Chapter 14

“Now that you’ve met my father, you’ll be safe here,” he whispered. “This is my little sister. Come inside, I know you are hungry.” He picked up a thick vine with a grin. “There’s a place we can talk later. Hope you know how to climb?”

Later that day, the moon peeked shyly through the leaves, casting shadows on the expansive logged treetop deck. Chinua’s skin glistened with sweat as he climbed the colossal tree, almost reaching its top. He felt awkward climbing because the trees bark was rough and his stomach didn’t agree with the bugs and palm wine he was offered earlier. He stopped near the tree’s peak and found a landing where young infant gorillas gathered around a lamp holding fireflies glowing inside it.

There, Chinua saw Opara the Mild staring deeply at the sky, almost as if he were yearning and reminiscing. He sat next to the gorilla on a solitary log, away from the fireflies’ warm glow. He wanted to understand everything about his environment. A million questions swirled in his mind, but he settled on one he couldn’t make sense of. “Why does your father see us as threats when he could crush us both with a single blow?” he probed.

“That’s a long tale, mmadu,” Opara the Mild rumbled, voice thick. “Long ago, when the skies were home to squirrels and the world was young, Eze Leopard ruled Alaeze-anumanu, the animal kingdom, with grace and charm. But one day, a shadow emerged: The Lion, an outsider cloaked in darkness, watched the harmony with envy, puzzled by the unity of the weak and strong.

When rain fell gently upon the kingdom, the Deer proposed a grand shelter to protect them from the elements. The animals rallied together to construct a great hall. But when the Leopard was called away on war duties, the Lion seized the opportunity.

Lion emerged from his cave and took the throne. His roar and claws striking terror into the minds of the gathered animals. Eze Leopard returned, only to find his kingdom usurped. His pleas for legitimacy fell on deaf ears, plunging the kingdom into madness.

However, the wise ones spoke of a prophecy and a chance for the kingdom to reclaim its freedom. The prophecy spoke of godmen chosen by the Arushis themselves. Saviors who could bring freedom to this realm…”

Chinua’s face flushed with frustration. He slammed his fist against the tree trunk, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “You are mistaken.” He interjected, his tone firm. “We're not saviors. I do not know what the gods want from us, but all I want is to get out of this forest. I want to return home. It’s a miserable home, but it’s home nonetheless.”

“What if the prophecies were right and you are here to free us from that tyrant on the throne?” Opara Gorilla the Mild explained.

Chinua thought maybe he was truly part of something bigger than himself. Then he thought against it. “I am a coward. Surely, the prophecies are wrong. I couldn’t help anyone when it mattered. What makes you think that I can liberate a whole realm?” He blurted out in short gasps. His hands clenched into fists as memories of the past raced through him. He couldn’t save his late girlfriend; the prophecies had to be wrong about him.

The gorilla looked at him with pity as the air fell silent. Then he shifted his gaze to the stars and the breathtaking scenery that spread across the skies, leaving the human to his thoughts.

Chinua felt a deep sadness that refused to fade. It was like a constant reminder of how much of a weakling he had been when it truly mattered. He wished he could do something about it, and then he considered the godly ram’s proposal for the first time. If he could make one wish, it would be for her to be beside him just as she was before.

He shook his head. It would be too dangerous for him to be in this forest. He knew he had to stick to Obiageri. She had a courage he could only dream of having. He glanced at her as she leaned closer to the glowing lamp, her eyes wide. She was swarmed by the infant gorillas who were eagerly awaiting a story.

With a voice that almost sang, Obiageri cleared her throat and began telling a tale:

“Lee-anya! In a time long past, there lived an old woman in a humble mud hut. Her days were filled with hunger and loneliness. But the moon—she was no ordinary moon. She danced in the sky like a glowing, curvy lady, sharing her warm light with all below.

One evening, as the moon glided down to visit the old woman, she offered some of her meat. Night after night, the old woman would venture outside with her knife and basket, cutting pieces from the moon’s bounty to satisfy her hunger.

As days passed, the moon grew smaller and smaller, and the villagers began to wonder why the moon grew thinner and weaker. One night, a little girl witnessed the old woman’s secret ritual and rushed to tell the people. Determined to put an end to this, the villagers gathered with shouts and cries.

Startled and frightened, the moon swiftly returned to her place in the sky, never to descend to earth again. From that day on, the moon became shy, hiding for much of the day. She still grows thin once a month, just as she did when the old woman took her meat, but she regains her fullness and shines brightly once more.

So remember, little ones, whenever you see the moon growing thin, it is a reminder of the old woman’s long-forgotten hunger and the moon’s generous mind.”

Chinua watched Obiageri closely, as she spoke of the moon’s sacrifice, he felt the story resonate within him. He wondered if his own worries and regrets were as misguided as the villagers’ misunderstanding of the moon. Maybe he was just yearning for redemption. Chinua could barely wait to hear her next story before he was interrupted.

“Did you lose someone close to you, mmadu?” Opara the Mild suddenly asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chinua lied, his cheeks heating up.

“You seem to be yearning for something that not even the world could give,” he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. “That misery, that despair... it's the fate of those pierced by love's deadly arrow.” Seeing Chinua’s silence, he pressed on. “I know the feeling all too well. I once loved Nne Gorilla the Genteel. Her fur gleamed like a midnight sky, her smile warmed my soul like the rising sun. My mother, bless her spirit, always told me to speak my truth. But fear kept me silent. Then one day, I lost them both—my mother and Nne. Regret has haunted me ever since, and it will until the day I take my last breath.”

The gorilla’s eyes grew distant as he spoke.

“And your point is?” Chinua snapped, his annoyance growing.

“Don’t be like me!” Opara the Mild’s voice softened. “Don’t let death silence your heart,” he urged.

“I can convince myself of anything,” Chinua sighed. “but I know deep inside that I can never be happy...”

“There are worst fates that a broken heart.” He shrugged, a hint of resignation in his eyes.

“And what would that be?” Chinua mumbled, frustration building within.

“To fall into the clutches of the one who sits on the throne of bones,” Opara the Mild said, rising to his feet.