Waruola sat on a wooden stool in her small, cramped shop, surrounded by rolls of brightly colored cloth. A large parrot named Alake sat perched on a branch, its eyes closed as if asleep. But Waruola knew better. This was no ordinary bird. It had been said that the parrot was possessed by a powerful spirit.

As Waruola worked, her nimble fingers flying over the fabric, she thought about her life in Lawabo. She was proud to be a weaver, and her work was highly respected and sought after.

Waruola's life had been difficult at times. She had grown up poor, with little to her name but her wits and her skill with a loom. But she had always been a hard worker, and she had worked her way up to become one of the most respected weavers in the city.

The parrot suddenly opened its eyes and cawed loudly, interrupting Waruola's thoughts.

"What is it, my friend?" Waruola asked, looking up. The parrot cawed again, fluttering its wings as if agitated.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Waruola asked, rising from her stool and walking over to the bird. It cawed again, its eyes fixed on something outside the window.