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Siluk, the Storm-God, had plunged a knife into the heart of the heavens; no wonder the skies wept for months and months while the earth, wrapped in a dark pall of clinging mists also mourned, with streams and rivulets, like gushing tears, cutting deep furrows into its face. Warruk knew nothing of all this.
As fast as his claws dug into the sides of the stub flakes broke off so that he could not draw his body off the ground. He tried again and again; but always the result was the same. Warruk was a prisoner in a gloomy cavity and while his prison walls were decayed and crumbling they prevented him from climbing to safety as effectively as if they had been made of the hardest of steel.
Warruk looked at them longingly for, to him a bird was a bird, and he remembered the tender partridges of more bountiful days. However, there were other creatures to supply his fare and for a week he revelled in the abundance.
Food was so plentiful that on no occasion did the cub go hungry. And nurtured by the great abundance he grew in size and fearlessness even as the vegetation overhead and underfoot thrived in the soggy earth and moisture-laden air. When the rains stopped, as they finally did, Warruk instinctively headed back toward the low country.
She arose and silently started back toward the bridge across the windfall. Suma could not suppress a cough of disappointment and rage as the monkey slipped out of her reach. The one opportunity she had watched and waited for was gone. And, Warruk, hearing his mother's voice, replied with a wail of despair.
Warruk watched with glowing eyes. Here was his opportunity. Almost before he knew it he had slipped out of the thick cover and was gliding shadow-like across the sandbar. So silent and so stealthy were his movements that the child was not aware of his approach, and even when he halted and crouched low not more than ten paces away his presence still was unsuspected.
For all he knew the great snake had come to life again and was attacking him from the rear. With a mighty wrench he turned on his side and slipped through the opening to freedom. All through the weeks of rain that followed Warruk hunted along the border of the windfall; but he did not again venture near the region where Suma, his mother held sway. He saw nothing of her.
But Suma knew her domicile well and passed rapidly and surefootedly over the interlocking tree skeletons and soon reached the level forest floor. Straight as an arrow she headed to the north on some mission well-known to herself, moving like a shadow and at a rapid pace. Before long the windfall with the giant cottonwood containing the precious little Warruk had been left far behind.
An instant later his own voice rang loud and sharp in answer to the challenge and he started across the crumbling sand toward the water. In the distance a dark form loomed up, motionless as a statue and Warruk too stopped the moment he beheld the stranger. Then the latter raised his head skyward and again the roar, savage, spiteful and bespeaking rage shattered the air.
It was this light that Warruk had seen as he patrolled his beat and that had lured him from the country he knew to the region inhabited by ruthless man. After the thick sections of white flesh had been roasted until they resembled charcoal they were raked out with long poles. Everyone partook in silence grim silence that was ominous. And after a while Choflo danced a sacred dance around the fire.
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