TIRRAWAL WENT BACK to his country, and wordholders were sent to the Kaurn-kopan, to the Peek-wurong, the Mukjarawaint and to the Jupa Galk. The elders met, and they decided the talk of the night.
“If the sky should fall now,” said Derrimut, “the waters would come to cover the land. We shall move to the highest of our ground, and our fires will burn on Morriock in two nights.”
“We must send to the Kurnaje-berring to talk with Billi-billeri for the stone of Bomjinna,” said Murrangurk. “Who is to go?”
“Gambeech and Warrowil are of the same skins by their mothers,” said Nullamboin.
“Shall both go?”
“Send Gambeech,” said Nullamboin. “He is the man who knows stone. And give him wolard and kowir bags made by Purranmurnin Tallarwurnin to show. Her thread is the strongest.”
The People moved without noise. Now they were less troubled. To walk the land would give them life, and the land would be made again by their tread. It might hold the sky.
Murrangurk pulled down the bark of their shelter. Purranmurnin Tallarwurnin had gathered her rugs and bowls and her digging stick and smoothed the fire.
“We are to talk with Billi-billeri for the stone of Bomjinna,” said Murrangurk. “Give me a bag of wolard and a bag of kowir skin to send.”
“I can’t find them all,” said Purranmurnin Tallarwurnin. “There has been a thief.”
“Who of the Beingalite would steal?” said Murrangurk. “Are your eyes dim?”
“Not my eyes that are dim,” said Purranmurnin Tallarwurnin.
Murrangurk looked at her, and she was laughing.
“Why would my nephew do that?” said Murrangurk. “I have taught him the stories of the Beginning, and the names of his flesh spirits and those of the People. I am leading him through the ways of his Dreaming, and I led him to be made a man and held him when he was Smoked. How have I done him wrong that he should steal?”
Purranmurnin Tallarwurnin put her hand on his cheek. He was crying.
“He is sad that he may not stand with the warriors.”
“I may not fight. Yet I do not steal.”
“Your Dreaming is greater. You must not die again into death. Brairnumin does not steal. He tries to show you that he is a warrior, though he stays with the women in battle.”
Murrangurk walked outside, in a circle, looking at the ground.
Hah.
He raised his head, and sniffed. Then he followed the marks that he had seen. They were straight, and he knew them. He lifted his head again and judged their line by the sun.
Fool.
He ran back. The People were ready. Gambeech was with Nullamboin. Murrangurk went to them.
“Where are the wolard and kowir bags, uncle?” said Gambeech.
“Kah!”
Murrangurk took the light shield that Gambeech carried, and the reed spear with the man’s belt and the woman’s apron hanging from it. He bound red cord about his arms below the shoulder, for strength, and put fresh red upon his headband.
“What are you doing, nephew?” said Nullamboin. “Have you a ghost in you? Where are the bags?”
“The ghost is not in me,” shouted Murrangurk. “It has the mind of Brairnumin; and he has taken two bags and a wolard skin. I have seen his feet! And if I can’t stop him, he is dead.”
“What is he doing?”
“He is walking towards the Wurunjerri-baluk, to be a wordholder to the Kurnaje-berring for Bomjinna stone, so that we may call him warrior! But he does not know the signs of the Wurunjerri-baluk! He thinks that he can be wordholder of peace without spear and belt and apron!”
“You are not kindred,” said Nullamboin. “It was not for this that I danced and sang.”
“I carry the signs that are true,” said Murrangurk. “No one can harm them.”
“There is danger on such a journey from our country,” said Nullamboin. “I smell blood.”
“When I see the feet of Brairnumin,” Murrangurk sang, “I smell blood. But it is the blood and fire and tearing of my dance, of my song, of my Dreaming, and I must go; or without earth is your dance, and silent your song, and empty your Dreaming.”
Murrangurk left his kal and followed the tracks out of the camp. Brairnumin had fallen twice and had grazed his leg on a tree, but he was travelling well, keeping his way by the feel of the sun. Murrangurk trotted quietly. Brairnumin would not be far ahead, and he did not want to frighten the young man so that he hurt himself.
He had stood, and, though the sand had dried, the smell was still strong. Murrangurk walked, making no sound. He came upon a water scrape that was damp, and he had to scoop only once to be able to drink for himself. Now he listened. He could not see any distance, because of the scrub and hummocks of rough ground.
He listened. Ahead of him he heard what he knew he would find: the steady click click of wangim being knocked together. He moved gently. Around the next dune he saw Brairnumin, two bags on his shoulders, one filled with a rug; his head turned, smelling, and hearing, guided by the sand and the changing echoes of the tapping wood.
Nephew.
Brairnumin stopped.
Uncle.
Where are you going?
To Bomjinna, to ask the great man Billi-billeri to let us take stone for axes to stop the sky from falling. I have wolard and kowir skins to show him what we can bring.
And do you speak Wurunjerri-baluk?
I am a wordholder in peace, and wordholders are sacred.
How will you find Bomjinna?
My brother of my Smoking, the Crow, will tell me.
Why did you not ask the elders before you left?
You would not have let me go. You think that I cannot see. But it is only my eyes that are blind.
Will you let me come? said Murrangurk. Two wordholders and warriors together?
It would please me, said Brairnumin.
And I, too, should be pleased, said Murrangurk.
He put the young man’s hand on his shield to guide him, and they walked for Bomjinna.
After two days, they came in the evening towards a river, not as big as others they had crossed.
I see some water, said Brairnumin.
We shall stay on this side, said Murrangurk. On the other is Wurunjerri-baluk land. It will be a cold night. We must not light a fire.
I am not cold, said Brairnumin.
They slept, and, with the Morning Star, Murrangurk searched up the river bank until he found a hollow dead tree. It had three big branches, with holes in them. He took mud from the river and stopped up the holes of one of the branches. Then he took dry and damp grass and made a fire inside the tree, so that the smoke came out of the other two branches.
What are you doing, uncle? said Brairnumin. Why is there fire in a tree? Are we to catch wolard?
I am speaking to the Wurunjerri-baluk, said Murrangurk.
Murrangurk sat on the river bank and watched the trees along the tops of the hills. He put more damp grass on the fire.
Shall we cross now? said Brairnumin. I feel the warm sun.
No, said Murrangurk, and watched.
Now we cross, said Murrangurk.
Two columns of smoke were rising from a tree on the skyline.
Murrangurk and Brairnumin swam the river, and walked all day up into the hills. The ground became more broken and wooded, until they were in forest.
As the light died, Murrangurk said, We must find their shelters. Tell me when you see fire.
It is the length of sunset over there, said Brairnumin, and they will eat a male koim tonight.
Soon even Murrangurk could smell the burning wood, and when he saw light through the trees he stopped and put his hand on Brairnumin’s lips. He lifted the shield and tapped it four times with the butt of the spear, paused, and tapped again twice. He waited, listening. There was silence. Then came answering taps: four, and two.
Murrangurk and Brairnumin went forwards, careful not to be silent. The light fell upon them, and they sat. When the waters had risen, they entered, Murrangurk holding the decorated spear high before him.
A voice spoke from the fire.
“Murrangurk, it is a long time since the wind blew the mark of your steps away.”