Chapter 4
THE VALLEY OF WHISPER
Three days into their journey, the path began to narrow as it wound its way into a deep valley between two steep mountain ridges. The trees here grew tall and straight, their leaves so thick they blocked out most of the sunlight, turning the valley floor into a realm of deep shadows and cool air. Even the birds seemed to be silent here, and the only sound was the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves on the rocky ground and the distant rush of water from somewhere ahead.
“This is the Valley of Whispers,” Rixile said, reading from the map Mrs Shongotelo had given them. “The map says we have to stay on the main path – if we wander off, we’ll get lost and never find our way out.”
Ntila, riding beside him, nodded as he adjusted the necklace his parents had made around his neck. “My mother used to tell me stories about this place when I was small,” he said quietly. “She said the voices here are the spirits of travelers who lost their way long ago, and they call out to anyone who passes through, trying to lead them to the same fate.”
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