Chapters:

1. Gemini

The world swirled into an all-obscuring white fog around him, shifting and spinning until he thought he would fall. But there was nowhere to fall, nowhere else to go, nowhere even to be until the fog finally melted into the playground he remembered from his youth.

He turned, wondering if it had really changed so little, and he caught sight of the playground's lone inhabitant. A girl, older than he had been when he last played here but certainly much younger than he was now, sat idly on a nearby swing. Her short dark hair curled around her face and ears, giving her expression an unruly, impish cast.

Despite her apparent youth, there was something that made him wary of her. "Where am I?" he demanded, careful not to get too close. "What is this place?"

The girl on the swing looked up, seeming to notice him for the first time. She cocked her head, regarding him curiously. "Who are you?"

His eyes narrowed. "Mithro."

"Who are you?" she repeated, as though she hadn't heard.

"I'm a warrior," he told her, fingers clenching. "My name is Mithro."

"Why are you a warrior?"

He frowned. "Because some things need protecting."

"What things?" she asked innocently, her green eyes blinking up at him.

"My family. The world."

"Do you fight for the world?" she wondered aloud. "Or against it? The world is a big place."

Sometimes it *felt* like he was fighting the world, but he didn't say so. "I fight for it, of course."

"Why?"

He frowned again, but the answer came before he could think about it. "Because it can't fight for itself."

"The world?"

"The people are killing it."

"So you kill them?"

"No!" Who was she, that she would ask a question like that? "The people are part of the world. You can't kill one without hurting the other."

The dark-haired girl smiled happily at that. "You are ready to move on."

He stiffened, alarmed. He knew what she meant by that; somehow, he had always known. "I can't! I haven't finished!"

"You have learned more than you knew before." She studied him with an intensity that was disconcerting, coming from such young eyes. "Is it that you aren't finished, or that you are scared?"

He was scared. "I don't want to lose what I am," he admitted, wondering how much she understood. She looked too young to have ever faced death herself.

"What is gained is never lost," she told him, squirming on the swing to rest one bare foot against the ground. She pushed against the sand, causing her swing to rock a little. "You only become more than what you were."

"But that means that what I am now is lost!"

She frowned at him. "You are not today what you were yesterday, but that doesn't bother you. Yesterday's you is gone, and today's you has taken his place. You become more every day."

"So I'll still be the same individual," he said doubtfully.

"No. But your individuality will go on." She pushed against the sand again, setting the swing in gentle motion. "As much as it can when 'people are a part of the world'."

That was a riddle his lover would enjoy, he thought with a small smile. The smile faded almost as soon as it came, and he asked quietly, "Let me say goodbye."

"Of course." She let go of her swing with one hand to wave him off, and the warmth of the tent sprang up all around him.

His best friend didn't stir, and he swallowed hard. He twisted in the blankets to regard his lover's face, feeling tears well up in his eyes as he did so. The other had slept so little recently, all energies going into nursing Mithro back to health. It was as though the one couldn't survive without the other...

His head snapped up, and anger flared to life within him as an eerily familiar memory overlaid everything else. This wasn't the first time this had happened... He wasn't a "new" soul, being tested for the first time--he *knew* that girl!

*Kes!* he shouted, not wanting to leave his lover's side but unable to let this go without a fight. *Kes, show yourself!*

The white fog flitted across his eyes again, and the playground faded back into view. The girl was sitting cross-legged in the sand this time, and she didn't open her eyes as he appeared. "You wanted something?"

He strode over to her, memories flooding into him with every step. He was sure he wasn't supposed to remember until after she released him, but something had triggered this and he wasn't going to ignore it. "When was I last tested?" he demanded, and her head came up.

Her eyes were blue this time, and he could swear she was staring at him now, instead of through him. "Pollux?" she asked, sounding slightly surprised.

He shook his head once. "Castor."

She blinked. "I thought you must be one of them." She turned her head a little, and somehow he saw the tent through her eyes. "Together again, I see."

He refused to look, knowing the tears would come again if he did. "Please," he said quietly. "Take him now, while he sleeps."

She looked back up at him, her gaze unblinking. "You know I can't, Castor."

"And you know he'll die without me!" He sank to the ground in front of her, not looking away from her eyes no matter how the cobalt fire burned his own. "Please," he whispered, swallowing hard. "Don't let him wake alone."

The night crept in at the edges of his vision, threatening his entire world with indigo light, and still he didn't look away. Finally, as though from a great distance, he heard her say, "You will not be able to watch while he is tested."

He couldn't speak, but he felt his lips move anyway. *I'll wait.*

Deep blue flashed brilliant white, and he was surrounded by fog again. With no breath and no heartbeat, he had no way of marking time, but he endured. He had done it before, and he suspected he would do it again. Going on alone was no option.

2. Pegasi

He died.

Silvery mist swept his thoughts away, dancing through his senses and setting them loose on currents of time. He exulted in the ride, tendrils of energy wrapping around him and streaming away faster than he could follow. Everything swirled rainbow white and lightning sharp as he tumbled into infinity.

