We set out at sunrise, walking eastward across grasslands. Jabari insisted he was fit to travel, but I noticed him wince when he thought we weren't looking. The hyena's bite on his forearm was bandaged, yet it clearly pained him.
By midday, the sun beat down hot overhead. We paused under the sparse shade of an acacia tree to rest a moment. Jabari stretched his arm with a grimace; he was sweating from pain as much as from the heat.
"We're making good time," I said, trying to sound upbeat. In truth I was anxious to reach the mountains as soon as possible. Every hour that passed, I imagined Nyos's dark influence spreading further. Part of me wanted to press on without rest.
Amina caught my restless gaze. "Obasi," she said gently, "we should not push too hard in this heat. Jabari needs a moment. We all do."
"I'm fine," Jabari interjected, rolling his shoulder. "It's just a scratch." But his wince belied his words.
I felt a pang of guilt. Jabari was hurt protecting me. And Amina—she had hardly slept, keeping watch and tending to us both.
Yet the dreadful vision Grandmother showed me—the split sky, people in chaos—burned in my mind. Urgency clawed at me. "The Temple is still far," I murmured. "What if… what if we don't get there in time? Maybe I should go ahead faster on my own and—"
Amina's hand on my arm stopped my thought. She fixed me with a firm look. "If you want to walk fast, walk alone. If you want to walk far, walk together," she said, voicing an old proverb with quiet conviction.
Jabari nodded. "We started this journey as one, we'll finish it as one. Don't even think about leaving us behind, Obasi."
His tone was light, but I heard the hurt underneath. I lowered my eyes, ashamed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't bear to lose either of you."
Jabari let out a small snort. "Something already did happen to me because of you, remember?" He held up his bandaged arm with a crooked grin. "But I'd gladly take a hundred wounds if it means we stop that monster. We're in this together, brother." He clasped my shoulder firmly.
A warmth spread through my chest at his words. In his eyes I saw steadfast loyalty.
Amina's stern expression softened. "Obasi, none of us can do this alone," she added. "We will reach the Temple together."
I took a slow breath and nodded. "Together," I agreed quietly.
We rested a while under the acacia. I adjusted Jabari's bandage with fresh herbs from Amina's pouch. He hissed at the poultice but didn't complain. As I finished, I realized I knew little of Jabari's life before we met. "Jabari," I asked gently, "what made you join this fight with me?"
He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low. "My village was touched by Nyos's madness. It drove my younger cousin into a frenzy... he ran into a bushfire, and I couldn't save him." Jabari's hand curled into a fist on his knee. Amina reached over and squeezed his uninjured arm.
"After that night," he continued, "I swore to stop Nyos from taking another life. I left home seeking answers. That journey eventually led me to the elder who introduced me to you."
I remembered that day well—Jabari arriving with tales of spreading corruption, seeking the one chosen by the ancestors. I had been incredulous back then. Now here we were. I placed my hand over his forearm in solidarity. "Your cousin would be proud of you," I said softly. "I'm proud to have you with me, brother."
Jabari gave me a grateful smile, the pain in his eyes easing into determination. "We'll set things right," he replied. "For everyone we've lost."
After our respite, we continued on, our pace measured but steady. Late in the day, an unnatural storm blew in without warning—the sky turned green-gray and a hot wind carried eerie echoes of laughter. Daylight dimmed to an early twilight. We closed ranks, certain this was Nyos's doing, and pressed forward warily until, as suddenly as it came, the false dusk passed and sunlight returned.
Jabari muttered that Nyos was merely toying with us. I said nothing, jaw clenched in renewed determination. If Nyos meant to unnerve us, he would fail.
By the time the real sunset stained the sky orange, we had covered many more miles. In the distance, the outline of the eastern mountains rose, hazy but present. The sight sent a spark of hope through me.
By dusk we reached a small stream and made camp, grateful for fresh water and a chance to rest. We shared a simple meal of dried plantain and jerky, and even managed a few lighthearted quips to ease the heaviness of the day. As night fell, I silently thanked the ancestors for these companions. The day had tested our bodies and spirits with heat and unnatural shadows, but together we had endured.