"SAMBA YACINE!"

Samba jolted up from his crouched position and his heart pounded in fear. His stepmother rarely spoke his name with that much anger. Something terrible was about to happen.

He abandoned the dishes he was busy washing in the yard and ran inside the house, following the screeches of his auntie. She was in her bedroom and Samba Yacine burst in without even knocking, his eyes wide.

"Y-Yes auntie?"

She wasn't alone in the bedroom. Samba's father was there as well as his stepbrother. They were probably alerted by the stepmother's cries as well. She was furious and held an ivory comb between her hands. It was an expensive one, designed by the kingdom's greatest artist. It was one of Aida's most valuable possessions and now...It was broken in half. She pointed a finger toward Samba and said through gritted teeth:

"You. You did this!"

Samba didn't know what to say. His shoulders trembled in front of the accusatory fingers of his stepmother.

"What have I done, auntie?"

"You dare to ask?! You broke my comb!"

"What?...No, I did not!"

"Who else?! You are the only one who cleans this bedroom. I told you countless times to not mess with my belongings and see what you have done now. This comb costs more than your life."

"I haven't touched it, auntie. I promise."

"Shut up! You are going to get me a new one right about now!"

Samba Yacine was bewildered. He never touched his auntie's belongings, especially not that coumb he knew meant a lot to her. He looked at his stepbrother and the boy just shrugged, folding his arms above his chest. Samba then looked pleadingly at his father. The latter looked terrified, tiny drops of sweat gathering on his forehead. He turned to his wife:

"Darling, listen..."

"No. Don't say a word if it's to defend this brat ! I am sure he broke it out of jealousy."

"He made a mistake. Please have mercy. I will get you a new comb myself, alright? We can fix this. Just let it go this once, I beg you..."

"May God strike me right now with thunder if I even think about letting this go. This boy is going to get me a new comb right now."

"Darling, it's already late..."

"I do not care."

Aida took a few steps closer to Samba and stared up and into his eyes. Despite being taller than her, Samba's despair made him look tiny, like a child.

"Please auntie..." He begged.

"The man who made this comb is Azeem Aidara. He lives in the city past the river. It will take you three hours to get there by foot. I don't want a comb from anybody else but him and I expect to receive it tomorrow morning so you better get going now."

Her husband came forward, held her shoulders:

"Darling...It's not safe for Samba to take this trip right now. At least allow him to wait until dawn."

Aida glared at her husband once and it was enough to dissuade him from saying another word. Samba took a deep breath. Clearly, his auntie wanted him dead. Everyone knew how dangerous the streets were at night, especially for a young man alone. She didn't want him to come back. Maybe she even broke the comb herself...She'd finally lost it and decided to kick him out of the house and lead him to a certain death.

Samba put on a brave face despite the anguish bubbling inside him.

"May I take the comb with me?" He asked his auntie.

She wrapped it in a napkin and handed it to him. Before leaving her bedroom, Samba gave her a determined look:

"I will be back tomorrow, as you wish."

The angry scowl on his stepmother's face was highly satisfying. Samba turned around and left. He decided he wouldn't shed a single tear...At least, not until he'd be out of the house for good. He was going to die, he'd have time to ponder about it and cry later.

He went to his bedroom first to take his little bag where he kept the comb, some nuts, water and a small knife for protection. His father met him at the door, tears all over his face. He looked just...Pathetic. Samba felt bad for him more than he felt bad for himself.

"Son..." He cried.

"It's okay, father. As I said to auntie, I will be back tomorrow and I will be safe and sound."

"No." He whispered. "Don't obey her this time. Just run away, son. Find a shelter for the night and in the morning, go and start a new life somewhere else. The way your aunt treats you is unacceptable. You deserve better."

"Father, you know there is nothing I can do without her, without the protection of a woman. No one will take me seriously. I only have two options: either I die on this trip or I come back and stay here until I am of age to start a life on my own."

Samba's father lowered his gaze. His son was right, he had no chance of surviving in the real world without the help of a woman. No one would give him a proper job or shelter. He'd likely be used and abused because no one would be there to defend him.

"I am so sorry, son...I wish your mother was still around to take care of you."

Samba didn't answer. He feared that his voice would break if he was to say anything more. Instead, he gave a quick hug to his father and left without looking back.

