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Wind and Fire

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Jump to Chapter? Date Published 7 Oct, 2015 Book Format Bookmeld eBook ISBN 978-0-9943526-1-3 Author Megan Futcher Description Kofi, an inexperienced warrior finds himself in a war without end. Fleeing the devastation, bloodshed and terror, he leaves his beloved homeland behind as he sets out on a journey with the promise of finding a cause that is worth fighting for. Lela, a child of the Wind and the Fire is determined to escape the life she was born into. Faced with a war of her own, she must find an inner balance if she is to claim the life she so desires.

The Wind and Fire is the first book released in the series and tells the story of two Fourborn Guardians, Kofi and Lela and how the prophecy of the waning moon gives them both direction in a world without freedom.



Kofi Magoro is an unlikely hero:

Second son to Gamba and Sade Magoro, Kofi has been called many things. The village boy, the over protective brother, the rebellious son, the hesitant warrior but nothing has suited him more than being the unlikely hero of his own making.

Brother to Ayo, Xola and Jomo, Kofi inherited his need for adventure from no one in his family. This doesn't stop him from pursuing his dreams, even though he has to work through his uncertainty and the lack of direction that frustrates him.

The open, jovial face in the crowd, Kofi makes friends easily and family takes on an important role in his life. An intelligent spiritualist he has strong ties to his homeland of Zjarri and to it's people and will stop at nothing to keep these ideals safe.

The sacred Fire of Zjarr is everything to Kofi. When he finds himself away from his element, Kofi armed with only his belief and inner strength is forced to kindle the Fire that lives within him on his own even if it means insurgency.

A practicing archer and amateur fire lighter, Kofi likes to start his days off early, rising in time to bask in the sun and all her wonders. He is a keen hunter, an elephant fruit addict and makes the ideal companion if you want to stick around for just one more cup of kava. 

As his story grows, Kofi assumes the role of leader of the Fourborn Guardians. Armed with a fierce determination and the Fire that burns inside of him, he will always find a way to continue to fight for what is right.



Lela Iboro Asar is an outcast princess:

The creation of a frowned upon love between Hakim Asar and Thema Kibibi Iboro, Lela was born a despised, motherless child. An only child she grew up with the elements of two very different worlds raging on inside of her.

Roaming the red dunes, Lela is taken in by the outcasts of Brissan society, but this doesn't stop her from fighting the link she has with the Wind. Outspoken, hot headed yet sensitive Lela stands against her father's people while her desperate need for acceptance drives her closer and closer towards Zjarr and the Fire.

In her mind being accepted by her mother's people means that she needs to abandon the Wind completely. Lela soon learns that this is not the case when Wind briefly dominates the Fire. Instead she learns that both elements have to live together in order for her to grow.

Witty, kind hearted and determined, Lela loathes camels and early mornings. A girl of impeccable night vision, unruly hair and a peculiar fashion sense using Brissan colourless glass and crystal bracelets - she is at her happiest next to a roaring camp fire out in the open plains of Zjarri, a cup of kava in hand while she shares stories and honey cakes. 

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Megan Futcher


Megan Futcher's Mini-Bio:

People and cultures have always fascinated me and I enjoy thumbing through heavy books on anthropology and archaeology. My novels and novellas dive into an unknown world before recorded history and I love asking the 'what if' question while I share online and write the 4 born, a fantasy spin on human evolution and freedom exploring strength and beauty of multiculturalism.


Wind and Fire Synopsis:

In a world where the four elements rule as gods, the Gaias of Wind, Fire, Water and Earth determine the existence and fate of every man and women. Threatening this seemingly perfect world is the Fourborn – a yet to be identified baby born of all four races and the only one who has the power to set mankind free from it's elemental shackles.


Divinely chosen in the pending chaos is a guardian from each race. With the words of an ancient prophesy as their only guide, they must find and protect the Four born at all costs or risk losing everything they hold dear.

