After the previous night's positive outcome, the villagers were in high spirits as the men gathered together to head out for the hunt. They were on the last of their food, but had been waiting for the opportune time to replenish, as if the Orishas were not in their favour, the likelihood would be that they wouldn't find anything and would have to expend yet more sacrifice and more ritual to align the elements. However, with the outcome of the Ifà, Iyanipa's father had deemed it the opportune time to go on the hunt. Iyanipa had watched him divining some more after they'd returned to their hut, trying to determine the correct direction to head, what to look for, how many people should go, and so on, and had met with the leader of the hunt early that morning to pass on the information. His father was too old to hunt, and moreover too important, as there was no other Babalawa and he was not expendable, otherwise Iyanipa knew he would have gone along.

Instead, he had passed the responsibility to Iyanipa. Iyanipa knew there was no arguing with his father, and while he would make his feelings known to his mother, his father's word was law, and he did not wish to cause trouble. While angering a parent was crime enough, anger in the Babalawa could have extremely adverse effects on the entire village, and that was not something he wanted to risk, despite his very strong objections to the hunt itself. He knew his duty as a member of his village, and even if he did not agree, he would do his part to ensure the survival and prosperity of his people.

He readied his bow and his small spear, attached the knife to his hip, and accepted his mother's tearful farewell and her attempt to hug him without smearing his paint, and then darted into the next room.

"You're going," Abrafo said flatly, regarding Iyanipa with a cool gaze.

"I have to," Iyanipa replied, feeling suddenly even more guilty than before. "You know I don't want to, but I have to do my duty. I have to..."

"You don't have to kill," Abrafo said, features twisting with anger. "You don't have to take innocent lives to eat. You know that."

"I know," Iyanipa said softly. "But what else can I do? If I don't go, I will bring shame on my family and bad luck on the village. Besides, my father says that because I asked, it was good luck for me to..."

"You could have said no," Abrafo replied, sounding disappointed and very tired. "You could have just said no."

Iyanipa looked at Abrafo for a long moment, also feeling very tired, and then sighed. "I have to go," he murmured, and ran out of the room without looking back.

He joined his fellow villagers in the centre of town, preparing to leave. They were accompanied by the other village, the hunters dressed and painted similarly but with subtleties that showed the differences between their people. Iyanipa looked around, and noted everyone was much older than him. Abrafo's words echoed in his head, and he wondered if he could just...

"I'm proud of you, my son," his father said as he finished speaking to the other Babalawo and turned to Iyanipa. "You will bring great luck upon this village. This day you will become a man, and soon you will stand where I am standing and bless many other hunters as they prepare to do their duty for their village and honour to the Orishas."

"Yes, Father," Iyanipa replied, bowing his head to receive his father's kiss. Then, his father turned to everyone, and spoke the words of the blessing to keep them safe and speed their triumphant return, before sending them off on their way.

The other hunters chatted and laughed, their bellies still full of goat meat and their eyes scanning the horizons as they swiftly made their way out into the savanna. Iyanipa kept quiet though, the words of Ifà melding with Abrafo's admonishion and staying his hand. His spear hung forgotten by his side as he followed the others, lost in thought. There were no animals around here anyway - they had at least a day's walk to get to where they might find some - but a good hunter's mind was always on the task at hand. Clearly, Iyanipa was truly not meant to be a hunter.

They walked for several hours as the sun rose overhead and began to make its descent toward the horizon, until finally they happened upon a large body of water. This would be the prime place for the antelope and the hartebeest and, if they were lucky, perhaps something even larger.

The hunters stopped, finding a place downwind of the water that offered some cover and a clear sight, and arranged themselves to await thirsty animals. Iyanipa, to be quite honest, was feeling very thirsty - he wasn't used to the fast pace and unwillingness to stop for food or rest or anything, and had had nothing to drink since he left that morning. The other hunters didn't seem bothered at all, but he wasn't going to make it much longer.

He looked around at them, noting that they were all fully engrossed in watching the water, and snuck away, disappearing into the bush in search of a place where he could take water without alerting any potential prey to his presence. It occurred to him that he could solve a lot of problems if he just went to drink from the same water, but that would damage his village, and that was not something he was willing to do, despite his beliefs. Instead, he followed the little stream as it dwindled to practically nothing, taking care to keep out of sight and as silent as possible. He had left his spear and his bow and quiver, but he had his knife in case some animal were to attack him, and was small enough that he managed to travel quickly and without detection.

The sun was painting the sky orange when he finally found a place he was willing to stop for water, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he crouched by the tiny stream and drank of the cool, fresh water. It wasn't as good as the water upstream, as this had passed through the lake and thus was muddy and silty, but he was too thirsty to protest, and he drank for a long time, before dipping his head into the water and coming up dripping. It was too tempting to just flop straight into the stream and let the water wash away the dirt and sweat of the day's travel, but he knew he had to get back, and so he stood, preparing to follow the stream back up...

