Ghosts came to their land, they told, plenty of them, and with ghost animals too, that were small and stupid and coloured like snow. Gonar said they must not, but Tartoyen never did love fighting much, so he did permit them. 'There nearly was a war then,' said Grandmother, telling how they all got ready, spears pointing and so, but then Roingin asked to speak their story. That was a fighting thing, of course, as it is a strongest law that everybody must stay in their place unless they are allowed. I asked her how this war happened, and she said it started the morning before, when they met Roingin just walking through the forest of the world - our world - as if it was their place and not ours at all. 'We looked everywhere for you.' That was pleasing. Grandmother was rejoicing to see me, though she was cross too. 'You are cowards,' sang Roingin, to make my ones fearful, 'and we will kill you very soon.' 'You are liars and cheats,' mine sang back, 'and today you will die.' This war was a slow thing, I did observe, and shaking spears and singing insults went on and on with no fighting, so I went round through the bushes to where Grandmother and other women of my ones were standing. That was some grievous worry, yes, and I did ponder how mine could be so piss-poor foolish. Tartoyen, Gonar and others of mine just had a few - some didn't have even one - while Roingin had two or three each. Still I could see they were strong, as they had more spears. Roingin were famous for being many but now they were fewer than mine. That was a mystery to confound, yes, as Roingin never could be here, in the world, but must stay in theirs, as everybody knew.

This was no battle yet, but nearly, with mine on one side and Roingin on other.

I never saw one before, no, but I heard stories from Tartoyen, while some things you do understand even without knowing. Instead of getting meat cooking on the fire, which was my great desire, I got a war.

English passengers by matthew kneale