CHAPTER TWO
A TASTE FOR HOPE:A NEW REFUGE
In the thick green folds of Lesovro Forest, Imoro,a skilled seasoned hunter, ventured into the bush with his trusty gear: a rifle, ammunition, a hunting knife, in a camouflage clothing,He carried a rope for carrying game and a compass for navigation.With his equipment ready, he set out to track his prey, his senses alert and focused on the hunt. He trudged through the brush, bow slung across his back, eyes sharp for the slightest movement of wild game. Yet it was no antelope or boar that caught his attention—The rustling of leaves alerted Imoro's hunting instincts took a backseat as he felt a surge,as if struck by a bee.
"By the spirits..." he muttered, and he tiptoed to see what that could be. It was the faint, sorrowful figure of a boy-Not yet a man, but no longer a child lying almost liveless beneath a towering mahogany tree. Kevoro, bruised by fate but alive by divine will, lay with his clothes torn and dirt smudging his skin.
Dropping his hunting sack arms and hunting equipment, Imoro knelt beside Kevoro and carried him over gently to his village, cradling the boy as though he were as fragile as a newborn. The boy's chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths shallow. His face was pale, and his lips cracked from thirst.
He scooped Kevoro into his strong arms again, holding him like a father would carry his wounded son. As he carried him, he felt the pulse of something strange—an energy, ancient and warm, radiating faintly from the boy's chest.
Imoro took Kevoro to his hidden dwelling in the heart of Osuru Kingdom. There, among kind-hearted villagers and sacred springs, Kevoro healed.
"This child is no ordinary boy," Imoro murmured. "He is the whisper of change. And I must protect him."He got to his hut a mile away from isimili River.
He cautiously laid him down on a bed of soft leaves outside his wooden hut for him to inhale some fresh air and quickly set to work, determined to help the child recover. From a carved gourd beside his mat, Imoro brought out a mix of healing herbs. He crushed them between two flat stones and carefully applied the paste to the bruises on Kevoro's legs—wounds earned from his desperate escape for his life.. he with to his hut to drop his hunting equipments. He was so tired and famished but had to wait for his beloved wife to set dinner.
Imoro walking to the door of his hut and stood at the doorway, A strange wind blew through the trees, whispering something ancient, something powerful his thoughts drifted. His eyes lost in the star-strewn sky, the night wind brushed against his skin, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves.The smell of herbs and the flicker of firelight pulled him into the corridors of memory.He was deep in thought, drowning in the warmth of the past.
A tale of fate and first glance beneath the Otimili moonlight.)
He remembered how he had met his wife.
Back in those days, Imoro was a proud, skilled hunter, respected throughout the Osuru Kingdom. The young maidens admired him—not just for his precision with the bow or his fearless ventures into wild terrain, but for his striking appearance. He was tall, with broad shoulders that carried strength and grace. His dark, alert eyes spoke of wisdom beyond his years, and his voice had a calm authority that made hearts stir. Yet, despite the many admiring glances, Imoro had never been swayed—his heart remained untouched.
Until that evening.
The moon hung like a silver crown in the sky, bathing the forest in a cool, ethereal glow. Imoro had gone into the bush on his usual hunting trail, a narrow path winding toward Otimili stream. As he stepped through the tall grasses, he saw her.
She appeared like a vision.
A young woman, carrying a calabash, heading to the stream. Her beauty struck him like a silent arrow. She wore a simple wrapper tied at her waist, yet she walked with the elegance of a queen. Her skin shimmered under the moonlight, and her presence silenced the forest around her.
"Good evening, hunter," she greeted politely, her voice soft like flowing water.
Imoro froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn't a flirt, never one to chase shadows of beauty. But this—this woman wasn't just beautiful. She was otherworldly. As she continued on her way, Imoro whispered to himself, "So this kind of beauty has lived in this village, and I never knew?"
He waited, standing in the same spot, heart beating with something he couldn't explain. Moments later, she returned, the calabash now full on her head, balanced gracefully. Imoro watched her walk past, then slowly followed at a distance, curious to know where she lived—not out of lust, but with a strange certainty in his heart.
"She is the one," he thought.
As she walked deeper into the village, weaving past moonlit trees and sleeping huts, Imoro followed quietly, keeping his distance so as not to startle her. She moved with such grace that even the rustling leaves seemed to pause and admire her. Finally, she reached a small compound with a neatly swept courtyard and blooming red hibiscus bushes by the entrance.
She stepped inside, unaware that the hunter who would soon change her life stood just across the narrow footpath, hidden behind a tree.
The next day, as the sun rose and golden rays kissed the rooftops, Imoro returned—not as a silent observer, but with purpose in his stride. He approached an elder in the village who often sat beneath a mango tree, chewing on kola nuts.
"Elder Evoramen," Imoro greeted with respect.
The elder looked up and smiled. "Ah, the great hunter of Osuru. What brings you here this morning?"
"There is a maiden I saw going to the narrow way leading to otimili last night,he described her the description was more like … a beauty with a calabash of water. I do not know her name, but I know I must."
The old man chuckled knowingly. "Ahh… you must be speaking of Sisu."
"Sisu…" Imoro repeated, the name dancing off his tongue like a song.
"She's the daughter of Ime Gafuro. Ime is a term used to address a fellow elder in Osuru Kingdom, so he continued. Ime Gafuro is the father of Sisu, a wise and aged man, tall despite his advanced years. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with wisdom. Though his platinum age had brought wrinkles and frailty, his spirit remained strong and resilient.He is a gentle, hardworking, and quiet man. He is one of the king cabinet members.
He cleared his throats and continued,
Imoro many suitors have tried to win Sisu's heart, but none have succeeded."
Imoro only smiled. "Then perhaps fate brought her across my path."
That same evening, dressed in his finest hunting robe, with a string of beads around his neck, Imoro approached Sisu's compound. He brought with him a gift: a small gazelle he had hunted that morning, its meat already cleaned and wrapped. Ime Gafuro welcomed him with surprise and curiosity.
And so it began.
Imoro didn't rush. He came often, spoke kindly, helped her father with firewood, and even taught the younger boys how to set traps in the bush. Slowly, Sisu's heart opened like a flower to the morning sun.
They were wed under the great baobab tree, blessed by the elders and cheered by the villagers.