The Lost Tribe: Maliha the Wanderer (Book 1)

Nah Barros

A brother.

She had a brother.

Maliha's world shook as Makaio's words resonated within her being.

She couldn't wrap her mind around it, but she could see from his features alone that it was true. His skin tone was a shade or so darker than hers, his face was slightly more angular and his lips wider and fuller. His nose was broader and only one of his eyes were the same unnerving green as hers but Maliha could see the resemblance. It was as if she were looking at the male version of herself.

"Maliha," he whispered again, the roughened tips of his fingers gliding across her cheeks as he cupped her face affectionately.

"My sister." There was a sob stuck in his throat as water lined his eyelids. His palm moved to the back of her neck and then she was moving, her head resting against his heart as she breathed in his scent. The scent of earth, trees and salt. It was the scent of a man, of her brother.

"You are home. Finally, home."

Maliha's eyes closed at the emotion surging through her body. Such belonging and love. It was a love she had never experienced before. This man did not know Maliha from anywhere but when he touched her, when he spoke to her, there was nothing but sorrow. Sorrow and unequivocal love. It was humbling.

"You don't understand what your return means to us Maliha. We have prayed for years that you would find us."

He gripped her hand in a firm clasp and presented her to the masked people who stood by watching her anxiously.

"Come and meet your people, Maliha," Makaio prompted. There was a moment of silence where the masked warriors did nothing but stare at Maliha and her them. Slowly there was shift amongst them, the movement so subtle it was like the trees in the breeze.

They crowded around her, bodies swaying as they touched her with gentle and welcoming touches. arms stretched forwards as hands pressed down on her head, shoulders, arms. their feet stomped in time to a tune they all knew, their voices screeching and hands clapping as they chanted in happiness. Their fearsome masks didn't deduct from the display of affection they were showing her, in fact, the mask made their love even more profound. Such hardened warriors were showing her, someone they had never met, love

A small face appeared in the crowd before the small body was barelling into Maliha and Enzo's arms were wrapping around her.

"Umahu," Enzo's pushing, and sharp cry drew the attention of Makaio. His jaws clenched tight as he looked from Enzo to Maliha

He snapped something at the celebrating warriors until their calls of joy were hushed to a sudden silence. One by one they made their way away from the forest, their eyes lingering as the tension between Maliha and her brother climbed.

"He called you mother, but he is at least five years and you are no more than nineteen years old,"

There was a question in his words. Typically, Maliha wouldn't answer a question given to her in such an abrupt manner but horror lingering in his expressive orbs told Maliha all she needed to know.

"Enzo is the child of my heart, but not of my body."

A sigh of relief escaped Makaio as he crouched down to Enzo's level. Enzo refused to look at him, his face hurried in Maliha's lap. It wasn't until Makaio's gentle fingers began stroking through Enzo's unruly hair, that the boy hesitantly lifted his head away from his hiding place.

"Hello Enzo, I am Makaio, your mother's older brother."

"Does that mean we are family?" Enzo looked unconvinced by Makaio but Maliha's brother was undeterred.