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as one woman from another – and you shall make a charm for me for love.

The Chisera

      (Taking the gift.) I shall make it as though I loved him myself.

Bright Water

      (Startled.) Oh, I did not say I loved him.

The Chisera

      (Smiling.) No?

Bright Water

      (Studying the pattern of her moccasin.) Is it true, Chisera, that you have been called to the Council that decides upon the war leader who is to be chosen in my father's place?

The Chisera

      I am to inquire of the gods concerning it.

Bright Water

      (Diffidently.) Chisera, I have heard – my father thinks – Simwa, the Arrow-Maker, is well spoken of.

      (The first note of the love call is heard far up the cliffs. The Chisera starts and controls herself.)

The Chisera

      (Coldly, in dismissal.) Simwa needs the good word of no man. It shall be as the gods determine.

      (Goes over to hut. The love call sounds nearer.)

Bright Water

      (After a moment's hesitation.) Farewell, Chisera. (She goes.)

The Chisera

      (Looking up the trail.) Ah, Simwa, Simwa, what bond there is between us, when, if I but pronounce thy name in my heart, thy voice answers.

      (The love call is repeated far up the cliffs above her hut, and she answers it, singing:)

      Over-long are thy feet on the trails,

              O Much Desired!!

      Dost thou not hear afar what my blood whispers,

      Betraying my heart as the whir

      Of the night-moth's wings betray the lilies?

      (As she sings, Simwa, in full war dress, comes dropping down, hand over hand, from the rocks, until he stands beside her.)

Simwa

      Did you not hear me when first I called?

The Chisera

      I heard you, Most Desired. When do I not? Even when I sleep, my heart wakes to hear you. The women have been with me.

Simwa

      You know, then?

The Chisera

      That this very night a war party of ours must go out to meet the Castacs.

Simwa

      And before that there will be a Council to choose a war leader? Has the Chief told you?

The Chisera

      Not since this latest word, but yesterday he bid me prepare a strong medicine, for he thought the election would be made by lot. But I did not tell him, O Much Desired, that I had already made medicine a night and a day to let the choice fall on you. A day and a night by Deer Leap on Toorape, where never foot but mine had been, I made medicine, and the answer is sure.

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