In the dust-veiled highlands of East Africa, where acacia trees lean like tired guards and the wind carries secrets older than man, Desiré was born, broad-shouldered and silent as a lion at dusk, he grew up not just under the sun but was forged by it. By profession, he was a mechanical engineer, graduate of National Technical Schools of California, the kind who could breathe life into dead engines with nothing but a wrench and a experience. But beneath the grease and grit, there was a hunter’s heart, methodical, patient, and deeply in tune with the rhythms of the wild.

Desiré didn’t hunt for glory or for ivory; he hunted to feed his family members. Warthog was the choice of meat, they were plentiful, fast, and clever enough to make it interesting. He respected every kill, thanked the land, and left the trophies to men with something to prove. The bush was his second home. For four to three days a week, he vanished into the vast, untamed wild, tracking, learning, listening. He understood the language of hoof prints and cracked branches, the mood swings of elephants, and the warning cough of a distant leopard.

Every scent on the wind told a story and knew how to read them all. But now, something new stirred the silence. An old Canadian friend had returned with a proposition: a daring expedition deep into the forgotten corners of southern Ethiopia, lands where the map grew vague and the animals were not the only ones watching from the shadows.

Desiré had faced charging buffalo, venomous cobras, and several breakdowns in the middle of nowhere. But this time, the danger was not just claws and teeth, it was human. And it would test every ounce of strength, cunning, and loyalty he had left.

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