Chapter 8

The Forest world blurred into a relentless, galloping darkness. Nala and I rode through the night, the wind whipping past my ears, carrying away any sound of pursuit, but doing very little to silence the frantic beat of my heart.

Every shadow seemed to stretch and twist into the shape of Kano guards, every rustle of leaves a whispered accusation, I felt like I was going insane by the minute. The adrenaline that had gushed throughout my system and propelled me from the village was slowly giving way to bone-deep exhaustion, even the stolen horses, though strong, began to flag, their heaving flanks and slowing strides speaking volumes.

"We need to rest them," Nala finally gasped, her voice raw, clinging precariously to her horse as it stumbled over a loose rock.

"And we need water. And food. We left with nothing."

I nodded, indeed we needed rest. My own throat felt like sandpaper, and a gnawing emptiness settled deep in my stomach. The cold dread of what I had done, the monumental consequences, had finally caught up me.

How do I tell him? The question kept drumming itself away in my mind, it was almost as exhausting as the ride itself and I couldn't avoid it any longer.

How could I explain to my father, King Askia, that the alliance he had worked so hard to forge, the peace he had sacrificed his daughter for, was a lie? That she, his own flesh and blood, had shattered it with a single, desperate act?

I never thought the ride back to Uzazzu would be as difficult as when we had departed. We had no guards, food or even water. I watched her from the corner of my eye with one thought in mind

I fear that I have doomed us both…

As the first hint of false dawn painted the eastern sky with bruised purples and greys, a subtle change in the air reached my nostrils—the unmistakable scent of damp earth and verdant growth, stronger than the dry dust of the trail.

My horse, sensing it too, pricked its ears and whinnied softly, pulling towards a denser cluster of trees ahead. My eyes, burning from lack of

sleep, strained to peer through the gloom. Then, a faint shimmer caught the burgeoning light—a narrow ribbon of silver glinting through the trees. A stream.

Relief, sharp and sudden, washed over me. It was so profound it almost made me light-headed. We dismounted, our muscles screaming in protest, and led the horses to the water's edge. The animals drank deeply, their powerful necks extended, a collective sigh of contentment rippling through them.

While the horses drank, I sank to my knees beside the water, splashing it onto my face and drinking greedily. The cool liquid was a balm to my parched throat. Nala, kneeling beside me, looked at me with her wide, fearful eyes.

"Gimbiya," Nala whispered, her voice tight with exhaustion and terror. "What will we do when we get there? When we tell him?"

I sighed, the weight of the lie pressing down on me. "I don't know, Nala. I keep replaying it in my head. 'Father, I struck the Sarkin Kano. I think he's dead. He planned to betray us.' How do you even begin to say such a thing?" My voice was laced with a raw vulnerability I rarely heard, because for the first time in a while I felt… defeated.

"He put so much into this treaty. He sacrificed so much. And I... I shattered it."

Nala reached out and gently squeezed my arm. "You saved us, Gimbiya. You heard his plan. You did what you had to do." I wondered how her loyalty was unwavering, even amidst her palpable fear. "But we are hungry. My stomach feels like a drum. I will see if I can find any wild fruits, anything to chew on." She looked towards the sparse bush, her gaze apprehensive but determined.

I watched her go, scanning the treeline nervously, every sense alert. The forest was always unpredictable, especially at this hour, when the world was caught between night and day.

Minutes stretched, taut and silent, punctuated only by the soft lapping of water and the horses' contented snorts. Then, a sharp, terrified yelp sliced through the quiet.

"Amira! Help!"

My head snapped up. Nala's voice, hoarse with terror, came from deeper in the trees. Without a second thought, I grabbed a sturdy, fallen branch, thick as my forearm, that lay near the stream bank. My warrior instinct surged through me again. Fear for Nala sharpened my vision, clearing my mind of exhaustion.

