Young Writers Society

There was once a girl from our village who was very beautiful. It was said that at her birth, the whole world stopped for a moment in awe of her beauty. The bees paused in silence, scenting a new flower, the wind caught his breath, and the sun had been so overjoyed that he shone brighter than ever before, just for her, turning her skin an especially dark shade to mark her as his favorite. The earth had given her eyes the same shade as its mahogany trees and lashes that were as long as palm fronds. The river, however, not to be outdone, also gave his own gift. He had seasoned a special bowl of water with the wisdom of the world and all the joy he could find, planning to pour it into her as she slept. However, the story goes that he was in such a hurry to give it to her that as he ran to the house, the water in the bowl splashed this way and that, and the wisdom fell right out! And the river, being always in a hurry without regard to his surroundings, did not even notice. He ran to her house and poured the mixture down her throat as she slept and went away, sure that he had given her the best gift of all.

So when the girl woke, she had all the beauty and joy the world could give her, but none of its wisdom! For this, she was always known as Foolish Imura. She was known for her beauty, but also for her talent of getting into trouble from her foolishness and the habit of rushing into things without thinking (a trait her parents said must have also come from the river.) However, she was also good-natured, and always thought the best of everyone, even those who did not deserve it. The sun beamed out of her smile, and it was impossible to stay angry with her.

Due to her trusting but foolish nature, she was always getting into trouble, and the stories of her escapades were often enjoyed in the village. Imura would laugh along with the rest, for unhappiness was not in her; the river had given her so much joy, she didn’t mind being laughed at, and took it all good-naturedly.

But one of my favorites is the story of when Foolish Imura met Onoya, the man-with-spider-hands, and starting on a dangerous trip to the Great Hive of the man-eating hornets. It starts much like the others- with Imura being foolish again and getting herself into trouble.

And of course, as I’m her cousin and like a shadow to her sunshine (so they say,) I happened to be with her at the time…

We were sitting under the shade of the palm trees near our village of Ugari-gari, cooling our feet in the small stream and neglecting the baskets of clothing we were supposed to be washing. It was near noon, and the oppressive heat of the day was beating down on us, despite the shade, and so even I thought a break from work was excusable. If I’d only known where it would lead…

“Did you see his face as they passed us?” Imura sighed, smiling into the sunshine. I sometimes thought that the sun really did favor her; the heat never seemed to bother her, and she never was burned by it, no matter how hot the weather.

“No, I was concentrating on not dropping my baskets,” I answered. I glanced over at them and wondered if I should get back to work, but then lowered my legs farther into the stream. It could wait, just this once.

“What! You didn’t see? Of course not,” she said, smiling at me. “You are much too serious, Afumra. Everyone says so- although my mama says you were made that way to balance me! Well, anyway, I will tell you,” she shook her head, beaming, getting back to what she considered- I am sure- the most important news, “You will not believe it! Nyokwe smiled at me! I saw him! He tried to hide it, so that the other boys would not mock him, but I saw all the same.” She sighed and smiled up at the sky.

“Do you think your father will approve of the match?” I asked. Imura’s father was one of the village leaders, and I wasn’t sure he would consider a match with Nyokwe’s father advantageous, especially since the boy’s family had had many problems with the yam harvest in the past, making them more dependent on others than men should be.

“If he doesn’t, we will run away, Nyokwe and me!” Imura proclaimed proudly, clasping her hands above her heart. “We can live in another village, poor but together, and start our own home there…”

“Away from your families? I don’t think so, even if the village would have you,”I interrupted.

She ignored me and continued, “… or in the woods, where there will be plenty to live on- he is such a good hunter, even you will admit that- and we will live in a hut we make with the giant palm leaves as our roof and the sun will shine through it all green and beautiful-”

“Except when it’s raining,” I muttered.

“…birds will sing for us, flying in and out of the hut…”

“Or just bring in more trash, and their droppings!”

“And the river will bring us anything else we need. But no matter what happens, we will be together forever, and see nothing but each other’s eyes and hearing nothing but each other’s voices!”

“If he can even remember your name,” I finished.

“That’s not true!” she protested. “I know he loves me! He must just hide it- it is not manly to show a love as great as what he feels for me. It’s… it’s like a secret! A secret love!” Imura exclaimed again and laid back on the red dirt.

I snorted. “So secret- does Nyokwe even know, I wonder?”