And caught sight of something that had no business being there sitting in the water.

Brow furrowing, he studied the round, highly polished item, half-hidden behind a copse of rocks. It looked to have floated downstream and then got caught there, and there was no way of knowing how long it had been there. He half-crouched and looked around, wondering if someone or something would be coming after it, but after a few minutes had passed and there was no sign of any movement, he cautiously stepped into the water, bare brown feet stepping skilfully across the smooth pebbles and taking him to the other side.

From here, he could recognise that it was an egg, but like no egg he'd ever seen before. Cautiously, he reached out a hand, and started as he realised it was warm. It was smooth to the touch, and solid; tapping on it gently with a finger, he also found it strong, though he could tell it was hollow by the dull chinking sound, and...

He jumped back, hand jerking from the egg's surface, as it shook, clearly in response to his tap. His eyes huge, he stared at the egg, willing it to move again, to do something so he would know he hadn't just hallucinated that. When it didn't, he made his way back over to it, leaning down to tap it again.

Before he could touch it this time, though, it shook of its own volition, and he let out a cry that he stifled quickly behind both hands. He looked around in horror, hoping he hadn't alerted any nearby animals to his presence, and crouched down, holding as still as possible and trying not to breathe.

He spent several minutes like that, and when he finally straightened, the sky had turned the colour of blood.

Suddenly, he remembered the Ifà, and his father's pronouncement that they should expect a visitor. Normally, he would not consider something like this a visitor, but when combined with the sound it made when he tapped the shell, it seemed to be a sign. Carefully, he leaned down and collected the egg, lifting it from its bed of rocks. It was quite heavy, and he could barely carry it; he was very glad he'd left his spear and bow behind. It was wet also, and wriggled furiously as he tried to strengthen his grip on it. He nearly dropped it several times as he picked his way out of the rocks and gained his footing on the grass. The egg continued to shake though, and he made a face, looking around helplessly.

"Stop that, egg," he told it sharply when it wiggled hard enough to make him have to drop to a crouch before it fell and smashed.

To his utter shock, it did. He stared at it, eyebrows almost to his hairline, and blinked. "You can understand me?" he asked in a hesitant, hushed voice.

The egg, of course, said nothing, and he sighed. "No, I don't suppose you'd be able to speak. But if you do understand me, I can't carry you if you keep wiggling, so you're going to have to be still. I'm sure you want out of there, but I can't get you back if you keep fighting me. And then you'll have a warm and comfortable place to be. All right?"

The egg remained silent, but it also remained still, and Iyanipa smiled as he stood carefully, wrapping his arms snugly around the egg and starting to head back to where he'd left the others. It was possible it was just a coincidence, but he felt strangely connected to the egg already. He had no idea what was in it, or where it had come from, or what it was doing here, but he felt peaceful when he held it, as if everything was going to be okay.

By the time he made it back to the hiding point, he was surprised to find that the others had already made a kill. A large one, in fact - he guessed there was probably half a herd of antelope, more than enough to feed their village for weeks. One of the men saw him approaching and laughed, waving a bloodied hand. "There you are, kekere!" he called. "We thought you'd gotten lost. You missed all the fun!"

Iyanipa approached, the egg cradled tightly in his arms, and looked down at the meat strewn across the ground. His stomach turned at the sight, and he closed his eyes, turning his head. "That's all right," he said. "You look like you had plenty of fun without me."

"What's that you have?" asked one of the other men, approaching and trying to poke the egg with a bloody finger. Iyanipa jumped back, feeling the egg quiver in his arms. "It's mine," he said, raising his chin and daring any of them to argue with him.

They looked at each other, and then laughed loudly. One clapped Iyanipa on the back, leaving a handprint. Iyanipa wrinkled his nose.

"The little one is quite a hunter as well!" one of them announced. "We find meat, and he finds a shiny treasure."

"I thought that was called a scavenger," said another, and the men roared with laughter. Iyanipa kept his head up though, staring at all of them. They're just jealous, he told himself, and the voice sounded remarkably like Abrafo. It didn't matter what the reason was though - he was proud of his egg, and he knew his father would be as well, even if he did find out his son hadn't hunted.

Well, he wouldn't find out until the next day anyhow. It was far too late to head back tonight, as the sun was already going down, so the men lay down to sleep, with two of them standing guard in case predators should scent the meat and happen by. Iyanipa lay down as well, but did not sleep. He was far too engrossed in the egg. It seemed to be smiling at him, even though he knew that was ridiculous, and the shell beneath his fingertips felt warm and alive. He wondered what could be inside such a large egg, how it was seemingly able to understand him, where it could possibly have come from, whether this was the sign the Ifà had foretold...

With all those thoughts in mind, it was a long time before Iyanipa found sleep, and when he did, it was curled up around the egg with his hand resting protectively against the dappled shell.