"So you've finally come," he says to me. Like the buffalo, I feel his words rather than hear.

"Yes. I am here." The act of speaking is beyond any description. I do not form words, for I have no tongue with which to do so; instead, my essence shivers pure meaning; I do not even need to think of what I wish to say. In reply, the Ghost smiles at me. His teeth are as white as his hair.

"I'm glad. I have been waiting, Ananka'awe," the Ghost laughs, extending his arms to me as though he wishes to embrace me. The name he uses is not mine, but that of my people, or, more correctly, the God that created them: Storm-Wanderer, caller of rain and thunder, maker of everything living. I do not correct him; he knows. I gain the impression that he knows everything of me, even though we have never spoken. Then, as plainly as if I had told him my thoughts, he adds, "I know you, Ananka'awe. I know you as well as the sky knows the stars and the moon. Do you not know me?"

And in an instant, I do. I know him, and I am sure I always have.

"Talekani." Sun-Killer. Death. "What do you want of me?"

"So impatient for knowledge, Ananka'awe, my brother. You always have been. Can we not talk a while?"

"We are talking. Why have you sought me out? Do you need something so badly that you invade my dreams?" Talekani sighs like a much-put-upon mother. He shakes his head, and his hair splays out around his head in a halo of white light. I realise suddenly that he is beautiful; until now, I had been distracted by his eyes, and then, by the realisation of who he was. But now, I see him and am terrified by his loveliness.

"Very well. If you must know now, I will tell you now. You'll regret it, though. You'll wish we had talked of other things."

"Tell me."