The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

Remi left Amal and the girls to search for better shelter. Eventually, she found a deeper overhang where they could ride out the storm without worrying about being seen by the kidnappers from the trail above. The climb to the top of the cliffs from there would be easier for the girls. But the crevice they’d shimmied down seemed to be a channel for runoff and she worried that if the steady rain continued, what was now a thin stream would soon turn into a full-fledged waterfall.

Judging by the sky, they had a very narrow window before the storm started up again. The rain, however, concerned her less than the severe wind gusts that could easily knock them off balance. After a quick perusal of the area, making sure she wasn’t invading the home of some jungle cat, she returned to the girls. “We don’t have much time. Let’s get moving.”

Amal gave her an odd look as she and the older girls stepped aside. Nasha, the child that Remi had come to think of as her warrior princess, sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth.

“Nasha.” Remi held out her hand.

“It’s never coming back,” Nasha said, to no one in particular.

“The helicopter?” Remi smiled. “Of course it’s coming back.”

Unfortunately, the other girls keyed in on Nasha’s fear, their concern moving to the patch of angry gray sky above them. “Why’d it leave?” Jol asked. “It was almost all the way here.”

Nasha’s eyes welled with tears. “Because Boko Haram were shooting at them. They’ll never come back. They can’t.”

Remi kneeled down next to Nasha, drawing her close. She’d never seen the girl this frightened. “I don’t think they’re Boko Haram at all. I think they’re Fulani cattle rustlers.” Though she’d heard tales of some Fulani herdsmen being equated with Boko Haram, killing anyone they deemed a threat to their pastureland, she wasn’t about to mention that fact now. The girls had enough to worry about. “They probably thought that helicopter was trying to bring them in for stealing the cows.”

Jol turned in panic toward Remi. “They won’t kill us, too, will they?”

“No,” Remi said, looking at each girl in turn. “I won’t let anything happen to any of you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Nasha said, pulling away from her. “You don’t even know.”

Zara’s eyes widened. “You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared. They killed everyone in my house. The only reason I didn’t get killed was because I got scared and ran away.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Remi stood. “We have to leave.”

Nasha shook her head, turning away, tears running down her face. “I don’t want to go.”

Jol crouched down in front of her. “We can’t go without you.” She tried to pull Nasha to her feet.

“We’re just girls,” Nasha whispered. “They have guns.”

Maryam crouched down beside Jol. “But you tricked the Kalu brothers.”

“Because I was pretending to be a boy,” Nasha said. “If I was being a girl, they would’ve …” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, then looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

Zara, perplexed, said, “But you saved us. You’re the brave one.”

“I’m not. I’m afraid all the time,” she said. “I’m afraid right now.”

The girls stared at her, their eyes wide with surprise. Zara’s sought Remi’s. “Are you ever afraid?”

“Of course,” Remi said, anxious. “What matters is what you do with that fear.”

“I’d run away,” Zara said. The other girls agreed.

Nasha said, “I wanted to when Mr. Hank said I stole those nails. I didn’t steal them. I found them.” She gave a firm nod to prove her point. “It’s his fault we’re here. If he hadn’t gotten sick, Mr. Fargo wouldn’t have had to leave. He would’ve saved us.”

Amal offered her a timid smile. “We got in trouble because of me. Something happens and I shut down. You saved us because you didn’t run away.”

“But I wanted to,” she said, her voice small as she wiped away tears.

“Sometimes,” Remi said as a gust of wind swept in, “that’s the right thing to do. The secret is to know when.” She held out her hand, breathing a sigh of relief when Nasha grasped it. What she couldn’t ignore was the sound of rushing water deep within that crevice and the growing stream filling their path. “Watch your step,” she told the girls.