Zilia

Chapter 6: Whispering Shadows

The woods echoed with Zilia's hurried footsteps, each one accompanied by the rhythm of her pounding heart. Trembling and terrified, she raced through the shadows, haunted by the chilling image of the lifeless body she had stumbled upon. The dense foliage seemed to close in around her, amplifying the eerie silence that hung in the air.

Back in the village, the fervor of the feast had dwindled, leaving only a handful still indulging in the remnants of merriment. Nomatilwe, three elderly men named Mavili, Bhekani, and Mhambi, and another woman named Sibongile sat huddled around the fading embers of the fire, the intoxicating aroma of fermented brew lingering in the air.

As Zilia burst into the village square, her breaths ragged and her eyes wide with fear, the drunken gathering turned their attention to her. Nomatwile's glazed eyes fixated on Zilia as she uttered the news of the missing goat.

"Gogo, Mtwala has run off again..." Zilia uttered. Yet, before Zilia could explain the haunting encounter in the woods, Nomatilwe erupted into a fit of curses and tantrums.

"You lost my goat? We shall see."

Zilia tried to explain, "I went to the look for him, but-but..."

"You don't know me..." Nomatilwe got angrier.

Sibongile, who hadn't consumed as much alcohol, interjected, urging Nomatilwe to hear the entirety of the story.

Reluctantly, the elderly audience stilled their protests, allowing Zilia to recount the harrowing discovery. The village fire cast flickering shadows on their faces as Zilia revealed the existence of the body in the woods. A tense debate unfolded among the group, fueled by alcohol-induced skepticism.

Mavili weighed in on the matter, "Women, this thing is simple. If you don't believe this child, then why don't we go look?" He turned his gaze to Zilia. "Do you still remember where you saw this person?"

Zilia nodded. "Yes, I can take you there."

Against the hesitant backdrop of wavering torchlight, they ventured back into the woods, guided by Zilia. As they reached the eerie location, the air hung heavy with anticipation. Zilia pointed towards the body, now revealed as a woman, lying unconscious amidst the twisted roots and fallen leaves.

Nomatilwe took a closer look, "It's a woman. I just don't understand that stench." and inspected the woman.

The stench of an infected wound on her thigh permeated the air. Dressed in garments that spoke of foreign origins, she bore no resemblance to the local tribes. A palpable unease settled over the group, caught between the fear of repercussions and the duty to aid a stranger.

Sibongile looked at Zilia. "I told you the child wasn't lying. She will get your goat back."

"She's still breathing," exclaimed Nomatilwe. "Stop talking about goats are help me."

Mavili, the voice of reason, tapped Nomatilwe's shoulder. "Where are you taking her? Are you not afraid of getting into trouble?"

"We cannot leave this poor woman to die here. Where's the spirit of ubuntu?"

Nomatilwe, with a firm resolve, insisted they carry the mysterious woman back to her hut.

The night cast a shroud of uncertainty over the group, leaving whispers of doubt in its wake. Some feared the judgment of the chief, while others fretted about the consequences of harboring an unknown woman. Nomatilwe, undeterred, carried out the responsibility bestowed upon her.

With the first light of dawn, Nomatilwe presented herself before the chief, recounting the discovery and pleading for guidance. The chief, a stern figure draped in authority named Hongi, compelled her to assume full responsibility for the enigmatic woman.

Days turned into nights as Nomatilwe nursed the stranger back to consciousness. In the hushed confines of their hut, a language barrier hindered communication, yet the woman's eyes spoke of a journey marked by loss and survival. She revealed fragments of her story - a journey with a deceased husband, an encounter with a crocodile, and a path that led her, wounded and disoriented, to this unfamiliar village nestled in the southern lands.