Imura just laughed, then sighed. “But I wonder if we are true loves. If our families tear us apart, it would be so sad. We’d have to live the rest of our lives married to other people… so tragic. And our palm-frond hut will never be.” She sighed again, not too bothered, I noticed, at the thought of being forever separated from her “true love.” I rolled my eyes at her foolishness.

“How can you know he is your true love?” I asked. “You can’t have said more than ten words to him in your entire life- you are just making it up. I think the sun is getting to your head.” I put a hand to her forehead as if to feel for a fever, but she brushed it away, scowling at me. I just smiled. Of all the people in the village, I was the only person I think who could get on her nerves. What are cousins for?

“I just feel it, Afumra. It must be true!” she said, but she didn’t sound too sure of herself now, and she looked down doubtfully, tracing little patterns in the dirt with her fingers. I ignored her; hopefully, she’d see the sense in my words and this would end here. I loved my cousin and her sunny nature, but I didn’t want her to be foolish with her heart. After all, I knew what that was like already. I turned away, looking back at the stream and closing my eyes as a rare, cool breeze blew my braids, bringing the sound of the monkeys chattering in the trees. With luck, I remember thinking to myself, we could have a peaceful and uneventful afternoon and get back to the village with all the laundry before too late.

“Father Sun shines on you,” a low voice slithered from behind us, and I think we must have both jumped as high as the palm tree in surprise. The hairs on my arm stood up, and suddenly, all the heat seemed to seep out of the day. Imura and I turned around to see the Spider-Fingered Man standing behind us, one of his hands extended in greeting. We stared for a moment, and then mechanically extended our own hands in response.

“Mother Earth shelters you,” we replied politely our voices bare.

Now, let me tell you about Onoya, the Spider-Fingered Man. He was an old man, although no one knew how old, and there was a rumor among us in the village that he had no age; he had sold his years to a tree spirit in exchange for something, exactly what, no one knew, but probably his human soul or possibly the soul of someone else- he was notoriously stingy with his own things. What we did know was that he lived alone in a little hut that stood almost completely outside the village. He had no wife, which was strange in itself, but he was no priest or shaman. He was unnaturally thin, and his skin was paler than anyone else’s in the village, almost like a fish. No one I knew of was related to him; he had no family. Most of us assumed he was some type of shaman, and some went to him for spells and potions, although only at night. During the days, however, all avoided his eye, and everyone, even my father, was afraid of him.

But the strangest thing about him were his hands. Each one had six, long, skinny fingers, just like the legs of a spider, and they were constantly moving, even when the rest of him was absolutely still. We children had heard many stories about him and were wary of his spells, and we had been told repeatedly in relatives’ hushed whispers not to trust him. I know I was not the only one who made a ward against evil as he passed by- but not when he was looking.

And yet here he was, standing in front of us, watching us from behind eyes that had been pressed into slants by the wrinkles that covered his face. He templed his long fingers, and I focused on them instead of his face- it could have been the start of a spell of some kind, and besides, it was less unnerving than his wide eyes.

“I am sorry to interrupt- you seem so very busy,” he said, the words slithering and whispering out of his mouth and into the air, “but I heard you talking, and I- pardon me for saying this- thought I might offer some assistance.” He smiled largely at us, revealing a mouth more full of empty holes than teeth.

I was watching him warily, and since my conscious told me to obey my elders and send him on his way, I was about to dismiss him. But Imura had no such qualms.

“Oh, that’s quite all right!” she said, smiling back. I threw a look at her, but she didn’t see. “We were talking- about how to find true love? How do you know when it is the right person? It is a most perplexing question.”

“It is indeed,” the old man answered, scratching at his chin with one long finger. “Many have asked me that question on a dark night, tears in their eyes, so sad, my dears! I don’t have a spell for that, but I think I might know- in fact, I’m quite certain- where to find the answer!”

Imura gasped in delight and clapped her hands. “Oh, thank you! Where? Is it far?”

Onoya turned and pointed one unnaturally long arm south, at an angle away from the village. “Not too far, my dear, not too far. In the woods to the south there is a hidden gorge that opens onto a small basin. It will be perfectly circular- like a bowl, indeed!- and at the very center is the great hive of the spirit-bees. If you enter their hive and navigate their passages- for it is like a maze, yes, very much!- you will find the center, where they keep their precious treasure, their red honey.

