Priestess of nKu - Chapter Five

Nandi held her breath as the antelope walked under her. It stopped, looking side to side as if it sensed her presence. She watched it, waiting for the right moment. After a few more minutes the beast relaxed. It lowered its head and grazed on the grass at the base of the tree in which Nandi perched. Nandi shifted as quietly as she could on the thick branch, making sure there were no obstacles between her and the antelope. She let go of the branch and fell toward the beast. Just as she thought she would claim her prey the antelope bolted. Nandi reached out, grabbing it by its long neck, her momentum helping her drag it to the ground. She locked her arms around its throat and her legs around its torso, careful to avoid its thrashing head. The creature stood and ran, Nandi clinging on as it dashed between trees. She bit the antelope’s neck, cutting the main artery to its brain. The antelope bucked, throwing Nandi free. She crashed into a nearby tree, the impact stunning her. She lay still for a moment, letting the pain subside before standing. The antelope was gone.

Nandi looked about then finally found the spoor of the wounded beast. She searched about and found more fresh blood, giving her a sense of direction. She trotted through the brush, following the blood until she heard thrashing up ahead. Nandi ran to claim her prize. What she found instead halted her in her tracks.

The antelope lay dead before her. Standing over it was a black chui, the largest she’d ever seen. The cat glared at Nandi, its nostrils flaring as a growl escaped its mouth. Nandi crouched, releasing a similar sound from her throat. She would not claim this meal, that she knew. The chui was too large and she had no weapons. Her display was to keep the feline from attacking her. Slowly she backed away until the chui focused its attention on its stolen meal. Nandi did not turn away until she was sure she was no longer the target. Fear became disappointment; she would go hungry tonight.

First Hunter Amana met her at the tree.

“You missed,” she said.

“And now I’ll go hungry,” Nandi replied.

“Not tonight,” Amana answered. “I did not miss.”

Nandi’s eyes widened. For weeks the rule had been if she did not kill, she did not eat.

“You are sharing?”

Amana turned and walked away. Nandi hurried to her side.

“You faced down the black chui,” Amana said. “I thought it was the last time I would see you alive. You would not have been the first.”

A chill ran through Nandi. She did not realize how dangerous that encounter had been.

“Your strength made it hesitate. That she allowed you to live means that she respects your territory. You will not see her again.”

“Have you faced her?” Nandi asked.

“Yes,” Amana replied. “It was not pleasant.”

“She did not kill you.”

Amana’s expression became dour. “She almost did.”

Nandi followed Amana to their camp. Her mentor had managed to find and kill her own antelope. The beast sprawled under the canopy. Amana gave her another surprise; a knife. Nandi’s eyes widened like a child receiving a new toy.

“I have passed!” she squealed.

Amana did well to hide her grin.

“Not quite,” she said. You still must meet the priestesses.”

Nandi and Amana dragged the antelope to a nearby low hanging branch. They set about butchering the beast. Blood covered Nandi’s hands, but she was used to it. For the past three months she’d killed every animal she’s eaten by hand, guided by Amana’s instructions. In order to prepare for the chui’s spirit, a First Hunter must live as one, Amana told her. It was the only way to earn chui’s respect. Nandi thought she was going to starve to death. She could never imagine being as stealthy and ferocious as her totem, but desperation and necessity were excellent teachers. Gradually she learned, finding herself eating most often than not, and becoming more agile than she thought possible.

Another surprise was revealed that day; Amana allowed her to build a fire. Not only would they have properly butchered meat, it would also be cooked. Together with fresh herbs and edible plants it was the best meal Nandi had since leaving the city. The greasy grin on her face said as much as she laid back against the ironwood tree, her stomach full.

“Was this my celebration meal?” she asked Amana.

The First Hunter sat beside her.

“Yes,” she said. “We will smoke the remaining meat and gather more herbs and vegetables. Tomorrow we set out for the Mountain.”

Nandi sat up.

“We go to see the priestesses?”

Amana nodded. “I have taught you all that I can. You have survived all your tests. All that re-mains between you and First Hunter is the priestesses’ approval . . . and my death.”

Nandi’s joy was dashed by Amana’s last words. The First Hunter had become like an aunt to her. To imagine her dead was appalling.

