She waited till the men and their captives were all gone. 

Aminat scurried out of the thicket, looking nervously around. The blazing sun was already heading for repose, westward it soared.

She staggered over some boulders as she tried to scale the gorge, finally heaving herself onto the shore. Aminat navigated underneath the shadows of trees to the moss herding palm tree 'bridge'.

Instinctively she looked back. There was nothing but trees—lots of trees and shrubs, she crossed the bridge almost losing her footings at the sound of a squirrels hopping the branches. The cold sand on the bank at the other end felt like therapy for her sore feet.

Birds were tweeting gleefully in countless tress, quite oblivious of the unusual traveller.

Past the tall colony of bamboo, she ducked under the rotting bough of a tallow tree, skirting a large anthill she would have actually fallen against had she seen it less sooner.

Days there were when she'd imagined the wild on a favourably pedestal, through the kaleidoscope of fantasy and flippant day dreaming. Reality was crueler than what she had in her mind, the wild was no friend of hers. Leaves were already leaving tokens on her exposed leg making them itch even worse. She resisted the urge to scratch back, knowing fully well that it would make it worse: blisters would form with time and in few days, she'd be dealing with open sores.

Looking back once more, she wondered if she'd made the right decision, and most frequently she doubted if leaving Lucia was a good decision.

Time whirl on, as the forest got less denser with every step she took. darkness gaining control just as well. In no time, the moon would be high up in an obsidian sky, what would she do then? How will she be able to negotiate the uncultivated side of the planet without proper light or shelter? Then, her eyes settled on something peculiar to civilization, a cashew plant! She must have ignored some in her long walk! With this comes the realization that was further buttressed by splatters and casts of cow dung amidst the grass: Aminat was not alone, it was only a matter of time before she meets with herds men.

"There will be no way for escape, if she is still around this vicinity, she'll certainly be found."

The last word one of the pursuers she'd narrowly escaped uttered still echoed in her ears as she stumbled through the bush, her feet, worn sore by the unforgiving blades and thistles, eyes hurting from tears and limbs too weak to move her any further.

The pale moon had begun sailing proudly above the exceptionally beautiful cirrus clouds, lending light to the dew that began forming on the grass, as time flew by and the lonely traveller in the unfamiliar terrain tried her best to make the smallest sound as she stole her way through.

The night was eerie still, except for the swaying grasses. The creepy quiet (if the undulating chirping and of crickets and the occasional call of nocturnal birds can be ignored,) reminded her of graveyards. With this reminiscent came the evil forebode and dread of an evil ghost sneaking up on her from nowhere in particular. The unfamiliar territory seems even more threatening, like the heaviness before a disastrous storm.

Aminat's stomach rumbled quite audibly, She held on to it as though the pressure will ease the hunger.

A startled hare busted off its cover at the sound of her footsteps, bounding away. Aminat's heart picked race at the sight of the fluffy oddball, hopping off; she lost her footing and found herself sitting helpless on the grass. It was just an animal.

Beyond the fall was the consciousness of a constant stinging pain the sole of her feet, she gave a voiceless groan as she collapsed on the grass. It was then she realized the thorny twig beneath her feet, she reached for it, her body protested in pain as she pulled it off.

She lost orientation to pain, a wild agony that made her inwardly curse all the things she could see seared through her as blood flowed freely. Her fingers dug on the grass, crumpling them with all her might as she struggled not to shout.

Aminat sat staring at the mocking moon with bleary eyes, her agony sifting through the ugly memories from the night before and wrapping it all up in a dull sob she couldn't resist; her arms felt like water as she took a breather on the guinea grass. The minute stinging sensation and the fear of creepy crawlies, all lost to the overruling anguish.

After the pain subsided, Aminat leant on one arm and then the other in a crouch; her black unkempt tresses wavered in the wind that gained coldness by the minute as she struggled to stand. The sting was duller but nevertheless there, she limped onward. She had to leave as soon as possible to at least farther enough to increase her chances of safety.

