Another dead rabbit was at the door. Like the others delivered over the course of three days, it was in a woven basket. Ugegbe mused with a shake of her head that all the baskets in Osisi would soon be exhausted at the rate the prince was going. There probably was a scarcity already.

Stooping low to the ground, she grabbed and looped her hand through the basket's handle. It would be beneficial when she needed a carrier for the food she usually saved for the little hungry boy who frequented areas near the palace kitchen, soliciting for spare morsels to satiate his hunger and sometimes even water to quench his thirst.

Ugegbe made certain that she always had food ready to give the poor child, who happened to be quite an eater. Each time she caught sight of him, he appeared to be starving, almost to the point of not being able to utter a single word, and it hurt her more than she could ever say.

Therefore, she and Zelunjo had decided that one of their responsibilities would be to take care of him. Ugegbe's respect for her friend grew and fattened even more at her choice to show kindness to the young boy. She knew her sympathy most likely sprung up from the infinite well of love she had for her siblings who were around the child's age.

How would it feel to have brothers and sisters to tender to? Ugegbe wished she had somebody who was also birthed by her own father and mother. She would have loved to have kinfolk, ones that she could confide in and would share her problems with her. Even when they could not take on her burdens, at least they would be there to encourage and push her through it all.

Sadly, she had no one. Papa was all that she had as she was all that he had. It was disheartening to think of the fact that even though they had no one else to turn to but each other, they weren't allowed to spend time as a family the way they ought to. She hated that he was alone, and she was sure, more than of anything in the world, that he resented that she had to become a slave to save their family from debt.

There was no other option to be taken. She went into servantry of her own accord, or her father would have been forced to work on the farm of the chief he owed. Chief Mmeremikwu was the name of the wicked man. Almost all the inhabitants in the village owed him in one way or the other, an evidence of his greed.

Yet, Ugegbe did not blame him for their misfortune. He was not the one who fooled her father. If he were, then she would have been more forgiving than she was of the actual culprit. The betrayer was a man she once trusted with her life. Never again. She trusted no one. No man nor woman. At least not completely.

Against every person she'd come to know, she had a pouch of quiet reservations. Normally, the skepticism she held were questioning of their behaviours and of words they'd uttered in their anger or while deep into a gossip. She assessed people's characters based on so and reacted accordingly, especially when she'd finally studied them long enough to form her personal opinions.

With her habit of studying people, one would assume that she enjoyed being judgemental to those she met, but this was not the truth. Her critical gauging of individuals was not to disparage or belittle them; she did not believe herself to be better than others as she rarely gave in to the temptation of comparing.

She only wanted to protect herself from those who were sincerely out to cause her unfathomable problems, for there were many of them hiding where they were sure they could not be found. There was no room for her to make mistakes in that regard. Her father had made one that turned out to be too many for them both.

Out in the open, as she pushed the long outside broom in short, swift patterns with the basket still hooked to her arm, the gentle wind serenaded her, planting kisses on her bare, bronzed face.

All the time she'd spent under the glaring sun days before had darkened her complexion than it was before, and she approved of how her skin glistened, virtually glowing in the light of the ripening day. The warmth of the sun beckoned on her, and she tilted her head, closing her eyes to its rays.

"Gegbe?" A girl called out from behind her. Ugegbe twisted around to catch Zelunjo grinning at her from the doorway of the hut. She had a sly look playing on her face, and Ugegbe knew what was to come next.

"Do not say anything, Zelu."

"Why shall I not?" She shoved herself off the wooden frame she'd been relaxing on. Her roundish breasts, marked with pretty, white patterns, jiggled as she walked up to Ugegbe, who tried hard not to stare at the huge twins on her chest. It was not like her own chest was completely dry or bereft of flesh, but they were nowhere close to the massiveness of Zelunjo's bust.

Although the girl often complained of their heaviness and how much of a disturbance they were, Ugegbe knew she secretly loved them. They had brought her attention from almost all the young men in the village. Them and her curvy backside, of course. One could not easily forget that. The many gifts she received during festivals were a testimony of their advantageousness. Indeed, her betrothed had a vast number of competitors.