“Then I never wish to be First Hunter,” Nandi stated.

“Don’t be foolish,” Amana replied. “Death comes to us all. It is the one hunter we can never defeat. Whether through battle or time I will join the ancestors. When that time comes, you will replace me. You know this. It is why you were chosen.”

Nandi drew her legs up against her chest then wrapped her arms around them.

“I know this is true,” she said. “I am not a child. Still, it is a reality I wish not to think about.”

“Being a First Hunter means you must think about everything,” Amana said. “The safety and existence of our people depends on it. You must enforce our boundaries. You will be responsible for our marons. You will lead us in times of war and you will administer the peace. To carry such responsibility means to think on things that most avoid.”

Nandi was quiet. All her life she dreamed of being a First Hunter as did most Chuiku girls. She imagined herself roaming the forests free of responsibility, fighting the other First Hunters and honoring her people in victory. She never imagined the responsibilities that came with the position. Had she known, she may have had second thoughts. But she was here now, her training al-most complete. She would not stop. She would never dishonor mama and baba.

It was as if Amana read her mind.

“It is not too late for you to go back to the city,” she said. “It would not be the first time.”

“No,” Nandi answered. “I will be First Hunter if the priestesses decree it so. I will follow you, and when the ancestors call you to sit among them, I will protect our people as you have taught me.”

Amana hugged her.

“I was hoping you would say that,” she said. “In my entire life I have never met anyone more qualified to be First Hunter. I have trained many potential girls, but none of them have performed as well as you, not even myself.”

“Do you think the priestesses will accept me?” Nandi asked.

“They would be foolish not to,” Amana answered.”

Nandi and Amana finished their meal. They cut up the rest of the animal then built a smoker to preserve the meat for the journey ahead. Nandi tingled with excitement. She was meeting the priestesses! Sleep was difficult; she kept trying to imagine what they looked like, how they would sound, what they would say. She fell asleep only to be awakened in what seemed to her moments later. Amana stood over her, a smile on her face.

“It is time,” she said. “We must go.”

Nandi jumped to her feet, eager for the journey. They packed their belongings then set out for the Mountain. The trek took two weeks, during which Amana continued to hone Nandi’s skills. They hunted, sparred and talked of the many secrets of the forest. Twice they encountered bands of marons on their walkabouts, both bands showing Amana the proper respect and deference. The first encounter was brief; the warriors crossed a tembo path Amana and Nandi followed. They nodded as they passed, their eyes lingering on Nandi. The second encounter was much more involved.

It was dusk, the sun teasing the tops of the trees before descending into the horizon. Amana and Nandi had ended their walk for the day beside a small pond surrounded by grasses and date trees, a rare respite in the usually dense woods. Amana heard the marons first; she lifted her head from building the fire and looked into woods. Nandi heard them moments later. The marons emerged from the woods. There were six of them, and they were in terrible shape. Each of them displayed fresh wounds from recent battle, one wounded so badly the others had to carry him. But there was one maron that caught Nandi’s eye. He walked be-hind the others, a grim expression on his face. He bore the chui marks on his shoulders and thighs like the others with five black beaded necklaces around his neck, acknowledging his kills. In that respect he was no different than any other maron she’d encountered, except he looked to be no older than Nandi. He was the youngest maron she’d encountered. He looked up and their eyes met. A smirk came to his lips; Nandi found herself smiling back before she realized it.

“Marons, what is your trouble?” Amana asked, breaking Nandi’s attention.

The eldest of the marons approached Amana. She extended her hand and he took it, bowing his head to kiss it. He honored Nandi with a slight nod. The others did the same, even the badly wounded maron. The young maron was the last to honor her. Unlike the others, he took Nandi’s hand and kissed it as well.

“To the future Hunter,” he said.

Nandi felt a warm rush as she nodded, fighting to keep a grin off her face.

“Set him down,” Amana said, pointing at the wounded maron.

The marons set the man down and Amana examined him.

“These are Temboku wounds,” Amana said. “They are far from their nKu.”

“We said the same,” the elder maron said. “We have fought other nKu warriors as well. This is not normal.”

“Something is forcing them this way,” Amana said as she opened her herb bag. “Nandi, help me.”

