Every morning the old griot asks the same question. Every morning the boy answers yes. He does not know yet that this is a vow. He does not know what it will cost him to keep it. He does not know that an army is already moving toward the village of Djenné - or that the old man who raised him has been preparing for this day for fourteen years. He only knows the ache when he wakes. The warmth deep in his chest that has no name. The dream voice calling a name he cannot quite hear. Tonight, everything burns. Tomorrow, he runs. I WILL REMEMBER