A. called from the Rim yesterday, on her way back from “checking on a nest.” Her predecessor had just departed, meaning that A. is now in charge and can institute what she is calling “a new order” in the camp. This will involve having her crew cover their faces with chalky war paint and wear necklaces of squirrel teeth, while A. surrounds her hut with chipmunk skulls impaled on spears stuck in the ground. Although I guess she’ll have to build a hut first.
Any day now, I’m expecting the call from her supervisor.
“Her methods have become.. unsound,” he’ll say, before sending me up the river after her.
I just hope I’ll be up to the challenge.