While elsewhere in the forest, brothers fought and killed each other, Jajwok was still being pursued by relentless ghosts. His eyes scanned the horizon until he spotted a slanted hilltop ahead.
"I have an idea!" he exclaimed, sprinting toward it at full speed, with no intention of slowing down. His momentum carried him into the sky, soaring higher than he had anticipated.
"Wait... how am I going to get down?" he wondered aloud, already airborne and rapidly descending.
As he plummeted at terrifying speeds, something caught his eye—a long piece of wood with a rounded top was hurtling toward him. Just before the wood collided with him, a girl appeared out of thin air, her hand gripping the weapon. She was a strange sight: bald like Jajwok, with only one full arm while the other ended in a stump, as if it had been severed. She was dressed in traditional Maasai clothing, the vibrant shúkà draped over her.
With her single arm, the girl held Jajwok close to her body, steadying them both midair. The weapon, which Jajwok now realized was a rungu, was held tightly in her mouth as they plummeted.
"You're... very pretty," Jajwok murmured, mesmerized by her beauty. Her beaded necklaces and earrings shimmered, enhancing her striking appearance.
Without a word, she released the rungu from her teeth, letting it fall first. Just before they hit the ground, she teleported both of them to where the rungu had landed, cushioning their fall and preventing any damage.
"Wait," Jajwok began, still catching his breath. "How are you not affected by touching me?"
The girl looked at him, puzzled. "What?"
"Never mind," he sighed, shaking his head.
Though they had escaped the fall, the ghosts were still in pursuit. Their eerie presence lingered behind them.
"They're still after me! Run!" Jajwok shouted, turning to flee. But the girl stood firm, not moving an inch, as if ready to confront the spirits herself.
"Heroapau," she muttered under her breath, and the ghosts burst into flames. It was a chant from her tribe, the Maasai, who possessed ancient knowledge of how to ward off spirits. A charm tied around her waist offered further protection against the ghosts.
"Don't worry. You're safe now," she said, her voice calm and assured. "But stay back... something else is coming from above."
She hurled the rungu into the sky and teleported after it, preparing to strike the oncoming threat.
"Wait! Stop! Those are my friends!" Jajwok shouted, realizing it was Kit Mi Kai and Kipkemboi riding on a large boulder hurtling toward them.
The girl hesitated, then teleported back to the ground, standing beside Jajwok once more.
"What happened to the ghosts?" Kipkemboi asked, surveying the area.
"She killed them," Jajwok answered, still amazed.
"How does one kill ghosts?" Kit Mi Kai asked rhetorically, his tone laced with disbelief.
"It's my tribe's heritage," the girl explained simply. "We have charms and chants to protect against evil spirits."
Kipkemboi glanced around, noting how late it was. "It's getting dark. We can't head back now. We'll have to make camp here for the night."
Jajwok, still staring at the girl in awe, didn't notice Kit Mi Kai's bemused expression until he spoke. "Jajwok, have you never seen a girl before? Why are you staring at her like that?"
"Alright, guys," Kipkemboi interjected, "let's gather some firewood. It's going to get chilly, and we'll need a campfire."
The group set to work, collecting firewood and logs to sit on. Soon, they had a warm fire crackling in the center of their makeshift camp, the flames flickering against the growing darkness.
The warm, flickering glow of the fire illuminated their faces, casting shadows that danced across their weary expressions. The flames crackled and hissed, filling the air with a comforting, yet ominous, presence. Kit Mi Kai and Kipkemboi sat across from each other, their eyes reflecting the firelight. To Kit Mi Kai's left sat a young woman, her posture tense, and next to her was Jajwok, who was sitting so close that personal space seemed to be the last thing on his mind.
"So, you're new to our group," Kipkemboi began, breaking the silence. "Would you mind introducing yourself? We'll do the same."
"My name is Olamsuri," the girl responded, her voice calm but guarded. "I can teleport using this rungu," she said, motioning to the intricately carved wooden club she held. "That's all you need to know, for now. After all, we're still strangers."
Kipkemboi chuckled lightly. "True enough. Well, my name is Kipkemboi, though in my previous life, I went by Haruto."
Olamsuri raised an eyebrow, confusion evident on her face. "Previous life? Haruto?"
