A dense shaft of sunlight thumped Ugegbe in the face, stirring her from her deep slumber. It took a second, which was one she thought to be the longest she had ever counted, to gather her bearings. Then she leaped to her feet in a panic.

Her palpitating heart, however, slowed down its painful pace when her eyes settled on the slender, still figure lying a few feet from her position at the mouth of the cave. She soon fought a recoil though as it all came to her in a rush; the past night. Prince Uzochi, the demon, the fair man. She halted the fast-spinning wheels in her head at this as her memories flooded over.

The demon was the man, and the man was the one who had spoken to—or at least attempted to communicate with—her afterwards. It had been a late realisation. Way too late. She thought, cringing as she replayed the moment where she had screamed at sighting him.

Seeing a man who was so ghastly white at such an odd hour of the night had been enough to make her tremble in fear. In her shock, she'd let out an embarrassing ear-piercing scream, completely forgetting about the possibilities of danger she could have invited by doing so. For one, she could have been found out by the enemy spies who sometimes wandered around at night.

Her terror was expected, especially as she had begun to dwell on the reality that she may have sold her soul to an unknown being in her quest to find the prince. Meeting one so pale that he was almost the colour of Nzu—native chalk—had therefore been an immediate confirmation of her awful fears.

Looking back on her reaction, Ugegbe thought dejectedly that she must have lost her senses at that moment. She had been so scared that she forgot to think of any other likelihood of whatever else could have manifested itself in her presence. 

On the other hand, the source of her travail—the white man—had interpreted her dismay as a genuine cause for alarm. He had then run to her side, his face wrinkled in unspoken worry before he attempted to form a shield over her with his body.

Of course, despite his declared goodly intentions, Ugegbe was horrified by his action. She had good cause too, taking in the reality that she neither knew him nor had ever come in such close contact with his kind. They lived far from the central regions occupied by the people of Osisi and were only noticed when they came to preach to the rejects and the poor.

Although she did not fault them for what they did, as she preferred not to judge people she had not met, it was hard not to surmise that the reason why they often kept their distance away from the villagers could be because they thought themselves to be better. That conjecture was remarkably easy to form when she mused on the many times she'd heard of them being spoken in the negative by Prince Uzochi.

Onwards, she no longer mistook him for a spirit. But that did not excuse him from her eventual and thorough scrutiny. She doubted his intentions and distrusted him, even more, when she realised that he was the one who had supposedly found the prince.

Twisting to crack the bones in her back in order to release the tension that had built up in her spine, Ugegbe relived the beautiful second that was now a precious memory to her. If she but just reached out, she could see it all again, feel it all afresh; the much-needed relief that had flooded through her veins at her beholding the prince alive—even though in an undoubtedly pitiful state.

Although Ugegbe knew his injuries were indeed severe, she had not been able to ascertain for certain the true extent of the damages inflicted on his body as it had been too dark to see all that she wanted to. Even now, she still could not make out his state despite the sun rising higher into the sky, as he was shrouded by shadows farther in the cave.

She padded over to him, then leaned over to check his temperature. At least that was the reason she tried to convince herself why she was bent on her knees, searching his face so intently. But she knew that was not the entire truth as her hand did not press against his head first. It instead skimmed underneath his nostrils to check his breath, whether he was still breathing.

Her sigh of relief was as loud as the rush of water in her ears when she filled the large drum in the palace. He is still alive. This simple fact made her want to cry and laugh and dance at the same time. She wasn't exactly sure which to do first. She wasn't entirely sure who to thank either.

Should she thank the unknown god who she prayed to the night before, or should she give her praise to the gods she knew, to whom her praises were usually due? She decided she would do neither and thank her lucky stars instead. After checking that the leaf-wraps of herbal medicine she'd made beforehand and secured tightly on his wounds were still intact, she left him to continue resting.

After a brief search, Ugegbe noted that the pale man was nowhere around. It gladdened her to not set her eyes on the being that she, at the moment and probably till further notice, so highly distrusted. For she had made a lengthy list but still could not come up with a viable reason why the stranger was the one who found the prince.

All she could think of was the reality that it was indeed feasible that he could have been among the conspirators against the royal family. He could be pretending to help herself and Prince Uzochi while having wicked, contrasting intentions. After all, no one knew what was in the heart of another.

Trust. That was not a luxury Ugegbe could afford, especially as she did not have so many luxuries to enjoy in the first place. She could not dole out such a thing so important to any man—or woman if she so happened to meet any suddenly out of nowhere—she only recently came in contact with.

Over-trusting had landed her father in a life of debts and her in slavery. She could not make the same mistakes now. Never. It would be foolery to do so. Even acquaintances she knew for years still fell on her list of those to regard with skepticism, not to talk of one who was neither an acquaintance nor a friend, and whom she knew nothing of.

The previous night had been completely chaotic. On a regular basis, Ugegbe would have questioned the white man, but there was no way she could have done so in the situation they met. Instead of hanging back to investigate him, she had a more important task: taking care of the prince. His wounds needed tending to, and that took precedence over the urge she felt to subject Prince Uzochi's acclaimed saviour to a heated gruelling.

