Ona and Titi strolled leisurely through the village, the warm sun bathing their faces as they conversed and laughed together. A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment before Titi's eyes suddenly lit up, as if remembering something.
"Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you about the Warrior Games festival," she exclaimed, turning to Ona with an excited grin. "They're just less than a moon away now."
Ona's ears perked up at the mention of the legendary event. Fala had talked about the festival earlier. "The games where warriors compete for the hand of one of Ikan's daughters, right?"
"Precisely," Titi replied with a conspiratorial look. "Though I must admit, the prospect of marrying one of those immortal maidens holds little appeal for me personally."
Ona gave her friend an inquisitive glance. For the heir to the chiefdom to speak so dismissively of such an honor was surprising. "You don't fancy being wed to a daughter of the first man himself?"
Letting out an unabashed laugh, Titi waved a hand. "What, and be forced to play the dutiful, subservient wife for all eternity? You must be jesting!" Her eyes danced with impish mirth. "I have far too much respect for myself to subject myself to that fate."
Despite herself, Ona chuckled at her friend's brazen candor. Very few women would dare speak so boldly against traditions lauded for generations beyond count. Then again, Titi was exceptional in more ways than one.
"So I take it you won't be cheering for your brother to claim victory, then?" Ona asked with a sly grin.
Titi made a show of considering this, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. "Well, as much as the thought of having Ikan as a father-in-law gives me night terrors, I do hope Tij remembers to keep his wits about him."
There was an unmistakable undercurrent of sisterly pride in her tone, though Ona knew Titi would never outright admit it. Sibling dynamics could be so amusingly complicated.
"After all, the Games will put every ounce of his skills as a warrior and hunter to the test," Titi went on. "If he can control that reckless temper of his, he may just surprise us all."
Ona couldn't help but feel her heart rate quicken at the prospect of witnessing Tij pushed to his limits in the crucible of the Games. She had seen his bravery and prowess firsthand on the battlefield, but a proper arena of one-on-one combat against Kebo's strongest men? Heat flushed her ebony cheeks just imagining it and she hated herself for it.
"You seem quite intrigued by the idea of my little brother making a complete fool of himself," Titi teased with a sidelong glance, obviously picking up on Ona's flustered state.
Sputtering, Ona waved her hands frantically. "What? No, I...that's not what I-"
But Titi just laughed, giving her friend's arm a reassuring pat. "Oh, calm yourself. I'm just having a bit of fun at your expense."
As Titi regaled Ona with more tales of the upcoming Warrior Games, a different thought started to take root in Ona's mind. This legendary festival could potentially be her long-awaited chance at escape from Kebo.
For weeks now, Ona had been essentially a prisoner in the village after being abducted. Her frantic attempts to convey her status as the betrothed of a prince from the feared kingdom of Idollo had fallen on deaf ears. To Zetij and his people, she was nothing more than an intriguing outsider.
But if scouts truly did hide in the murky mountains of Kebo, then perhaps - just perhaps - the distraction might work to her advantage. They could help Ona finally send word back to her beloved prince and his father about her predicament.
As this spark of hope flickered within her, Ona couldn't help but study Titi with a newfound perspective. The chief's daughter, for all her admirable qualities, was still very much entrenched in the tribe's insular way of life. She likely knew nothing of greater world beyond these mountains and valleys.
"You seem... pensive, all of a sudden," Titi observed astutely, averting her gaze from the passing scenery of Kebo's earthen roads and thatched huts. "Did I say something to give you pause?"
Ona opened her mouth, then hesitated. Could she really confide in Titi about her true motivations? Despite their fast friendship, who knew how Tij's sister might react to learning of Ona's desperation to escape this village at all costs.
"It's just..." Ona began carefully, "you mentioned these Warrior Games draw contestants from all tribes in Kebo, yes? Even from the Azungis, the gate keepers?"
Titi's expression turned quizzical, but she nodded readily enough. "Of course. Every clan in Kebo will partake in the challenges and seek Ikan's daughters' hands. The Games are Keboan legacy."
As the warm evening sunlight danced across the cornfields, Ona's heart fluttered like a bird set free, her pulse racing with the thrill of possibility. She whispered a silent prayer to her ancestors, her soul afire with hope, as she leaned in to catch every word of Titi's lively chatter. The air was alive with the rustle of corn husks and the gentle hum of bees, a soothing backdrop to the whispered secrets and laughter shared between the two women.
