The days following Mubita's discovery of the footprints passed without incident.
At least, that was how it appeared.
The farm continued to breathe with its usual rhythm. Every morning the sun rose over the plains of Siampondo, painting the grasslands in shades of gold. The cattle left the kraal in orderly lines, following Mubita's familiar whistle. Farmers visited the veterinary shop to buy medicine, while Mrs. Bwalya and Chipo attended to the day's work.
Yet Mubita's eyes had changed.
He no longer walked through the fields without observing every detail.
Every broken branch.
Every unusual footprint.
Every movement beyond the fence.
His responsibility was no longer simply to feed the herd.
It was to protect it.
---
One afternoon, dark clouds gathered unexpectedly.
The wind strengthened, bending the tall grass until it looked like waves on a green ocean.
Old Hamusonde looked toward the western hills.
"We should bring the cattle closer today."
Mubita nodded.
"I was thinking the same."
Before they could move the herd, the first drops of rain began to fall.
Within minutes, the heavens opened.
Lightning split the sky.
Thunder rolled across the valley.
The cattle became restless.
"Easy!" Mubita shouted calmly.
"Easy... easy..."
Remembering Mr. Sikalima's lessons, he resisted the temptation to panic.
Instead, he moved slowly around the herd, speaking in a calm voice.
The animals gradually settled and followed him toward the lower grazing fields where large acacia trees offered shelter.
Old Hamusonde smiled.
"You're becoming a real shepherd."
"I learned from the best."
---
The storm lasted nearly an hour.
When it finally passed, the land smelled fresh and clean.
As Mubita began counting the cattle, his heart skipped a beat.
"Ninety-seven..."
"Ninety-eight..."
"Ninety-nine..."
He frowned.
He counted again.
One animal was missing.
It was Kafue.
The large black bull that Mr. Sikalima had warned him about during his first week on the farm.
"Kafue!" Mubita shouted.
There was no answer.
His heart began to race.
He and Hamusonde searched the nearby bushes.
Nothing.
They searched the stream.
Nothing.
Finally, Mubita noticed fresh hoofprints leading toward the northern fence.
His stomach tightened.
The same fence where he had found human footprints days earlier.
They hurried toward it.
The fence was damaged.
One of the lower wires had been cut cleanly.
Not broken.
Cut.
Hamusonde crouched beside it.
"This wasn't the storm."
"No."
Mubita pointed to the muddy ground.
"There."
Fresh boot prints.
Several of them.
Leading into the bush.
---
"We have to find the bull," Hamusonde said.
Mubita nodded.
The two men followed the tracks into the thick woodland.
Branches scratched against their clothes as they pushed through the undergrowth.
After nearly forty minutes of searching, they heard a familiar sound.
"Moooo..."
"Kafue!"
The bull was trapped among fallen branches near a small ditch.
It appeared frightened but unharmed.
The cut fence had allowed it to wander into the bush before the storm.
Together, the two men carefully freed the animal.
As they led it back toward the farm, Mubita remained unusually quiet.
Something troubled him.
"If thieves had wanted the bull..."
"They could have taken him."
Hamusonde nodded.
"They didn't."
"So why cut the fence?"
The old man looked toward the distant trees.
"Perhaps..."
"They're learning."
"Learning what?"
"The farm."
---
Back at the farmhouse, Mrs. Bwalya listened carefully as Mubita explained everything.
"They cut the wire?"
"Yes."
"Not the storm?"
"No."
She immediately telephoned Mr. Sikalima.
After listening silently, he finally spoke.
"I'll return tomorrow."
"You should stay with your sister," Mrs. Bwalya replied.
"My younger brother has arrived."
"She won't be alone."
He paused.
"If someone is studying the farm..."
"I need to be home."
---
The following afternoon, Mr. Sikalima's pickup truck rolled into the yard.
Everyone gathered to welcome him.
He embraced his wife warmly.
"How is your sister?" she asked.
"The operation went well."
"Thank God."
After greeting everyone, his smile faded.
"Show me the fence."
Mubita led him to the northern boundary.
The farmer knelt beside the damaged wire.
He examined the cut carefully.
"This wasn't done with an ordinary knife."
He touched the clean edge.
"These were wire cutters."
He stood slowly.
"This wasn't random."
Mubita felt uneasy.
"You think someone planned this?"
"I do."
They walked silently back toward the farmhouse.
---
That evening, after supper, Mr. Sikalima called everyone together on the veranda.
"I don't want anyone to panic."
Everyone listened quietly.
"But from today onward..."
"We'll take extra precautions."
He assigned responsibilities.
"Mubita, continue checking the herd twice each day."
"Yes, sir."
"Hamusonde, inspect every section of fencing every morning."
"I will."
"Bwalya, make sure all equipment is locked away before dark."
She nodded.
"Chipo..."
"Yes?"
"If you ever notice unfamiliar people asking unusual questions about the farm..."
"Tell us immediately."
"I will."
Mr. Sikalima looked around at everyone.
"This farm has always welcomed people."
He smiled sadly.
"But kindness should never replace wisdom."
The words reminded Mubita of the proverb spoken months earlier by Elder Mukuni.
"A stranger's shadow may cool your house, but his heart may still belong elsewhere."
For the first time, Mubita truly understood what the old man had meant.
Outside the circle of light from the farmhouse, the night stretched across the plains.
Far beyond the boundary fence, hidden among the trees, someone watched the farmhouse one last time before quietly disappearing into the darkness.
The trouble that had quietly approached the farm was no longer just a possibility.
It had reached the gate.