"Because I said not to," Ugegbe replied after a few seconds of being lost in her thoughts. She cut around Zelunjo so she could lay her broom against the wall.

"That does not matter because I will speak my mind. It is your prince, is it not? He has brought us food again today. It seems that we will never go hungry with him around. He must love you very much." Ugegbe was glad she could not see the meaningful look that would have been directed at her at the declaration. "Say, do you not think the same as I do, Gegbe? Do I think alone?"

"Zelunjo, please." She sighed as her friend skipped into her view, a stupefying grin on her fair features.

"He sent a rabbit yesterday and another the day before that." She noted correctly. Ugegbe had roasted the two rabbits to be well-prepared for a good sale in the market, and maybe for some eating. "That is three days in a row, Gegbe. And only that many days have passed since your returns. I will continue to thank the heavens for the safety you both were granted." She lifted her eyes upwards at her last statement.

Ugegbe wondered who she was praying her thanks to, whether it was the gods they'd been raised to worship or if it was the new God she'd recently accepted and would not stop talking about. Chineke. She'd yet to reconcile the being that saved her that night to this God, but Zelunjo was convinced that it was Him and no one else. Well, today, she'd be finding out.

"Are you thinking again, Gegbe?" Zelunjo snapped her fingers noisily in Ugegbe's face, causing her to groan aloud. "You should stop doing that a lot. It is not attractive for a woman to be lost in her head every time. How will you find a man who is willing, ready to choose and eventually marry you if you will not even get to the point of paying him attention?"

Who said I wanted to be married any time soon? Ugegbe thought sourly. Even more importantly, when did she ever say she wanted to be chosen by a man? What if she wanted to choose him by herself? Would that be a sin? She pursed her lips to keep from spilling out her thoughts. Zelunjo got hurt easily, and there was little doubt that her words would upset her.

After all, she'd come to realise from experience that her advice, although often wrong, was from a good place. She cared too easily, and ultimately, too deeply for those who succeeded in winning her love. Ugegbe had been a subject of her relentless care in times where there was no one else to pay her heed. She was a great person to have on one's side.

"I will think of doing what you have said, Zelu?" She purposefully emphasized what she'd been told to stop doing only to irk her closest friend.

"Oh, Gegbe." Zelunjo merely shook her head in response. "I know you will get there someday."

In all honesty, Ugegbe did not want to get there. But she nodded carefully and let Zelunjo lead her towards the kitchen. Simultaneously, she put forward the subject of another cruel punishment on one of the errand-boys, courtesy of the stewardess's extreme strictness, to distract her companion from proceeding further on the relationship between the prince and herself.

"At least Daa is not here." Zelunjo's tiny voice traversed the empty kitchen rolling outside in echoes as she searched for a spare knife. It was only past morning, and the cooking-area was clear since the king's meal had already been prepared and served.

Daa Agughalam, as she was called by everyone who served under her, had put the stipulation in place that immediately after breakfast was made, the kitchen had to be evacuated and eventually remain empty before noon. Slightly after the pass of noon was when she began to prepare the king's afternoon meal, and she continually made it clear that she wanted nobody in the same space as herself unless she invited them in.

To all, she was an austere woman who did not tolerate nonsense from her subordinates, a trait that enhanced her mean demeanour and pushed everyone but her husband away. She was the first stewardess in the palace, and this was because her husband was the main steward. He had the power to chose who he wanted as his assistant. It was to the surprise of all the able-bodied men in the village that he chose his wife.

Some said she had him bewitched and took over his role as the man in the house. Others mused that he did not have a functioning manhood, to begin with, and consequently was never a man.

The second rumour was more eminently popular than the first because the couple did not have any child. Yet, Dee Agughalam refused to take a second wife. Therefore, the prevalent conclusion became that in the Agughalam family, the woman was the man since the man had nothing to prove himself.

