Chapter 2: 2
I wanted to glare at her but the sweet look in her hazel eyes prevented me from conjuring any anger towards her.
“Better?” she asked in a silky voice. It was crisp and smooth at the same time. Like the way a plucked violin sting paints a new note against the shell of your ear. I, for some reason removed from my mind, couldn’t remember how to play my vocal cords. Instead, I nodded curtly.
She smiled and started to walk away. I watched her for a few seconds and then realised that she was not likely to return. I hurried to put on my shoes. I disregarded the uncomfortable slushing feeling of the wet soil caked to the bottom of my sole as I slid my shoes on in a haste and rushed after her.
“Wait!” I called out after the mysterious girl to stop. She didn’t. Perhaps she didn’t hear me. I called after her again and still she continued to walk. I was annoyed, frustrated, confused but above all else, I was intrigued. She was elusive in her movements. They looked confident and calculated as she manoeuvred the rocky terrain easily while I almost twisted my ankle on every stray stone. But at the same time, she looked like a strolling wave. Each of her movements seemed to flow into her next. I was so focused on her hypnotic movement that I hadn’t realised we had left the lake long behind us and we were in fact, in an area of the territory I didn’t recognise. It looked almost eery and sullen compared to the vibrantly painted houses that populated the rest of our territory.
I followed her to a shabby metal Wendie-house with decorative beads and shells hanging in the entrance in place of a door. I followed her into the quaint house. I felt rather out of place. It dawned on me that she might not have realised I trailed her the entire way, so I cleared my throat to remind her that I was behind her. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me sweetly. Phew. At least I didn’t have to feel like a creep.
“Is this your place?” I asked as we entered a tiny kitchen with stained glass windows and exposed piping. I kept my critique to myself and followed her lead, sitting down at the tin table in the centre of the off-white tiled room.
She nodded her head and looked at me with a cocked head. Then she got up and start to put various herbs and extracts into a granite mortar and pestle. She made quick work of grinding up all the ingredients and adding what I can only hope is lemon juice before presenting me with some kind of pale drink. It smelt of sweet grass and rye. She smiled at me brightly and motioned towards the cup. Not wanting to offend her, I gave her an awkward smile and brought the cup to my lips. Please don’t be gross! Please don’t be gross! I prayed in my head.
To my surprise, the liquid was sweet and not foul tasting at all. It has the texture of concentrated syrup with a somewhat grainy texture that raked over my tongue as I gulped it down. It was delicious!
I put the cup down and smiled bright at her, thanking her enthusiastically. She smiled back.
“Better?” she asked again. I quirked my eyebrows at her question. At that exact moment I felt a fizzy sensation spread over and throughout my entire body. I looked up at her with a shocked expression. My throat pulled stiff and all of my muscles tensed and fused and clutched at one another for closeness. And then… relief. I felt my body relax and exhaled until all the tension floated away.
“How did …” I gasped out at her. How did she do that? That drink was magic.
“It’s med-cin. For you,” she said shyly. Her short brown hair fell in front of her face like a curtain. I brushed it away with the tips of my finger before I could stop myself. She looked at me and I could see a faint blush paint her cheeks.
“How’d you know how to make it?” I asked curiously. She looked up at me with a dainty smirk and then a soft petaled giggle. Huh? What’s so funny.
“You’re funny,” she laughed out then she stopped laughing. She observed my clearly confused face.
“Sangoma?” she phrased it like a question. I was confused about what she meant. I remember the word in passing but had never really interacted with it. She shook her head in realisation. She took my hand into hers and looked at me.
“Come,” she said simply, pulling me out of the chair without warning. I willed my feet to keep up my own shoulder socket before it popped off. I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt like a bitch. None the less I followed the pixie goddess as she took me further into her colourful house and towards a room that made me feel cold to the bones. When we walked in the dark room with ritual symbols and scents attached to each corner of the room, I immediately had a flashback to the first time I visited the seer at school. I was having bad dreams and they sat me down and dulled into my mind to paint faces on the demons that taunted me at night.
Witchcraft and mages were in Cape Town? What the fuck happened while I was gone?!
“My pa is ‘n Sangoma. He taught me to make med-cin for people like you,” she said, and it finally clicked. She wasn’t a witch. She was the daughter of a witch doctor. Another thing dawn on me as I deflated in relief that instantly petrified my lungs. People like [me]. She knew what I was. Shit!
“So, you make healing serums for the community?” I tried to play it cool. She shook her head. She moved towards me and placed her open palm on my chest. I felt her soft, warm skin melt onto mine. It felt overwhelming to be so close to someone from my own community. I felt a surge of emotion bubble up in my stomach and float to my head.
“You have orisha bloed,” she said confidently. I let my head fall in shame. I was ashamed but a large part of me was afraid. This was the whole reason I left. My kind were not meant to live with normal people. We caused carnage wherever we went. This was it. She knew and soon the rest of the village would know too. Nothing spread faster than secrets. To my surprise she moved her hand from my chest to my face and cradled it in her dainty palm. I let myself enjoy the warmth of the moment and eventually met her eyes.
“Please don’t tell,” I pleaded. My voice was small and childlike and pathetic, but I didn’t care. I just needed a week. I wanted to be there for my brother’s special day then I could disappear again. Just a week – that’s all I needed. She smiled at me put out her pinkie finger to me. I chuckled out with lightheaded relief and gratitude and wrapped my nic-nac pinkie around hers. When she pulled away, I abruptly hugged her and whispered a teary ‘thank you’ in her ear. I enjoy her sweet scent of vanilla and morning dew.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone