As I dragged the woman along the pathway, her constant struggling grated on my last nerve. I whirled around, exasperation clear in my voice. "Would you stop being so annoying? If I leave you here, you'll end up in worse trouble!"

She didn't say a word as if she understood, but the glare she shot back at me could have curdled milk. She snatched her hand away from my grip, and before I could react, she took off like a startled antelope.

"By the gods," I muttered, watching her sprint away.

I started after her, my longer strides eating up the distance between us. But just as I thought I'd catch her, she'd put on another burst of speed. It was like chasing a shadow - always just out of reach.

Finally, after what felt like chasing her halfway across the village, I managed to close the gap. Without ceremony, I scooped her up and tossed her over my shoulder like a sack of yams.

She immediately started pummeling my back with her fists, each blow punctuated by what I assumed were colorful curses in her language. I weathered the storm of her anger, trudging along the path back to the village.

People stared as we passed. Some pointed, others laughed outright. I heard one old woman cackle, "Ah, Orji! Is that how you court women these days?"

I gritted my teeth, feeling my ears burn with embarrassment.

As we approached the village square, just before the vigilante post, she managed to land a resounding slap on my face. The sting made me pause, and I noticed her frantically pointing at the post. Suddenly, I realized - her friend must still be there.

With a sigh, I changed course and headed for the post. There, leaning against the wall with that insufferably smug grin of his, was Amadi.

"Well, well," he drawled, eyeing the woman still perched on my shoulder. "You finally went to get her. I knew you couldn't resist playing the hero, Orji."

I scowled at him. "Shut up and give me the other prisoner."

Amadi's grin widened. "As you wish, oh great savior." He called out an order, and soon the other woman was brought out.

The moment she appeared, the woman on my shoulder renewed her struggles with such vigor that I had no choice but to let her down. The two women ran to each other, embracing and weeping, speaking rapidly in their language.

I nodded at Amadi, who waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Don't say I never do anything for you, Orji."

Rolling my eyes, I turned to leave. I'd done what I came to do. It was time to go home and forget this whole mess.

But before I could take more than a few steps, I heard quick footsteps behind me. I turned to see the woman I'd just rescued from the vigilante post running after me.

She stopped, slightly out of breath, her eyes darting around as if searching for a reason to trust me. Then, as if making a decision, she said in our language, "Thank you."

I blinked, surprised. Even her companion looked shocked.

For a moment, we stood there in awkward silence. Then, not knowing what else to do, I simply nodded and turned away again, my mind reeling.

I was barely a few paces away when I heard quick footsteps behind me again. Turning, I saw the woman - Rimi, as her companion had called her - hurrying after me once more.

"Rimi!" the other woman shouted, her voice laced with concern and frustration.

Rimi ignored her, focusing on me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. She pointed at herself and her companion, then at me, struggling to piece together words in our language. "Me, sister... follow," she said haltingly, then gestured vaguely in the direction I had been heading. "Home?"

I shook my head firmly. "Absolutely not," I replied, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Or so I thought.

Amadi, who had been watching this little drama unfold with undisguised amusement, decided to chime in. "Oh, come on, Orji! Let them stay with you. Where's your hospitality?"

I shot him a withering glare. "If you're so concerned, why don't you take them to your home?"

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "And risk them setting my house ablaze? No, thank you. Besides," his tone grew more serious, "if anyone can keep them safe, it's you. Leave them here, and the Onowu might come for them again. Or worse."

I ignored him, turning on my heel and striding away. But Amadi's words wormed their way into my mind, mingling with memories of my father's teachings. After a few steps, I let out a loud, exasperated groan that probably scared a few nearby birds.

Turning back, I saw Rimi looking at me with hopeful eyes, while the other woman stood with her arms folded, pointedly looking away. The contrast between them was almost comical.

I clenched my jaw, warring with myself for a moment longer before finally motioning for them to follow me. The defeated slump of my shoulders probably ruined any attempt at looking magnanimous.

Rimi's eyes lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds. She jumped with joy, grabbing her reluctant companion's arm and practically dragging her along.

As we started down the path, Amadi called after us, his voice dripping with mirth, "Good luck, Orji! You're going to need it!"

I didn't bother to respond, too busy wondering what in the world I had just gotten myself into. The weight of my machete at my back suddenly felt insignificant compared to the responsibility I'd just taken on.

As we walked, Rimi chattering away in her language to her sullen companion, I found myself thinking of Wago, our old pet jaguar. Somehow, I had a feeling these two women might prove to be just as unpredictable and potentially dangerous as a wild animal in my home.

But then I remembered the joy Wago had brought to our family, how my father's willingness to see beyond the surface had enriched our lives. Perhaps, I thought with a mix of trepidation and something that felt suspiciously like hope, this too could be a chance for growth, for rediscovering a part of myself I'd thought long lost.

With a deep sigh, I led the way home, two unexpected guests in tow, and an uncertain future stretching out before us.

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As I led the way home, the two women whispered behind me in their language, their voices low but animated. Though I couldn't understand their words, the tension in their tones was clear.

Mairo hissed under her breath, "Rimi, bismillah, you never mentioned you could speak their language!"

"Hardly," Rimi replied, a blend of defensiveness and pride in her tone. "I only know a few simple words. I can't catch everything they say."

"How?" Mairo demanded, her curiosity overriding her frustration.

Rimi's voice softened, a hint of nostalgia seeping through. "Before I was taken to serve at the Waziri's house as a child, my grandfather was still alive. He was a merchant, always traveling beyond the Great River, returning with stories and new words from distant lands. He'd gather my sisters and me, teaching us those words, as if he were sharing pieces of the world he'd seen. I still remember how his eyes would light up with every new phrase, like he was letting us glimpse a place we'd never set foot in."

After a brief pause, Mairo spoke again, her voice cautious yet resolute. "That might prove useful if we're to survive this brute and his village of savages."

"Mairo!" Rimi admonished, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "He just saved us. Maybe he's not as brutish as he looks."

Mairo scoffed. "Don't be naive, Rimi. We can't trust anyone here. We need to be ready to run at any moment."

"And go where?" Rimi challenged. "We don't know this land. At least here, we have shelter and... protection."

"Protection?" Mairo's voice dripped with sarcasm. "From the man who captured us in the first place?"

"People can change," Rimi said softly. "Maybe this is Allah's way of giving us a chance."

Mairo sighed heavily. "Your optimism will be the death of us both. Fine, we'll stay for now. But promise me you'll be careful. And teach me some of their words. If we need to escape, I want to be prepared."

"I promise," Rimi agreed. "Though I think you should give him a chance. Did you see how he stood up to that guard? There's more to him than we know."

"Perhaps," Mairo conceded reluctantly. "But don't forget why we're here, Rimi. We can't lose sight of our goal."

"I haven't forgotten," Rimi assured her. "But maybe, just maybe, this detour is part of our journey."

Their conversation faded into silence as we approached my compound. I couldn't help but wonder what plans these two were hatching behind my back. As I pushed open the gate to my home, I realized that life as I knew it was about to change dramatically. Whether for better or worse remained to be seen.

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