Ugegbe had no desire to glean details about the lives of a married couple who seemed to be satisfied with each other. Still, she'd heard so many hearsays, some of which she never wanted to witness being spoken to existence again. Notwithstanding, she did know that Daa Agughalam could be an unbelievably cruel woman to those who crossed her.

Luckily, she had not yet become one of the woman's victims who were sometimes on the verge of passing out after her merciless beatings, but she'd been a spectator in too many instances to count. In all honesty, she certainly would have received a severe thrashing due to her absence for days, but the prince had vouched for her story's credibility.

Though Ugegbe was indeed grateful to Uzochi for his favour, which saved her from inflicted pain, she was also not the most pleased as him announcing their relationship—which he made out to be more intimate than it truly was—put her in poor relations with the other maids more quickly than she'd ever have taken time to envisage. She most certainly did not appreciate the side effects of his act of kindness.

"Gegbe?"

"Yes?" She whipped her attention away from the flat stone she'd set up to behold Zelunjo with a knife in her grasp.

"Here, take this one. I don't think Daa Agughalam will let us touch her sharpest blade. She would skin us alive for even entertaining such thoughts."

"The woman can be incredibly hostile when she chooses to be so. In fact, we should probably do this fast before she comes over. No one knows where she is right now or if she might be heading back already."

"Yes, this is why we should fasten our paces." She agreed as she crouched, balancing on the tips of her toes so that she hovered above the rabbit that had been lain on the stone slab. Ugegbe wanted the meat in smaller pieces so it would be easier to cook. She'd decided she would not be selling this particular rabbit.

"Shift a little to the side, Zelu. I cannot see with your shadow in the way." Ugegbe complained, waving her farther to the left. The position she'd taken before cast a distracting, overhead shadow on the dead animal. In that way, it had been impossible to see what and what not to slice through without the works of the sun.

"Is this better?" She stretched her right leg first before her left, all the while squatting. This caused whatever changes she was making to be incredibly snail-paced.

"There, you can stop there." Ugegbe motioned after a long while of shuffling. "That's better. Grab its legs."

"Alright." Her small hands clamped on the thighs of the rabbit. "Mhm, Gegbe. Have you found it?"

"Found what?" Her voice conveyed her current absentmindedness as she sawed through the belly of the brown carcass. "Hold that part, please."

"Have you found your waist beads? I do not think I have yet seen it on your waist." Her eyes sought out Ugegbe's empty waist to confirm her thoughts.

"I still have not seen it since that day," Ugegbe answered while keeping her focus on the tough ribs she was tearing apart. She did not want Zelunjo to see the pain deeply etched onto her face. Her waist bead was the single one she possessed and was also a memento of her late mother.

It was heartbreaking for her to think of the fact that she'd lost something so precious. The last time she'd held it in her hands was the day the prince was attacked. However, she could not remember where she last kept it or lost it. If it was in the forest, then it was likely gone forever. But if it was misplaced at the palace, she had a greater chance of recovering it.

No one could have taken it as it was made of worn-out corals. If, on the contrary, it was stolen by a maid, she would have been able to mark it out easily. The style was far different from the latest for maidens, and its ancientness was not exactly fashionable. This was precisely why she worried that she'd lost it forever. Otherwise, she would have discovered it already.

"Do not worry yourself too much about it, Gegbe. I am sure we will find it soon."

"I hope so. I really hope so." She whispered.

༄༄༄

The leaves rustled as Ugegbe gathered them in her arms. They were quite a lot in number to make up for the reality that they weren't of the size she wanted. She'd wanted larger ones, but the leaves on the trees were slightly shrivelled due to the dry season. It really was a bother.

"Gegbe! We will be late if you spend any more time searching for leaves." Zelunjo grumbled from her perch on an abandoned mortar. There was a large crack through the middle of the wooden cylinder-like instrument, and it was clearly why it had been discarded. Zelunjo had made it her stool by turning it upside down, exposing its smooth bottom upwards.