The Kiss

I did a little inner dance when I realized I had woken up before Kofi.
This had never happened before and I felt a sense of satisfaction over this fact.
In the past I could easily have slept the day away and now I was up even before the Sun King himself! I looked over to where Kofi was sprawled out on his sleeping mat fast asleep and couldn’t help smiling as images of yesterday played over in my mind.
The kiss.
What? You thought I was talking about the man-eating lion and the exploding cowrushes or whatever they are called? Getting in and out of danger in Zjarri was old news to me by now and, besides, that was the first time I had ever been kissed! I think it should take priority over a daemon lion and a muddy swim in a stinky swamp.
Yes, I admit the kiss Kofi and I shared hadn’t been my first but having a drunk, hairy Brissan man with the worst-smelling breath imaginable, sticking his tongue down my throat, doesn’t count.
Kofi’s kiss, on the other hand, was soft, slow and tender - everything I had imagined it would be.
Just perfect! I had been dreaming about that kiss for a long time - since the day we first met, in fact.
The mornings had become a lot cooler in the last while and I shivered, pulling my mother’s scarf further down round my shoulders as I rose from my bed roll next to Kofi.
Last night after our kiss, I decided against sleeping in the little tent that I had slept in before, choosing instead to sleep next to Kofi under the stars.
Looking for a little extra warmth, I was glad to see that the fire Kofi had lit the night before was still burning and I quietly set out in search of fresh wood that I could add to it.
The sun had just risen over the horizon and her weak beams of light mingled peacefully with the fine mist that hung over the open plains.
I sighed happily, feeling completely at home in this once foreign land.
Zjarri had finally taken to me or maybe it was the other way round.
Perhaps I had finally taken to Zjarri.
It didn’t really matter.
I wore my mother’s scarf and beads with a growing pride and I no longer found myself darting around in a panic searching for whatever was lurking in the tall grass.
Instead I walked unafraid with a carefree attitude.
I finally belonged somewhere.
My curiosity to understand my mother’s people was greater than ever and I was slowly unravelling the answers to questions that had bugged me since childhood.
I was determined to understand the importance of the Fire that burned within me and yet I knew that I had to be patient.
I had a whole life ahead of me to understand it.
Zjarr would explain those questions to me in her own time.
I smiled, thinking about the great journey I was experiencing.
My soul was alive and speaking to me for the first time and I was intent on listening to it, intent on letting it lead me.
I looked around for Shida, wondering where she had gone.
She wasn’t in her usual spot when I woke up and I was worried that she’d left me, preferring to return to her troop.
I had grown fond of her lately and those same feelings had extended to my camel, come to think of it.
They were no longer just animals that happened to be travelling with us.
My camel had become something more, no longer a commodity but a valued member of our little group.
She had even started to produce a steady supply of milk and, without her, I don’t think I would have got as far as I had come.
And Shida, well she wasn’t really an animal was she? Something was different and strange about her and my thoughts were proven right when I finally found her.
My camel was happily chewing on a wad of grass at the same time as she was grunting, spitting and kicking at the air.
Shida was sitting on the ground looking up at this spectacle with an almost human fascination on her face.
She turned her head to acknowledge me briefly, a look of disgust in her black eyes.
It was as though I had interrupted her.
I believe she would have clicked her tongue at me if she could have.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh as she went back to her staring.
Turning, I decided to leave her to her intrigue.With an arm full of dry wood I strolled back to the makeshift camp we had set up a little distance away from the village that we had celebrated in the night before.
I was glad to see Kofi was still asleep, I was determined to have breakfast ready before he woke up.I prepared the rest of our meal while a fresh pot of kava was brewing.
It wouldn’t be like our ordinary morning meals of kava and elephant fruit.
I was making something different.
Last night I chatted to a pretty young girl I met as we sat around a roaring fire eating a variety of roasted meats along with a chewy yet very tasty flatbread.
I asked her who had made it and upon hearing that she had, I showered her with compliments.
Shortly afterwards, she disappeared but later returned with two freshly baked flatbread along with a sack of ground millet flour from her family’s store.
These gifts came with a set of instructions on how to prepare her famous flatbread.
I memorized her every word and dictated them back to myself as I reached for the already prepared flatbread that she had so generously given me.
Deciding to use them first, I would save the flour for the rest of our journey.
I began to sing softly to myself as I spread some of the firm camel milk cheese that I had made the day before over the bread and then topped it with pieces of torn-up juicy elephant fruit.
I looked up to see that Kofi had woken up.