All too soon, a presence reached through the luminescent web and beckoned him closer, turning the world abruptly corporeal again. He found himself running, arms spread out to the side as he spun and stumbled in the sudden gravity, sprawling full length in the grass. He laughed up at the cobalt sky, comfortable once more in his original form.

"Who are you?" a voice inquired, and he turned his head to see a little girl staring curiously down at him.

"Kes!" He thrust his left hand into the air, thumb and forefinger almost touching. "I was this close! I almost had him, and you killed me with a stinger! A jelly stinger! That thing wasn't even in the fight until I backed into it!"

"Who are you?" the girl repeated. Blonde wisps of hair drifted down her back, far too long for someone as young as she looked. Her eyes sparkled violet beneath pixie bangs.

He chuckled, still caught up in the memory. "Of all the ridiculous ways to die... Top of the food chain, legendary squid brought down by a stupid stinger. I'm going to meet that thing again someday and it's going to laugh."

The girl let out an impatient breath, blowing her bangs up away from her face. "There are only so many ways to kill an immortal, you know. He was very insistent this time, and you only survived him by a day."

"I'm surprised you let him bully you," he said impudently. "What happened to making sure I learned something?"

"You are impossible to test," she informed him. "Tell me who you are before I send you back."

"I'm a giant squid with a vendetta, a faithful slave, and a stinger allergy," he smirked. "My lesson was that the capability for sentience doesn't necessarily correspond to an ability to reason, even though reason is only objective by comparison, and so on, and so forth. I also learned that some people don't do the 'master' thing very well, so next time could you make me the slave?"

"He didn't complain," she told him.

"Not to you!"

She chose to ignore that. "He's waiting again. Do you want your three questions or not?"

He grinned up at her. "Depends--are you going to answer them?"

"I always answer," she said primly. "You just don't always listen."

He laughed, arching his back and whipping himself up out of the grass. It was nice to be "young" again. "All right," he declared, giving her a saucy look. "What happens next?"

She folded her arms. "You can't ask questions you already know the answer to."

"I don't know that!" he exclaimed.

"They usually start with 'why'," she informed him, as though he hadn't spoken. "Or 'how'. Two more questions."

"I already know why," he pointed out. "Because it's fun. And I don't care how, so I say you get all the boring questions. I'd rather know why you're always a girl."

"Because you never have been," she replied cryptically. "Last question."

He rolled his eyes, his interest in the wordplay waning. "Where's Castor?" he wanted to know. "It's his turn to choose--"

A flicker of yellow darted out from underneath a nearby shadow, and he caught his breath. He had grown up dreaming of Pegasus, and here one came flitting through the sunbeams like an overgrown butterfly. The universe might be boundlessly mutable, but its mercurial nature seemed to make the smallest things more wondrous rather than less.

He closed his eyes, and moments later he felt something feather soft brush against his cheek. They didn't like to be chased, but they would come of their own accord if you wanted them enough. He couldn't quite resist the urge to reach out, and to his surprise the little creature let his fingers stroke its silky fur.

"It's not laughing," he heard Kes say quietly.

He opened his eyes, and silver glow met calm amethyst. "Excuse me?"

"That's the stinger," she said, tilting her head toward him.

He went very still. The pegasus lit on his shoulder when he became motionless, and its little wings settled briefly as it nuzzled his ear. Delight welled up in him, spilling over into his smile, and he saw the expression reflected back at him.

"You asked what happens next," she murmured, as a breath of movement signaled the creature's restlessness. "And I said that you already know.

"You do," she continued. "You go on. And you don't... because if you did, you might not." The pegasus' reflection danced in her eyes as it fluttered away. "Think of all the things you'd miss."

He felt the web reaching out to him, stretching and shimmering into the distance, farther than he could see or travel even on equine wings. Somewhere, the other half of his soul waited... and with it, the splendor of a universe he would never fully comprehend. The day he did was the day he had nothing more to live for.

He couldn't resist grinning at Kes as he lifted his arms above his head. "I thought you were supposed to let me learn these things on my own!"

"Learning isn't the point," she told him, and for a moment she sounded almost fond. "You are."

The ethereal mist engulfed him and he was swept away.

3. Signify

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

The blue-haired girl doodled along the margin of her playbook, head cocked as though listening to something else entirely. In fact she was, but Kali knew she could hear what was being said even over the sound of music organizing itself in her mind. Her ability to do the two things simultaneously drove her parents to distraction.

"I believe that our existence doesn't end with death," Amareigh answered at last. She expanded her sketch, though whether she was correcting or adding to the music only she could hear was a mystery.

Kali blew her bangs up off of her forehead with an amused sigh. "Why can't you ever just answer yes or no?" she demanded.

"Because yes or no doesn't answer the question," her friend replied promptly. "And how do I know that what you mean by 'reincarnation' is what I mean? We could be talking about totally different things."

"Okay," Kali agreed, frowning a little. "Then what are you talking about?"

Amareigh shrugged, sapphire wisps of hair curling over her earpiece as she studied her stylus intently. "You're the one using the word. What are you talking about?"