"Why are you in such a hurry, Zelu? They will not get angry with us if we are late, will they?"

"No, I believe not. They could not pick offence at our lateness." She raised a hand to itch her tanned hair, which had a single braid holding up the unruly mane in the middle of her head. Ugegbe noticed that it had grown even longer and thicker than before as expected of Zelunjo's stubborn hair. She would have to braid it for her soon.

"Then, we have nothing to worry about. After all, they do not even know that we will be showing up." Ugegbe gave a satisfied nod as she found a plantain leaf that suited her purposes. She dumped the ones in her arms and headed to the basket of food sitting contentedly next to Zelunjo.

"It is true that they do not know about our plans to show up, especially not of yours, but it would be better if we arrived on time so as not to miss anything important."

"As you wish," Ugegbe placed the woven receptacle in the little shed she'd made and topped it with the wide frond while holding back a sigh. She'd inadvertently been stalling, but she could not anymore. Her opportunity to do so was ultimately exhausted. She'd have to face her fate and stare it in the eye, an action she was not yet ready to take.

"He will find it as you say, right?" Zelunjo gestured at the hidden basket filled to the brim with leftovers. They had to leave for their destination early, while Daa Agughalam's permit, influenced by the second prince, was still valid, and so would not be meeting the adorable child who always came over for food.

Strangely, they still did not know his name. The child did not speak plenty of words except to beg for a meal and say 'thank you' afterwards. He chose to not disclose his name despite how many times he'd been asked. Ugegbe and Zelunjo called him by nothing. Names were very powerful. Therefore, it would be wrong to tag any individual by an appellation they did not own.

"He will surely find it. I once told him of what I would do, how and where I would hide a meal for him if I happened to not be around when he visited."

"Ezigbo. We shall go now."

They both walked out of the tangle of trees by the kitchen palace, arm in arm, one fairly excited and the other slightly petrified. Ugegbe was most absolutely not occupying a single position on the spectrum of excitement.

Her legs wobbled as they journeyed on, and she berated herself for being so afraid. It was not like her to be this spineless. Zelunjo, on the other hand, was not feeling any of the anxiety that was draining Ugegbe as the girl appeared to be in a great mood.

"Gegbe, will you practice your Uli at the end of today as usual?" Came Zelunjo's teasing out of the blue.

"Take your time, Zelu. Please leave me alone, biko. My practices are essential, and I will be doing them tomorrow. It is your fault that I have to suffer about them in the first place."

Zelunjo giggled, a tinkly, familiar sound to Ugegbe's ears. It always made her want to smile, and she did. "Forgive me, Gegbe. I know it is all my fault. If not for my upcoming marriage, you would not be subjected to such troubles. Thank you for doing your best."

"Of course. I will do my best for you, Zelu. You are a the closest friend I have. I will ever do all that I can to make you happy."

"Oh, Gegbe." She stopped to hug Ugegbe, who patted her hair as the slightly taller one in the embrace. When they pulled apart from each other, she caught her friend wiping away sneaky tears. Ugegbe found it adorable how she got emotional so easily. She had to comfort her most of the time, and doing so reminded her of a probable situation with a younger sibling. "Thank you for not giving up at all."

"I would never, Zelu." She placed a hand on her chest, a sign that she was sincere by speaking from her heart and grinned broadly. Zelunjo lightened up also, and they continued on.

Most pathways in Osisi were quite familiar despite their locations being at unique places. Ugegbe verified this truth as they picked up their pace on the road leading to the village's outskirts. She shuddered to note the similarities of the shrubs and the models of their markings to those on the way to the river.

Countlessly, she had to inform herself that they were not the same and that she was somewhere entirely different. There would be no waylaying or capturing of anyone. She was especially soothed, her fears subsiding, when they came across other maidens returning to the heart of the village or were overtaken by a running guard. It made her feel less unsafe.

