This is Tua-Pua's nightmare. She is gathering capsicum in a field not far from the village when a man comes to tell her she is to go away. She looks around for his sister and cousins who were gathering with her, but she cannot see them anymore. She cannot see the man's face- it is in shadow, though the sun is high in sky, shining straight down on the rows of beans and capsicum.

She has to go away, to Tiri-Mari of Many Gates, as two girls and two boys from her village have to go away every year. Every year one girl and one boy come back.

Her hands tremble so that she drops her basket of capsicum. The man turns her back on her and walks towards the edge of forest, which is closer than it should be. Tua-Pua follows her, as though she was being pulled by cords, cord drawn by strong men.

The walls of Tiri-Mari reach as tall as a tree, and the men who watch the gates are taller than any men she has seen, their spears bristling with jaciru teeth, their chests and faces marked with tattoos she has never seen before. They do not look at her as she goes past. It is as if she cannot be seen, as if she is a ghost. The man with the shadowed face is not here: Tua-Pua knows he has gone on ahead, to make things ready for her.

None of the many people inside the walls look at Tua-Pua, and the unseen cords draw her on, on, to the hill that stands in the centre of Tiri-Mari- a hill made by men, for all this land is as flat as a sheet of water except where men have made it so. She wants to climb the hill, to look out from the pavilion atop it and see all Tiri-Mari spread out before her like a mat; but the unseen cords are drawing her toward a hole at the bottom of the hill, like the holes the water opposums dig in riverbanks, but big enough for the tall mean at the gates to walk down holding their spears straight by their sides. A piece of the trunk of a tree has been carved into the likeness of something like a man, and this stands above the hole. Something like a man, for it has feathers, and wings, and its eyes are filled with honey. It is an image of Jaru, who is a friendly god, but it is terrifying to Tua-Pua. The honey in its eyes shines brightly in the sunshine- it has taken no time at all to walk to Tiri-Mari- but as it trickles down its face, down its broad chest, it is turning black.

Tua-Pua always wakes up before the cords drag her into the hole; but each time she is drawn a little closer.