Nandi took her eyes from the young maron and assisted Amana with preparing healing herbs for the wounded warrior. The other marons sat silent as they applied poultices to the man’s wounds and gave him a purging tea to drink. The man took the gourd then nodded his head to Amana and Nandi.

“Thank you, First Hunter,” he said. “We are lucky to have encountered you.”

“Yes, you are,” Amana replied with a smile. She patted the maron on his shoulder before standing.

“I will go to Tembokuland,” she said.

The marons stood, ready to follow. Amana shook her head.

“No, you will not follow me. You are tired and wounded. I will find another pack to come with me.”

Disappointment showed on the marons faces. The elder maron nodded solemnly.

“We defer to your wisdom, although there is no pack more formidable than ours.”

Nandi shook with excitement as she gathered her items and began packing. She was going on the hunt with Amana.

“No, Nandi,” Amana said. “You will not come with me.”

Nandi was stunned. Her mouth fell open.

“But . . .but I am your protégé!”

Amana approached her then placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Yes, you are. But this is a dangerous journey. I cannot risk you. The day will come soon that we will fight together, but not now. I need you to stay with the marons until I return. They will honor you and protect you with their lives until I re-turn.”

“But Amana . . . “

Amana brought her finger to her lips, shushing Nandi.

“This is not a debate. You will stay. This will also give you time to bond with this pack. Akida’s words are true; this is a good pack, almost as good as your baba’s.”

Nandi could say nothing more. The First Hunter had made her. Nandi watched her as she strode for the forest’s edge.

“If I am not back in seven days gather the packs and come for me. Until I return you will treat Nandi as you would treat me. If I hear otherwise. I will kill you all.”

Amana disappeared into the bush. Nandi’s throat went dry as the marons turned their attention to her. Once again, her eyes drifted toward the young maron.

Akida knelt before her

“What do you wish, First Hunter?”

Akida’s words caught her off guard. They were actually respecting her as First Hunter!

“Rest and heal as Amana . . . the First Hunter suggested. “That is all for the moment.”

“Yes, First Hunter,” he said. The marons placed down their weapons and sprawled out among the grasses. The young maron approached her. Nandi held her breath as he bowed.

“First Hunter, I am Etana,” he said. “I would be honored if you would allow me to sit by you.”

“Do what you wish,” Nandi replied.

Etana bowed again. “Thank you, First Hunter.”

Etana put down his weapons and gear then sat near Nandi. There was something comforting about him being so close; maybe it was that he looked to be close to her age. Most boys were taken into the bush and initiated by the time they reached Etana’s age.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No, but if I do get hungry, I can feed myself,” Nandi answered. “You are not my servant.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Etana said. “I will sit with the others.”

“No,” Nandi said. She cursed herself. She sounded too eager for him to stay.

“No, you did not offend me,” she said. “As far as whether you stay or go, that is up to you.”

Etana smiled, something she rarely saw a maron do, even her baba. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“I have seen you before,” Etana said.

Nandi jumped, her eyes wide.

“You have? Where? In the bush?”

again. “No. In Jikubwa.”

Nandi Etana smiled searched her memory as she studied his face. Nowhere could she find him.

“I don’t remember you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was not memorable. I have changed since I have come to the bush. The clan that took me in did not think I would survive a season. I proved them wrong.”

Nandi heard the bitterness in his voice.

“You don’t like them, do you?”

Etana let his eyes answer him.

“You should go to another clan,” she said.

Etana shook his head. “I will leave one day. But when I do, I will join no other clan.”

“You will hunt alone?”

Their eyes met. Nandi felt that rush again.

“Yes,” Etana answered.

“You choose a harsh life. Maybe a short one.”

“I will survive. I will have my skills and the First Hunter to protect me.”

Nandi knew when Etana said those last words he did not mean Amana.

“We will see,” she answered.

* * *

The days turned into weeks. Nandi and the marons turned the area where they waited into a camp, building sturdy huts from the nearby foliage. They hunted during the day and trained during the night. Nandi had the chance to test her fighting skills against the marons and was pleasantly surprised by the outcome. Though the marons were more experienced fighters, her speed served her well. She enjoyed her sparring against Etana most. He was very skilled for his age, like her, and he did not hold back. Akida admonished him the first time they fought but Nandi told him not to. She needed to be tested.

