Chapter 6: THE ONES WHO ARE CHOSEN

By the second evening at the river camp, Abena understood the rhythm of that place.

People were not chosen in haste. They were studied first—walked around, spoken about in low conversations that never included them. Strength mattered. Age mattered. Even silence mattered. Those who looked too weak were ignored. Those who looked too difficult were watched longer before any decision was made.

Abena stood among the remaining captives, her body still, her eyes attentive. The sun had begun to fall, casting a warm glow over the river, turning its surface into something almost beautiful—something that did not match what it carried.

Efua stood close to her again, her fingers brushing against Abena’s cloth as if afraid that distance alone could cause her to vanish.

“They have not called us,” Efua said quietly.

“Not yet,” Abena replied.

Efua hesitated. “Maybe… maybe they will not.”

Abena turned to look at her. The girl’s face still carried softness beneath the exhaustion. Her hair had come loose almost completely now, the braids undone, strands sticking to her forehead and cheeks. She looked smaller than when they had first met, as if each day had taken something from her.

“They will choose,” Abena said. “Or they will not. But they will not forget we are here.”

Efua swallowed and nodded, though her eyes betrayed uncertainty.

A group of men approached again, different from the earlier ones. Their clothing was cleaner, their posture less hurried. They did not carry themselves like traders who moved constantly. They stood with the ease of men who expected to be obeyed.

One of them stepped closer to the enclosure.

“Open it.”

The gate was pulled aside.

They entered slowly, looking at each captive in turn.

One man stopped in front of a young boy and lifted his chin with two fingers, examining his face as though searching for something beneath the skin. Another circled a woman, watching how she stood, how she shifted her weight.

When they reached Abena, they paused.

She did not move.

The man in front of her looked directly into her eyes. There was no mocking in his expression, no casual dismissal. He was measuring.

“She has strength,” he said to the others.

“And defiance,” another replied.

The first man gave a slight nod. “That can be corrected.”

Abena held his gaze. “Or it cannot.”

The man’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile.

“We will see.”

He turned to the trader standing outside the enclosure.

“This one.”

The word settled into the air with weight.

Efua’s grip tightened on Abena’s arm.

“No,” she whispered, barely audible. “No…”

Abena did not look at her yet.

The trader nodded and stepped forward, signaling to the others. They moved toward Abena, untying the rope that held her wrists to the group.

“Come.”

She stepped forward before they could pull her.

Not because she agreed.

Because she chose not to be dragged.

As she reached the opening, Efua’s hand caught her cloth.

“Don’t go,” the girl said, her voice breaking now. “Please… don’t go.”

Abena turned then.

For the first time since they had arrived at the river, something softer returned to her face—not weakness, but recognition.

“This is not a place to stay,” she said quietly.

Efua shook her head, tears falling again.

“Where will I go?”

Abena did not have an answer for that.

But she said, “You will find a way.”

The traders began to pull her forward.

She stepped out of the enclosure fully now, the open air hitting her skin differently, as though she had crossed something invisible.

Behind her, Efua’s voice rose slightly.

“Abena!”

She turned once more.

The girl stood at the edge of the enclosure, her small hands gripping the wooden frame, her face wet, her body trembling.

“Do not forget me,” Efua said.

Abena held her gaze.

“I will not.”

That was all.

They led her away.

Not toward the river immediately, but toward a shaded area where others who had been chosen were gathered. Some stood quietly. Others looked around with uncertain eyes. No one spoke loudly.

Abena joined them without resistance.

She did not look back again.

But she listened.

Time passed.

The sun dipped lower.

And then, something unexpected happened.

One of the traders returned to the enclosure and called out sharply.

“You,” he said, pointing.

Efua froze.

The man frowned.

“Come out.”

She hesitated, then stepped forward slowly, her body tense.

The gate opened.

She walked out, her eyes searching quickly until they found Abena at a distance.

Hope flickered across her face.

“Am I going with them?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.

The trader looked at her briefly, then away.

“No.”

The word landed without softness.

“You are no use to them.”

Efua’s expression faltered.

“I… I can work,” she said quickly. “I can carry things, I can—”

He waved his hand dismissively.

“Go home.”

She blinked.

“I don’t… I don’t know the way.”

“That is not our concern.”

He turned away from her, already done with the conversation.

Efua stood there, unmoving.

For a moment, it seemed she had not understood.

Then the meaning settled.

She was not chosen.

Not valuable.

Not wanted.

Not even worth selling.

Abena watched from where she stood.

Their eyes met across the distance.

Efua took a few uncertain steps forward, as though drawn by something she did not want to lose.

“Abena…” she called softly.

One of the guards moved as if to stop her, but another shook his head.

“Let her.”

Efua reached her, breath uneven.

“They said I should go,” she said, her voice trembling between relief and fear. “They said I can go home.”

Abena looked at her carefully.

“Do you know the way?”

Efua nodded quickly.

“I know the name of my village. I will ask people. Someone will show me.”

There was hope in her voice now.

Fragile.

But real.

Abena studied her face, the loosened hair, the thin shoulders, the eyes that still believed something good could happen.

“You must keep walking,” Abena said. “Do not stop for anyone you do not trust.”

Efua nodded.

“I will.”

A pause settled between them.

Neither knew how to end it.

Finally, Efua stepped back.

“I will find my home,” she said, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

Abena gave a small nod.

“Yes.”

Efua wiped her face with the back of her hand, then turned.

She began to walk.

Not along the path they had come from, but along the edge of the river, her steps uncertain at first, then steadier as she moved.

She did not look back.

Abena watched her until she disappeared beyond the bend.

Then she turned her attention forward again.

The group she now stood with began to move.

Toward the river.

Toward the crossing.

The water waited.

Wide.

Unmoving in its purpose.

A boat had been prepared—long, carved from heavy wood, its surface worn but strong. Men stood inside it, steadying it against the current.

“Move,” one of the guards said.

Abena stepped forward.

The edge of the river met her feet, cool against her skin, washing away dust that had clung to her for days.

She climbed into the boat.

Others followed.

The space filled quickly.

When the last person stepped in, the men pushed away from the bank.

The boat shifted, then steadied.

Water moved around them.

The distance between the shore and what lay ahead began to grow.

Abena stood among strangers, her body still, her eyes fixed forward.

Behind her, the place where Efua had stood was already empty.

Ahead, the unknown stretched wide.

She did not know what waited there.

But she knew one thing with certainty:

She had not been discarded.

She had been chosen.

And whatever waited on the other side—

it would not find her unready.