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watch mine, just like when we were training. If this PSYOPS trooper can kill a white man and get away with it, he can bury us black guys six feet under and no one will notice.’
    â€˜I didn’t volunteer to kill kids,’ Shilo said.
    â€˜Me neither. But if we’re going to survive our unit now being used as a PSYOPS one, we have to pretend we were never with Riley and we never saw that copycat ritual killing. No one must know that we know it wasn’t a sangoma who did that. No one.’
    Shilo nodded.
    Riley had been their sergeant and he’d always been there to watch his unit’s back. Even though he was white, he trained and lived with the black men. Like family.
    Now he was dead.
    Shilo and Kwazi had witnessed what Riley had. If the PSYOPS captain knew they had been with Riley, they would be next.
    Guilt weighed heavy on Shilo’s heart.
    He’d never forgive himself for just standing by and seeing those children being murdered. He crossed his chest and prayed to all the gods to help him be a better person, to forgive him for not stopping the massacre. He prayed that if Buffel remained with their unit, he’d have the strength to stop him from murdering again.

CHAPTER
    3
    Imbodla’s Race To Survive
    Whispering Winds Farm, Zimbabwe
    September 1981
    â€˜Please, Daddy,’ Tara begged as she batted her blue eyes at her father. Six foot tall in his army boots, she nonetheless knew that she’d get her own way eventually. All it took was perseverance.
    â€˜ Please , Daddy!’ Tara said. ‘Please let me ride with you. I really don’t want to sit in the bakkie with Mum and Dela, they will be talking girl things all the time and singing silly songs. Please?’
    â€˜Okay,’ Joshua said, his voice as soft as a sergeant major’s could ever get. ‘Fine. You can come with us. And, as a special present because it’s school holidays, you can ride my Apache on the way home.’
    â€˜Thank you, thank you, Daddy!’ Tara said as her father helped her mount his stallion and slip her feet into the top of the stirrup leathers above the irons, the stirrups hiked up as short as the holes would allow. The McClellan saddle was obviously too big for her, not that she’d ever care.
    â€˜Just remember, he might be big, but he’s a gentle giant,’ Joshua said to her. Then he pulled his horse’s head towards his chest and said roughly into the stallion’s ear, ‘Take good care of her. I’ll be watching you …’
    The stallion breathed deeply, his nose flaring as if he was listening to every word. He stomped his foot and tinkled with his bit, eager now that the day was nearly over and he was heading in the direction of home. Joshua smiled at Apache, once a proud warhorse. Together they had survived the Rhodesian Bush War during their time in the Grey Scouts, and now he was being subjected to family pony rides. Apache snorted as if understanding Joshua’s thoughts.
    Joshua laughed.
    â€˜Just take care of her, you spoilt brat,’ he said to his horse. ‘This is the easy life now.’
    â€˜What about Gabe? Can he ride home too?’ Tara asked.
    â€˜Not this time. His dad is waiting at the intersection for his drop off. The weekend is over, your cousin needs to go home, to his own house.’
    â€˜But Dad, why can’t he just stay with us? It’s holidays. It’s not fair that he always has to be in his house on a Sunday night. That’s a stupid rule his family has.’
    â€˜My cousin’s house, his rules.’
    â€˜It’s not fair, Dad. It’s not like they ever do anything with him anyway. He might as well live with us all the time, it would be so much nicer for him and for me.’
    â€˜Don’t say that, Tara. Their family might have their own problems, but they are family, and you can’t speak about them as if they are bad. They are just different from us. Closed off.