Forest of the Pygmies by Isabel Allende Page B

returned to camp. The huge animals showed no curiosity at all toward the humans; they continued to bathe calmly for a long while, until it was so dark that they disappeared in the blackness. Their deeply creased skin was thick and gray like that of the elephants. Their ears were small and round, and their mahogany eyes very bright. Two pouches swung from their upper jaws, cushioning the enormous, square canines that were capable of biting through an iron pipe.
    “They take a mate, and they are more faithful than most humans,” explained Brother Fernando. “They have one calf at a time and look after it for years.”
    After the sun went down, night had fallen very quickly and the group was surrounded by the impenetrable darkness of the forest. Only in the small clearing on the shore where they had crash-landed could the moon be seen in the sky. The solitude was absolute. They set up a schedule to sleep in shifts while one of them stood guard and fed the fire. Nadia, who had been excused from responsibility because of her age, insisted on sitting up with Alexander during his turn. Many of the animals that came during the night to drink at the river were confused by the smoke, the fire, and the scent of human beings. The most timid retreated, frightened, but others sniffed the air, hesitated, and finally, prodded by thirst, approached. The instructions of Brother Fernando, who had studied the flora and fauna of Africa for thirty years, were not to disturb them. Usually they did not attack humans, he said, unless they were hungry or provoked.
    “That’s in theory. In practice they’re unpredictable and might attack at any moment,” Angie refuted.
    “The fire will keep them some distance away. I think we’re safe here on the shore. It will be more dangerous in the forest,” said Brother Fernando.
    Angie cut him off. “Yes, but we don’t plan to go into the forest.”
    “Are you thinking of staying here forever?” the missionary asked.
    “We can’t get out of here by land. The only possibility is the river.”
    “Swimming?” Brother Fernando persisted.
    “We could build a raft,” Alexander suggested.
    “You’ve read too many adventure novels, young man,” the missionary replied.
    “We’ll decide that tomorrow; right now, let’s rest,” Kate ordered.
    Alexander and Nadia’s shift began at three in the morning. With Borobá they would watch the sun come up. Sitting back to back, weapons on their knees, they talked in whispers. They always stayed in contact when they were separated, but even so they had a thousand things to tell each other when they met. Their friendship was profound, and they were sure that it would last throughout their lifetimes. True friendship, they believed, survives the passing of time, is selfless and generous, and asks nothing in return except loyalty. They had never actually discussed it, but both protected their affection from the curiosity of others. They loved each other without making a great show of it, discreetly and quietly. They shared dreams, thoughts, emotions, and secrets by e-mail. They kneweach other so well that sometimes words weren’t necessary to express what they were thinking.
    More than once Alexander’s mother had asked him if Nadia was “his girl,” and he always denied it more emphatically than was necessary. She wasn’t “his girl” in the common sense of the term. The mere question offended him. His relationship with Nadia could not be compared to the fits of love that struck his friends or to his own fantasies about Cecilia Burns, the girl he had thought he would marry ever since he started school. The feelings between Nadia and him were unique, untouchable, precious. He realized that such an intense and pure relationship was not common among teens, and that is why he didn’t talk about her. No one would understand.

    An hour later the stars began to disappear, one by one, and day began to dawn: first a soft glow in the sky that soon became a