On the third week Nandi became concerned, as did the rest of the pack. Akida sent out search groups, but none of the encountered the First Hunter. The mood of the camp became subdued as they waited. They were preparing to go on a morning hunt when Amana finally returned, striding in-to the camp as if she’s only departed hours earlier. The look on her face was grim.

Akida was the first to speak to her. He bowed before speaking.

“First Hunter, where have . . .”

Amana stopped before him and said one word.

“Simbaku.”

The marons took on the same demeanor and the First Hunter. Nandi had no idea what was going on.

“How many packs will we need?” Akida asked.

“Three,” Amana replied. “Send for Kondo and Jabali. As soon as they arrive, we will depart.”

Nandi was a mix of emotions when Amana said her baba’s name. She would be happy to see him, but concerned that Amana had summoned his pack for what would be a dangerous journey. She’d heard stories of the Simbaku. They were a powerful nKu, second only to the Chuiku, and very warlike. They were probably the reason the other nkus were encroaching on Chuiku grounds.

“Who else will fight with us?” Akida asked.

“The other nkus are too weary,” Amana said. “This is a Chuiku matter. We can only expect help from the Dumaku.”

“I will send runners now,” Akida said. “Kondo and Jabali are near.”

“Good.”

Amana looked at Nandi.

“Come with me,” she said.

Nandi ran to Amana then followed her to the waterhole. Amana squatted then took a handful of water. She washed her face before drinking. After a few more handfuls she looked at Nandi.

“I told you we would fight together. The time has come.”

Nandi smiled at Amana; her emotion wasn’t returned.

“I still have a mind to send you back to Jikubwa,” she said.

“No!” Nandi blurted. “I must fight! The marons have sparred with me and they say I am good.”

“The marons would not insult you and say otherwise. You are a future First Hunter and they do not wish to anger you. You have killed, but it was more by chance than intention.”

“But will I actually have to fight?” Nandi asked. “Won’t this be settled by you and the Simbaku First Hunter?”

“Normally yes,” Amana replied. “But the Simbaku are not known to follow custom. They see themselves above the whims of the ancestors. They think they are the true rulers of all nkus.”

“Why would they believe such a thing?”

“Because they once were,” Amana said. “The Simbaku once controlled all within the Circle. Their rule was harsh and angered many, but none would face their First Hunter. Until our ancestor.”

“I have not heard this story,” Nandi said.

“That is because it is my story to tell,” Amana replied. “The First Hunter came to take a wife among our people. The woman he chose defied him. They fought, and before all that witnessed a chui came from the forest and aided her, killing the Simbaku First Hunter. The woman, her family and others fled, eventually coming to where we stand today. They adopted the chui as their totem, and the woman became our first Hunter.”

“What is her name?” Nandi asked.

“Hediye,” Amana answered. “She was Mwindaji wa kwanza, The First Hunter. You and I follow in her shadow. There will never be a Hunter greater than her.”

“I will be greater than her,” Nandi said.

Amana laughed. “You cannot go back in time and take her place. That is the only way you could surpass her.”

Nandi laughed with Amana, but inside she promised to herself that she would make her words truth.

* * *

The marons packs arrived two days after the summons was sent. Kondo’s pack arrived with the morning sun, singing loudly. The pack entered the clearing in a joyful mood; apparently they were on good terms with Akida’s marons. After paying respect to Amana and Nandi they mingled with the other marons sharing stories and boasts. The arrival of Jabili’s pack was much more subdued. There was no warning of their coming; they appeared from the woods suddenly, weapons in hand and suspicion on their serious faces. The other marons fell silent, there eyes narrowed. Nandi saw her father and called out his name.

“Baba!”

Jabili, her father, smiled when he saw her. The other marons of his pack relaxed, lowering their weapons. Amana walked with Nandi then stood back as Nandi and her father embraced.

“Hello, Little Hunter,” he said.

“Hi, baba,” she said. No matter how old she became she still felt like a girl in her baba’s arms.

“That is not the way to greet a First Hunter,” Amana said.

