The mermaid tied to a tree lifted her hand weakly toward Amara, tears falling from her eyes.

“Please help me. They will kill me and my baby,” the mermaid pleaded in a soft, trembling voice.

Amara stepped back in fear. Her body was shaking, and she wanted to run away. But the mermaid’s sad eyes kept calling to her.

Amara was a poor woman in the village. She lived in a small mud house with a leaking roof. She did not have much money, and she was always looking for ways to feed herself and her two children. Her husband had died many years ago, and since then she had been alone in her struggles.

One early morning before sunrise, Amara carried her clay pot and went to fetch water from the river near the village. The birds were just beginning to sing, and the cold breeze touched her skin as she walked along the narrow footpath. Amara liked to go to the river very early because there would be no crowd, and she needed to return home quickly to prepare some pap for her children before they woke up.

When she got to the river, she filled her pot with clean, cool water and carefully lifted it onto her head. The water was heavy, but Amara was used to carrying heavy loads. She started walking back home, but she decided to take the back road because it was shorter and she wanted to reach home before the sun had fully risen.

As she was walking through the back bush path, she saw three hunters standing under a mango tree. They were talking and laughing, holding their guns and wearing their hunting bags. Amara greeted them politely.

“Good morning, hunters.”

The hunters answered her, but they did not look at her face, and their voices were cold. They were too busy talking among themselves and laughing.