Still lying on her back, Ego became aware of an oppressive darkness pressing against her from every direction.
It was the kind of darkness that swallowed everything. She could not tell whether her eyes were open or closed. There was no glimmer of light, no shadow, no outline—only endless blackness.
The air was stale.
Dusty.
Heavy.
Each breath scraped painfully through her throat.
A chill seeped through whatever lay beneath her and slowly crawled up her spine. She tried to shift her body, but there was nowhere to move. Hard surfaces hemmed her in on every side.
Panic surged through her.
She tried stretching out her arms.
Nothing.
Her elbows struck solid walls.
She attempted to bend her knees.
Impossible.
Her body had been wedged into an impossibly narrow space.
A coffin...
The horrifying thought exploded inside her mind.
Have they buried me?
Her heart pounded violently.
She opened her mouth and screamed.
No sound emerged.
She screamed again.
Still nothing.
Not even a whisper.
Fear consumed her.
She tried pounding against the walls but could not even lift her hands. She strained with every ounce of strength she possessed, yet her body refused to obey.
Then she felt it.
Movement.
The box lurched gently.
Someone...
Someone was carrying it.
No...
Several people.
She could feel their uneven footsteps through the wood beneath her.
I'm alive!
She wanted to shout.
Please... I'm still alive!
But her lips would not obey.
The darkness seemed to tighten around her.
Faint voices drifted toward her.
At first they sounded distant, muffled by layers of earth.
Gradually they became clearer.
Yet something felt wrong.
The voices were not coming from outside.
They echoed inside her head.
Then another sensation crept into her awareness.
The biting cold was fading.
Warmth slowly replaced it.
Heat.
Like that of a nearby fire.
Someone was calling her.
Softly.
Patiently.
"Ego..."
A pause.
"Ego..."
Again.
"Ego..."
It was an old woman's voice.
Familiar.
Gentle.
But her mind was too clouded to remember whose it was.
She struggled to open her eyes.
They felt glued together.
Her eyelids were stiff, sealed by dried tears and sleep.
She forced them apart little by little until daylight stabbed painfully into her vision.
She blinked repeatedly.
A thatched roof hovered above her.
Smoke-darkened rafters.
The faint smell of herbs.
Firewood.
Medicinal leaves.
She turned her head slowly.
Recognition struck her.
She was lying on a bamboo bed.
Inside...
the old woman's hut.
Shock rushed through her.
She sat upright so abruptly that a damp cloth slipped from her forehead onto her lap.
She picked it up.
The cloth smelled strongly of boiled pawpaw, mango and guava leaves.
A fever remedy.
Someone had been nursing her.
Her entire body felt as though it had been beaten with clubs.
Her muscles ached.
Her shoulders were stiff.
Her tongue tasted unbearably bitter.
Her throat was dry enough to crack.
Even lifting her head demanded effort.
Then her stomach growled loudly.
She realized she was starving.
She remembered the fruits she had gathered before everything happened.
They were still inside her basket beneath the bed.
Slowly she lowered herself onto the floor.
The moment her feet touched the earth she caught a putrid smell.
Rotting fruit.
She crouched and pulled out the basket.
Every fruit had turned black.
Their skins had collapsed inward.
Sticky juice seeped through the raffia weaving.
Flies buzzed lazily around them.
Ego stared in disbelief.
Fruit did not rot overnight.
How long have I been unconscious?
Her mind raced.
Nothing made sense.
Had everything been a dream?
No...
It couldn't have been.
She still remembered every detail.
The cold leaves brushing against her skin.
The smell of decay inside Ajofia.
The frightened pounding of her heart while hiding from the search party.
The bitter concoction.
The unbearable pain tearing through her body.
Even now she could almost taste it lingering on her tongue.
It had all felt too real.
Perhaps...
Perhaps the old woman had rescued her before the others could harm her.
Or perhaps she had been deceived once again.
Either way, she could no longer trust anyone in this place.
She needed to leave.
Immediately.
She emptied the rotten fruits outside the hut, slung the basket over her shoulder, picked up her rusty cutlass, and hurried into the forest.
Every snapping twig made her stop.
Every rustling leaf sent her heart racing.
Whenever she heard anything that sounded unlike the ordinary sounds of the forest, she broke into a run.
She did not slow down until Ajofia lay behind her and the familiar footpaths of Umudibia welcomed her home.
*
Three days had passed since Ego returned from the Evil Forest.
Yet the events of that terrible night refused to leave her mind.
Lying awake on her bamboo bed, she replayed everything again and again, trying to separate memory from nightmare.
The more she thought about it, the less certain she became.
Had it truly happened?
Or had fever and exhaustion woven everything into one terrifying dream?
That afternoon she had met Nnadozie on the village path.
He greeted her warmly.
Asked where she had been.
Said he had not seen her for days.
Even expressed concern for her well-being.
She answered that she had been busy gathering herbs.
Nothing in his manner suggested hatred.
Nothing suggested he had recently watched her drink what was supposed to be a deadly concoction.
The encounter only deepened her confusion.
She wished she could confront the old woman one last time.
Hear her own version of the story.
But another part of her wanted never to see that mysterious woman again.
For now, she thanked the gods simply for being alive.