I plunged into the undergrowth, crashing through dry bushes and low-hanging branches. The air grew colder, denser, filled with the musky scent of a predator. That's when I saw it. A spotted hyena, larger than any I'd ever seen, its powerful jaws were already clamped around Nala's ankle, dragging her, struggling and screaming, deeper into the thicket.

Its eyes glowed with malevolent hunger in the dim light, its low growl a terrifying rumble. Nala

thrashed, her free hand scrabbling at the ground, trying to pull away, but the beast's grip was strong and absolute.

There was no time for thought, only action. The eyes of the hyena reminded me of the King of Kano. His contempt, his cruelty, it all flashed before my eyes, fueling a cold, precise rage.

 With a guttural cry that seemed to tear from my very soul, I lunged. I brought the heavy branch down with all my might, aiming for the beast's head, just behind its ear. The crack of wood against bone was sickeningly loud, echoing through the pre-dawn stillness.

The hyena shrieked, a high-pitched, almost human sound of pain and surprise. Its jaws unclamped from Nala's ankle, and it staggered back, shaking its massive head. Blood, dark and fresh, matted the spotted fur where the branch had struck. The beast turned its attention to me, its eyes now narrowed with furious intent, a low, menacing snarl rumbling in its throat. It

crouched, preparing to spring, its powerful hindquarters tensing.

But I stood my ground, the broken branch still clutched in my hands, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Every fiber of my being screamed at me. Common sense told me to run, but Nala was hurt, vulnerable, how could I leave her to die?

 I focused on the hyena, my own primal instinct screaming louder than any fear. When it sprang, a blur of muscle and fangs, I met it head on, I didn't dodge. Instead, with a desperate, almost suicidal lunge, I drove the jagged end of the broken branch forward, aiming for its chest.

The hyena landed with a sickening thump, its weight knocking the air from my lungs, but not before the sharpened, splintered end of the branch pierced deep into its chest. A gurgle, wet and horrifying, bubbled in the beast's throat. It thrashed once, a convulsion of powerful limbs, its claws tearing at the earth around my feet, before its body went slack, a final, ragged breath escaping its lungs.

I shoved the dead weight off me scrambling away, my body was shaking uncontrollably, my hands trembled as I crawled towards Nala, who lay whimpering, clutching her throbbing ankle.

"Nala! Are you alright?" I choked out,

"It... it got me," Nala sobbed, tears streaming down her face, but she managed a weak nod. "But you... Gimbiya... you saved me." Her eyes, wide with shock and awe, were fixed on me.

"We have to go. Now," I said even as my voice was still trembling, but imbued with a fierce urgency. The smell of fresh blood would attract others.

 The terror of the encounter and the raw brutality of my actions, had shaken me. I had done it again. Acted on instinct, and survived. But the cost... the cost was always present.

I helped Nala limp back to the horses, the fear lending us a renewed, if painful, burst of energy. I quickly tore out a portion of my tunic and fashioned a makeshift bandage for Nala's ankle. I winced at the sight of the bruised, bleeding flesh but there was no time.

We mounted, Nala leaning heavily against me on my horse, the other horse abandoned to the silent, watchful forest.

The sun was a fiery orb on the horizon now, painting the land in hues of orange and gold, but the beauty was lost on them. We rode

relentlessly, fear and exhaustion were our only companions as I pushed the tired horse forward, the memory of the hyena and the knowledge of the king of Kano driving me.

As the morning wore on, the terrain flattened, the trees thinned, and the familiar, low-lying hills of Uzazzu began to emerge on the horizon. My heart leaped and then sank.

 Home.

But what kind of home would it be now?

It was mid-morning when we finally saw it – the distant, proud walls of Gao, capital of Uzazzu, shimmering under the rising sun. The city gate, a dark arch in the golden walls, seemed to beckon and intimidate all at once.

I pulled the horse to a halt with Nala clinging to me, both of us covered in dust and sweat, Nala's face pale with pain. Our journey was at an end. The real test, however, was just beginning.