Late in the afternoon we came to a large pond or an inlet of the river. I couldn’t tell which. Scum floated on it, a bright azure blue, and there were orange flowers that reminded me of lotuses. Our trail went close to the water. At the most we were ten meters away, traveling between the forest and the shore.

Ahead of us an animal waded in the shallows. It was a biped, a kind I had not seen before, very tall and very slender. Its color was tan or pale gray. It had the usual long neck and tiny head. It bent and pulled up flowers, stuffing the orange petals and blue stalks into its mouth.

The scene had an eerie beauty: the dark water, the gaudy flowers, the biped moving carefully and delicately—like a dancer, its long tail high so it didn’t touch the surface of the water.

“There,” said Derek and pointed. The water farther out was moving slightly. Flowers rose and fell. I saw ripples, then a head. It was a lizard, but much bigger than any lizard I had ever seen before.

“Aiya,” said the oracle.

The head went under. I got a glimpse of a long back with a row of spines along it, then a tail, then nothing except a ripple that moved toward shore. Was the biped blind? I wanted to shout.

It gathered another handful of flowers and stuffed them into its mouth.

“Now,” said Derek.

The lizard struck, the huge, dark body erupting from the water. The biped screamed and fell. Birds flew out of the trees and bushes along the shore.

I reined my bowhorn. The bodies rolled in the water. I saw a dark back, a long dark tail, the white underside of the biped.

The birds flew above me, crying out warning. There was another scream. God! What a sound!

My bowhorn shivered. I tightened my grip on the reins.

Nia was beside me. I hadn’t seen her coming. She took hold of my animal’s bridle. “Be calm,” she said. “Be calm.” Her free hand rubbed the furry brown neck.

I looked back at the water. The thrashing had ended. I could still see the white belly of the biped, floating just below the surface of the water. For a moment it was motionless. Then it jerked—and jerked again. It was moving toward shore. No. It was being moved. The lizard was pulling it. I saw the spiny back. The blunt head lifted. The jaws were clenched around a slender arm.

“Aiya,” said the oracle. “That is an animal I have never seen before.”

“Nor I,” said Nia. “Though I’ve heard there are big lizards in the river.”

“No excrement,” said Derek. “Let’s get moving. I want to get past that thing while it’s still busy.”

Nia let go of my animal’s bridle. I slapped the reins. The bowhorn moved forward.

Our trail went around the inlet, leading us toward the lizard, which was entirely out of the water now. It dragged its prey up on the bank, then looked around. God, it was ugly! The dark skin was folded and sagging. The spines that went along the back were bent and torn. Some were missing entirely. These animals must fight. There were splotches on the heavy body: a lot of them, pale gray. A parasite, I decided, a kind of skin disease.

The lizard stared at us, then took a new grip on the biped, pulling it all the way out of the water. It let go and raised its head, looking at us again.

We were twenty meters from it with no choice except to go past it. We kept moving, none of us speaking. My bowhorn was flicking its ears. Ahead of me the other bowhorn seemed just as nervous. The short tail twitched back and forth, ready to give a warning sign. Nia stayed next to me, one hand on my animal’s bridle.

The lizard bent its head and nosed the biped, turning it so it was belly up. Then it bit in.

It paid no attention to us after that. A couple of times I twisted in the saddle and looked back. The first time the lizard’s head was low. The second time the head was lifted. Bits of flesh hung from the jaws and a long piece of gut was looped over the snout.

I shivered. My bowhorn snorted. The trail led back into the forest. I turned a final time. The inlet was gone from view.

“How big was that thing?” I asked.

Nia said, “The body was the same size as Derek.”

“Two meters plus the tail,” said Derek in English.

“Hu!” I said.

The oracle made the gesture of agreement.

A little before sundown we reached the bank of the river. The forest ended suddenly. Before us was a wide expanse of water. How far across? A kilometer? It was dotted with low islands. Some were bare: mud banks or sandbars. Others were covered with vegetation. The water ran smoothly, gleaming in the light of the almost-gone sun.

“This is a sight I have not seen for many winters,” Nia told us. “I crossed it in the winter to the north of here. It was frozen. That is the best time to cross.”

“I have never seen it before,” the oracle said. “It’s certainly big.”

We rested for a while. The sun went down. Birds flew over us, heading home.

“I’m tired,” the oracle said. “Let’s make camp.”

Nia said, “Not here.”

“Why not?” I asked.

She pointed north. A line of smoke drifted up into the sky. “We will spend the night with those people—if they are women. If it is a man, it’s better to know that now, before we sleep.”

We turned toward the smoke, traveling along the edge of the river. I made out a house. No. A tent, shaped like a hemisphere. The door faced the river. In front of the door was a fire, bright in the twilight.

Nia stopped and shouted, “People come!”

There was no answer.

“Is anyone home?”

A figure came out of the tent. He or she paused by the fire, looking toward us and frowning, trying to see into the darkness. “I can hear you, but I can’t make out what you look like.” The figure made the gesture that meant “come here.”

I dismounted. So did the oracle. He staggered and Derek put an arm around him. Nia took the reins of the animals. The rest of us moved forward into the firelight.

“Atcha!” said the person. “You are something to look at!”

“We are travelers,” said Derek. “Our friend is sick. We need a place to stay for the night.”

The person was silent. I looked at him or her. I had reached the point where I could usually guess the gender of a native. This person baffled me. The voice was deep. The body was broad and solid. That indicated a male. But the fur was the fur of a woman: sleek and soft with a dull sheen like velvet.

The person wore a yellow tunic. There was embroidery on the sleeves and hem. The buckle on his belt—her belt?—was silver. He or she wore bracelets of gold or bronze.

A man, almost certainly. They loved finery. And yet I had never seen a man with fur like that.

“You can stay here,” the person said.

Derek made the gesture of gratitude.

“I have to tell you, I am not willing to share my tent. It is small. I have gotten used to living alone. But I have plenty of blankets and enough food for everyone. I want to know about you. I have never seen people as naked as you are.”

Derek helped the oracle sit down, then straightened up. For once he was properly dressed in jeans and a shirt. The jeans were dirty. The shirt was torn. His boots were badly scuffed.

The person said, “I thought at first you were people who’d lost their fur. There are two bad diseases in the marshes to the south of here. One makes a person shake until she dies. The other makes hair fall out in patches. That one does not usually kill. But it certainly embarrasses!” He or she frowned. “Now I see you do not have the bodies of people. You are too thin. Your arms and legs are too long. The way you move does not look right to me. What are you?”

The oracle lifted his head. “I have traveled with them for many days. They are strange to look at, but they are not demons. Nor are they monsters like the ones the holy children drove out of the world long ago.”

“That is a story I don’t know,” said the person. “Or at least it doesn’t sound familiar. Where are you from?”