The canoe glided on the river's back, like it was dancing to a melody only the land could hear. Asha felt the thump of the water's pulse, like the earth itself was guiding her through the darkness. Omari sat opposite, eyes closed, face lifted to the stars, a serene smile playing on his lips.
Nuru waved from the shore, spring's glow fading into the night like a whispered secret. _"I'll watch the land,"_ she called, her voice carried away by the wind.
Malkia's whisper echoed in Asha's mind: _"The whaha carry you, Asha. Listen."_
The river bent, revealing a fork – one path bright and shimmering like moonlight on water, one shrouded in mist, like the land itself was exhaling secrets. Asha felt a tug – which way?
Omari opened his eyes, like he was waking from a dream. _"Whindi say... follow the song."_
Asha listened – two melodies intertwined like vines. One like laughter, bubbly and light, like the river's own joy. One like a heartbeat, deep and pulsing, like the land's own life.
The bright path seemed to match the laughter – easy, maybe even tempting. The misty path echoed the heartbeat – hidden, maybe dangerous.
Asha's mind spun with questions. What lay ahead? What did the whindi want?
Suddenly, the canoe drifted, like the river itself was nudging her. Asha felt a spark – the wali's power, urging her to choose.