Nkayah yawned from her post in the tall tree. The job of scouting and protecting wanderers was always more exciting on the move. On the move, she had to stay on her toes, taking silent cover behind trees or climbing into the jungle canopy to maintain line of sight with the strangers and visitors who passed through Ekujae lands. She lived for the silent chase as she assessed outsiders’ motivations. For over a century and a half, Nkayah had ensured non-Mwangi travelers posed no threat to the Ekujae, and that they didn’t release any of the myriad evils trapped within the heart of the jungle—intentionally or not.

“…and from the village of Mua’bri, I bear an earthenware cauldron, banded in lightning and dusted with gold, that the potters of the village bequeath to your majesty so that their work might be remembered forever...”

Jiella, don’t run! It’s me, your sister! Come, listen. I’ve only an ounce of time.