He wasn't familiar with the road to the nearest city. In fact, he'd never been out of his neighborhood before. Samba clutched the strands of his bag and walked down the empty streets. It was dark but luckily, he could still manage to find his way thanks to the moonlight.

His neighborhood was safe enough so he didn't have to worry yet. He could save that for when he'd reach the poor sides of the city where bandits lurked at night to rob anyone crazy or desperate enough to wander into their territory. If that didn't end him, then he'd get to the savannah where wild animals would probably make a feast with his flesh. If that also didn't end him, he'd have to face the rebels that hid between cities' frontiers. The least they could do to him was keep him hostage and request a ransom which they'd never get if they were to ask his stepmother.

Samba decided that it wasn't safe for him to list all the ways he could die before dawn. He didn't want his negative thoughts to actually impact the way his night would go. Despite all the danger surrounding him, he still had a chance to stay alive. He could walk silently in the dark and if he was lucky enough, he wouldn't attract any undesired attention.

He didn't want to die. Despite all the hardships, Samba actually loved life. He knew deep down that there were greater things waiting for him in the long run and he also believed that he was protected and that no one could harm him. That's why he managed to continue his journey and not break down on the way.

He occupied his mind with little songs and happy memories. He also fantasized a bit about the coming harvest feast. It was his favorite time of the year because his auntie would usually allow him to participate in the different activities around their neighborhoods. However, that year's feast was going to be different with the queen's decision to pick her future husband.

Samba had no chance of getting picked of course but it didn't mean that he couldn't dream. He imagined himself at the ceremony, dazzling the queen with his sword dances. He'd been practicing them for so long...No one had ever seen him perform but he believed he was good enough to entertain his queen, even though he'd only started practicing sword dancing for the fun of it and never took it seriously.

He also didn't have a personal teacher like his stepbrother but he taught himself how to read and write. Samba wasn't a genius but still, he was proud of his achievements, surely that could count for something, right?

Actually, when he gave himself the time to think about it, he couldn't see why his stepbrother was more deserving of the queen's attention. Sure, Samba didn't have his brother's garments and jewelry but that could be arranged. What mattered was that he was a much more decent human being.

He kept marching for the next couple of hours with those thoughts in mind. Nothing had happened to him when he almost reached the borders of Azeem's city. Samba was starting to believe that he could make it after all but just as he was about to find his way out of the savannah, he noticed a group of women marching toward him.

They were hiding in a ditch they probably dug themselves. Dressed in black and armed, Samba had no doubt that they were up to no good. There were five of them. He imagined they could be rebels or worse...Bandits.

The boy was petrified in place. It was too late to run or hide, they'd already seen him. Soon enough, the women had encircled him and Samba stared at each of their faces. He couldn't recognize any of them of course, but he could identify the leader among them. She stood right in front of him, her smile revealing her upper teeth covered in silver.

"Well, what do we have here ladies?" She asked in a mocking tone. "If it isn't a cute little boy all by himself...What are you doing here in the wilderness, honey?"

Samba felt like there was a stone in his throat. His mind went blank as he eyed the woman in front of him. He'd never been more terrified of another human being in his life. The fogginess in her eyes proved that she was either drunk or high on some other substances. He feared what she could do to him in that state of mind...Plus, her peers didn't look any better.

"He is literally going to piss himself at this point." One of the women said, making the others laugh.

"Are you scared? Don't worry, we won't hurt you...Or will we?"

They laughed some more. Samba took a few steps backward but bumped against one of them. He forgot they were all around him. The woman was so pissed that she didn't hesitate to elbow Samba so hard that he almost lost his balance.

"Hey, watch where you are going !" She hissed.

"S-Sorry..." Samba apologized.

He was so used to saying sorry every time his step mother got angry. It never stopped her from punishing him though so, of course, it wouldn't work with those women either. The leader snatched his backpack from him.

"So what do you have here?"

Samba tried to take it back but two of the other women locked his arms behind him in a firm grip and brought him to his knees. The leader opened the bag and took the sack of nuts out. She clicked her tongue in distaste and threw it against Samba's face. She searched some more before finding his knife.

"What in the world- Tell me this is not what you brought for protection." She said in a mocking tone.