“Now, the red honey,” he said, extending both arms wide, “has magical properties from our Great Mother the Earth. If you taste it, you must not say more than three words until you again reach the sun. If you do so, the first person you see will be your true love! But if you fail, you will be forced to go through life searching for your love, who you lost before you even knew. Quite a risk, you must be cautious, yes, but the rewards…”

We were both listening to his tale, and I must admit I was interested despite myself. Everyone did say that he knew much about magic- maybe his tale of the spirit-bees was true! However, I didn’t let him see how curious I was, and I gave him doubtful look, like I gave to merchants when they came to town with their high prices.

“How do we know this is the truth?” I asked, and Imura gasped. I reddened; everyone knew it was impolite to accuse someone, especially an elder, of lying. But this was Onoya, who was not to be trusted so easily.

But the Spider-fingered man only shrugged. “It is, but if you believe me or not, that is for you to decide! Why not just walk to the hive, and see if I speak the truth? If you are too afraid, you need not go inside. But your friend will be able to tell you- oh yes, she will!- and then you may think otherwise, young girl!” He smiled at me then, showing his teeth, and I thought I saw something flash in his dark, wrinkle-rimmed eyes, but I could not be certain.

“Yes, Afumra, if you are afraid, you can just wait for me!” Imura said quickly. She was already slipping on her sandals, preparing to leave.

I crossed my arms and frowned at her. “I am not afraid,” I retorted. “We’ll go see this hive, and whether or not it hold the answer to true love!”

The Spider-fingered man raised his thin white eyebrows and looked at us for a moment, as if examining us, before nodding as if in approval. “Yes, yes, I think you will see indeed! But watch,” he said, holding up one bony finger, “watch out for those bees! They are not normal bees, but sent by the Great Mother to test those who search for true love! Guard your heart against them, be steadfast! And perhaps you will make it through! But do not blame old Onoya if you cannot make it to the sunlight and see your love! Ha ha!” He gave a cackling laugh, throwing back his head to the sun.

I am not a hot-tempered person, but I remember how his laugh annoyed me. It was like a monkey’s, and it reminded me of Tunasa, one of the village boys who loved to get on my nerves. I turned away from the old man and began to pick up the laundry, which Imura, of course, had forgotten.

“We will see, indeed!” I said to the old man. “Good day!” I turned back to give the customary parting gesture, but there was no one there. The spot where he was standing was empty, as if he’d never even been there. The hairs on my neck stood up again as I searched through the trees, knowing that I wouldn’t catch a glimpse of him between the trunks. He was simply gone.

I hid my sudden trepidation and pushed our baskets under a particularly large bush. “Come on, Imura,” I said, lifting my skirt and leaping over the stream to the other side. “Let’s go!” I remembered Onoya’s long fingers and creaky laugh, and how everyone was afraid of him. “Let’s see if he’s really a shaman, or just an old man spinning tales with those long spider-fingers!” I muttered to myself.

Imura laughed and followed me. With a few steps, she outpaced me at a run, heading due south. “Yes, cousin! On to the south!” she laughed again, and I shook my head at her foolishness before following her into the undergrowth.

***

“Look, Afumra, look! There it is!” Imura was several yards in front of me, already at the edge of the gorge, pointing downwards with her face in an expression of surprise. She wasn’t panting, I noticed as I approached. She’d insisted on running the whole way, and yet she didn’t see winded at all. I, on the other hand, rarely went beyond the village, and so traveling this distance left me tired and irritated with the heat, Imura, and myself.

Still, at her words, I found the strength to increase my step, and soon I was standing next to her, looking down into a basin.

The Spider-fingered man had spoken truthfully, at least about this. The gorge had followed a cold, narrow stream due south, and we used it like a path. Now the gorge had deepened and opened out into a perfectly round basin that was filled with a few inches of water fed by the stream that spilled out at our feet. The sides of the basin except for where we stood were smooth, treed slopes, and I could hear birdsong and monkeys’ chattering. And yet, behind the noise of the animals and the water trickling into the pool on the floor of the basin, there was a constant steady humming that seemed to vibrate from the air. And it came from a giant structure exactly in the middle of basin that looked exactly like a beehive.

It was huge- at least twenty feet high, I noted, my mouth gaping open, and at least as big as my father’s whole compound, which contained three houses. It was a reddish-brown, and the outside was dotted with tiny holes, much like a normal hive. It was an irregular shape, stretching up to the sky with strange peaks and dips almost like old, broken tree branches. I remember, though, I didn’t feel frightened by it; the humming relaxed me, and it seemed no stranger than the huge termite mounds I had seen once on a trip with my father to my mother’s village.

