keeps sending me texts about their conversation. Dude do you want to die? Go to the hospital.

  Anyway thanks to this option the story sidetracked And the damn think thought it nice to add it’s own characters in the mix. Like bro….I gave you the damn blueprint of the story. But don’t worry I will make it work…..eventually. Peace.

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