The village was not one that invited light. It squatted on stilts above the black, tea-colored water of a slow delta channel, shrouded in mist and an abiding, deep-set distrust. The air was thick with the stench of mud, rotting vegetation, and cooking fire smoke. Eyes watched them from out of the gloom beneath woven-walled huts as Reuben, Anna, and rain-drenched Leo Mbeki heaved their salvaged canoe up onto the muddy bank.
Riverside's warmth and hospitality was a lifetime behind.
The System's forecast was a cold, hard knot in Reuben's gut. [TIME TO MANIFESTATION: 71:32:15]. The [FORECAST CONFIDENCE] stood at 75%, a stifled scream of the unknown. They were racing against a specter.
Old Chima, a man whose face was a geography of sun-creased and riverwater-worn folds, greeted them with fo
