what are they exactly?” interjected Elli.
“They represent insatiable avarice—always at the core of death and its continual dying.”
“The avarice of what?” said Elli.
“What do you mean, child?” said Poplar.
“The avarice of what creatures, Poplar? The avarice of what creatures that have died?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me, Elli,” said Poplar, with a quizzical look on her tilted head. “Avarice is of nothing but itself; it can inhabit and take over other creatures, and typically it does—in fact, as far as I know, always does—outside of the OOeegaltabog, that is—but it is of itself and by itself in the OOeegaltabog, where it, all alone, dies and continually dies, thinking it is consuming something, consuming everything it attempts to devour, but consumes nothing except itself—growing always more hungry and more thirsty, just when it thinks it has satisfied its hunger and thirst.
“So, in other words,” said Beatríz, still nibbling on what remained in her basket of nuts and a few berries, “they would not have hurt us—they can’t hurt us?”
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