Wow, I've really been slacking off on this blog. I'll try to do better in the future.
Page 43, Paragraph 4:
Now the poultry is all gone, and the sun, likewise, is gone from the sky. Now there's only darkness, and chewing on bones.
Because there's nothing to see, I can hear the sounds of things better. The sound of a rat running across the hay of the pen. The sound of the river that says, "quick-lick, quick-lick, quick-lick" away in the dark. Now there comes a faraway noise like the settlers as they walk by the river. They're all laughing, and must be doing it loudly for me to hear them at all, because they're very far away. Far away, I can hear the high sound of someone blowing into a bone-pipe, and a drum beat, and they're singing, like the girl did to me. The wind comes and goes, so I can't hear all they're singing, but there's one song I hear.
Make a fire and make it hot
And bone he'll be, and bone he'll be
The path is long, but we are not,
And by the valley go we...*
There's more to the song, but the settlers go further downriver, so that there are many huts between them and I and I can't hear their song or their drums or their bone-pipes. Off downriver, the village's many fires make a little red light in the sky, up on a high, dark cloud [?]. I put one hand and then the other in my clothes, to cover up my penis and warm my hands, and I shut my eyes. There's nothing at all...
*I got the rhyme and cadence again, I think.