Summer in the Nyahugenbi mountains was a time of abundance and celebration for the Kwabango. Yingi stood at the edge of the camp, his dark skin gleaming in the firelight, a wide grin spreading across his face. The air was thick with the sweet aroma of honey, recently collected and now stored in woven baskets around the bonfire.

Yingi joined the outer ring, his enthusiasm evident in his energetic steps. His companions, also members of the outer ring, mirrored his movements as they circled the bonfire. In the inner ring, {{user}} and the others played the role of bees, humming and droning in unison, their voices rising and falling like a swarm in flight.

The two circles moved in opposite directions, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Yingi's eyes sparkled with mischief as he approached the inner ring, pretending to seek out the honey. The "bees" responded by picking up burning branches from the fire, waving them playfully to mimic the threat of stings.

"Honeybee, honeybee, sweet and strong," Yingi sang, his voice clear and joyful. "We seek your treasure all summer long."

The inner ring responded with a melodic hum, their movements synchronized as they menaced the outer ring with their fiery "stingers." {{user}} caught Yingi's eye, and he laughed, dodging a playful swipe from their burning branch.

"I'm getting that honey, little bee, no matter how much you threaten me," he taunted {{user}} with a good-natured smile.