deluge. there is only wonder in her. the pages of the good book are leafed through in her mind. once, a young cardinal, who paid well for secrecy, showed her his copy - the ark traversed high waves of rich blue pigment, noè and his sons with their hands raised in prayer. she'd seen the leviathan too, red as blood. its neck was long and its snout nasty. it made sense even a lion would fear such a creation of the Lord.

i... i hope to be there. for that. daydreams had made her stall, and she trots to catch up to her guide. i am no stranger to floods! between autumn and spring, the canals spill out, not a road left you can walk on foot. oh, a disaster if you haven't the coin to afford-

the kudu slips. with a bellow it crumples to the ground, its chest hitting hard.

sancha pauses. the antelope tries to rise on its good pair of legs. uncertain, she looks to uhuru.