Or do I take a chance and see where this new adventure of a life among the Others will lead me? —A Human Handbook to the Others, Conclusion She kept her eyes closed and her head tipped back toward the apex of the tented ceiling, showing the loa no fear and no shame. Again, she smelled incense and charcoal and the sweet, earthy scent of burning tobacco. Her people offered only the finest, grown not two miles away in the English’s cherished fields. Her pulse throbbed, filling her head and trickling down the back of her throat like the rum she’d taken in Their names. Her heart beat louder, tempo increasing, urgency rising as the rhythm of the drums drove them all faster. Her feet pounded against the cool earth, the grit of dirt clinging to her soles. It was a new feeling for her, this cool, dry earth, different from the rich delta soil she’d been used to, but the dirt didn’t matter. Neither did the air matter, cooler here, thinner, for all the complaints the white men offered when the summer sun beat down on them.
