When we meet in the trees, my brother tells me that Subbar Khan is dying. Terrible news, since he is our protector!
“No man knows why he is dying,” says my brother. “Only the birds know that he was poisoned by the glass that Kupti, the king’s daughter, put into his bed.”
We know that the berries from the tree we are sitting in will cure Subbar Khan’s illness if boiled in water. We discuss it, but what can we do about it? We can’t tell any man of medicine. Men are so silly. They go and shut themselves up in stuffy houses in stuffy cities instead of living in nice airy trees, and they miss knowing all the important things!