Moreover, she could not understand the words he spoke either way. She knew that his kind spoke a different language like the neighbouring villages next to Osisi, but she did not expect it to be so strange and foreign. All the words that came out of his mouth were ones she had never heard before in her life. Utter gibberish. Notwithstanding, that would not stop her from probing him if, or rather when, she happened to see him again.

She wondered of his whereabouts as she diligently swept away ashes, which the wind had blown out of the hearth with her bare hands. Had he gone back to the huge quarters which he shared with the others of his kind? Did he go to find the help that was well-needed as of now? Would he be returning with even more assailants to finish off the job of killing the prince?

Ugegbe thought that she wouldn't be in any way shocked if he were currently in the process of doing the last. In fact, this was the main reason why she'd promised herself to stay awake through the night, so she could keep the prince safe. But then she had fallen asleep. Thankfully, no harm had come to him. She thought, exhaling softly before she rid the stubborn ashes still hanging back with a forced puff of air from her lips.

When all around her was finally neat and tidy right the way she liked it so, Ugegbe was ready to gather more dry wood. She needed to make a fire so she could boil some water. Once the prince was awake, she knew she'd have to press his wounds. It was a good thing she was not easily disgusted by the unpleasant sights of wounds or blood.

Sure, she did not enjoy the act of fussing over sores and lacerations, which the prince happened to have lots of, but she was aware of the necessity in the case they both found themselves in. The greatest wish burning in her heart, after all, was that he got better quickly. If she could so bring that reality to pass much quicker, why shouldn't she?

The chirping of birds filled her ears as she tied her little knife even more tightly to her thigh with the piece of cloth that never left its position beneath her tightly wound skirt. Afterwards, she regarded the sleeping prince for a short while, wondering whether leaving him alone was a good idea. She already had a strong feeling that the man with skin the hue of milky pearls would return in her absence. There would be no one to protect the second prince then.

Should she leave or not? She groaned at her indecisiveness, then clicked her tongue at the absurdity of all that happened so far. How did they come from only deciding to take a short walk to the stream to facing wicked, but luckily not the most skilled assassins and now to worrying about the return of a suspected murderer?

Less than a day ago, she had been at the palace, drawing tiny designs across her body. She had been planning to practice her Uli designs—which were traditional patterns made from dark dyes that were stained onto the body, and sometimes buildings, mostly for important events—at the end of the day as the wedding was drawing nearer of her childhood friend, Zelunjo, who was monikered Zelu.

Unlike most women and maidens in the village, Ugegbe could never bring herself to spontaneously and also successfully stain motifs unto her body, and, at times, the walls of the village town hall along with other female servants. None of her drawings ever turned out properly if she did not rehearse the ways they would go beforehand.

Since she knew how much of an enemy the mere idea of an extempore meet with crushed dyes was to her creative ability, Ugegbe usually rehearsed the paths her curves would take long before the actual day the patterns were required of her.

She was often teased by Zelu about her ineptitude when it came to unveiling extemporaneous crafts. This nonetheless did not change her approach towards the subject matter. There was no one who knew her as well as she did herself. And so, she was aware that she preferred taking actions solely when she had made a plan for it in the past, especially as she hated to make mistakes that could have been avoided with thorough strategising.

Recalling the countless times Zelu had poked fun at her habit of not assuming and always preparing saddened Ugegbe quite a bit. All of a sudden, she missed Zelu so much that it almost hurt; despite the fact that they were at each other's throats for most of the moments they spent together.  She really could not wait to be back. Who knew she could yearn for her little room in the servants' quarters so immensely? Who knew she could miss the chores that ordinarily kept her busy at the start of the day?

Ugegbe paused, suddenly finding it surprising that her thoughts had not once fleeted to her friend or her chores or her room since she left the palace, that is, until now that she purposefully meant to do so. All her musings had centred only around Prince Uzochi and what she thought she could do to alleviate his pains. Nothing else. In such a short time, the prince had become an integral part of her life. Her worries had become all for him, kicking out space in her mind for anything that should have held a portion of the large area available.

A faint mumble rose from the cave, and Ugegbe turned her attention to the soft stirring on the prince's part. She noted with elation that he would be waking up soon. Even though his deep sleep was mostly because he needed to rest to regain his strength, the grounded herbs she had fed him also had the subtle side effects of inducing a deep slumber like tranquillisers.

To set her mind better at ease, she decided to place by his side his own cutlass, which was in the previous night thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed with coarse, grainy sand. If push came to shove, the prince could defend himself if she was not nearby.

Nature sang, and called and showed off her beauty while Ugegbe set out for sturdy fuel sources. The little forest echoed loudly with the sounds of the creatures living in its great lodges. Hearing the beautiful melodies cheered her spirits as she stomped through the faded, tangled carpets of plants surrounding a guava tree that stood tall in her way.

She'd only moved a few feet away from the tree when she heard the hoarse cry of a man. Her tracks were instantly switched, as she now began to hurry back to the cave. She ground her feet to a halt and let out a cry when she beheld the raised machete.
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This chapter is dedicated to @a_jirioghene
Thank you for being so awesome and for all your support, babes. Thank you also to you loves who are still reading despite the overly late updates. I can't promise my updates will get better as I have even more midterms coming up. I hate uni life. Do stay safe though sweets. Love you all💛