Women Of Steel | ✔

XXVI

We've reached 400 reads, this is my fastest book to achieve this! I love everyone reading this and thank you so much! Enjoy this big chapter, please tell me your thoughts.

***

The forest people have always been mysterious and secluded. Many years ago, they were thought to be demons due to their dressing. When they raided villages, they wore disguises of bamboo and grass, painting their faces with red paint. Their looks alone gave them the advantage in any war, people were delusional and feared anything that looked different.

They were thought to be demons sent by the gods as punishment to mankind. Kings and kingdoms trembled at the mention of them. Legend says they were eventually defeated by a woman and were exposed for what they truly were; humans masquerading as monsters.
They became slaves of the Yoruba people until a shaky treaty was agreed upon. While little is known about the forest people and their origin, they have claimed the Igbo people's tradition and culture hence their Igbo names.

However, the Igbo people refuse any contact or friendship with the forest people who have become recluses and outcasts among other kingdoms.

I am not sure what I was expecting Amadi's kingdom to look like, perhaps something grand and frightening but in reality, it is merely a small settlement hidden in a forest.

Eleven weary riders reach the settlement on the fifth day at sunrise. Dust coats and sticks to our clothes and faces, coupled with the sweat. My back is stiff from riding for so long and I can barely keep up with my facade of the curious bride.

My throat longs for water and my body itches from insect bites, weariness and residue bitterness seeps through my deposition, I am only lucky that no one attempts to speak to me or I would have bared my teeth in anger.

My new husband rides besides me, looking expressionless, throughout the horse ride, he barely spoke to me except to tender to my needs or bark commands in that annoying drawl of their strange language to snout nosed Kelechi.

The sun peeks leisurely from the clouds like a shy child hiding behind his mother. It is barely sunrise yet I can hear the low lull of conversation and the buzz of activities. Few people stand outside their mud huts with thatched roofs to wash yesterday's dishes or to light a fire for the morning's cooking. Little girls carry huge calabashes on their heads as they make their way to the stream. A wave of nostalgia hits me painfully and I suck in a sharp breath.

The scenery is not very different from the one back home, the only difference is the fairer skinned people, while our skins are darker from toiling and playing in the sun all day, the forest people have shades from the trees around them.

Rather than wearing the loin clothing made of leaves as I have come to know, they wear skirts and wrappers made of plain white cotton. The few men I see wear loin cloths that wrapped round their waist and between their legs to be fastened at their back, the type of clothing appropriate for intense heat as well as jobs such as farming.
The women also bear strange black markings on their faces and arms.

"The markings are called Uli," The forest king says suddenly. I realize I must have been staring intently. "The paint is gotten from a plant that produces the dye."

"Oh,"

I am surprised he is speaking to me, even more surprised that he is speaking in the common language.

"Your kingdom is charming." I say, feigning shyness. My words are true though, there is a certain charm around, the village is certainly not as big as Ile Wura or as beautiful but the bright green from the fresh trees around and the pretty colours from the flowers make it look desirable.