Everyone watched you dance and sing the story of Pueo and Para, admiring how with your arms, your back, your legs, your face, you brought to life each of these two birds. Simply by turning your body around you switched from bird to bird, and thus, flickering with firelight, you were able to tell the story of each of the two birds at one and the same time. When you were finished, the strangers did a most unusual thing: they began to clap their hands together. This was a gesture we only ever used to express anger at our children, but it appeared that the strangers used it as a sign of appreciation. This caused us to laugh, and the strangers in turn also laughed, although not exactly understanding why. When the dancing was done, the children stepped into the circle, carrying great leaves laden with food, and went from person to person, serving an abundance of roasted meats, fowl, fish, and breadfruit. As at all feasts, the meat of the albatross was also served, cooked in its own fat, but only to the visitors and the most senior men and women in the circle, as was the custom.

The chief of the strangers was seated opposite Fetu. When all had eaten and drunk their fill, Fetu looked across the circle at him with a smile of such kindness and charm that the stranger looked back without reserve. They continued to hold one another’s gaze in this manner for some time. I knew exactly what was happening inside them both, that pleasant sensation that overtakes one in the throes of a crossing, that giddiness, that feeling that one is dissolving into the air, that one is filling up with stars. How I wished I was in Fetu’s place, that I could cross with the stranger and explore his mind and heart and soul at will. Fetu was such a high master of the crossing that it was soon complete, and I knew the soul of the strangers’ chief was now in the body sitting beside me, fully aware of himself, looking around with the unfamiliarity of one who has only just crossed for the first time. Otahu, who was seated on the other side of Fetu, leaned over to speak to him.

“It is a great honor,” said Otahu, “for us to receive you, and it is an even greater honor that you do us in making a crossing with our sage, Fetu.” Though Otahu was speaking in our language, the stranger in Fetu’s body understood him.

“By what witchcraft is this possible?” asked the stranger.

“It’s no witchcraft,” replied Otahu, “but a gift from the gods that, of the many islands in our ocean, has been lost by all those who possessed it—all, that is, but my people. We have protected and perfected it, so that we may all possess the gift.”

“And what do you call it?”