Nneka arranged the firewood she had brought against the wall of the shack, then hurried to the fire and gave the pot of soup on it a good stir. Seated on a stool nearby, Ebube’s eyes were glued on his horse which was tethered to a tree.
The horse had grown lean and weak, and Ebube knew it would not last. It was even a miracle that it had survived this long. It was when Nneka had caught sight of it that she had looked around for its rider and found Ebube half dead. She had recognised him instantly, and had dragged him to the shack where she nursed him.
Ebube’s eyes shifted from the horse to the girl. “Do you not ever hope to return to Arochukwu?” he asked.
Nneka did not look at him. “I would if I could.”
He asked about her family and she told him she was the only survivor; everyone else
