miles from home and among strangers, but also not even in her own world.
"Warreen, do you have a girlfriend?"
"I am alone here."
"No, you're not." Her voice didn't squeak. Thank God. "Will you hold me?"
Time stretched out. Then Warreen moved close and clumsily put his arms around her. She accidentally elbowed him in the eye before they both were comfortable. Cordelia greedily absorbed the warmth of his body, her face tucked against his. Her fingers wound through the surprising softness of his hair.
They kissed. Cordelia knew her parents would kill her if they knew what she was doing with this black man. First, of course, They would have lynched Warreen. She surprised herself. It was no different touching him than it had been touching anyone else she'd liked. There hadn't been many. Warreen felt much better than any of them.
She kissed him many times more. He did the same to her. The night chill deepened and their breathing pulsed faster.
"Warreen . . ." she finally said, gasping. "Do you want to make love?"
He seemed to go away from her, even though he was still there in her arms. "I shouldn't-"
She guessed at something. "Uh, are you a virgin?"
"Yes. And you?"
"I'm from Louisiana." She covered his mouth with hers. "Warreen is only my boy's name. My true name is Wyungare."
"What does that mean?"
"He who returns to the stars."
The moment came when she raised herself to take him and felt Wyungare driving deep within her. Much later she realized she hadn't thought of her mama and what her family would think. Not even once.
The giant first appeared as the smallest nub on the horizon.
"That's where we're going?" said Cordelia. "Uluru?"
"The place of greatest magic."
The morning sun rose high as they walked. The heat was no less pressing than it had been the previous day. Cordelia tried to ignore her thirst. Her legs ached, but it was not from trudging. She welcomed the feeling.
Various creatures of the outback sunned themselves by the path and inspected the humans as they passed.
An emu.
A frilled lizard. A tortoise.
A black snake. A wombat.
Wyungare acknowledged the presence of each with a courteous greeting. "Cousin Dinewan" to the emu; "Mungoongarlie" to the lizard; "Good morning, Wayambeh" to the tortoise, and so on.
A bat circled them three times, squeaked a greeting, and flew off. Wyungare waved politely. "Soar in safety, brother Narahdarn."
His greeting to the wombat was particularly effusive. "He was my boy-totem," he explained to Cordelia. "Warreen." They encountered a crocodile sunning itself beside their trail.
"He is your cousin as well," said Wyungare. He told her what to say.
"Good morning, cousin Kurria," said Cordelia. The reptile stared back at her, moving not an inch in the baking heat. Then it opened its jaws and hissed. Rows of white teeth flashed in the sun.
"A fortunate sign," said Wyungare. "The Kurria is your guardian."
As Uluru grew in the distance, fewer were the creatures that came to the path to look upon the humans.
Cordelia realized with a start that for an hour or more she had been dwelling within her own thoughts. She glanced aside at Wyungare. "How was it that you were in the alley at just the right time to help me?"
"I was guided by Baiame, the Great Spirit."
"Not good enough."
"It was a sort of a corroboree that night, a get-together with a purpose."
"Like a rally?"
He nodded. "My people don't usually engage in such things. Sometimes we have to use European ways."
"What was it about?" Cordelia shaded her eyes and squinted into the distance. Uluru had grown to the size of a fist.
Wyungare also narrowed his eyes at Uluru. Somehow he seemed to be gazing much farther. "We are going to drive the Europeans out of our lands. Especially we are not going to allow the men-who-preach to seize further footholds."
"I don't think that's going to be very easy. Aren't the Aussies pretty well entrenched?"
Wyungare shrugged. "Have you no faith, little missy? Just because we are outnumbered forty or fifty to one, own no tanks or planes, and know that few care about our cause? Just because we are our own worst enemies when it comes to organizing ourselves?" His voice sounded angry. "Our way of life has stretched unbroken for sixty thousand years. How long has your culture existed?"
Cordelia started to say something placating.
The young man rushed on. "We find it hard to organize effectively in the manner of the Maori in New Zealand. They are great clans. We are small tribes." He smiled humorlessly. "You might say the Maori