He had rolled onto his stomach and was leaning on propped-up elbows watching me.“How long have you been awake?” I asked, blushing at my terrible singing.
“Long enough to witness the making of all this,” he smiled, jumping up and gesturing to the meal that lay before him.
He bent down to give me a gentle lingering kiss then reached for the pot of kava.I tore off a piece of flatbread and offered it to him.
I sat back to savour a cup of kava while I watched Kofi with dreamy eyes as he casually popped the bread into his mouth.
I wasn’t expecting what came next though.
He looked up at me chewing slowly, a smile of pleasure on his open face but there were tears in his dark eyes.
“This taste reminds me so much of home.
I used to eat the same meal as this with my family.
How could you have known?”“I didn’t know,” I said, tearing off another piece, this time for myself.
“I felt that the combination of flavours was right so I just went with it.” “I… I don’t know how to thank you, Lela, eating what you have made has brought back so many good memories.”“I’m just glad you’re enjoying it,” I smiled.What I had made was really delicious and I went back for another piece.
This time, I took my time and chewed slowly.
My days of not having enough food and gobbling it up when I did, were over.
I had all the time in the world to enjoy that morsel of flatbread and nobody was going to take that away from me.“Someday when all of this is over, I would like to meet your family,” I said, thinking out loud.
“I’d like that,” Kofi said, with a smile, reaching out for my hand, “I really would.”Kofi and I were packed up by mid-morning and ready to continue on our journey to Joro.
I had finally come round to the idea of riding instead of walking and I now sat comfortably on my camel with Shida on my shoulder like a well-seasoned traveller.
I was even brave enough to take the reins that morning.
“Did your sister have one of these?” I asked, pulling out my fabric rag doll from a bag beneath my thigh as we rode along.Kofi reached over for the doll, snorting, “She did and she never let it out of her sight.
Xola would scream and sulk when my mother needed to wash it.
After winning the washing war, my mother would balance the wet doll on a tree branch to dry it in the sun and I remember how Xola would sit under the tree, snivelling and crying until her precious toy was in her arms again.”Kofi handed the doll back to me and slipped into a long silence.
He had become unusually quiet as the morning wore on and I wondered what was bothering him.
I knew it wasn’t my mentioning his sister, he had avenged her death and had told me that he was finally at peace with her passing.
Perhaps he was apprehensive about Joro and the unknown challenges that we would inevitably face.
I decided to poke him a bit to see where his mind was at - I always felt better when I spoke about things that were bothering me so maybe it would help him.“What do you think Joro will be like?” I asked, truly excited.“No idea,” he answered bluntly.
It was a fair answer.
He had never been to Joro before but it was the way he said it that worried me.
His mind was distant and I had to get him back.
I needed him as much as he needed me.
It was vital that we stayed on top of our emotions, too much was riding on finding the Four and crawling into a dark hole wasn’t going to help.“Would you like to talk about it?” I asked carefully.“Talk about what?”“What’s bothering you.”Kofi let out a deep sigh.
“Don’t worry if you don’t feel like it.
Just know that I’m here if you need me,” I said.“It isn’t that, I just don’t know where to start.
I’m feeling everything and nothing all at the same time.
It’s like I’m losing control of the Fire and I’m scared Lela.”I let go of the reins, my camel walked without the need of assistance anyway and reached around for Kofi’s arms.
I wrapped them around my waist and held them there.
He rested against my back, moulding his firm body against mine.
“Tell me,” I urged gently, settling down.
“We’re getting closer and closer to the Kalima Mountains with every step we take.
I know what’s coming but it feels like I have just woken up and all of a sudden this is all very real.
Once we cross the mountain pass, there’s no going back and that scares me.
I’m not worried about change, a real life lived well is never really stable.
Zjarri changes all the time and so do I.
I’m more afraid of the changes that will happen to me once I leave Zjarri.
I’m scared that I’ll lose myself,” he paused, “This is selfish of me to say but I’m leaving everything behind, Lela.
Everything that’s familiar to me.
I probably won’t see my family again and if I do I get the feeling it won’t be for a very long time.
If I do get to see them, I know I’ll come back a changed man.
I can’t help wondering if I will be proud of the changes?”“You may be leaving your home, Kofi, but you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind.
Zjarri will never forget you and when you come home no matter how changed you are, your family will be waiting for you.
You are a Zjarrian and nothing can put out the Fire that burns within you, I won’t let it,” I vowed.
“I know, thank you,” he said squeezing me tightly.
“Don’t worry, while half of me is despondent, the other half of me is telling me that going to Joro is going to be the greatest adventure of my life.
I need to find my purpose and unfortunately, it isn’t hiding out here on the plains.