•
The stables housing Kebo's fearsome panther mounts erupted in a cacophony of enraged roars as Tij flung the door open with unnecessary force. The massive feline predators thrashed in their pens, disturbed from their lazing by the intrusion and the potent scent of fury radiating from the young warrior.
"Woah there, easy now you big beauties!" came a soothing voice from the corner. Vilu, the tribe's longtime panther keeper, straightened up from where he'd been doling out fresh haunches of meat to the restless cats. "Whatever bone you've got to pick, you best not rile up my charges, boy."
Tij whirled on the wiry old man, his eyes blazing with a scarcely contained rage that made even the battle-hardened Vilu take an instinctive step back. "Your beasts were better behaved than my ramhead of a father in there," he snarled, slamming his fist against the wooden frame of a pen, causing the snarling panther within to recoil slightly.
Raising one wizened eyebrow, Vilu regarded the chief's son with a look of long-suffering patience perfected across decades of dealing with hotheaded young warriors. "Let me take one wild stab in the dark - Chief Zetij got his loincloth in a twist again over how you're doing absolutely everything wrong and failing to live up to his impossible legacy?"
The derisive tone and surprising accuracy of Vilu's quip seemed to take some of the wind out of Tij's sails. He glared at the panther keeper, chest heaving with residual fury, but said nothing to contradict the jab.
Snorting, Vilu shook his head and turned to toss another haunch into the nearest pen, deftly avoiding the panther's snapping jaws as it snatched the offering mid-air. "That's what I figured. You two are stuck in some sort of miserable little cycle, you know that?"
"Like you'd understand, old man!" Tij spat, though some of the venom had faded from his words. "You've never had to live up to the expectations of a father who slayed a thousand foes before he could even sprout chin-hairs!"
Tossing the now empty basket aside, Vilu fixed Tij with a withering look. "Oh, and I suppose keeping these savage maneaters calm and well-fed is a task suited for even the most addlebrained simpleton?"
One of the panthers close by yawned cavernously, displaying rows of dagger-like fangs that could rip a man asunder in seconds. Vilu smirked at Tij as if to emphasize the point.
"No beast is more dangerous or unpredictable than a bitter old warbeast chief who never learned to let go of past glory," he continued blithely. "Except perhaps his equally bitter and glory-seeking whelp of a son still seeking approval that'll never come."
Though the insult smarted, Tij couldn't quite muster the energy to fully refute Vilu's logic. His shoulders slumped slightly as some of the rage leeched out, replaced by a sullen resentment that was far too familiar.
Clapping Tij firmly on the back, Vilu gave him a sly grin. "If you ask me, instead of trying to outshine your pa's legend, you ought to focus on leaving your own mark for a change. Maybe take a crack at besting his feat at the coming Warrior Games, eh?"
Tij's head snapped up, eyes flashing with a hint of that defiant spark Vilu knew so well. "The Games? You think a scrawny runt like me has a cowball's chance against the village's finest?"
Chuckling, Vilu shook his head and moved towards the exit. "I've seen how you move through the forest, boy - like a spirit made flesh. And there's more to being a warrior than just swinging an axe with brute force like your pa." He shot Tij a meaningful look. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager you'd make a decent show for yourself. But only if you compete for your own sake... not your father's."
The panther keeper's words hung in the air, giving Tij visible pause as the fires of competitive determination began smoldering behind his eyes. Try as he might, he couldn't fully crush the flicker of hope that maybe - just maybe - he could prove himself anew when the Warrior Games arrived.
After all, if grizzled Vilu had even an iota of faith in him...
With a final throaty chuckle, Vilu cast a look over his shoulder as he slipped out the stable door. "But hey, what do I know? I'm just the backwards old loon who managed to tame the most savage beasts this side of the world's end."
Left alone once more, Tij glanced around at the powerfully muscled panthers awaiting the chance to tear into their next meal. Despite his best efforts, a reckless grin spread across his features as he mulled over Vilu's prodding challenge.
Perhaps the Warrior Games would be his roaring battleground to finally etch his own legacy - with or without his father's approval.
If nothing else, it would be one hell of a ride finding out.