On the next day the villages pulled the canoe from the center of Kyentril back to the shore, and Edath, the father of Muaima, came over and looked beneath the blankets. "It's a miracle!" he cried in mock surprise to the others, "we have a girl! My wife has given birth to a little girl!"
The black birds crowed of doom in the dark naked trees outside the house, as she got up from her resting place and looked at her parents with the wild gaze of a stranger.
When the sky is grey like the roof of a widows hut and the blue heavenly ocean is hidden from sight, when the trees are stripped of their beautiful clothes and stand like burnt corpses in the snow, and instead of the rustle of leaves and grasses in the wind and the voices of insects and animals, only the crowing of the black birds and the crunching of trodden snow is heard - how could any supernatural event at such a time bode well?
It was a grey winter morning, when the dead girl opened her eyes.
It was obvious to everyone, that a birth ceremony would have to be carried out for the reborn Muaima, but to be on the safe side, the medicine man insisted on a purification ceremony as well.
When her parents pointed out, that she could very well could freeze during the night in the canoe, Atren agreed and gave his permission to pile blankets on top of her.
Months passed, and spring was weeks away, when Muaima had regained most of her skills and knowledge.
It was a grey winter morning, when the dead girl opened her eyes. Her body had been washed with the tears of mourning relatives and friends, she had been dressed in clothes woven from the leaves of the Chikma tree, and that very day she was to be put on her death canoe for her finale voyage. But she had come back to life. The black birds crowed of doom in the dark naked trees outside the house, as she got up from her resting place and looked at her parents with the wild gaze of a stranger.
Little Muaima had not returned completely. She was confused, scared, aggressive even. She did not recognize her parents or her friends, she did not behave like the girl she had been. She seemed to have forgotten the most basic of things: how to dress herself; how to prepare food; how to play; even how to speak. The very language of the Arjanti seemed unfamiliar to her. And the words she uttered in return sounded painfully foreign.