The storm hadn’t fallen over the Deus like it had the day before. The sky darkened and thunder growled somewhere far away and unseen, but the worst of it had stayed over the forest and the savannah beyond. The light drumming on the canvas continued for half an hour or so, but the sound was gentle and hypnotic. The soft patter mingled with the thrum of the engine and the wash of the river in our wake. Circles formed in the water before us; a million perfect rings that grew and grew until they became nothing. Clear droplets bulged and dripped from the holes left in the canopy by the fires, and in the places where the rainwater evaporated on the warm deck, steam lifted like spirits rising from the depths of the River of Deaths. When the rain stopped, the clouds remained, hanging grey and low, taking the light and colour from the sky. It was an awkward atmosphere that gave the world a grainy hue, but Daniella took the wheel and pushed us on and on, deeper and deeper. That was when she noticed the figure appear from the foliage, and called out to me, pointing.
