Ihe di woro ogori azuala na ahia.

- What was secret is revealed in the market place.

The dog-wolf took slow steady steps towards the woman, ignoring Odion. It snarled and Odion could see droplets of saliva dropping from the bottom of the creature's jaw. Suddenly, an idea came to him and he knew it was suicidal but then again, these days, what in his life wasn't?

He took the dagger from the floor slowly, trying his best not to make a sound. The creature was still moving towards Mama as she backed into the wall and screamed for help, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to die, and Odion would make sure she didn't.

He was right behind the dog-wolf now so close that its tail almost touched Odion's knee. And as fast as he could muster, he jumped on the creature's back and wrestled it down, trying to open up its jaw. He could feel the pain in his palms as its teeth dug into his palm but he kept trying, struggling against a mangled beast as he tried to open its jaw. As soon as Odion saw an opening, he used his dagger and stabbed through the animal's upper jaw. Sure, it was made of Iron on the outside but its insides were still made of flesh. Odion pushed the dagger deeper into the creature's skull as it let out a deafening howl and Odion felt his vision double as he climbed off the creature's back. Odion stood up and stared at the carcass of the wolf. He felt anger and rage and most of all, sadness. How could a being even send something like this after innocent people? And then Odion realised that the people were just collateral damage, these animals had been sent for him and he had put all these people in danger. He looked up and tried to meet Mama's eyes but she cast them down in fear.

"Please," she said in between her sobs, "just leave, please."

"Ma—" Odion began to say.

"Leave!" she screamed. And Odion didn't even know what else he could say, how could he even explain?

He was used to running, by now it had become a second language to him. He left the small community but he stayed and watched it for the night, no more harm would come to this innocent people. In the early morning, at first light, like the moon, he was gone.

He had a feeling that the man in his dreams was responsible and he swore under everything holy that he would get his pound of flesh

'''

He began walking as soon as first light arrived. He didn't know quite where he was going to but he knew he needed to find the Long Enduring as soon as possible so he could get the gold chain and continue with this quest. Every step he took seemed to remind him of the events the day before and it broke his heart every time. He knew he had to leave but that didn't make him feel less sick. He had cried for hours the night before, wishing t any force in the universe that things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, he could have had a normal childhood, that his parents were alive and there wasn't a target on his back that endangered even the kindest souls that tried to help him.

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Nothing changed as he opened his tear swollen eyes.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into the soft skin of his palms. He had to find a way to right this wrong. Somehow. And the god that had sent wolves to that village?

He was going to make him bleed. He swore to himself at least that.

Anger was the only thing keeping him going at this stage but he couldn't deny it, when he had fought the wolves, something in him changed. It was like his blood became pure energy and every part of his body tingled. His eyesight became sharper and he could feel himself getting stronger. He had almost felt like a.... He shook the thought out of his head. What had Ala said before? That he had powerful blood inside of him?

He stretched his hands in front of him and turned it around. He observed them closely, they were the same hands he had always known. There was the scar on his left thumb that he had gotten when he was seven and had tripped, scraping his arm on the ground. He remembered his father's faint voice now as he found Odion crying in the dirt, telling him softly that it was okay, that it would always be okay.

Odion felt the pang in his chest and it was like someone had stabbed him with a knife and they just plunged the blade deeper in his heart. Twisting it to cause him more pain. He turned sharply into Broad Street moving slightly to avoid a young man who was walking briskly. Odion turned his left wrist towards him and only then remembered that he didn't have a watch. He shrugged it off and decided to ask someone instead. All the years he had been on his own he had never really needed a watch. What was the use? It wasn't like he had had anywhere to go to. He went towards a man setting up shop and asked him what the time was. Odion thanked the man, bowing slightly as he answered kindly and told him it was just 6:30 in the morning. Seeing the man setting up shop, Odion fully realised where he was. Broad Street wasn't just any other street in Lagos Island, it was practically the life of the whole place.

His mother had told him once as they drove by that Broad Street used to be another locality where local families lived but as time passed, it became a lot more. Odion could see from where he was standing that it had become a very commercial area. He could see the faint logo of Access Bank atop its building front his distance and he could tell that King's College, one of Nigeria's prestigious schools was nearby.

He walked down the street and felt a bit intimidated by the large buildings and bustling life of the people and the cars. He knew that although it was a bit quite now, in an hour or two, the whole place would spring to life erupting into a place full of life and business. He looked to his right at a greyish white building with lots of windows, it stretched for quite a distance and was shaped in an L, it was also two storeys tall. He didn't know why but it reminded Odion of a church but without the crucifix on the outside. After passing the signpost, Odion realised that this was the Centre for Black and African Arts and Civilization. It was an imposing building, not really emitting a sense of pride but not really one of self-loathing either. He felt like it could use a paint job or two. But that was how it was in Nigeria, he thought.