44. Oshim.

The woman's attire differed from what Safiya's people or the Dakar people normally wore. She was wearing a sack, typically used for carrying goods. Her face was wrinkled, and her hair was short and completely grey.

"You were wondering and stumbled into my hut?" the old woman asked with a strange accent. Safiya gasped. She had almost forgotten that she had indeed stumbled into this strange place. But where was Malik? He had been here with her when she fell asleep. Her face furrowed. Did he leave after saying all that?

"Do you not talk?" the woman spoke again, causing Safiya to drag her attention towards her.

"It's fine. You are injured. I will let you stay," she started walking away, her back bent as she walked slowly with her hand at her back. Safiya noticed that she was walking towards where the pots and spoons were, there was a fire burning, and she was cooking something.