Imura and I moved closer, still staring at the thing. There was no sign of any bees, and yet the humming grew louder and took on new tones as we approached, dropping lower and thrumming through our very bones. It felt like I was shivering, and yet could not control myself. I turned to Imura.

“Maybe we should not-” I started, but then my eyes opened wide in surprise. My cousin was not beside me, as I had thought. I turned quickly back to the hive, just in time to see the back of her dress as she vanished through a large hole in the side that looked like a malformed door. “Imura!” I called, suddenly nervous, but my voice seemed to die within a few feet of me, and the humming grew louder.

“Imura, come back!” I said, more softly. Nothing emerged from the hive, and I blew up at my hair in frustration. Of course she would go in without a second thought. But there was nothing for it; I had to go after her. Who knew what trouble she could get into in a beehive that size! I had heard of bees that could kill grown men, and I knew that bees that lived in a hive this large would certainly be big enough. And so I swallowed my fears, and, with one last look at the gorge behind me, I entered the hive.

As soon as I stepped through the opening, the humming died away again to a faint murmur. I was standing in what was almost a narrow passageway, although projections and bumps in the walls and floor made it as uneven as the floor of a mangrove forest. A large projection of the hive was to my right, blocking the way, and so I turned left, making my way carefully forward, deeper into the hive. Instinctively, I reached for the wall, trying to use it to guide me, but it was sticky, and I pulled back immediately. I noticed then that here was honey all over the inner walls, a thick, gooey white glaze that seemed to ooze out of the numerous holes in the wall. After that, I tried not to touch the walls, although I could not help my clothes and hair brushing them. I must have looked a mess, but I continued on.

I called out to Imura every few minutes, and yet I heard no response. I pressed on- she couldn’t have gotten that far ahead, I thought. She was thinner than me, so she could probably go quicker, I reasoned. The passage meandered away from the outside, but I didn’t notice until suddenly I reached a darker stretch of passage that I realized had very few holes. I looked through one of them, and saw that the wall, which had been thin before, not more than a few inches thick, now separated me from the outside by several feet. The light had to struggle through the narrow holes to even reach the inside of the hive, resulting in the dim light. I looked behind me uncertainly, but it was so far to the entrance… it couldn’t be that far to the center, I was sure. And the walking wasn’t so hard now, I noticed suddenly; the passageways, although still very low-ceilinged, were clearer and easier to walk through. I hurried through it as quickly as possible, holding my sticky skirts in one hand to keep them from catching anything. And so I was so busy trying see into the dim light and avoid the walls and projections that I scarcely noticed when they dropped away, and I walked straight into Imura.

“Oh, there you are, Afumra!” she exclaimed, as though she’d only just noticed I wasn’t behind her.

“Yes, here I am,” I answered testily. “Listen, Imura, you can’t just go bolting off without me- we should’ve planned something before we came in here! I don’t trust that Spider-fingered man, but you just ran off as if this is some joy ride, I just don’t know what you were thinking-”

“Oh, Afumra, don’t be so serious!” Imura said, cutting me off with a wave. “Don’t you want to know who your true love is? I know you do- you think I haven’t seen the way you watch Tunasa,” she said, teasingly.

I frowned at her and crossed my arms, ignoring their stickiness. “You’re crazy. He has less brain than a monkey. Why would I care? I came in here because I didn’t want you to go in alone.”

Imura shrugged and smiled. “If you say so!” She clapped her hands together and turned away. “This won’t be too hard- how hard is it not to talk for a while?”

I gave her a look. “That depends on who it is,” I said meaningfully, but she turned around and asked, “Now, which way should we go?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, following her gaze. I hadn’t noticed, but the passage here widened, and was a little brighter than before. Here, several passages seemed to meet, including the one we’d taken. They all shot off at different angles, some even heading almost straight up towards what must have been the cone of the hive. I looked down the passages, but could see nothing to differentiate them. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, then turned back. “Maybe we should just go. I don’t like it in here. It’s sticky and a mess, and I don’t trust it.”

Imura smiled even brighter. “I know, isn’t it marvelous? It’s just like life! Or love. One of the two,” she amended, humming to herself, and didn’t offer an explanation of her analogy. I looked at her, surprised. I hadn’t thought of that- maybe this was part of a test that Onoya had set for us. Well, in that case, I thought, I wasn’t going to just leave without something to show for it. We’d see about this magic red honey of his.