"Yeah," Kipkemboi nodded, his gaze shifting toward the fire as memories flickered across his mind. "I wasn't originally from this world. Back in my world, we didn't use donkeys or camels for travel. We had these machines called cars. Everything was different—the culture, the people... But honestly, if I had to choose, I'd pick this world over the other one. My old life was boring, and even my so-called friends were dull."
"And how did you... die?" Olamsuri asked cautiously.
Kipkemboi's eyes darkened. "Betrayed. By the very friends I used to sing with. They killed me."
"I'm... sorry to hear that," Olamsuri said, her voice softening. "You said you used to sing? Maybe you could sing for us?"
"Yeah, sing!" Jajwok added, his voice eager.
Kipkemboi sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, alright. But just a little."
"I've seen the world with open eyes,
Where the mountains touch the skies,
Through storms and calm, I've walked alone,
On paths where shadows cast their throne.
The winds they whispered in my ear,
Of hopes and dreams, of love and fear.
Beneath the stars, I found my way,
The night turned bright, gave birth to day.
I've danced through fire, unafraid,
In every tear, a price I've paid.
The echoes call, the rivers run,
I chase the moon, I greet the sun.
For every scar, I wear with pride,
I've faced the storm, I've never died."
When Kipkemboi finished, the soft echoes of his voice lingered in the air for a moment before fading into the night.
"Okay, that's enough singing. Let's change the mood. Who's up for a scary story?" Kipkemboi suggested, hoping to lift the heavy atmosphere.
"I'll go first," Olamsuri offered without hesitation, her eyes glinting in the firelight.
She began her tale.
"There was once a young girl, beloved by her friends and villagers alike. She was something of a tomboy, always playing with the boys and listening to their stories. They told her how they were chosen by the sacred Eldren Tree when they came of age, gaining the power of teleportation—void manipulation, they called it. The girl, eager to prove herself, declared that she, too, wanted to be chosen. But the boys just laughed. 'Girls are never chosen,' they said. 'It's never happened.'
One day, blood began to flow from between the girl's legs. Terrified, she ran to the village herbalist, thinking she was dying. The old woman reassured her that she was simply coming of age, that she was now fertile. The girl was relieved, but she had no idea what awaited her.
The next day, she and the other girls who had reached the same age were gathered and led to a hut. Each girl was sent inside, one at a time. The girl was the third to enter. But when she stepped in, her eyes widened in horror. The first girl was being held down, her body mutilated in a brutal circumcision ritual.
The girl froze in place, unable to move, until the old herbalist's voice cut through the air. 'Next!' The girl's instincts screamed at her to run, and she bolted for the door, crying out that she couldn't go through with it. But the men of the village caught her, holding her down as the herbalist sneered, 'This is our tradition. It's been done since the beginning of our tribe.' When the old woman leaned in close, the girl bit her, only to be slapped across the face.
'Hold her down,' the herbalist ordered. 'She will choose—accept the tradition or lose an arm.'
The girl, defiant, spat in the old woman's face. With a swift motion, the herbalist sliced through her left arm, severing it completely. The girl screamed, but no one, not even her parents, came to help. 'We have no place for you here,' the old woman declared coldly, instructing the men to kill her.
As the archer readied his bow, preparing to shoot an arrow through her head, the Eldren Tree began to glow. A branch appeared in the girl's remaining hand, and with newfound strength, she fought off her captors and teleported away.
Vowing revenge, the girl swore to return one day and slaughter everyone in the village."
Olamsuri's voice fell silent, leaving only the crackling of the fire to fill the tense air.
"Well, that was... unsettling," Kipkemboi muttered. "Maybe that's enough scary stories for tonight."
Jajwok had shifted even closer to Olamsuri, but before Kit Mi Kai could say anything, the girl waved it off. "It's alright. I feel a connection with him," she said softly.
Kipkemboi rose and summoned the two cavemen from his storage, instructing them to keep watch while they all rested. One by one, they lay down on the ground, closing their eyes as the fire began to die down.
"Suck... suck... suck..."
"Jajwok, what are you sucking on? Ugh, never mind," Kit Mi Kai grumbled before drifting into sleep.
As dawn broke and the sun's light filtered through the trees, Kipkemboi stirred awake.
"Hey, where's Jajwok?" he asked, sitting up abruptly. "Bieru, did you see Jajwok leave?"
The caveman grunted, his reply a guttural "Ugu," meaning no.
Jajwok was nowhere to be found!