Smoke and the dim flicker of flame marked out a small village which shared a border with a particularly dense jungle, with small fences and other such markers indicating the perimeter. Songbirds rested, either with-in the tree tops or with-in the dried roofing of the carefully maintained single room buildings, waiting for the long night to pass. Snakes, Lizards, small rodents and other such small creatures could be seen darting between the structures and avoiding the gaze of the human residents with-in. The only sounds that could be heard were the hushed conversations between the villagers, the occasional snort from the protected livestock and the feral howls from beyond the town boundaries.

Tumo lay on her worn and dusty rug, cradling her small child to soothe her during the particularly warm night. Her sweat had caked her dark skin and long matted hair with a thin layer of dirt, either blown in through the partially covered window or collected when she rested on the soft bedding laid on the earthen ground. The little clothing she did wear was to either: to tie back her hair or held some personal sentiment, such as the lion tooth bracelet her husband Amari had gifted her.

Despite her attempts to calm her infant son, Waitimu continued to fuss until his mother relinquished to his hunger driven cries and nursed the child from her teat. The weaning process had been difficult for everyone involved, as each attempt to introduce additional foods was met with stubborn opposition from the young infant. Only with the combined coaxing from both his parents did he begin to eat solid foods, even then it was only a select number of soft fruits and small pieces of soft meat.

A faint chime rang off in the distance as Tumo breastfed her child, humming sweet nothings to him as he drank. She wished that Amari was with her, as the partial loneliness in the humid weather was weighing on her thoughts. Her husband was out hunting in the nearby jungle or plains, accompanying the younger men in the village for their first attempts at hunt. While not experienced, each of the younger men displayed an eagerness to prove themselves on their first hunts. Amari was there to watch and provide guidance, whether it be where to hunt or ways to improve their chances of success.

He often returned from such trips with stories detailing their teachable failings, both of his students and his own. Whether it was careless hands finding tunnelling spiders and hidden scorpions or overeager charges towards the large herbivores failing disastrously with little to show for it. There were of course stories of heroism, such as repelling a pride of lions or clans of hyenas from their successful kills. Those re-tellings were kept for celebratory festivals with copious amounts of palm wine, not necessarily useful for improving hunting skills.

Amari had left earlier that morning with his party of experienced and novice hunters, each claiming to bring back a larger or bolder prize. The group expected to return by tomorrow afternoon, leaving Tumo alone with the remaining villagers. She had made the customary offerings to their village's guardian spirits as they left, ensuring their presence during the hunt and their safe return. As he left, he promised her that he would bring back any sweet tubers that he found, remembering how much she loved in warm soups, before kissing her good-bye. Tumo had assisted her little one to send them off with a guided wave, reassuring Waitimu that his father would soon return to them.

Again, a chime rang through the night, unsettling the animals in their sheltered home. Whatever the noise was it was clearly far from the village, likely with-in the depths of the dense trees and subsequent growth. Tumo had never heard a sound quiet like that before, it was like no creature or instrument she had ever heard. It was a high pitched and alluring sound that reverberated around the surrounding area, seeming retaining its volume despite the vast distance it likely covered. It was unnatural, although she could not explain as to why. There was nothing in itself different about the tone or the pleasing sound that marked the chime as unnatural, but there was something resonating out of place which could not be explained. Whatever the source of the abnormal sound was, none of the other creatures that lived with-in the vicinity of the small village appeared to react. Paying the noise no mind, her focus returned to encouraging her son to sleep.

As the moon rose higher in the sky and the nocturnal parasitic insects became more active, little Waitimu woke from his sleep. It took little time to locate a small, raised lump on his darkened skin, indicating where a mosquito had likely feasted. It was a sign to relight the pile of dried leaf litter they had for such a purpose, relying on the passive wafts of smoke to dissuade the pests from hanging around their home. Only when the room was filled with the faint burning aroma did she return to her bed, gently cradling her child.

Then the chime rang again, albeit it closer than when she first heard it. The sounds of dogs barking radiated through the town, eliciting a hurrying mustering of the men to check out the source of the noise to audible confusion. Tumo had already began to calm her child, hushing the infant's distressed noises preemptively before their presence was noticed by whatever was lurking outside. She sang a gentile lullaby, slowly rocking Waitimu to sleep amidst the chaos on the boarder. Soon whatever was outside had left, with a few of the village men checking in on her before returning to their respective homes.

Once again, the chime rang out, this time much closer and accompanied by a knock on the door. “Excuse me, Miss” an unfamiliar voice echoed from the darkness. “I know its late, but could you let me in? I am so hungry.” There was hesitancy in her step, one arm firmly cradling her child while the other shielded the infant with her arms. The voice was wholly unfamiliar to her, a pitch that matched neither any man nor child she had heard. Tumo's mind was thrown into turmoil from the voice, with her instincts desperately trying to reject the foreign influences insisting her to open the door.

With another ring of the chime the voice called out again “Pleeeeease Miss.... I am sooooo hungry.” Tumo faltered, her resolve fading with each subsequent plea. “Hold on... Give me a second...” she said, voice trailing off as she placed Waitimu onto the soft bedding. Her stumbling steps brought her slowly to the clay entrance way, the inner turmoil struggling to prevent her from doing so. Her mind was barely able to control her hand as it reached for the door handle.

A final chime rang out as she opened the door, revealing someone of child-like stature*. Through the sudden haze she recognized that the starving child, if it could even be called that, had the wrong dimensions and shape for one of its supposed age. The skin, while concealed by the natural darkness of the night, was not the dark brown color that she would expect from the region. Instead, it was a dark green, similar to various mossy growths found with-in the jungles. Tufts of plant-like growths were present over its body in no particular fashion or design.

Whatever the creature was, it entered the home and looked around while Tumo rummaged around the various gourds and containers to locate something for her unusual guest. When presented with a bowl of cold soup, prepared the previous night the figure only replied: “I am sorry miss, but I cannot eat that.” A seemingly false apologetic tone layered of the rejection. She turned around, searching for some dried springbok meat that was also rejected by her guest.

“What can you eat, little one?” she asked, her inner most objections being drowned out an unknown influence. “Fresh meat, Miss. could you spare me some of yours?” Tumo's arm trembled, actively trying to withdraw the limb that was offering itself to the creature but unable to resist. She could not even scream as the needle like teeth bit into her flesh, blood dripping down onto the dirt floor. Her final action was to stroke Waitimu's head one more time, before succumbing to blood loss.

-

The bodies of Tumo and Waitimu were found just after dawn, discovered by one of the farmers who had not seen them at breakfast. The sight of their mutilated bodies sent the unfortunate soul vomiting onto a nearby tree before running to inform the rest of the village. All signs of the culprit had vanished, leaving the few with strong stomachs to investigate what had taken the lives of the young mother and child. Only the distraction of an approaching wagon gave the elders an excuse to disperse the gathering crowd.