Chapter 4 SHADOWS IN THE CASSAVA FIELD

By afternoon, the village of Nkpologu was a whispering hive of fear.

No one drew water from the stream. No one fed the chickens. Even the children, usually reckless as goats on market day, stayed indoors. And somewhere near the Dibia's shrine, three hens had laid blood instead of eggs.

Ejike, however, couldn't stay still. His legs itched with a nervous energy, and his thoughts swirled like smoke in a locked room.

He wandered to the edge of the cassava fields, where Ngozi had last been seen by the yam ridge.

He bent low, scanning for footprints, but found something stranger: a trail of white feathers, spaced evenly, each stuck into the soil as if placed there with care. He followed them.

The trail led to an abandoned hut, half-swallowed by vines and silence. It used to belong to Uncle Lazarus, the man who had spoken to ghosts or claimed to have spoken to ghosts before vanishing during the last planting season.

The door creaked open at Ejike's touch.

Inside, it was colder. The air was thick, as though breath itself had weight. Cobwebs hung like tapestries, but something else caught his eye: a small calabash in the center of the room, filled with dark water. Floating in it was a bracelet.

He recognized it. Ngozi's. Cowries woven into red thread.

His breath hitched.

Before he could react, a noise came from behind him......the crack of a branch.

He turned and saw nothing

But then... the smell hit him.

Cassava. Freshly peeled. And something fouler beneath it.

He stepped back out of the hut just as a shadow moved in the tall grass.

"Who's there?" he called.

The grass stopped rustling.

A figure stood at the edge of the trees. Small, hunched. Eyes like coals.

It grinned.

Then it bent unnaturally and disappeared into the earth.

Ejike ran.

He didn't stop until he reached the Dibia's compound, breath ragged, sweat pouring down his back.

The old man was waiting.

"You found the feathers," Dibia Okonkwo said. "And the girl's bracelet."

Ejike could barely speak. "What... what is that thing?"

The Dibia's eyes darkened.

"We call them Okpuru-nmuo. Borrowed shells. The dead, wearing skin that is not theirs. They are old. They do not like being disturbed."

Ejike felt his skin crawl.

"I think they want me to see. But I don't understand what."

The Dibia placed a hand on his shoulder. "You will. But when you do... you may wish you hadn't."