Samba glared at her, his eyes full of hatred. Muna cackled and handed the knife to one of her acolytes. After one last search, she found the comb and carelessly dropped the bag and stomped on it.

"This looks expensive..." She said, admiring the ivory comb in her hand.

"Don't take it!" Samba groaned. "It's not mine, it belongs to my auntie."

"And you think I care?"

He tried to free himself from the other two women's grip but they were determined to keep him down. One of them pointed out:

"Look, Muna! He has a gold bracelet."

Samba's eyes widened. He ran out of patience for good when Muna set her eyes on his wrist. Gathering all his strength, he hit the lady on his right with an elbow strike. She cried and held on to her aching stomach. Samba used the distraction to stand on his feet and punch the other woman in the nose.

"Fucking hell!"

Blood seeped through her nostrils and she started tearing up. In an instant, the remaining two women were on him. Samba wasn't a fighter but he was brave. Despite the brutal punches and thumpings he received, he didn't let them bring him down again. His morning workouts were finally paying off.

"You are not taking my bracelet!" He yelled before head-butting one girl.

Another one drew her knife out:

"I am going to gut you like a fish!"

Samba tried to avoid the sharp object but it was hard to keep his attention on everyone. The attacks were coming from every side and despite being strong, his adversaries were trained and he wasn't able to injure them hard enough.

The whole time he fought, Muna watched without a word. Finally, one of the women was able to get the best of Samba. While he was busy avoiding a knife attack, she jumped and kicked him in the back with her feet. Samba felt like all the air in his lungs was drawn out of him. He could not stop himself from falling and as soon as he was down, the four girls circled him and kicked him incessantly with their boots until he spat blood. Samba could no longer move a single muscle in his body.

They dragged him on his back. He looked at the starry sky, tears gathering in his eyes. He couldn't even react when Muna crouched next to him. She seemed almost sorry but Samba knew that it was all an act. A person like her could possibly not have feelings. He jerked a bit when the woman stroked his cheek, her long and dark painted nails scraping his skin.

"You are strong." She admitted. "My girls never struggled half this much to contain someone. If you were a woman, I'd have asked you to join us but unfortunately...No matter how hard you fight, you are nothing more than a little boy and you will never be strong enough."

Samba's tears weren't of pain but of pure rage. Muna took his right arm and stared at the bangle. She hummed in satisfaction. It did look rather expensive.

"Machete, please..." She sing songed.

Someone handed her a machete. She checked if it was sharp enough before saying:

"It's not against you, sweetie. But we need to make a living one way or another and it was rather foolish of you to come here in the midst of the night...It's almost as if you wanted this to happen to you."

She raised her weapon high above her head. The sharp side shone under the moonlight and Muna's bloodshot eyes widened in anticipation. Samba hoped he'd bleed out to death after this. He'd rather die than live without his mother's bangle, the only thing he had left of her.

He closed his eyes and waited for the impact, the pain...But it never came. Instead, there was a blood-curdling scream. Samba's eyes flew open again. He didn't know if he was stuck in a dream or if the things happening in front of him were actually real.

Muna, the gang leader, was no longer crouching next to him. Her body was a few feet away and had left a thread of blood behind. An enormous lioness had manifested out of nowhere and chopped her head off with its teeth. Only the machete was left next to Samba.

The four other women were petrified in front of the animal that had just killed their leader. It had blood covering its entire muzzle. One would think that a wild animal would have attacked someone to feed but the lioness moved away from the body, tongue lapping at his muzzle. Its eyes were now set on its other victims. The women remained still for a few more seconds before they ran.

Samba watched through half-closed eyes as the lioness lunged after them and managed to take them all down with its claws and teeth. Flesh and pieces of garments flew around. The screams of painful death were the most horrid part, Samba was sure he would never forget those sounds. He was still conscious when the lioness turned and started walking toward him. It was his turn. His eyes closed despite his better judgment and it was like he'd been swallowed by a big, dark hole.

When he woke from his slumber, the lioness was gone but the mutilated bodies were still around. He was fine.

Next to him, Samba found an ivory comb, identical to that of his auntie, except that it wasn't broken anymore. Someone or something had fixed it while he was unconscious and he didn't know whether to be amazed or simply terrified out of his mind. What had just happened to him?