She thought of Prince Uzochi and wondered if he, too, would get scared by walking in a similar place. It saddened her that she did not get to take care of him as she had wanted to. She'd wanted to pay the debts that she owed him for saving her, but fate had its own plans.

"Gegbe?" Zelunjo called out to her, halting her reminiscing. "Is my wrapper fine? The top one, I mean."

"It looks great, Zelu. I think it really suits your complexion."

"Ah, you think so?" She pressed her left hand on the crimson red wrapper—with brown designs scattered all over it—wound around her chest, seemingly delighted at the compliment she'd been given.

"Yes, I do," Ugegbe replied. She counted the wrapper Zelunjo had on as one of the many that fit her the most. It suited her lightness and made her stand out even more.

She'd adopted the additional clothing right before they left as covering up one's chest region as a woman was slowly becoming a norm even for the poorest person on the street without a single tie to the royal lineage. Ugegbe knew that Zelunjo's reason was more personal as she was aware of how much she loved to be free with nothing holding her back.

Zelunjo was donning more clothing because it was advised by the white men who'd been preaching to her and who would soon do so to Ugegbe. Apparently, from some of Zelunjo's commentary, they thought engulfing oneself in wraps and folds was honourable of a woman.

To them, breasts were sexual and, thus, should be kept enclosed. Ugegbe did not see the act of covering up as much of a problem because she already had a reputation for always sheltering her breasts.

She had two reasons for doing so. One was that her blood was a favourite for mosquitoes, and they loved to feast on her flesh; they especially favoured her below average, perky breasts. Her second reason was that she more than often faltered at patterning her chest as adornment. Therefore, she avoided doing so by wrapping her chest at any chance that she got.

In any case, Ugegbe thought that she'd prefer to shield herself from men who rated every element of a woman to be sexual and capable of inciting arousal even when they had no business being attracted to the woman herself.

How could a man let himself be stimulated by a woman he had no relationship with to the point that he could not hold himself back from committing sexual misconduct? Ugegbe was yet to know, for she had not seen many such cases.

In the history of Osisi, men could be killed for taking the virginity of a woman without paying her bride price. They were often ridiculed and banished from the community, especially if they decided not to take responsibility for their actions. No one wanted such a wicked, vile man around their female children or wives.

Even in such a situation, covering one's breasts was never a necessity or something that should prevent a woman from being assaulted. In Ugegbe's opinion, tapering one's desires when it was not proper was one of the characteristics that should make a man a real man and a woman a true woman.

True, she had admitted to herself that she did not mind having to dress up in two wrappers. But she knew she was not the only woman in the village. Many ladies would feel encumbered by having to do so. It was not something they were used to.

Worse of all, it did not seem like they would have a choice soon enough. Now, you could do what you wished to—tying two wrappers or less—except if you were of high status as the king had already made it a law for royalties to be "properly dressed" at all times. But eventually, the law would include the commoners; Ugegbe was sure about this.

In times like this, it was terrifying to think of the influence the white men had on the customs and traditions of the land. Though they claimed that they were not of the same affiliation with those of their race who intended to solely sell foreign objects to the rich and referred to themselves as mere missionaries, they were the same.

They were not trading in goods, but they were selling the village their ideas and values in return for ancient customs, which they degraded and chucked aside like detritus.

Ugegbe was not completely sure where she stood on the change, slowly rippling through all that she once thought to be permanent. This was why she still was willing, albeit reluctantly, to listen to them preach to her. She was not sure what was right or wrong anymore, and she deeply wanted to know.

"Gegbe, we are here." Zelunjo gestured to a shed a few metres from where they stood.

Ugegbe could see Mazi Njeze, on an elevated stage made from sandbags, translating what a short, white man that she'd never seen before was saying. She could also see Mister John, the man that she'd crossed paths with enough times. Slightly to the left of him was another white man whose face she could not make out. "Let us go now!"

"Yes, Zelu. Let us go." She was ready to know this God.
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A/N: Please don't forget to vote and comment, lovelies. This chapter is a mess, so I will be editing soon. Cheers!