Love girl

THE PAGES WAILED AT the blazing hut. The palace guards rushed to put off the fire. Kiiza clasped Nyamate’s left hand, sprinted across the compound, and like wild rats, they ricocheted through the reed fence into the king’s kraal. The kraal was yawning; the herdsmen were still in the grasslands. The two hurried to the hedges. He pushed her to climb over the kraal and thrust himself over it. The marathon began. They had to leave Kamukuzi before the sun cast its last smile. A few farms from the palace, Nyamate collapsed. She couldn’t resist it; since when had a Hiima lady last run? It’s only love’s wings that could narrow her that far. Kiiza gripped his goat skin and vigorously fanned her. Her eyes resurrected. He knelt, lifted her head and placed a gourd of milk on her lips. ‘Enoughhh…’ She fizzed, pushing the gourd away with her right hand. He smiled. ‘We have to leave,’ he said. ‘The new moon must find us across.’ ‘I can’t move further.’ ‘You can’t do this to me.’ ‘But you see…’ Her words found Kiiza on his feet. He pulled her up and they waddled among the anthills ethiopian escort to the royal cemetery. The half moon peeped from behind the royal palace where a caravan of white smoke was ascending to the skies. At the sight of the staggering light rays that appeared several huts away, they threw themselves onto Mbaguta’s grave, not minding the pythons that guarded the king. He was heaving and she was making sporadic screams as though rapt by labour pains. He had refused to let his beer, butter and back-cloths waste away just because Prince Kaine had annulled his partial marriage-fee escorts addis ababa and compensated his parents with the two cows they had given to Nyamate’s family. She had 62 been betrothed to him. She had given him her maidenhood, and she was pregnant. For the sake of their serf families, and for the sake of their own lives, they had to flee. But how could it be heard that the prince’s wife was carrying a serf’s tot? She had to go down river Kagera’s throat with a stone tied to her neck; he had to be roasted from the Kakyeka wrestling oval ethiopia sex telegram. The light rays closed in, accompanied by voices. ‘The royal guards are here.’ Kiiza whispered. He held her hand and they lay to the ground. They swallowed their breath to let the guards pass. ‘Let me stay behind, they might still be within,’ said one of the guards. And the susurration proceeded. The guard surveyed the graveyard. His torch landed on the two. Like an antelope trapped in a lion’s claws, they lay inert. ‘Nyamate and Kiiza, what have you done to us?’ Kale, Nyamate’s elder brother, cried. ‘We must leave now before they come back,’ he added.