The hunting party returned home to deafening cheers and tears and other excitement. With the dozens of pounds of meat in tow, the villagers knew they would prosper greatly for a significant amount of time, and after the recent months they'd had, they were more than ready for it. The celebration began immediately, the women cooking up huge quantities of seeds and beans and the men skinning and roasting the antelope flesh. Iyanipa, however, wanted no part of it. He ignored his father's questions about what had happened and his mother's urging to come and take his rightful place now that he was a man, and disappeared back into his hut, the egg clutched tightly in his arms.

It was silent, or as silent as it would get with the massive celebration going on, and he was grateful of it. He needed the time to think, and to be away from the throngs of people. He knew it was glad times for his village and the next, but he couldn't bear that they were celebrating the deaths of so many beautiful animals. He couldn't bear to face Abrafo either, and his I told you sos, so he hid in his room, lying flat on his stomach and studying the egg, tracing the mottled shell with a fingertip.

"Why are you here?" he asked after a long silence, and he didn't know who he was asking.

"Iyanipa?"

Iyanipa jumped to his feet just in time to see his Grandmother shuffle into the room, leaning heavily on her cane and regarding him from beneath thick white eyebrows.

"Iyanipa, what are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, Grandmother," he replied. "Just...thinking."

She gave him a long look, and then smiled. "You're a good boy," she croaked, nodding. "Always thinking. You will always do well, kekere. You will have a long life and great prosperity."

Iyanipa looked at her confusedly, and then nodded. "Thank you, Grandmother," he said. "I hope so. You have taught me well always."

"But you have something we do not," she informed him. "You have the heart, and the will to be more, and so you will. The dragon has seen it and so it shall be so."

Iyanipa had not yet learned the intricacies of Ifà, and his Grandmother had been around for many many years, and he knew he had no hope of understanding what she meant by that, so he simply bowed his head. "Thank you, Grandmother," he said again. "You do me great honour."

"I have done nothing, kekere," she told him, and her craggy face looked both pleased and sad. "You are a strong spirit. Do not let it fade."

Iyanipa's brow furrowed, and he was about to ask her why she was saying all of this now, but the egg wriggled just then, bumping against his calf, and he started, twisting to look down at it. When he looked up again after discerning that it was all right, his Grandmother was gone.

"The dragon?" he mused out loud as he lowered himself to the floor again and folded his arms, resting his chin atop them. "What did she mean? Can you tell me, Egg?"

The egg, as predicted, said nothing.