I’m ready for Joro and I’m determined to find the Four and keep the promise I made to Ayo.
I just need to know that my soul mate will be with me.”“I didn’t know you and my camel were that close!” I said, glad that he was in a better space.Kofi roared with laughter.
“I’m with you until the end.” I promised.Kofi and I chatted in high spirits for the rest of the morning as we rode on.
Soon I was distracted by his stories and couldn’t get over how good it felt being so close to him.
It was only when Kofi’s voice trailed off that I knew something didn’t feel right.
Zjarri was changing all around us.
The caked-soil beneath us had turned into a rough path.
It was rocky and churned up, making it uneven and difficult for my camel to walk over.
Kofi noticed it too and jumped down from his seat behind me to continue on foot.
I jumped down after him while looking around me.
It was as though we had stepped into a new world.
The once sparsely scattered marula and acacia trees were now clumped together and formed larger groups together with other even greener trees and bushes that I had never seen before.
The dull grass of the open plain had changed too and had made way for a lusher green covering.
The grass reminded me of the cool spots I used to rest on when the Clan found itself at the three large oases.
The air too was different.
It was cooler and thick and it felt moist when I drew in a breath.“Everything has changed so quickly,” I commented as a cold wind ripped right through me, followed by a shiver that shot up my spine.
“We are so close to the mountains now and Zjarrian rules don’t really apply here at the border,” Kofi replied, unravelling his red scarf and wrapping it around his broad shoulders.
“Are you warm enough?”I nodded, having wrapped my own red Zjarrian scarf around me for a second time so that it covered more of my back and shoulders and not just my neck.Walking on I spotted farm land on either side of me and fields that went on for as far as the eye could see.
“I take it the land here is very fertile?”“Yes it is and it needs to be.
Seventy percent of the Zjarrian population calls the border home and there has to be sufficient food to go around.
The excess is sent to the warriors at the other end in Askari,” he answered, stuffing his bow and quiver under the saddlebags.
“Do you have an extra cloth or something I can wrap my runga in?”“Will this be suitable?” I asked, pulling out my white and red blanket, puzzled why he was concealing his weapons.Kofi wrapped his blade in my camel wool blanket, being careful not to destroy the loose weave with the runga’s sharp edge.
He stuffed the parcel under the saddlebags as well.
He then looked ahead of us with a determined stare in his dark eyes.
“Welcome to Chuma.”I turned my attention away from Shida who was suddenly filled with an excited energy, keen to see what Chuma was all about.
I gasped in wonder when I saw a village emerging before me but it was the Kalima Mountains that really caught my eye as their immense form loomed over the thatched huts in a blue haze.“Are you telling me that we have to climb over that to get to Joro?” I asked, astonished by their size.“What were you expecting?”“A ready-made path on a gentle incline for one thing.”Kofi laughed, “It won’t be that bad, I know of only seven people who have lost their lives trying to cross the treacherous pass.”“Are you serious?” I asked, really hoping he wasn’t.The look he gave me was disheartening at best.
So it was true.
Seven people had died in the mountains.
I bit a finger-nail not really sure if crossing the mountain pass was going to be such a good idea.
Then a smile spread over Kofi’s face, “We’re going to be fine, I promise.”I punched his arm playfully, forcing myself not to worry.
We strolled into the village of Chuma just like any other traveller would - or so I thought! But by the stares we - I mean I received, I was wrong.
I couldn’t really blame the villagers for their curious looks and their raised eyebrows nor for their pointing.
I was a milky-kava-coloured girl with wild hair and an odd dress sense who happened to be walking along with a camel and a clinging monkey who thought she was human.
Had I been on the receiving end of this sight, I would have seen it as the finest entertainment I had had of late and stared too.
I didn’t let the stares get to me though, I held my head up high instead and stared right back.
I was used to this kind of attention.
I just reminded myself that I had every right to be there just as they did.
I was grateful for Kofi though, he walked beside me the whole way and I felt quietly confident with my fingers laced through his.
“You’re doing well!” he said, squeezing my hand tightly.
“Thanks,” I grinned, looking round.
The village was large, densely populated and bustling with activity.
The cold misty air had followed us in and I felt my nose twitch at the strong smells that hung low in the air.
I took a shallow breath trying to identify them - thick, leafy vegetation, rich soil and people came to mind.
A hardened sand road had been cleared in the heart of the village down it’s centre for the busy through traffic it saw everyday.
Bordering either side of the road were closely-packed grass-roofed huts.
The sturdy-looking homes looked like they were linked together but on close inspection, I realized that they were indeed separate, just closely-packed.
Looking past this I saw that they were all whitewashed but that they varied in size and shape.