Baba released Nandi then greeted them both with a bow and a kiss on the hand.

“Forgive me, First Hunter,” he said. “It has been a long time since I have seen my daughter. Although she is destined to be First Hunter, she is still my little flower.”

Their reunion was interrupted by Kondo and Akili. Jabili shook their hands, though his demeanor shifted.

“You come as if you did not believe us,” Kondo said.

“We have been deceived before,” Jabili replied.

“We would not use the First Hunter’s summons in such a way,” Akili retorted.

Jabili answered with narrow eyes and a smirk.

“We are not here to fight each other,” Amana said. “Gather your men. We leave immediately.”

The Chuiku war party gathered their weapons and set out for Simbakuland. Amana kept the pace rapid and the rests short to avoid the tensions between the packs. Everyone was too tired to squabble by sundown, grabbing what little rest allowed. As they neared Simbakuland Amana slowed the pace, allowing the packs to rest more and gather their strength. Their energy was refocused on the Simbaku, their boasts targeted toward the warriors of the othe clan if they violated the rules of challenge. Amana had warned of their crossing into othe nKulands and of their intent, so they met no opposition.

The forests of Tembokuland dwindled, giving way to the grasses of Simbakuland. The Chuiku strode across the land with no fear. Tradition required them to approach the challenge grounds unmolested, but the packs kept a wary eye. They were dealing with the Simbaku, and they were not known to follow tradition.

As the day drew to a close they reached the challenge grounds. The land rose slowly into a plateau that bristled with acacias. The trees had been planted to form a natural ring around the bare ground used for challenges. The Chuiku reached the summit and immediately saw the fires of the Simbaku on the opposite side. Amana raised her hand and the pack stood still.

“We will camp here,” she said. “Akili, send a runner to the Simbaku to let them know we are here.”

“I will go,” Etana said before Akili could assign the task. The maron leader looked at the young Chui and smiled.

“Go then,” he said. “And try not to pick a fight. The ancestors are not prepared for you yet.”

Etana smiled at Akili and then at Nandi. Nandi’s face flushed as she looked away.

“I will return,” he said before sprinting across the grounds.

Amana stood beside Akili and they watched Etana.

“He is an eager one,” Amana commented.

“Yes,” Akili replied. “And a good fighter for his age. He will take my place if he decides to stay.”

“There are tensions?” Amana asked.

“Etana is one who keeps to himself,” Akili replied. “I think he will become packless.”

“That is a rare thing,” Amana said. “Yet is is how our totem lives.”

“It’s not life for a maron,” Akili said. “But it’s not my place to stop him.”

“No, it’s not,” Amana agreed.

Nandi stood close by, listening to their conversation. Once a maron chose to live alone, they were never seen again. The thought of never seeing Etana again made Nandi sad. She frowned, then pulled herself from such thoughts. She was a future First Hunter. She would live a similar life, but at least she served the nKu.

The Chuiku waited for Etana’s return. He arrived moments later, trotting toward them with a grin on his face.

“This is not good,” Akili commented.

“What do you mean?” Amana asked.

“If Etana has a grin on his face he’s been up to mischief,” Akili answered. “I think when we meet the Simbaku their mood will be sour.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amana said. “We are not here to make friends.”

Etana bowed before Amana and Akili.

“The Simbaku are many,” he said. “And they are angry.”

“What did you say to them?” Akili asked.

“I told them we had come to leave them on the ground like tembo dung.”

Nandi covered her mouth so no one would hear her laughter. Etana glanced at her and winked. Amana did not hide her amusement. She laughed loudly.

“I like you, young maron,” she said. “You will make a nice companion for Nandi when she is ready.”

Nandi and Etana eyes widened in surprise. She liked Etana, but the notion of a companion had not crossed her mind. She looked at Etana, who seemed just as shocked.

Amana strode away and everyone followed. Nandi grew more nervous with each step; by the time the Simbaku came into view her hands were shaking. An arm draped her shoulders and she looked to her right to see her baba’s smiling face.

“Do not worry,” he said. “The First Hunter and I will watch over you.”

Nandi’s fear faded.

“I am not worried, baba,” she said. “Just anxious.”

Baba laughed. “As you say.”

