Those two, like the backside of a hippopotamus, or that one like an old man’s nose… Narmer recognised the smells too. The breeze carried the scent of the River in flood. The light was River light again, subtly coloured by the shifting water. Even the bird calls suddenly spoke to something deep within him. He felt as though his blood were bubbling like the overflowing River. With excitement. Nervousness. And something more. Almost without realising it he hurried ahead. The floods would be receding now, leaving the rich black silt. The men would be checking to see if the seed was ready for planting. Home. His home in a way that Sumer never could be. As though his heart were made of silt from the River, and its water were his blood. He shook his head. Nonsense. Sumer would be his home. But this…this was the land that had created him. ‘What is it?’ Nitho had caught up to him. He shrugged. ‘Remembering. That’s all.’ He tried to grin at her. ‘Do you know where we are now?’ Nitho looked around, then flushed.
