Emeka never expected a full moon this night. This was why when the full moon exploded from the cover of clouds, he knew the love of his life was going to die. He had misread the signs. He had miscalculated the days. And Wuraola was going to pay dearly with her life.
The night had begun like any of the other past fourteen nights. The clouds covered the heavens like a grey carpet. No one in the great kingdom of Amanze had seen the moon for a long time, so they all assumed they were still in the cycle of crescents and half-moons. This was why when Wuraola sent word that they should meet at their normal spot near the shimmering Oji River just by the border between the Kingdom of Amanze and the Kingdom of Sabontashi, he had gladly agreed.
He had taken to himself sheep’s clothing, for two reasons. So he could easily pull them away in the heat of passion, while entangled in Wuraola’s thick and huge thighs, and also so no one would give him much attention as he made his way through the thick of his father’s kingdom.
Emeka also took to himself his strongest warrior and most loyal ally. Wuraola was the princess of the Kingdom of Elekko, and since Amanze and Elekko were sworn enemies, his relationship with Wuraola was forbidden and tantamount to treason. If he was caught, he would be beheaded by his tyrant father.
Emeka and his guard, Chima, succeeded in leaving the kingdom, in spite of the tight security and his father’s numerous spies roaming their vast land. Emeka dared not use any of the palace’s horses, because he would be spotted quickly by the guards or spies, and though they would be unable to stop him, they would want to accompany him for protection or they would report to his father, and then he would have to explain himself to the tyrant. Since Chima’s father was the palace’s stable man, who owned a stable of his own, Chima was able to get them one of the fastest horses in the land, which they used to traverse Amanze’s vast land.
They left late in the morning and arrived the border at nightfall. This was where Chima’s journey ended.
They alighted the single horse just outside the border, and Chima took the reins of the horse, handing Emeka a skin of water. Emeka refused the water and started to walk away before Chima caught him by the hand.
Emeka paused and turned to look at his friend of many years.
Chima look around. They were standing at the side of a large path that led into a small forest. In the forest there were silent voices, whispering, and terrifying sounds. Chima had suspicion in his eyes. He looked up and saw dim clouds. The moon was blazing somewhere up there, but because of the heavy clouds they had little light, though this was enough for them to make travel.
“I must advice against this, your highness,” Chima began, respectfully letting the prince go.
Emeka said, “I’ve told you several times, Chima, you don’t have to call me your highness when we’re alone.”
Chima apologized. Then he said, “Still, this might be a trap. At least let me come with you.”
Emeka shook his head. “It’s not a trap. And no you can’t come with me. Wura would hate me if I brought someone else to our sacred place.”
Emeka sighed and clasped the man on his shoulder. “Remain here, my friend. I will be safe. Make ready to move at first light for this is when I shall return.”
Chima bowed, saying, “Yes, your high… Yes, Emeka.”
Emeka smiled at the man and walked away. He made his way through the dark forest, oblivious to all the sounds and fearful noises renting the trees. All he thought about was Wuraola. He thought of her huge breasts that filled his face whenever he fondled her. He thought of her strong, but soft arms that caressed his cheek. He thought of her thighs and hips that were as large as Roman towers. He thought of her face, whose beauty rivaled those of angels. He thought of her voice that was sweeter than a slow moving stream and softer than a still smooth breeze. As he thought on these, he did not realised that he had exited the forest and had started, unconsciously walking along the beach.
All the way ahead, he saw a figure standing by a fire, its back to him. He was still several yards away, but he knew it was his Wura, and his heart began to beat like drums of war. She wore a flimsy dress that stopped before he knees and wriggled in the breeze from the sea to their left. Her butt jutted out, towards him, calling to him, appealing to him. Her thick flowing hair tossed with the wind. She looked like an apparition, her shadow dancing with the popping and shooting flames by her side.
Emeka walked all the way around her to stand in her front. Her skin was as smooth as a sea shell, and her eyes burned with ferocity kindled by the flame of love. Her breasts stood firm and strong, pointing at him as though asking him to touch … to squeeze… They were huge, yet not in a way that repulsed, but in a way that set ablaze an intense, almost unconquerable desire to lay with her.
Wura was amongst most women beautiful.
Emeka smiled at her, and she smiled back, her arms folded. For a moment, Emeka ignored the blood rush down his legs, and focused in on Wura’s eyes. They were a startling blue, like the moon, and they were deep and intense. He was content to stare into her eyes, standing on the sandy beach, fresh sea breeze swirling softly around them. He was in paradise, when he was in Wura’s presence.
Wura broke the silence by saying, “Aye mi.” My world. “Mo nife re.” I love you.
Emeka didn’t speak the language of the Kingdom of Elekko, but he knew enough to know what she had said to him; he had heard it from her blood red, luscious lips over and over again.
His response was in his own language, and she spoke his language fluently. “A huru m gi n’anya.” I love you, too.
Emeka closed the distance between them, grabbed his woman by her butt, and pulled her into his body, until she was pressed hard against him. Then with his right hand, he cupped her chin and kissed her.
It was then that things went bad.
As though waiting for this particular moment, the clouds parted, revealing a huge full moon. The moment the rays touched the two couples, Emeka felt a sharp pain in his heart. He staggered backwards, screaming.
Fear stabbed at him with the ferocity of a feline predator. His eyes turned red, coloring the world in the hue of blood. He screamed again and a sharp, prickly pain spread through his body like needles were flowing through his veins. Emeka fell to his knees, and he looked up to see his nemesis: a full moon looking back at him.
Then he looked at Wura, who was staring at him with shocking confusion and then horror on her face.
Emeka mustered the last shred of humanity he had before the curse took control and spoke one word to Wura. “Run.”
Wura turned and took off in the direction of the forest.
Emeka fell on his body and screamed his last as his bones began to break and reform. Thick black hair sprouted all over his reshaping structure and the pain of the transformation manifested in a harrowing scream. But when the transformation was complete, his scream stopped and he stood on two hinds as a giant creature of immense darkness and incredible power. Hands had turned into claws. Teeth had turned into acid dripping fangs. Toes had turned into metal shredding talons. His face resembled that of a wolf.
The Amanze Beast cocked its head towards the moon, the final ripples of the curse coming into full effect, and it let loose a horrendous horror striking howl, which could be heard from the Amanze’s border all the way across to the border of the Kingdom of Elekko.
The Amanze Beast immediately caught the scent of a woman in the air. It could smell her fear, and this fear was like an aphrodisiac that stirred it up. It could already taste her blood flowing among its fangs and it could feel her skin give way as its claws tore her apart.
The Amanze Beast bent to all fours and leapt in the direction of the forest, where the woman had ran.