The Simbaku were close enough to see their faces and they were enraged. Nandi had the feeling that Etana had not shared everything he said to them. The Simbaku warriors halted as their First Hunter continued to advance. He was an imposing figure, tall and broad with skin the color of his totem. His light brown hair formed an intimidating mane about his head. It seemed he has already taken his totem form. His face twisted with anger as he eyes went to Etana.

“Did you send that fool to insult me?” he shouted.

Amana stepped forward, her demeanor casual.

“I did not,” she replied. “I sent him to tell you of our arrival. How he chose to tell you was his own doing.”

The Simbaku First Hunter’s eyes bore into Amana.

“And you did not admonish him?”

“What difference does it make?” Amana said. “Your challenge is against me.”

“When I finish with you, I will deal with him.”

“When I crush you,” Amana replied, “you will return to your homes and contemplate your bad choices.”

The Simbaku First Hunter replied with a roar that shook Nandi. He transformed into the simba, pounced at Amana while she was still in her mortal shell. It was a violation of a challenge. The marons and Simbaku warriors surged forward. Amana dodged the simba as she transformed.

“Stay back!” Amana yelled before she took full form. Nandi had never seen her as totem and she was mesmerized. As the Chui she deftly avoided the Simba’s attacks, jumping toward him to deliver a scratch or a bite. With every landed blow the simba roared in frustration.

“You can give up now,” Amana said. “There would be no shame in it. You lose nothing except the right to intrude on the others land.”

The Simbaku First Hunter answer with a roar and leap that seemed to catch Amana off guard. Nandi gasped as the simba crashed into the Chui, wrapping its powerful forelimbs around her.

“No!” Nandi screamed.

Amana did not attempt to break away. Instead she gripped the Simba with her paws, ducking her head under its massive jaws and clamping down with her fangs on his throat. The simba froze as it rolled on his back.

“Will the Simbaku have to look for a new First Hunter, or are we done here?” Amana said between her teeth.

The Simbaku First Hunter said nothing. Amana closed her jaw tighter.

“Answer me or I’ll rip out your throat!”

The Simba First Hunter moaned before answering.

“We are done,” he said.

Amana released the First Hunter then leaped away. She transformed, standing naked and wounded before the marons. Nandi ran to her with her clothes and Amana dressed, her eyes on the Simbaku First Hunter. The man transformed. He lay naked on his stomach, his right hand reaching for his throat as he pushed himself up from the ground.

“Will you honor what has happened here?” Amana asked.

“Of course,” he said. “But know this. When we meet again, I will not be as generous as you were.”

“We will not meet again,” Amana replied. “Twice I have spared your life. Do not try my patience.”

The Simbaku First Hunter looked away. Amana turned and walked away.

“Come,” she said to the others. “This is over.”

The Chuiku returned the way they came, the marons in the rear keeping a wary eye on the Simbaku warriors. Akili and Jabili walked close to Amana.

“Will they attack us?” Jabili asked.

“Most likely,” Amana replied. “The Simbaku don’t take defeat well.”

“And they brought an army with them,” Akili added.

“Keep walking,” Amana said. “We will need our strength.”

As if reading her mind, an angry roar ripped the tense silence. It was answered by a chorus of roars from the throats of the Simbaku warriors. Nandi turned to look. The Simbaku warriors ran for them, shields and spears raised high. She looked ahead to the bush. They were too far.

“First Hunter,” she said. “We should . . .”

“Keep walking,” Amana said. “We are safe. The marons are not the only ones I summoned.”

The Simbaku closed the ground quickly but still had not reached them.

“Listen for my signal,” Amana said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do exactly what I say. If you hesitate, you will die.”

Nandi shook. She peered over her shoulder again and nervousness coursed through her body. She would fight, but there were too many. They could not stop them in the open.

The Simbaku stopped then threw their spears. The marons dodged them then yelled taunts.

“Do we run now?” Nandi asked Amana.

Amana patted her shoulder then smiled.

“We will not run from the Simbaku.”

The Simbaku continued their pursuit. Nandi watch Amana as she finally turned to look at the Simbaku then gaze at the bush. It was then that Nandi saw them, dozens of warriors emerging from the forest armed with bows.

