Much excitement was in the air as residents of Iwopopo prepared for the fishing and hunting festival held once every two full moons. It was like a healthy and enjoyable competition between the strong youths of the town —whoever caught the biggest fish from the Iyana river or biggest animal from the forest received a royal gift from the Oba.
Wura was working hard at boiling yam to prepare pounded yam and egusi soup, their local delicacy usually cooked to celebrate the occasion when her grandmother, Mama Agba, called from inside her hut. "Wura. Why is the yam taking so long to cook?"
Wura's eyes watered from the filmy smoke that permeated the entire compound from her cooking hearth. She rearranged the firewoods, placing the unlit ones atop the dry ones burning fiercely. She fanned the fire with her handmade woven fan.
"Wura!" Mama Agba called again when there was no response.
"Yes, maami? Haa! It is the firewoods. They did not catch fire on time." She replied, her patience waning and a scowl already formed on her face.
Her grandmother gingerly stepped out of her hut, her back a little bent from old age, to verify her granddaughter's response.
"Hmm, that means you fetched those woods close to the river side."
Wura raised her head from fanning the fire to scowl at Mama Agba. "No, I did not. They looked very dry when I fetched them yesterday."
Mama Agba chuckled, tipped her head slightly at Wura, a mocking motion. "Of course, you did."
"Maami!" Wura was close to real tears at this point.
"My dear child, you are still yet to differentiate the dry woods from almost dry! It's not an experience you get in a few years."
Wura nodded, wiped sweat beads off her forehead and resumed fanning the fire.
"You better hurry so you can have the pounded yam ready before Prince Adeomi and his friends come by. I know you want to wash up and look good for him."
At the mention of Prince Adeomi, the Oba's first son and heir apparent to the throne, Wura lightened up. Mama Agba smiled inwardly and hoped Prince Adeomi will not break her young and beautiful granddaughter's heart or the gods help her, she will skin him alive.
"Let me help you with the fire. Go and wash."
"Ah, maami. Thank you."
I hope you enjoyed reading my piece. This short story is a five-minute freewrite inspired by the prompt "festival". Join the 
Check out more of Wura's tales--
Fly, My Little Dove
Pre-Wedding Dance Fever
An Unwanted Match
The Gods Must Be Crazy
Bayo's Trapdoor