Mboto ran to the next large Juju fruit tree and hid. He crouched and listened attentively to things like the air, and the earth, and other more abstract concepts. Overhead a huge, gangly, sloppy golden eagle soared, raising a ruckus in the forest canopy. Mboto ignored it.

During the course of last night, Mboto had been shaken from a dark dream, and well before sunrise, he had fled the palace on foot, taking only a small sachel, containing a sacred jewel, and his grandfather's map of the island.

The hunter prince rarely set foor in the forests west of the volcano. There roamed, according to popular theory, the degenerate forms of the Monkey-maulers, of the ancient breeds, that the ancestors had tamed and made into docile slaves. A more popular theory was that the forest was ruled by rabid banshee-ants. Mboto stepped with caution, not causing the least disturbance, not upsetting the smallest vestige of leaf nor twig of the forest floor.

He passed through cold and shady wooded valleys beyond the knowledge of his village. Chill winds carrying despairing air subsided only several hours later, as he came to the untrodden southern shore, safe, unscathed, and generally bored and disappointed. Here he was. There wasn't anything remotely dangerous or exciting about that whole trip; nothing of valor or value or anything. The waves just lapped at his disgusted feet playfully, and one of the feet kicked them, and they retreated as a group into the sea. Mboto felt even more rotten, and cursed the sea for being such a pansy.

The sun climbed steadily behind him, as Mboto surveyed the sandbars and the waters. Heaving a sigh, he watched leaves flutter and crabs scuttle, and started to wonder whether that entire journey had been born out of an over-tired mind. It was a burden, running a kingdom, managing satraps and governers, all that. No doubt he would be missed, and sacrifices would be made to the fealty-goddess Shivah, of hares and bulls, and prayers would be ordered for his safe return. Except there was nothing dangerous about his situation. He was just sitting with wet, sandy feet, on some grass, watching the waves erase footprints further down the beach.

But at this he jumped up with a start, for he had not trodden on the beach beyond. These prints emerged from the sea, and yes, beyond was a hastily-buried fire, along with rudimentary bedding, where some manner of man or beast had chosen to nest after reaching land. He took his bow in hand, and followed the tracks until they entered a lush portion of forest. He peered through the murk and noise of the rising jungle morning racket, and followed the set of tracks. What sort of tracks were these, these hoofprints, roughly the size of his own foot? What beast threatened his kingdom, his people? His irritation grew to a sort of silent rage.

The forest grew thinner as he approached the lands that he knew to contain a volcano. The monster was not far ahead, now. Prince Mboto Lightfoot ran onward, eyes seething. A worry struck him, and just as he realized that he was in fact fearing the worst, his worst fears were realized... abrubtly he came to a full stop, outside of the ancient totem to the god of dismay, Hubris. Its entrance had been locked, sealed in ages past. Now, however, the door seemed to have been cast aside, in a way that only a chosen warrior, described in prophecy, would be able to do. Prince Mboto's rage was laid aside, and he knew that his people must be told.

As it is recorded by the scribes of the Menti, in the twelfth year of the reign of Prince Mboto Lightfoot, son of Mbatti, son of Jajato, son of Mboto Silvertooth:

And Prince Mboto returned to the peoples after their prayers, and, hurrying to the street, proclaimed: "The days of our fathers are ended! The days of the Exorcism of the Great Dismay have come! As it hast been revealed to me by mine dream, and as mine eyes have seen, there hast come a warrior from the sea! He is surely a beast of immensity, and he hast cast aside the old totem; surely he will enter the underworld and free us all! Hear me! I am your reigning king and judge! You know my son B'tosso to be a just ruler, a fair dealer, a strong warrior, a steady commander, and kindhearted and wise father to you. He will now be your king. I myself will go and offer the sacrifice of fealty on the Mount of Fire, and seek to serve in the courts of the Warrior of the Sea. Huzzah! Huzzah!"

So did it happen that the prince, after offering fealty to his gods, descended into the twisted passages of the volcano to seek out the Warrior of the Sea.