The Chisera
I am to inquire of the gods concerning it.
Bright Water
(Diffidently.) Chisera, I have heard—my father thinks—Simwa, the Arrow-Maker, is well spoken of.
(The first note of the love call is heard far up the cliffs. The Chisera starts and controls herself.)
The Chisera
(Coldly, in dismissal.) Simwa needs the good word of no man. It shall be as the gods determine.
(Goes over to hut. The love call sounds nearer.)
Bright Water
(After a moment's hesitation.) Farewell, Chisera. (She goes.)