Again her mind reverted to the plant she saw, Aminat was quite sure that cashew and mango trees are not native occurrence in an African Sudan savannah, at least not the new plant she'd encountered minutes ago; in addition to the cast of animal droppings left behind in too much frequency to belong to random roaming herbivores. There are herds men around and this must be one of their major routes, on the other hand she could actually be walking towards a settlement. Both possibilities did not ease her fear, what if she was caught and taken back?

Every now and then she craned her head for any unfamiliar sight. If there were nomads around, it was quite doubtful where their allegiance would lie.

She muttered prayers to heaven, that in the midst of the uncertainties her safety may be assured.

Trying to voice some plea made her realize how parched her throat felt. Thirst. Water, the last she drank was during the plunge. With the increasing aridity, there was no hope of finding a river anytime soon. In fact, the farther she moved westward, the more unlikely it seems probable. The vegetation was actually thinning out from the near rain forest to savannah grassland, the dryer the litters that pricked the sole of her feet felt, the more tasking each step with her left leg felt.

She was now past the shadow of tall trees, there were more grass and sedges than there were trees. A baobab stood threateningly dark in the plains beyond, some shorter trees looked not more than spikes on the ground across the vast distance, their leaves rustling and waving at the moon which shone brightly down now. It's quite a wonder how her journey would have been without its light.

Aminat involuntarily stretched her arms, voicing a big yawn that made her ribs ache.

Amidst the gloom, a familiar tree greeted her sight. It had the similar cone shape, branches leaning to the ground with heavy fruits; it could be a mango tree.

She reached the promising tree, it was dark to tell which fruit was ripe by sight, she palpitated the lowest she could reach; it felt hard. That could not be ripe. She flexed her heels reaching higher, she grabbed another; her leg lost strength momentarily as she tilted towards the already injured toe, her clasp and fall afforded her a detached fruit and to her delight it felt succulent. She bit into it relishing the rewarding flavour of the fleshy drupe. Aminat licked the fruit dry and gave a loud belch. Her thirst was diminished.

Aminat clambered up the trunk as her eyes grew heavier, the rough bough was not in the least comfortable, but Aminat thought it best to rest on the tree for a while craning her heads at intervals, to ensure that no one was following. Her decision was further reinforced by an unexpected yowl that was re-echoed through the terrain—Hyenas! Despite her mild acrophobia, she strained her limb to climb higher. How much a fear of one thing could make one ignore the fear of another! Though she'd never heard of when a hyena ate a man, she doubted if they'd leave a starving teenage girl in peace.

Aminat settled her legs on a higher bough and rested her back against the biting trunk; she hugged herself as her eye lids began to close.

The sight that greeted her closed eyes was that of Lucia: her cry as her leg bled. She opened her eyes as fresh tears flowed. It was all her fault her friend was caught, was Lucia not the one that had helped her consider the prospect of escape? "I'm sorry, Lucia." She muttered, wondering where Lucia could be, what was happening to her. "the fault was mine," she blamed herself, she had been selfish.

The gust of cold wind made goose pimples bump on her skin, her pinafore offered little relief. The incessant call of mosquitoes made the night the more miserable. Looking down made her feel dizzy, yet, she had to stay on the tree if she wanted to live; heaven knows she wanted life, the free life she'd known before.

There was no way she could journey back to Chibok on foot, not except she takes a week or two. How was survival assured for such a long time? Still, the confident assertion of the men made her doubt if she'd ever make it out. Who knows where they are, or where she actually was on the map. All she knew was that west was the way home, and westward she would go.

It was hard to explain how she slept, but she could remember waking up at the faintest howl of the wind after another bad dream only to drift back to sleep. In one, she'd dreamt of the dark silhouette of stationary trees all springing up to catch her with shadowy limbs. As she jerked awake, she could almost swear that she saw the trees move but as she focused, she concluded that it must have been the work of a tired starved mind under the ambient influence of the full moon.