“Down!” Amana shouted.

The marons flattened on the ground. Nandi was still standing, watching the new warriors load their bows then pull back their bowstrings. Someone grabbed her hand, yanking her to the ground as the warriors released. The silence was broken again, this time by the painful cries of the Simbaku warriors. Nandi looked to her side. Etana looked back at her smiling.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Paaku,” Etana replied. “They are our allies. First Hunter must have contacted them. She planned well.”

The Paaku warriors loosed another round of arrows then disappeared into the bush. First Hunter sprang to her feet and Nandi and the marons followed, ready for battle. But the Simbaku had had enough. They gathered their dead and wounded then retreated to their homeland. The Simbaku First Hunter lingered, glaring at Amana. He spat, then stomped away.

“It’s not over,” Akili said.

“It never will be,” Amana replied. “But that one will not try us again.”

Nandi heard Amana’s and Akili’s words, but her attention was captured by the Paaku. She’d never met people from another nKu except the Taiku. This day she’ met two; one as an enemy, the other as a friend. A tall woman with skin like midnight, long braids, and a painted face approached Amana. The First Hunter greeted her with a smile and a warm hug.

“Makena, it is good to see you,” Amana said.

“It is good to see you too, sister,” Makena replied.

“You will feast with us?” Amana asked.

“Of course,” Makena replied. “Killing Simbaku always makes us hungry.”

The women laughed and Nandi joined them. Makena turned to Nandi.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Nandi stood taller as she answered.

“I am Nandi, protege’ of The First Hunter.”

“She is a proud one,” Makena commented to Amana.

“She deserves to be,” Amana replied. “I see great promise in her.”

Makena nodded to Nandi. “That is a great compliment coming from your First Hunter. Make sure it is not in vain.”

“I won’t,” Nandi answered.

“Come,” Makena said. “I have someone you should meet.”

Nandi looked to Amana for permission.

“Go,” she said. “Makena is to be trusted above all others.”

Nandi followed the Paaku warrior to a group of warriors standing together chatting. The warriors’ conversation diminished as they approached. One warrior, a girl no older than Nandi approached, a smile on her face.

“Hello, sister,” the girl said.

“I know that smile Siza,” Makena replied. “How many?”

“Three,” Siza answered.

Makena shook her head.

“Nandi, this is my sister Siza. Siza, this is Nandi. She is the protégé of First Hunter Amana. Unlike the other nKus, we do not have a First Hunter. We do have warriors and commanders. I’m commander; my sister Siza wants to take my place one day. She is well on her way. It is good that you two know each other.”

Nandi bowed to Siza, which seemed to surprise the girl.

“It is an honor to meet you Siza,” she said.

“The honor is mine,” Siza replied.

“You two should get to know each other,” Makena said.

She shared a smile then walked away. Nandi and Siza shifted about, unsure what to say.to each other.

“I am glad you came to help us,” Nandi said. “The Simbaku are fearsome warriors.”

Siza nodded. “I was nervous when Makena said we were coming to fight them. This is my first battle.”

Nandi’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Mine, too!”

They laughed then walked off together to sit under a large tree.

“My hands shook as I drew my bowstring,” Siza continued. “My first arrow missed, but not my second. I killed three of them! How many did you kill?”

“None,” Nandi said. “We were there to witness the challenge between Amana and the Simbaku First Hunter. But I have killed someone.”

The image of the fight with the Taiku warrior flashed into her head and her excitement was dampened.

“You do not seem proud,” Siza said.

“I was afraid when it happened,” she said. “His blood was on my hands.”

Siza’s smile faded.

“I don’t know if I could do that.”

“You already have,” Nandi said. “Three times!”

“It is different I would think,” Siza said. “I am far away. I do not kill a warrior. My arrow does. You were fighting with a warrior and defeated him.”

“Your arrow finds its mark because of you. You load the bow; you pull the bowstring, you aim and you release. The arrow finds its mark because of you.”

Siza’s smile disappeared. She stared at her hands for a moment then looked up at Nandi. They hugged.

“We are killers, we two,” Siza said.

“Yes we are,” Nandi replied.

The girls let go of each other. Nandi knew that from this moment on she and Siza would be friends.

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