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Silently he crept through the jagged thornbushes. Bare feet moved swiftly over hot, arid soil to the edge of a waterhole where the kudu was drinking. The great animal suddenly looked up, spiral horns curving sharply into the endless African sky. Nsue (neh-SOO-ee) did not reach for his pouch of poisoned arrows. He had no heart for killing. This would not be the day he would change his childish boyhood name.
Nsue left the salt pan and climbed the barren hillside to the cool twilight of the rock caves. Tonight would be the Festival of
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