*****

Juliet's dreams were hazy, fire and screams were frequent features. There were times when she was home, times when she was in the familiar surroundings of a class room. She awoke in the middle of the night, her head hurts bouncing off a piece of metal as the truck swayed to one side of the bumpy road. Wherever the men were taking them, they had not arrived.

Turns out that the men had a patrol team on the roads, hence the quick arrival of the new truck they were loaded on. Hell was yet to be seen, and Juliet fought not to imagine what it looked like. Whatever it was, judging from her knowledge of the men, it most certainly was not good.

Her body shuddered as she recalled Lucia: her bloody mess shoved mercilessly into the truck. They'd thrown a bandage at Juliet and told her to stanch the graze, which she did. Luckily the bullet had only scuffed her calf, though it bleed horribly, to Juliet, it was better than broken bones.

Lucia gasped, her eyes wide, as the Hilux tilted to another side.

"Shut it!" Ali, the gruff, most irritable of the men shouted, his arm threatingly raising the rifle butt over her head. "Shut it or I'll throw you down for the wolves!"

Lucia whimpered, clutching to Juliet. Warm moisture leaked from a corner of her eye, glistening in the moonlight. A girl placed an arm over Lucia's, rocking her shoulders in her silent offer of consolation.

As much as Juliet tried to fight it, a weak hungry girl who had known no sleeps for 24 hours would most likely doze off at intervals. Her head against a metal bars at every bump site marked her rude awakenings.

Honk! Honk! Came the countless blaring of horns that roused her from her sleep, her eyes caught sight of a large camp fire jutting above scores of large tents whose tops looked like blackened spears against the starry sky. Looking around, she realized that the truck had stopped and each girl was already alighting from it.

The men ordered them down the rocky terrain, enforcing authority with the butt of their rifle or a slap. The light beyond stung her gaze as they approached.

Juliet judged that the camp was quite as large as a village settlement from the look of it, there were many people than a handful and their long walk was yet to lead them past the rows of tents to the edge of the camp.

They were herded past the campfire eastwards, past tents whose occupants—mostly men—came out to see the new arrivals. The men stooped them before four shaggy looking tents, its poles and canvas swaying sluggishly in the night wind.

Divided in groups, Juliet and her friend were placed pack full with dozens other girls into the farthest tent. Small loaves of bread were served them by a gaunt sad looking woman; only few of the girls had the appetite to eat. Apprehension was high and each look at each other with the unvoiced expression: when will we be freed?

Every one curled on the floor to have a shut eye as night wore on. Juliet could not sleep despite the odd darkness and quiet in her immediate vicinity. The shouts and chants of the men by the campfire and the look on their faces that showed nothing close to mercy dreaded her every passing moment.

The still camp flap was thrown aside as torch light flooded in from the corner of her eye. Behind the covers of her loosen hair, two men stood at the entrance, their hungry eyes scanned the lying girls, some of the girls rose and scurried away as they advanced inwards.

"You," one pointed at the direction of Juliet. Her heart slammed her ribcage threatening to give way, yet she lay still as giving the impression that she was asleep. Let it not be me! she silently prayed. One of them stepped over her, there was a muffled whimper then a loud screech as the older girl, Jere Sulia, that was asleep beside her, was hauled by her hair and led away.

Her lips trembled as she tried to frame, "please..."

The man pushed her outside through the flap, her cry receded into the darkness. The second man was already holding the wrist of frighten girl, his large hand covering her mouth. Her wide eye spoke only of the terror she felt as the man hauled her away.

As the light went off, darkness, stronger than the one she could see took hold of her aching heart, cramped in the midst of her friends and classmates, never had Juliet felt so terribly helpless, lonely and vulnerable.

Apologies for the late update and Thanks for the votes, comments and publicity.

Chapter four is right on the next page!

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