I picked a passage at random and started for it. “This way, Imura. Follow me.”

I heard her hum behind me, her voice blending in harmony with the humming that flowed through the hive. She was having much too much fun with this, I thought, and then pressed forward into the narrow passage. Maybe I should have made her go first after all.

This passage was very different than the first; instead of keeping a relatively straight path, it wove back and forth, up and down, and twisted side to side, making me feel as though I were inside a giant snake. The walls did little to dispel the feeling; the honey oozed out even more thickly, making the walls seem smooth until touched, and it seemed to trap the air and filled it with a over-sweet odor. It was claustrophobic and so I walked faster than before, eager to leave these passages behind us.

And yet, they seemed to go on and on. Every few minutes, I told myself that it couldn’t be much farther, and yet on they went, against all reason and possibility. How long could these passages be? I thought to myself. I remembered what the hive had looked like from outside; surely, it couldn’t have been this big. There was little light now; what few rays did make it in from outside where caught like flies in the honey.

And yet none of this seemed to bother Imura. She stepped lightly behind me, unworried, still humming to herself. I must admit, it began to get on my nerves.

“Will you stop that?” I asked testily, my irritation getting the better of me.

She stopped mid-hum. “Sorry, Afumra.”

I grumbled at her apology. “This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t talked to the Spider-fingered man, if you hadn’t run in here without telling me… none of this would’ve happened. Why can’t you think before you do things?”

“I’m sorry, Afumra,” she repeated, sounding truly repentant. “But you know, you were just as eager to follow Onoya’s words as I was.”

Suddenly, I was grateful for the darkness; it hid my reddened cheeks. “That’s not true. I just wanted to show him… that I wasn’t afraid.” I felt angry again at the thought, but then the feeling deflated. I saw now I had been just as foolish as Imura, although I’d rather die than admit it. I strode forward, increasing my pace. “Come on- the faster we reach the center, the faster we can leave.”

As if in answer to my words, it was just then that we turned a corner and the bright light of day struck us in the eyes like a blow. We shielded our faces and stumbled forward, reaching out for the walls for balance only to discover they were no longer there. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw suddenly that we were again in a chamber, only this one was larger than the last. It was circular, about ten feet across, and the ceiling rose up in a dome-shape. At the very peak of the dome the wall changed to a strange, pure sort of wax that was almost clear, letting in the bright sunlight. I stared up at it, glad to see the sunlight, and so it wasn’t until a few minutes later that I noticed the walls.

They were covered with honey, as had all the other walls in the hive, but this honey was a dark, rich red color. It almost looked the juice of some fruit, dripping slowly down the walls. The buzzing was louder here than anywhere else, and I almost felt like covering my ears, but strangely, it seemed to flow through me, blending with my skin like the rays of the sun. It shook my bones, but after a moment, I felt as if it had always been there, and relaxed.

Taste the red honey… the words of the Spider-fingered man echoed in my mind, and I stepped closer to the walls. Imura stood next to me, and together we walked forward. We are here, I thought as we approached the walls. We might as well try it, just to see what happened. Some part of my mind tried to argue, but the buzzing in my bones drowned it out, and I reached for the wall. My fingers traced through the slow waterfall of honey and emerged tipped with red tips. My mind still caught up with the buzz, I stuck my finger in my mouth and tasted the honey.

A hot sweetness erupted on my tongue, as if I had suddenly tasted a little bit of the sun. It washed through my mouth and I smiled and closed my eyes to keep in the deliciousness. It seemed to spread through me and warmed me like the rays of the sun. It was wonderful.

But then the flavor changed, taking on a darker tone. The sweetness faded, and my mouth was flooded with a sudden bitterness. It was cold, and it seemed to suck away all the warmth from the first taste. The honey suddenly tasted terrible, like a rotten fish, and I pursed my lips in disgust, making ready to spit it out.

And yet, then it changed again. The bitterness faded, although it didn’t leave altogether. Some of the sweetness returned and mingled with the bitter, resulting in a pleasant, wholesome flavor that reminded me of the sweet-cakes my mother made, of cold nights in the rainy season when we told stories in our hut, of the moment when the sun finally rises over the horizon and spreads its fingers over the land, and of the happiness that rode through the village on festival days. It also reminded me, annoyingly I thought, as a bit of bitterness forced itself across my tongue again, of the village boys, especially Tunasa, and how he laughed at me and mocked me. I frowned, and the memories disappeared. Slowly, the flavors faded, and feeling a little abandoned somehow, I opened my eyes.

