A fragrant plume of burnt leaves writhed inside the stilt house where the guests are staying. All four wake up to it

Because the stuff tickles in their noses and when they open their eyes, their eyes too.

Through the opening in the room, they see that something unusual is happening in the

native village.

A grey-faced man who looked very ill lay dead still on a bundle of palm leaves. He is, from a safe distance, it seems, surrounded by the community;

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