Do Not Fall Asleep

The village lay cloaked in the early morning mist, smoke rising from over the mountains, its towering trees looking like silent sentinels against the grey dawn sky. In one of the countless huts, a lone figure stirred restlessly on the bed-no sheets, just an entanglement of lean legs, coiled into a semi-circle, providing warmth and comfort.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tiny holes in the roof, Amah reluctantly opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep and yawning as she stretched her smooth and shiny dark body. She is the granddaughter of the village chief, who has to live with her widower father.

Amah's story has been one of both grief and adventure as the only surviving daughter and child of her parents, who is believed to be a witch. Amah's mother had insisted against the wish of her father to marry Ochu, the hunter who lived alone beneath the sacred hills of the village; a portion of the village is believed to have been the home of the great forest warriors who protected the community from the invasion at a time when women could still speak beyond the market.

The story of how they met has some elements of suspicion to make the hearer believe that theirs must have been forged outside the realms of men. The story of their love echoed through the village and beyond the river to the communities scattered on the plains of the forest. One could tell from the way they usually held hands and played whenever they were outside that they were too into each other; one-time children were warned against going to the stream during the day because they would always get distracted by their physical show of love and affection.

Oli was so into Ochu that it made sense to describe them as soul mates, or, would you rather say, body mates? She had the body of the gods, adorned with beauty and adoration-the type that was only seen around the palaces. Her slender structure complemented her calm pose and commanded love from all who beheld her. She was the delight of every young man and had several suitors coming from the length and breadth of the clan to ask for her hand in marriage, a traditional rite performed on every young and aspiring maiden of the Oolu kingdom.

Ochu, on the other hand, had a hefty stature, being bald from birth and having his face struggle to grow a beard. Maybe this was the reason why he was regarded as an outcast; he was never allowed to attend any men's gathering and was never allowed to live within the community. In the entire Oolu kingdom, it was forbidden to ever grow a beard, as this was the symbol of manhood. The fuller your beards, the more masculine you were considered.

For Ochu, he had never grown a beard and never been considered a real man; he had been a withdrawn human from birth, and circumstances had made him enjoy the company of the forest. He was a wild man who enjoyed the serenity of the forest as well as the sounds of the trees singing and dancing to the rhythm of the wind. He enjoyed hunting at night and working on his farm during the day. He never missed a day at his farm, nor did he stop himself or allow anything or anyone to prevent him from hunting at night; not even the rain or thunderstorms could prevent him from working, as it did other men.

A long time ago, he had given up trying to prove that he was a man with or without beards and had promised himself that while he may not be seen as a man for not growing a beard, no man in the entire kingdom was ever going to be as promising as him in terms of the size of his harvest. He stayed true to this, and even though he never had the opportunity to present the produce of his farm during the festivals, he still undeniably had the largest harvest each year.

It was during the season of one of the festivals, the yam festival, that it happened. A suitor from the neighbouring kingdom of Asa, the crowned prince had come to seek Amah's hand in marriage. This was a different one, because the king had longed for an alliance with the king of Asa; every king wanted the same thing.

Asa was the strongest kingdom in the entire realm, boosted by a vast military might as well as the bravest of men. It also had the most powerful juju priest, who was believed to have fortified the entire kingdom with strong magical powers-too powerful, it would not allow any invasion on any part of the kingdom. Legends have it that one time, the king of a particular kingdom was trapped on the outskirts of Asa, trying to march in with his troop in the dead of night. It had been said that the great priest watches over the kingdom and makes it impenetrable to any external invasion.

They had conquered every kingdom they fought with, killed the king, and enslaved the people. Sometimes he marries the queens and at other times, he kills them with their kings. Everyone wanted to be friends or in-laws so as to be in the good books of the king.

Everyone looked forward to the day they would come to ask for Oli's hand in marriage. The first day of the rest of their lives and a day when the relationship between the two kingdoms will be established-forged in marriage and built on love. It would be a great day, and the king would declare a whole month long of feasting-eating, dancing, and merry-making. It would be the talk of the town.

Ochu had met her wandering deep into the forest. It was getting dark, and he had taken some extra time to set a trap on grasscutter trail he had found earlier that day. Grasscutters were his favourite, and he enjoyed eating them as much as he enjoyed hunting them. The trap was made of a string made of the bark of the ika tree, a fibrous tree found deep in the rainforest of the kingdoms beyond the rivers. The string is tied to the base of two forked sticks driven deep into the ground and made into a round knot that can tighten if the animal decides to struggle. It is like a maze, and it gets more difficult with every step of struggle.

