The streets of Joburg were far dirtier than anyone had led me to believe. Litter clung to the corners of crumbling buildings, vendors shouted over one another, and the air smelled of smoke, sweat, and fast food. My stomach growled. Hunger clawed at me, but I couldn't waste time debating ethics. I focused, summoned the energy burning in my chest, and in a blink, I was gone super speed surging through me as I snatched a loaf of bread and some fried chicken. Survival first. Judgment later.
I darted down the street, my eyes catching a pile of clothes tossed behind a store. The urge to dress properly overpowered hesitation. I didn't stop to think about ownership food or clothes, the city had to be conquered, not courted. God would understand. He had to.
Then I felt it the heat of my anger, the pulse of frustration from narrowly escaping those thugs yesterday. My mark glowed, a faint but searing blue light across my skin, and suddenly, the world changed. My limbs lengthened, muscles rippled, and fur erupted over my body. I roared, instinctively, as the transformation completed. I was a lion. A real, walking, roaring lion in the middle of downtown Joburg.
People screamed. I didn't understand their words, but I didn't need to. Their fear was universal. "Ahh! She just turned into a lion!"
"Uyathakatha lo mbulaleni!" one shouted.
"Catch lentombi eloyayo simulate before abulala thina!" another cried.
My heart sank. Trouble had a new name: Sihle. Grandpa's words echoed in my head, "Run, Sihle, run." And run I did. I bolted through the streets, my lion paws silent on the concrete, weaving through shocked pedestrians.
When the people got too close, I didn't hesitate. I vaulted into a nearby building, barreling into someone's room without knocking. I stumbled into his arms. He froze, eyes wide, and for the briefest second, the chaos outside disappeared. He was handsome stunning but I didn't have time for distractions. Not when the city was hunting me.
"Who are you?" he began, and I slammed a hand over his mouth. "If you're interested, you'll find me," I whispered, urgency vibrating through me.
The chaos crept up the floors. By the time the mob reached his apartment, I was already at the window. With a deep breath, I leapt and as I did, my mark flared again. Wings spread from my back, feathers stretching into a gleaming eagle's form. I rose into the sky, leaving screams and cameras behind. Somewhere below, someone recorded the transformation, and by morning, my face and my powers were all over the news.
"Breaking news: a person has been seen changing into a lion near MTN Taxi Rank. Witnesses claim witchcraft, and police are investigating. A reward of R10 million has been offered for anyone who can catch this creature," the announcer said, each word hitting my ears as I soared over the city.
Hours passed. I flew, looking for a place to hide, until a roof in Soweto offered me refuge. Exhausted, I lay down and closed my eyes. That's when I felt her a presence, cautious but firm.
"Ungubani, and why are you sleeping on my roof?" a voice demanded, broomstick raised.
I froze. When I didn't answer, she struck my feet with the broom. Pain shot through me, and instinctively, my eyes glowed. The blue flames of my mark pulsed across my skin, and words I didn't know how to form spilled from my lips: "Imp na ri Ala zai do koi eft xoxai imp Sha Lai."
She paused, her gaze sharp. "Where is your ancient scar, dear?"
"The mark at my waist?" I asked, hesitant.
"Show me, Nana," she commanded.
I lifted my shirt, revealing the faint blue mark, and her expression shifted. Shock, then a soft warmth. "Don't take it off again," she said, smiling. "From now on, you're staying here, under my guidance."
I hesitated. "How do I know you won't sell me out?"
She extended her hand. A scar mirrored my own. My pulse quickened. Perhaps she was family blood of my kind. I nodded slowly.
"Save your questions for later," she said. "For now, you need training."
Her house was breathtaking. Photos lined the walls children laughing, a husband with a teasing grin, a family alive in joy.
"Are you married?" I asked nervously.
"Yes," she laughed, pointing at the smiling man in one of the frames. "And that handsome one is my husband. He can be irritating at times, but he's mine."
She studied me carefully. "There's something about your mark… Are you the girl in the news?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
"Before we go further, I'm Joyous. And you are?"
"Sihle," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "I came from Mpumalanga, searching for a relative with powers like mine. My grandparents only know she lives somewhere in Joburg, as she's been sending letters to them."
Joyous nodded, her eyes softening. "You must be hungry. Let's eat."
We entered the kitchen. The smell of simmering stew filled the room. "The person you're searching for… a she, correct?" Joyous asked.
"Yes," I replied. "They say she's more powerful than any of our kind."
Before Joyous could respond, a voice cut through the air. "My love."
Her husband entered, but his steps faltered as he saw me. His body trembled, and then his eyes rolled back he collapsed. I froze. My presence… it affected him somehow.
Joyous rushed to him, concern etched on her face. "He's never reacted like this before," she murmured.
"I… I didn't mean" I began, but she raised a hand. "It's fine, Nana. Powers are unpredictable, especially when they meet another like you. You're stronger than you know."
For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. Perhaps I wasn't alone. Perhaps there were others like me people who understood the weight of the mark, the pulse of power, the fear it could instill.
Joyous helped me sit. "Tomorrow, we start training. But tonight, you rest. You've been through a lot, and the city outside… well, let's just say they don't understand yet."
I lay back, listening to the night sounds of Soweto below. Somewhere in the city, the news still played my story. But now, in this house, under her roof, I felt the first real sense of safety I'd known in weeks.
And tomorrow… tomorrow, I would learn what it truly meant to be Sihle.