Arjana

Chapter 1

     Knelt down in the brush she was, the morning sun just hitting the horizon. Although it felt as though she was beginning to cook in the motherland's heat. Nairobi, Kenya to be exact. Heart of Africa. A thin bead of sweat ran down along the side of her face. She had it within her sights, her target. Spear in hand, she was ready to throw for the kill. She lifted the weight of the spear off of her shoulder as she stretched her arm back in preparations to throw. Taking a deep breath, she lunged her arm forward, releasing the the spear, watching it soar through the air, plunging into the abdomen of the target. A warthog. The young woman stood up out of her place of  hiding and grinned to herself in satisfaction. That young woman's name is Arjana.

     Arjana. 5'5", slim with very slight curves. Hair looks like it is made from her black wool, and skin almost that of midnight. Melanin is perfection. Eyes the color of champagne. Her mother referred to her as the "Daughter of Mama Africa" herself, solely because of how beautiful she was. Arjana walked over to the limp, almost lifeless animal, kneeling down, she could see it was still  gasping for air, struggling to breath. She closes her eyes, counted to 3 and snapped its neck, putting it out of its misery. She snatched her spear from the animal's body, wiping the blood from it in the savannah grass. She lay the spear on the ground next to her, reached into her sack, a handmade bag,  in which she carried on her hip, and pulled an arrowhead, handcrafted from black onyx out from it. The arrowhead glistened in the sunlight. It had an intricate carving of the sun on the side of it. Rumor has it, that the arrowhead had been passed down through hundreds of years worth of generations. She used that arrowhead to skin the warthog, whispering a prayer as she did so:

"Asante Ra, kwa baraka hii kutoka Gods juu."
*Meaning: "Thank you Ra for this blessing from the Gods above."

    It was her family's way of thanking the gods for blessing them with food. As she finished, her mother walked up, handing her a basket woven from savannah leaves, "Well done my child..I'm convinced your going to do well hunting alone from now on." Arjana smiled..."thank you mama...", Arjana then lifted the lifeless animal into the basket. Her mother watched as Arjana then lifted the basket onto her head, balancing it, with spear in hand. She smiled, proud of her daughter, she turned and began to lead their way back to the village.

     Arjana's mother raised her alone. Her father was shot and killed by rebels when she was only 3 years old. Rebels and war was very big thing in the area they called home. Arjana's mother was a distance ahead , she walked with such grace, such power, as if she, herself, was royalty. Arjana longed for that same grace, but she figured that was something she acquired over time. She snapped out of her thoughts and realized they were just about at the village entrance. "Nakupenda mama.", Arjana said looking at her mother. Nakupenda meant I love you in Swahili. Her mother looked at her daughter and smiled, "Nakupenda my princess.." Arjana and her mother had a bond like no other. Not only was that her mother but her Bestfriend as well. She was all she had. She appreciated every moment and every lesson spent with her mother like it was her last. Speaking of her last....as they neared the entrance to the village they could hear screams and cries bellow out into the crisp morning air.

     They stopped dead in their tracks...they knew exactly what was happening. The only time there was ever commotion in the village was either when A. Rebels were in the area or B. There was a wedding ceremony of festival, and from the sounds of those screams, I doubt it was from any celebration. "Mama! Come on!", Arjana  screamed at her mother at the top of her lungs trying to pull her to run away from the village. She had dropped the basket from atop of her head. Her mother was frozen from fear, she turned to look at Arjana and when she opened her mouth to speak but as soon as she did so, an arrow, shot from a bow pierced through her skull. Blood splattered onto Arjana. Her mother's eyes still wide open, staring into what seemed as though the depths of Arjana's soul, let one last tear run free as she fell to the ground. Dead. Arjana began to panic. She fell to the ground, screaming and cradling her mother's head in her lap. Her mind, her thoughts were racing uncontrollably, tears were streaming down her face like waterfalls. But she knew she had to get it together, she had to get away from there. As she looked around, it was as if everyone around her was dead or currently in the process of being killed. Arjana gathered herself, kissed her mother's forehead one last time, grabbed her spear from the ground next to her, stood up and took off running.
    
     "Stop Bitch!", a man yelled from behind her! She looked back and a rebel was chasing her. She was scared. She was running as fast as she could possibly muster but it seemed as though the man chasing her was running faster that Usain Bolt himself. She prepped herself for him to catch her, for she could hear his footsteps catching up to hers. As he began to close in, she tightened her grip around her spear, she knew she was going to have to fight.  As soon as he was on her heels, she spun around lunging the spear at him. He tucked and rolled, back up into standing position, completely dodging her spear in the process. He tackled her to the ground. She jabbed him in the mouth with a quick right, which was then followed by an even quicker left to the nose. He grabbed his face in pain. She placed a hand on each side of his head, pulling his head to hers, head butting him as hard as she could. He rolled off of her trying to collect himself. She turned to get up to run, and as she did so her face met the bottom of someone's work boot. Collapsing to the ground, everything went dark.......