Ustane is an Amahagger leader, who becomes romantically attached to Leo Vincey after saving him from the ambush of the Queen Ayesha's soldiers. Ustane acts as Leo's protector and defies Ayesha to stay with him. For this brave act she pays with her life.
Clive Nolan about Ustane: “This character is the first real connection the Englishman make with the lost tribes. She quickly forms a bond with Leo and things are good until the jealousy of the queen destroys their relationship. For me one of the pivotal songs in 'She' is Ustane's dying song, 'Closer'.”
In H.R. Haggard's words: "There were also some women among them, who, instead of the leopard-skin, wore a tanned hide of a small red buck, something like that of the oribé, only rather darker in colour. These women were, as a class, exceedingly good-looking, with large, dark eyes, well-cut features, and a thick bush of curling hair-not crisped like a negro's-ranging from black to chestnut in hue, with all shades of intermediate colour. Some, but very few of them, wore a yellowish linen garment [...] but this, as we afterwards discovered, was a mark of rank, rather than an attempt at clothing. [...] Leo's tall, athletic form and clear-cut Grecian face, evidently excited their attention, and when he politely lifted his hat to them, and showed his curling yellow hair, there was a slight murmur of admiration. Nor did it stop there; for, after regarding him critically from head to foot, the handsomest of the young women-one wearing a robe, and with hair of a shade between brown and chestnut-deliberately advanced to him, and, in a way that would have been winning had it not been so determined, quietly put her arm round his neck, bent forward, and kissed him on the lips. I gave a gasp, expecting to see Leo instantly speared; and Job ejaculated, "The hussy-well, I never!" As for Leo, he looked slightly astonished; and then, remarking that we had clearly got into a country where they followed the customs of the early Christians, deliberately returned the embrace."Even now, when I shut my eyes, I can see her proud, imperial form, clothed alternately in dense shadow and the red flickering of the fire, as she stood, the wild centre of as weird a scene as I ever witnessed, and delivered herself of the burden of her thoughts and forebodings in a kind of rhythmical speech [...] 'When I am gone from thee, my chosen," she said; "when at night thou stretchest out thine hand and canst not find me, then shouldst thou think at times of me, for of a truth I love thee well, though I be not fit to wash thy feet. And now let us love and take that which is given us, and be happy; for in the grave there is no love and no warmth, nor any touching of the lips. Nothing perchance, or perchance but bitter memories of what might have been. To-night the hours are our own, how know we to whom they shall belong to-morrow?'" (Extract from H.R. Haggard's 'She')