Across the desert, ’cross the sands,
Did Maele always run.
She ran for nights, she ran for days,
Until her hooves were numb.
And still she didn’t, couldn’t stop;
Her hunters were behind.
Her constant running wore her down
And emptied out her mind.
She did not know where she was going
But she did not care.
Her hunters had not yet caught up;
She might escape elsewhere.
The hunters’ confidence, meanwhile,
Was slowly growing thin.
What should have been an easy kill
Was causing much chagrin.
Though Maele was a single mare,
She kept her breakneck pace.
The quaggas were quite strong, and yet
Could barely keep the chase.
But did she eat? Or did she sleep?
It seemed to not be so.
Determination kept her strong
As she did onward go.
Beneath the sun, through sweltering heat,
Across the rolling dunes,
They knew not when the chase would end,
But it would not be soon.
Back on the plains, Kiburi’s tribe
Was hunting the Mbu.
With Maele gone, Kiburi thought
’Twas the right thing to do.
As Maele was a radical,
Some zebras tuned her out.
Kiburi was a convert, though;
Her words might have more clout.
A quagga band they passed close by,
The Mbu hiding near.
And when Kiburi offered help,
Moqapi lent an ear.
Kiburi told them of her past,
Her friendship and regrets,
How zebran unity could be
The quaggas’ greatest threat.
She offered her experience
As one who’d changed her mind.
Perhaps she could make arguments
To others of her kind.
Though she’d be but a figurehead,
That suited her just fine.
Kiburi’d been a leader once;
It’d been a lousy time.
Moqapi said Kiburi’s help
Did tempt her quite a lot.
“But could you help us with those thieves
So our bones won’t soon rot?”
It was agreed, and with great speed,
The tribes were swiftly joined.
And then they set their sights upon
The quaggas who purloined.
With greater strength, the bonded clans
Did hit the quaggas hard.
They captured one and from her learned
The news come from afar.
They heard Bililiqada’s plan
To govern Maele’s fate
And also, through a twist of luck,
That Maele had escaped.
Kiburi knew how Maele thought
And guessed the route she’d take.
Perhaps they could catch up to her
And make her hunters quake.
A sound debate on their next course
The two tribes long presided.
Moqapi then drew up a plan
As soon as they decided.
Kiburi and a chosen few
Would guess at Maele’s route
To find where they might meet with her
And take her hunters out.
The chance was small that they would meet
But there was still a chance.
And they’d meet tribes who never had
For Maele spared a glance.
Kiburi then would draw upon
Her past and her great woes
To show them how they might unite
Against their quagga foes.
By Maele’s words, by her ideals,
The zebras would be one.
They’d forge a bond between all tribes
That would not be undone.
Farewells were said; Kiburi left.
Across the plains she roared.
She swore that Maele would not suffer
By the quagga hordes.
Poor Maelewano was half-dead,
exhausted, tired, starving.
And yet her path across the desert
She still kept on carving.
She knew the desert’s end was near;
That’s why she was not spent.
She’d lose her hunters once she reached
A place nobody went.
The sacred marsh, Uhlanga great,
Her destination was.
It was a place few zebras went
And then, only with cause.
It was a dark and murky place,
Had been when magic ruled.
The zebras who still named it home
Were likened oft to ghouls.
But they were not unreas’nable;
This, Maelewano knew;
She had once saved Kiburi’s life
By trading some spears few.
She left the desert late one morn
And found the marsh by night.
The water, trees, the grass, the shade;
All these were welcome sights.
She staggered through the deepest muck
Where she would leave no tracks.
She dragged herself to higher ground,
Beneath a tree collapsed.
And when she finally woke again,
She rested in a hut.
Her zebra host gave medicine
To clear her head right up.
Uhlanga’s zebras, though quite strange,
Were monsters of no sort.
They simply liked their privacy;
With crowds they’d not consort.
Their magic arts had also died
But they’d adjusted, too.
The marsh was safe, for ent’ring it
The quaggas did not do.
Outsiders may have not been loved
But zebras were not hated
So Maele they’d protect until
The hunters’ wrath abated.
The zebras of the marsh would watch
If in the hunters pressed
So Maele was quite safe (for now)
And finally could she rest.
She asked the marshland zebras if
They maybe would consider
Her plan to unify the clans,
Becoming allies with her.
They thought about these words of hers,
The hunters near the swamps.
They said they might, but only if
The bandits they could stomp.
When Maele said ’twas possible,
They settled in to wait
And let the chasers come for Maele;
Would they take the bait?
The bandits, though, would never go
Into the marsh alive.
Before they ever made the choice,
Kiburi’s group arrived.
She’d known that Maele knew the marsh
A murksome, dirty place.
The perfect place to lose a tail:
You’d never leave a trace.
At best, a long shot, led by fate.
The hunters, though, were proof
Their quarry had to be beneath
Uhlanga’s leafy roof.
And with her friend so close at hoof,
Kiburi’s heart broke free.
She took the quaggas in the night
With shocking savagery.
Alone, she struck the hunters down,
Her spearwork like a dance,
And since surprise was on her side,
The quaggas had no chance.
Into Uhlanga she near ran,
By Maele’s mem’ry pulled.
A warrior, though, did hold her back,
Her addled thoughts o’erruled.
The swamp was dangerous at its best,
Much more in dead of night.
Kiburi ought to rest herself
And search the swamp by light.
But with some guards had Maele come,
For they had heard the noise.
Throughout her body she felt numb;
She’d heard Kiburi’s voice.
She promptly charged out from the swamp
And called Kiburi’s name.
Kiburi heard; she whirled around
And called out just the same.
They found each other in the mud,
With gnats and flies about.
Kiburi hugged her friend so tight
As tears cascaded out.
She stammered out apologies
For all the things she’d said.
The stress had eaten up her mind;
It’d only held by threads.
But Maele listened not to her
Because there was no need;
Forgiveness was complete and swift,
Ignoring past misdeeds.
The two were finally friends again,
Reuned that fateful night.
Together, they could do great things
And make the plains aright.
The zebras of the marsh and plains
A council did convene.
They told each other all the things
In recent days they’d seen.
Kiburi’d met tribes large and small
While on her desperate scramble.
No zebra could deny the quaggas
Had left them in shambles.
Where Maele’s words had gone unheard,
Kiburi’s convert tales
Had personal experiences,
Personal details.
She’d never stopped to hear their choice;
She’d had a ways to go.
But she was sure that Maele’s thoughts
From her words now would grow.
With Maele back, the plains’ morale
Would grow again and soar.
She even had a convert now
To aid her all the more.
They’d cross the rolling plains again
With fire in their souls.
To break the old tribe structures down
Was now their utmost goal.
So Maele and Kiburi both,
They set off, side by side.
They would not stop until the tribes
Were fully unified.