We need to go back in the morning, said a man in a white jellabiya and black waistcoat. All we kept hearing was the hissing of snakes. We don’t know what else is out there.

Scorpions. Antelope. Crocodiles. Elephants. Lions. Since Saba didn’t know in which part of this country they were, she feared all its wildlife existed here. A camp in the middle of the bush.

The crowd swelled, reaching Saba’s hut. Are you sure the river is to the west of the camp? asked a young boy with his baby brother swaddled to his back. Our driver said it was that way.

The boy pointed towards the opposite side from where the men had come. He was no more than twelve, Saba thought, watching him rock his brother. Please sleep, my sweet little brother. Please sleep.

The men, armed with sticks and oil lamps, split into four groups to venture out in all directions. Saba and Hagos joined the group led by an athletic-looking young man in a tracksuit.

The athlete, though, separated Saba’s hand from Hagos’s. This isn’t an adventure for girls and women, he said.

Saba pushed past him, hooking her arm back around Hagos’s. A hand pulled her back. Please let them go, said the boy with the crying baby. My little brother is thirsty.

The group of men left in search of the river. Saba stood still. Her eyes combed the dark border of the camp, which crept nearer as some oil lamps died out. Darkness brought thoughts in her head. What if a snake or a scorpion bit her brother? A crocodile swallowed him whole?

She unwrapped her scarf from around her shoulders. A warm breeze caressed her neck and enveloped her heaving chest, not giving it much reprieve. She was sweating.

Dots of light appeared to her left. A flickering glow of oil lamps bounced around as the men arriving from the west of the camp jumped and yelped. They had opened a route through the wilderness of grass, stones, shrubs and hills. The river is far, but at least we have water, said the athlete, his voice growing louder.

Saba was convinced it was Hagos who was the first to find the river. He wore a familiar look on his face, the pride of discovery, like when he had found an image of their grandmother being decorated by Emperor Haile Selassie. His sealed lips stretched wide and thin as he clenched his hand into a fist. But it was the athlete who reaped all the praise: You are a fearless lion. Because of you our children will not die of thirst.

Women ululated.

Saba hugged Hagos and wrapped her scarf around his shoulders. They walked back to their hut, fingers interlaced.

The camp set off to the river. Lamps and torches were held low, lighting up the ground, the habitat of dangerous creatures. The throng trampled over grass and shrubs and, as they filed through a pathway, the smell of foliage gave way to the scent of overripe cactus fruit. But soon the odour of human sweat overwhelmed the air.