OG'S BOOT FIRMLY IN HAND, WOMBA BOARDed the log she had freed from the icy riverbank, and charged into the freezing river, disdaining the help of the delta guard, oblivious to the water's icy touch. Within seconds, she had spanned the current and climbed dripping onto the dock. She shook herself from head to foot, entered through the lodge door, and made a dash for Og.
Who, of course, had disappeared completely. Yob held his arms out for his damp daughter, but she hardly saw him.
"Where? Where is he?" She began to sniff the air.
Claria slid slowly behind Cheyne, but it was too late, Womba's keen nose had already discerned the faintest smell of bergamot and myrrh.
"You! You have taken my Ogwater! You have bewitched him. I will make war clubs of your leg bones and earrings of your ugly white teeth!" she shouted so loudly that three of the selkies scattered to the other side of the lodge.
"As you can plainly see," said Claria indignantly, "Ogwater is not with me." She lifted her hand to her hair with a juma flourish.