Some were small and round while others were large and square but they all had tiny windows and low doorways that lead into the dark, unknown depths within.I suddenly wondered where we would be staying that night.“I know a few people here and they will all be happy for us to stay the night,” Kofi said, after I had voiced my concerns.Walking on, I realized that what really defined Chuma from the rest of the villages that I had seen on our way here, was it’s people.
They were just as different as the landscape was and I guessed they didn’t play by Zjarrian rules either.
The residents of the village were predominately Zjarrian as I was expecting but it was their attitude and defining traits which I noticed just by briefly observing them as well as the clothes they wore that set them apart from the rest of the Fire People I had met.Having spent more and more time with Kofi, I had come to see my mother’s people as a confident, brave, selfless race that are born fierce, determined leaders capable of anything.
The people of Chuma, however, took these fine attributes a step further.
They looked even more capable and somehow braver and they oozed confidence in everything they did, from their simple yet animated hand gestures to the way they walked which displayed a kind of cheeky swagger.
They were proud to be Zjarrian but prouder still to be Chuman.The three-quarter crop pants Kofi favoured wearing for the harsh heat and the sun of the open plains were clearly not sufficient for the colder weather that lingered over Chuma.
The people who lived here wore clothing that was designed to keep the chill out.
The men favoured facial hair and wore ankle-length trousers over the traditional red wrap and either wore sandals or boots that came up to the top of their ankles.
Covering their upper bodies were long-sleeved v-necked tunics.
I saw that beads had been stitched onto the fabric creating stunning patterns and complicated swirls.
The women were beautiful and wore their hair long and braided.
They chose full-length wide v-necked kaftans with long flowing sleeves that displayed the same beadwork as the mens’ clothing.
The women also alternated between wearing sandals or boots.
The colours and designs of the clothing that the Chumans wore may have varied from person-to-person but they all wore the distinguishable red Zjarrian cloth somewhere on their bodies.
Some of the women wrapped the cloth around their heads or draped it around their necks and shoulders as I did, while the men preferred to bunch the cloth up, tying it into a knot around their waists.
No matter what the Chumans sub-culture, they were still Zjarrian and they wore the colour red with pride.The villagers appeared to like gathering outside their homes in group.
Some of them sat comfortably on low metal stools engaged in relaxed conversation, cups of kava in hand but the majority of them were caught up in fierce debates and discussions with pale-skinned, red-headed men who wore tired, drawn-out expressions and shabby, worn clothes in various shades of green and brown.
Joran travellers here to trade, I thought, thinking back to Kofi’s description of the Earth People who lived on the other side of the Kalima Mountains.
The Chumans had their own rules and this extended to their easy manner with foreigners, however looking at these foreign faces, I didn’t spot a single Brissan among them.
I wasn’t surprised by this though.
My father’s people would never risk their lives travelling though Zjarri simply to exchange a few of their wares with the seemingly tolerant Chumans.
Passing the houses, we soon came to an area where the road widened out and the bustle of people became even more frantic.
Some men but mainly women were standing in large groups screaming and shouting at each other.
What it was about, I have no idea.
I stayed close to Kofi as he lead the way, pushing and shoving past the throngs of people.
I hoped that, during all of this, we would be able to walk by unnoticed but our presence was quickly discovered and loud cackles of laughter and animated conversation followed us through the crowds.
Trying to ignore the onlookers, I craned my head to see what was beyond the many human forms and saw women standing behind colourful displays of fruit, vegetables, clothing and Zjarrian beads and metal crafts.
I still wasn’t sure what was happening when Kofi yelling over the noise.
“This is the biggest trade market in Zjarri,” he explained, “Zjarrians come from far and wide to trade their goods here.” “Why is there so much screaming and shouting?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed by the variety of items on offer.“The market has a serious bartering system in place and everyone is expected to haggle over what they want.” I had no idea what bartering or haggling meant but nodded with interest as something stirred the Fire inside me.“I’ll bring you back later and we can explore some more.
We need a few things anyway,” Kofi said, pushing his way through the last of the crowds.“Where are we going?” I asked, glad that Shida had stopped fidgeting on my shoulder.
She was just as excited as I was by the sight of the market.
“To meet with the Wakuu,” Kofi stated.
The Wakuu’s house stood on a hill and was far enough away from the village and the market and the noise that emanated from there.
It was whitewashed like the rest of the houses in the village but was at least triple the size with many rooms added onto the main house.
