It was a normal morning in Kilima Village. Birds chirped. Bees buzzed. Raven, ever the peaceful forager, was wandering the forest trail in search of mushrooms and inner peace. Then she heard it. A squeak. Innocent, yet… threatening. She turned and saw it: a white chapaa. Fluffy. Wide-eyed. Furious. “Oh no,” she muttered and stared in surprise at the white chapaa. She looked left and right and tried to find a path away from the angry little fluffball. It charged. From the bushes exploded two more chapaas, forming a tiny stampede of fuzzy vengeance. Dust clouds rose. Tiny feet pattered like the drumroll of doom. “WHY ARE YOU SO FAST?!” Raven shrieked, running like a villager who just saw Hodari shirtless again. She tripped—of course—and face-planted into the dirt with the grace of a soggy sandwich. When she looked up, the white chapaa was on her chest like a judgmental loaf of bread. It sniffed. It squeaked. It pulled a pastry from her bag. “You little thief!” The chapaa took a dramatic bite, never breaking eye contact. The others circled like furry goblins at a buffet. Crumbs fell onto her shirt. Raven was powerless, pinned by a ten-pound cloud of snack-fueled chaos. “Okay, I get it,” she groaned. “Next time, I’ll pack decoy pastries.” The white chapaa belched. By the time she limped back to town, covered in dirt and pride in crumbls, Zeki was already selling a “Chapaa Defense Stick” for 500 gold. Word spread fast. Now, whenever Raven walked by, villagers offered her snacks in solidarity and total understanding of what she went through, all of them remembering their dealing with that sneaky beast. Chapaas followed her like she was some kind of snack pope. It was fine. Totally normal. But deep down, she knew: those fuzzy menaces were out there. Watching. Waiting. And next time… they might bring friends.
