CHAPTER 12

Ada was not so certain; the image had come like a flash. She had seen the head of a black mamba snake, the type that would send a man on his heels. But, like a puff of smoke, it had vanished with the fog—the darkness of the path serving as a good camouflage. Maybe she was being paranoid; maybe the sleepiness night was getting to her, making her mind play tricks. Either way, she decided to trace her steps carefully, that was the best thing to do, at least, until the grace of the sun was golden enough.

The beat in her chest was racing. It was as if her heart was immersed into her stomach, and the resilience shooting up to her throat. She couldn’t continue, though she tried convincing herself that what she had seen was not real. Everything within her protested against it. In Alaocha, people avoided the black mamba, as best as they could, because, a single bite could kill instantly. Its appearance was mostly perceived by the elders, as a bad omen—mostly death. A