I turned and looked back down the hill from which we had come and saw why the house had been built on this spot.
It came with the most spectacular view of the whole village and the open plain below and even my camel grunted in appreciation.
I noticed, as we came nearer to the house, that it too was a bustle of activity but of a different kind.
It looked as though the people there were preparing for something.
A feast maybe? I tied my camel’s reins to a tree trunk, I didn’t want her wandering around, as Kofi made his way up to a huge wooden door where two men stood on either side, hands on panga hilts.
I joined Kofi just in time to hear him speaking to these men in Zjarrian.
They nodded, obviously happy with his words and allowed us to enter.
The interior of the house was dark - the tiny windows let in very little sunlight and the only light came from a fire-pit in the front of the room.
I saw, as we walked further into the house that there was another fire.
This one was bordered by a long table and chairs that were set out in a half-moon shape.
A large throne-like chair sat at the head of the table.
The throne was empty though and I wondered where the Wakuu might be.Turning my attention away from the table, I heard a male and a female voice speaking Zjarrian in one of the other rooms.
Soon the gruff male voice came closer, ending the conversation.
Kofi turned to face the voice but he lowered his eyes as the Wakuu entered the room.
“Ah, what can I do for you today my friends?” the Wakuu asked in Gaian.
It must have been my presence that had made him speak the language.Kofi looked up and the man before us coughed in disbelief, “Kofi?”“Hello Uncle Yera.”Well, I can say that I didn’t see that coming and I was just as surprised as the Chuman Wakuu.
One thing was for sure, Kofi had a number of chiefs in his family.
“Come, sit by the fire and tell me your story,” the Wakuu urged, looking at me with open curiosity, still speaking in Gaian.
It was always about stories with these Zjarrians, I thought with a grin.
Kofi’s uncle was a rotund man but only in girth as we were both just as tall as he was.
He wore a long-sleeved white tunic that stretched over his ample belly.
The fabric was also beaded with the same swirls that I had seen in the village.
I looked down and saw that he wore his red wrap around his waist instead of the village favoured trousers.
Well-worn leather boots were on his feet.
An odd mixture to be sure but it suited him.The Wakuu settled down with a groan, choosing to sit with one hand on his knee while the other rested on his hip.
“You are both a long way from home.”“We are on our way to Joro, Uncle.”“Why?” the older man frowned, stroking his long, wiry beard.
“I have a promise to fulfil,” Kofi said with a shrug.
His uncle nodded and asked no further questions on the subject.
Kofi’s answer had obviously been sufficient.
“Is she your prisoner?” he asked, jerking his head in my direction.
“No, I met Lela on my way here.
Her mother was a Zjarrian.”“But her father…”“The Fire burns inside her and it’s strong, I have seen it,” Kofi said with a hint of anger.
“Argh!” the Wakuu said, dismissing me.
He then lowered his eyes and locked his gaze on Kofi’s feet.
“Your mother sent word to say that you had joined the warriors.
Why are you not at the border with your father and brother?”“I ran away, Uncle,” Kofi answered without fear, “I don’t believe in what they are fighting for.”“You don’t believe? You mean to say that you have deserted the warriors? What is the meaning of this, boy!” the Wakuu bellowed.
“Your actions have brought dishonour to our family.”“You sound just like my father,” Kofi spat across the table, “And I’ve had enough of him.”“Your father is Wakuu of the warriors at Askari.
You will go back or I’ll send you back with an armed escort.”I now knew why Kofi had concealed his weapons on our arrival.
“I will not be going back, like I said I have a promise to keep.”The Wakuu yelled and grunted in Zjarrian for a long time, his face growing angrier with each word.“I will speak so that everyone around the table can understand what I’m about to say next,” Kofi said in Gaian.
“My reasons for not going back to the camp are quite simple, Uncle.
My brother is dead and my coward of a father killed him.” “I will not hear such words of disrespect in my own house!” the Wakuu stood up bashing his fist on the table.
“You have deserted your warrior brothers and now you are travelling with the enemy.
You, my boy, will go back to face what you have done.” Kofi said nothing, his face set in strong determination.
He wasn’t going back.There was an unbearable silence around the table and I was starting to feel uncomfortable when a women carrying two babies in her arms walked into the room.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, husband?” she asked, looking from Kofi to me, questions dancing in her light brown eyes.
“Not at all, my love!” he exclaimed, reaching for the babies in his wife’s arms.
“Sade’s son, Kofi and his travelling companion will be feasting with us tonight at the celebration.” “That’s good news, the more family the better!” his wife said, walking away, “I will organize it right away.”“I have been blessed with two sons - twins, and I trust that something as trivial as you won’t get in the way of the celebration,” Kofi’s uncle warned, leaving the room.
“I do not have time for you and your problems.”“Of course not, Uncle,” Kofi replied, having the last word.

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