Bound To Burn 🔥

Beneath The Canopy

Chapter Seven – Beneath the Canopy

The ceremony was over. The laughter, music, and scent of roasted meat had faded into memory. Chief Suku returned to his homestead with a storm cloud on his brow—a man half proud, half bitter.

He had added a daughter-in-law to his lineage, yes. The alliance with Chief Indemba was sealed. But Salah—his prized son—had drawn in a wrestling match against a boy he had long dismissed as soft and womanlike.

“You had him, Salah!” he roared once they returned. “You were on top. You could’ve ended it.”

Salah stood still, his face unreadable.

“Where was your mind, eh?” Chief Suku thundered. “That match was ours! And you let it slip like a fool in a dream.”

Salah clenched his fists but said nothing.

“From now on—no hunting. No free time. You’ll train with the warriors. Wrestle the older boys. Fetch water from the farthest stream. Grind the grains till your palms blister. I want no more softness in your blood. Seven days, Salah. Seven days until I believe you again.”

And so, Salah labored. His body bore the strain—sweat, bruises, aching limbs—but it was not the chores that tormented him. It was the face that haunted his mind: Simba’s eyes when they locked in the ring. The quiet fire behind his gentleness. Salah didn’t know what it meant, but it unsettled him more than any punishment his father could give.

Meanwhile, Chief Indemba was basking in a new kind of pride. For the first time, he looked at Simba not with contempt, but with hope.

“He may look like a girl,” he whispered to his wife one night, “but the gods gave him a lion’s spirit. Perhaps he is mine after all.”

He praised Simba openly, gave him beads, leather sandals, a new spear. The beatings stopped. The harsh words softened. For once, Simba felt like he mattered.

Yet, even in his father's favor, Simba’s heart remained restless.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Salah. The draw had felt… strange. Did he truly win? Or had Salah held back? Why did it matter so much?

Each evening, he slipped into the woods. He sat at the edge of the clearing where they’d first clashed, hidden beneath tall fig trees, listening to birds sing. At first, he told himself he went to clear his head. But day after day, he realized he was waiting—for Salah.

But Salah never came.

Until one evening.

Simba had nearly given up. He sat on a rock, watching a weaver bird twist threads into its nest. The wind whispered through the trees. He closed his eyes.

Then—a hand touched his shoulder.

He leapt to his feet, ready to fight.

But it was Salah.

“Easy there, Simba,” Salah chuckled, breathless. “I’m not here to fight. I’m too tired to even lift a finger.”

He dropped to the ground beside him, as though they’d been doing this for years.

“You always watching birds?” Salah teased.

Simba flushed. “I wasn’t watching birds. Just… enjoying the breeze.”

Salah smiled. “Don’t lie. I’ve seen you—daydreaming, staring into the sky. Don’t worry. I’m not your father. I won’t beat you for being soft.”

Simba looked away.

“You know,” Salah continued, “we started wrong. But we don’t have to stay there. We can be... free with each other.”

“Free?”

“Friends.”

Simba hesitated. “So what are you doing here? Do you always hunt in this spot?”

Salah laughed. “You’re the one who always crosses borders. I should be asking you.”

They both fell silent, their smiles lingering in the air.

That evening, they talked more than they ever had. They played silly games—flicking seeds, racing up short trees, throwing pebbles at hollow logs. For the first time, there was no rivalry, no score to settle—just two boys discovering each other beyond fists and rules.

And so it began.

Day after day, they met in secret. They hunted together, wrestled in the wild grass, shared fruits, told stories. Sometimes they played hide and seek like children again. Other times they sat in silence, letting the forest speak for them.

The shadow between them had not vanished. It lingered. But now, it was warm, not cold. It danced like mist between rays of light.

They were growing.

And something between them was growing too.