He just finished setting his trap and looked up at the almost dark sky, sweat running down his bare back and his veinous hands. His hefty body was shiny in the dark, as though he had applied a gallon of oil to it. He was breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath as though he had been chased by a wild dog.

'This must be a sign!'

He exclaimed as he kept staring into the dark sky as though listening to the sound of nothing.

He had not felt like this in a long time. The last time he felt this was when his dog was killed by a snake.

As he surveyed his surroundings, the forest enveloped him in an eerie silence, broken only by the rhythmic chirping of distant crickets. The dense canopy overhead cast shifting shadows, dappling the forest floor with patches of moonlight that danced like ghostly spectres among the trees.

The air was thick with the heady scent of pine and damp earth, tinged with the faint aroma of decay. It hung heavy around him, suffusing the forest with an otherworldly atmosphere that sent shivers down his spine.

Despite the stillness, a sense of unease prickled at the edges of his consciousness. The absence of the usual nocturnal symphony of sounds-the croaking of frogs, the rustle of nocturnal creatures-added to the unnerving quiet, creating a disconcerting contrast to the usual cacophony of the wilderness.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to happen. Every rustle of leaves and every creak of a branch seemed magnified in the oppressive stillness, amplifying the sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air.

With one last glance around, he checked the trap once more before making his way back through the shadowy depths of the forest. Each step seemed to echo in the silence, reverberating through the trees like a drumbeat of uncertainty.

As he disappeared into the darkness, the forest remained cloaked in its unnatural calm, the secrets hidden within its depths waiting patiently to be revealed.

The trees towered overhead, their ancient forms reaching towards the sky with gnarled branches that twisted and tangled like the fingers of giants. Their thick trunks rose from the forest floor, and their bark was weathered and worn by centuries of wind and rain. Moss clung to their rough surfaces, adding patches of vibrant green to the earthy browns and greys of their bark.

Shafts of moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor below. The ground was carpeted with a thick layer of fallen leaves, their crisp edges crunching underfoot as he made his way through the underbrush.

The air was cool and still, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and decaying foliage. It hung heavy around him, suffusing the forest with a sense of age and mystery that seemed to seep from every tree and rock.

As he followed the winding path through the forest, he emerged into a clearing, the trees parting to reveal a tranquil lake nestled amidst the verdant foliage. The water shimmered in the moonlight, its surface rippling gently in the cool night breeze.

He had fished in this lake many times before, during the dry seasons when the water level dropped and exposed the rocky shoreline below. But now, in the midst of the rainy season, the lake was full and teeming with life, its depths shrouded in mystery and shadow.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him with a sense of reverence and awe. The lake was a sanctuary, a place of solace and serenity amidst the chaos of the outside world. And as he gazed out across its tranquil waters, he felt a profound sense of peace wash over him, filling him with a quiet sense of contentment that he had not felt in a long time.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he continued on his journey, the sound of the lake lapping gently against the shore fading into the distance behind him. But as he disappeared into the darkness of the forest once more, he carried with him the memory of the lake, its beauty and tranquilly etched into his heart forever.

As he continued along the left path towards home, the forest seemed to close in around him, the trees looming tall and dense on either side. The air grew thick with tension, the usual tranquility of the night shattered by the sudden cry that pierced the silence. It was still gentle, yet it had an impact on him.

His heart leaped in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he strained to locate the source of the sound. It echoed through the stillness of the forest, haunting and desperate, sending a shiver down his spine.

Without hesitation, he veered off the path and plunged into the underbrush, pushing through the dense foliage in the direction of the cry. Branches snagged at his bare and hairy body, and thorns tore at his skin, but he paid no mind, driven by an urgency that eclipsed all else.

As he pushed deeper into the forest, the cry grew louder, its plaintive wail echoing off the trees like a ghostly lament. He stumbled over roots and fallen branches, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he raced towards the source of the sound.

And then, suddenly, he saw her.

A figure huddled on the forest floor, her silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the trees. She was small and fragile-looking, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she cradled something in her arms.

Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his heart pounding in his chest as he kneeled beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and soothing. "What happened?"

The woman looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. Tears streaked her cheeks, glinting in the moonlight as she clutched the bundle in her arms tighter to her chest.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

As realisation dawned, he felt a surge of empathy wash over him. Without another word, he gathered the woman into his arms and held her close, offering what little comfort he could in the midst of their shared grief.