And nearly screamed.

There were bees everywhere, filling the air. They swarmed through the entire room, buzzing through the air and sticking to the walls. And they were different than normal bees; they were a dark red, and each was at least four inches long. Some of the longest were half a foot. I nearly screamed again as they suddenly pulsed toward me, buzzing around my head and landing on me. My breath came in short gasps- somehow part of my mind remembered not to make a noise, but perhaps I was just afraid I’d spook the bees even more. I shook myself and batted at them, trying to get them off me, but the buzzing that filled the chamber only intensified, taking on a more hostile tone, and the bees hung on. I felt one sting me, but instead of burning as most bee stings did, it turned cold and I tasted the extreme bitterness in my mouth again. I covered my mouth with my hand and stepped back, moving as slowly as possible towards the entrance.

I felt something in my hand and I almost shrieked again, but it was Imura, holding my hand. There were bees floating around her and on her clothes, but she seemed calm, as if she didn’t even know they were there. She put a finger to her lips and smiled at me, the sun shining in shafts of light and between the shadows of the bees.

Be quiet, be calm, I could almost hear her voice saying in my mind, and I could hear her quiet, calm humming beneath the drone of the bees. I felt myself slowly relax, still aware of the weight of the tiny creatures on my skin, and softly, I began to hum with her, just barely making a sound. She winked at me, and my tension slowly lessened.

Slowly, she turned around and began walking towards the entrance, and I followed her lead. We continued like that, her leading calmly, I following nervously behind, down into the passages, our humming out-of-tune, but comforting in a normal, human way, as if we were just walking by the riverside on an ordinary afternoon. The passages where now filled with bees, and felt even more claustrophobic than before.

Perhaps, I thought to myself in one short moment of thoughtfulness between my efforts not to panic, they’d been there all along, and it was only the taste of the red honey that allowed us to see what must be the spirit-bees. It was a few minutes before I noticed the passages were different as well; they were not the uneven, narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel of before, but there were now stone walls covered with reliefs that were hidden beneath the bees. I saw rough shapes partially hidden by drips of wax and honey, stone faces staring at me over the tops of carved trees, birds flying through a stone sky with a splendor of feathers strewn behind them, but as much as I wanted to see what the reliefs showed, Imura led me on. I concentrated instead on my cousin’s shoulders before me and walked on.

The bees’ buzzing had settled, again becoming the bone-shaking tone it had been all along. After a few moments, I noticed that Imura’s humming harmonized with it, matching the bees’ deep drone with a high, light tune. Now I understood why the bees seemed to calm around her, not flying so agitatedly, and they parted before her like palm fronds before a wind. I hurried in her wake, trying to catch the tune and apply the same unexplainable magic to the bees around me, but the music was more complex than I had thought. In the end, I just kept close to my cousin as we walked on in the foreign passageways, completely surrounded by millions of bees.

It seemed we walked for hours. The backs of my legs began to become sore and then tire. I longed to stop, but every time I fell behind Imura, the bees would buzz around me defensively and I’d hurry as much as I could to catch up.

After what seemed like hours, I saw daylight ahead, and suddenly I felt the warmth of the sun breezing through the passage. It was difficult to keep the same steady pace, but somehow we did. As we approached, the bees seemed to drop back, growing fewer and fewer in number as we moved forward. By the time we burst into the outside, they were all gone, and the only memory of them was the feeling of their legs on my skin and the cold bruise from where one had stung me. I was so relieved to be out under the sun again that at first I didn’t notice the occupants of the shore of the pool.

The entire village was there, waiting, and they seemed to notice us the same time as we noticed them. Someone cried out, and they rushed forward, splashing into the pool. I saw the faces of my mother and father, but the foremost in the crowd were the young men of the village, outpacing the rest. Tunasa was one of the first to meet us, and for the first time, I was honestly glad to see him.

Maybe Imura wasn’t so foolish after all. She did seem to know what to do to leave the hive, and she might’ve known they were they all along. So I suppose the real moral of the story, my children, is that we are all a little foolish sometimes, or there are many kinds of wisdom. And sometimes strange old men are simply put there to test us, sending us off on tasks that will test our make and show us what we are made of.