Chapter 3: The Refugees

Batefimba had already been up for some time when a weary Mazimba wandered into the kitchen. “Good morning, Umamba,” he said, staring hopefully at the stove, where a pot of corn porridge was indeed cooking, “how did you sleep?” “Not too badly, my boy,” she replied, a little untruthfully. She had no desire to worryContinue reading “Chapter 3: The Refugees”