The Chocolate Of Death

Next verse, says Terence:

A peregrine falcon has died/ someone gave him the chocolate of death/ who ?/ a man called Camoo.

That is rather dark, says Gaius. But the chocolate of death is a wonderful image.

Could you leave my name out of it? asks Camus.

No, says Terence. Because it WAS you.

You make it sound deliberate, says Camus. 

Never mind, says Gaius. The poem has gone with the wind, so to speak.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

It is not written down, says Gaius. Only we heard it.

Boo! says Terence. I'm going to write it.

If you had learned to write, says Gaius, that would have been an option.

In the sand, says Terence. With a stick. And pictures.

You do that, says Gaius. 

Terence goes to look for a stick. 

Take me! calls Waca.

Okay, says Terence. I'm looking for a stick to write my poem in the sand with.

I'll help you, says Waca.

They head for the sand hills.

It's getting dark, says Camus. What about dinner?

We can't leave, says Gaius. Roo-kai will be on his way back.

We could leave him a message, says Camus.

No, you go, says Gaius. Bring me something. Nothing with tomato.

Very well, says Camus, heading to the car park, where he left his electric vehicle.

Gaius wonders where Terence has got to.

He follows Terence's footprints to the sand hills.

Ah! There he is, sitting down with a stick.

Probably puzzling out how to spell peregrine falcon when he only knows P  I and O 

Waca will be worse than useless, being a French toy.  

But, hmm, Terence seems to be talking to the stick.

And the stick is answering.

Screw you, it is saying. I was trying to sleep!