‘Ugh?’ He was baffled. ‘Ah!’ He understood. ‘But the woman is there too, my soul. She is in the boat. She is Wooma.’ He bit her ear tenderly, and she was happy again. But she asked him no more about his thoughts. He had been already too long away from her. She was lonely, neglected, jealous. Wanting nothing but him, her heart demanded that he should want nothing but her.
Ogo resumed his thoughts and the recitation of them, his body swaying and his voice rising and falling in a chant. ‘Ogo and Wooma are in the boat, and the boat is a bird flying on the water. The spirit of the river is noble and kind. He is very big, but he speaks in a little voice, and Ogo is his friend. Ogo is his friend and he is the friend of Wooma. Ogo and Wooma are in the boat. They ride on the river’s back and the demons of the forest cannot catch them. The sun smiles on the river. He laughs and is friendly. The sun and the river laugh together. The man shouts with a loud noise and the woman claps her hands. Ogo and Wooma are in the boat. Ogo and Wooma are joined with the boat in flight. The wind runs to meet them, and because the river is good and mighty the wind lets them pass. So they come to a great water at the end of the world. It is a good water, and the sky is a good sky, and the water and the sky touch each other and are friends. The man and the woman and the boat—’
She gripped his arm in a fierce grip. ‘There are men coming.’
They jumped up, looking round for a hiding place.
‘There are dogs with them,’ said Ogo. That meant that unless the dogs had already scented quarry, no hiding-place would shelter the lovers for many seconds. ‘Where is my axe?’ he cried (for the axe still lay where he had dropped it twelve hours ago). They stared at each other wildly, and already there was distance between them. The steps came nearer; and now to the dogs’ barking was added the sound of human voices. These sounds reminded the lovers of what they had put out of mind. They remembered the law of sib, and each to the other became tainted with the terror of the curse: the spirit of the herd mastered and divided them. They ran in different directions. Wooma went first, Ogo watching her in stupid despair. Then he crawled into the undergrowth. The conflict of impulses made him numb. His hiding was purposeless and half-reluctant. And when from his cover he saw the young man Stare approach, he shouted a greeting and moved forward to meet him. Burning with guilt, he was surprised at Stare’s quiet acceptance of him. ‘There’s good hunting,’ said Stare. ‘Come on.’ He had not seen Ogo for many days. Ogo had been away and forgotten. Now he was back. ‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Stare. But there was hunting afoot; the others, half hidden by trees, were pressing forward; and he did not wait to be answered. He went on, and Ogo followed him.