"Seriously, thats what you ask?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Kweku waved dismissively, shooing the girl away.

"Please leave, I need to rest."

Abena huffed off, muttering a silent "Asshole." under her breath as she left the hut.

The young man stared at her retreating figure, specifically at her attire; dark, woolly, and loose, it flowed about her like a silky robe. The jingle of the brass charm could be heard as it clinked against her clothes.

The material of the clothing was not bad, at least by mundane standards. The large, long vest was made from the finely woven black-bull cotton of the similarly named black-bull plant, while the woolly trousers were made from the fleece of the short-necked sheep.

"The military, huh?"

Kwku hummed thoughtfully.

"That could be useful..."

He turned his attention to the unconscious Ato, who still lay on the bed.

"That girl..." He sighed, Abena had made his already busy day much busier. Military grade charms really weren't easy to counter.

Luckily, he had something that might work...

MIght.

Kweku retrieved a small earthenware chunk from the folds of his cloth, and placed it upon the chest of his unconscious rooomate.

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He then pulled out a small chisel, which was barely the size of a nail.

The chisel had been inscribed with special runes which made it vibrate at high speeds, allowing for someone to carve easily on stone surfaces.

It was the only thing he'd been able to rescue from his home.

He began carving on the chunk, stopping each time to observe the complexion of his patient, making alterations as he went.

Laboured breathing... Ashy complexion...

His chisel shaped symbols upon the clay chunk, each one containing a complex meaning.

Kweku remembered fondly the words of his father.

"The art of curse removal is a hard one..." He would say. "You must not only observe the patient, but have an intricate knowledge of both the curse and the manner in which they were cursed."

His father, Osei Denkyem, was a well-known curse remover, and it had been the dream of young Kweku to one day become like that great man.

Though, it seemed now that his dreams would remain just that.

Sometimes, Kweku wondered why he had even bothered hiding his expertise, the young him had been quite the cautious fellow, a quality even more amplified by the disaster which befell him on that day.

"Urgh..."

Ato awoke groggily, his eyes covered by a thick layer of rheum which inhibited his visual capabilities.

He propped himself up, picking the gunk out of his eyes.

It doesn't make sense...

Ato was winning that fight, it was certain, it was guaranteed...

Until it wasn't

Abena had done something, and then Ato found himself lying on the floor, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

He still remembered the feeling; as if someone had just punched him right in the liver a thousand times over.

Ato shuddered, feeling the goosebumps rise on his skin. He never wanted to experience such a sensation ever agian.

"You okay?"

He turned towards Kweku, who was slumped over his bed, looking more corpse than man.

"I should be asking you that question."

Kweku let out a small chuckle: "You're right about that..."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Ato spoke:

"Who brought me here?"

"Abena." Replied Kweku, in a very strange tone.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"Your voice." Elaborated Ato.

"What about my voice?"

Ato thought for a moment, before finally coming to a sidden realisation.

"Oooh, I see how it is~"

"What?"

"Nothing~"

Ato giggled silently, it seemed Kweku was into strong women.

"Could you stop doing that?"

"Oh, so you caught on?"

"Kill yourself."

Hehe... How hilarious.