Unaku tightened her grip around the boy. His wailing hadn't stopped, neither had her doggedness waned.

One of the men called her husband aside while she went on rocking the boy, his soft lips coiled around her nipple.

“ She has to choose. We can't lose our people because of one child. She should leave him or stay with him.”

The words pierced Dimgba's heart but he understood the heavy task. 

Just three months ago, he celebrated the new born all merry and grateful to his Chi for his wife's safe delivery. Lotanna, he called him. Three months later, he is faced with no option than to leave the subject of that gratitude for the sake of scores in the hideout.

"Aku," he beckoned her to a corner, and took her hand.

Breathing the air of clear resolve, she shuffled to his side, her dirty wrapper almost undone.

“ We have three more children...”

She pulled her hand free from his gentle hold, " You have three more children," she retorted, overcome by resentment.

"I only have him. If something happens to either of us, you will go on to have more children.

I will not leave my child for anyone's sake."

"Then you must leave us," he deadpanned, eyes flaming his indignation.

Time stopped before her. She couldn't believe it. This was his blood after all, even if others chased them away, he shouldn't be there to lead the chase.

“ I said leave!”

She shivered, and embraced the child fearfully. Her eyes threatened to rain, and her courage bailed.

She retraced her steps with the feebleness of a child, unsteady and wobbly.

And as the first drop escaped, she hurried away, the child's voice blasting the night sky like a siren.

Unaku stayed hidden, but not for long.

Cutting into the rough terrains of the woods, where half of the villagers had taken shade from the missiles of their distant brothers, uniformed men stumbled upon she and her child. Internal strife broke out among them. One about to open fire, while the rest protested.

At the dire moment, the shot rang to deafening tempo. She gasped, the child safely tucked behind her.

Her eyes welled up, bound to their borders. 

At her feet lay the man she parted ways with three days ago, Dimgba.

" I shouldn't have left you alone," he groaned, with a hole in his chest.

Unaku was submerged in her guilt. Stooping down, she hugged him as he breathed his last, hoping the soldiers would finish what they started. But it never came. Instead, their heavy steps announced their departure. 

She would remember that day all her life, and her vivid descriptions would be etched on the boy's mind. His conjured memory of a father he never met, would live long in the minds of generations to come as an answer to his plea to be remembered.