She sighed again, but it was a fair enough question. Amareigh never bent her sometimes eccentric thought processes to a task without making her partner work at least as hard as she was. Her offbeat wisdom didn't come cheaply, but it did come.

"I'm talking about living again," Kali said at last. "Me--the person I am now--being reborn into a different body and leading a different life somewhere in the future. With the people I loved before, in this life."

"Won't happen." Her friend dismissed the notion without even looking up.

A little hurt, Kali could only stare at her. "What do you mean it won't happen? Don't you want us to be together again--after we die?"

"Love." Bright eyes caught hers through the curtain of hair, and Amareigh's gaze was as intent as it had ever been when she was staring at her playbook. "I'll always be a part of you. If you're sure of nothing else, you can be sure of that, because it's the truest thing I know."

The musician's mouth was on hers before she knew what was happening, and she gave herself up to the kiss eagerly. New and dizzy and exciting, there was still something just the slightest bit familiar about it. The feeling had been there even the first time, and the sense of comfort and recognition in something so spontaneous had prompted her question about living again.

"Do you feel that?" Amareigh whispered, letting the words breathe across her cheek as she drew back a little. "That's us; that's the more that transcends our thoughts and our bodies and even our lives. That's some fundamental part of us that just is, whether we're aware of it or not."

"But--" She turned her head a little, feeling the sky-colored strands brush against her lips. "If there's a fundamental piece of both of us that goes beyond the lives we're living now, then don't you believe that it will come back someday?"

"I believe that our existence continues after death," her friend reminded her. "Death isn't an end; it's just a change, like anything else. I believe that we continue," she added, forestalling Kali's objection. "I just don't believe that the people we are now continue.

"Who we are is so ephemeral," she murmured, glancing back at her playbook while Kali tried to think of the right thing to say. "I'm not the same person I was before I met you, and I won't be the same person after you're gone. But I'll find you again, or you'll find me, and we'll have another one of these silly conversations when we could be kissing or writing music. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

"No," Kali protested. "Why do we have to find each other at all? Why can't we just stay together forever?"

"Because things change, love." Amareigh had switched her stylus to her other hand in order to keep her face close to Kali's while she drew. "What seems good to you now won't seem so good to who you are tomorrow, and we'll have to adapt."

"You're all I want," Kali insisted stubbornly. "You'll always seem good to me."

"I know," her friend answered with an odd smile. "You'll always be good to me too. But not always in the same way. Not for either of us. We'll love again, but Amareigh and Kali don't exist outside of these days we have right now. Nothing we have or do lasts forever."

Kali wondered what the dreamy heart that Amareigh was drawing in her playbook sounded like. "How can you always be a part of me if nothing lasts forever?" she asked crossly. This was obviously not going to be one of their more enlightening conversations.

"Nothing that we do," her friend corrected. "What we are is always true, no matter how much we change or who we become. I think it's funny how some people try to become immortal doing something that they think other people will remember. The only way to live forever is to become yourself, because that's the only thing that lasts."

She seemed to contradict herself with every other sentence. Kali had long ago decided that words just didn't have the scope to show what her friend--recently her lover--was trying to express. Whether that implied preternatural intelligence or a total lack of rationality... well, some days she leaned more toward one than the other.

"So you think we last even though we become different people?" Even now Kali didn't know whether she was trying to catch her out or looking for reassurance that her answers were more thought out than they seemed. Maybe both.

Amareigh tilted her head again, stylus frozen as she listened to the silent melody translate from book to ear. "That's why we go on," she remarked absently. "If we didn't change, we'd stop existing--don't you see? You can't exist as the same person for more than an instant, or time would freeze."

She didn't seem to notice the bemused look Kali was giving her, but she smiled when her friend pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "If you say so," Kali murmured, brushing the blue curls back with two fingers. "I'll try to become myself quickly so I can stay with you forever."

Amareigh gave her a secretive smile. "I bet you said that last time, too."

She couldn't help laughing at the coy look on her friend's face. "Do you kiss as well as you confuse?" she teased, moving even closer.

The other girl tugged her earpiece free and hung it gently over Kali's ear. "Listen and find out," she suggested. The playbook reverted to the beginning, and just as the music began Kali found herself on the receiving end of a very real, completely non-mystical kiss.

4. Diversify

"It isn't fair!"

Violet wisps of hair drifted skyward as she let out her breath in an amused sigh. Without opening her eyes, she remarked, "Hello, Castor."

"That wasn't my time, Kes! I hadn't done anything, seen anything, learned anything!"

"Hadn't met anyone?" she suggested, still staring at the stars against the backdrop of her eyelids. "Someone in particular?"

"We weren't supposed to be split up!"

"According to who?" she wondered aloud. "You only meet so many people in a lifetime. And the two of you do tend toward exclusivity when you're together."

"I was living for him, Kes. I dreamt about finding the one person that would give my life meaning. I was waiting for it!"

She opened her eyes at last, meeting his angry gaze with a steady look of her own. "And that's why you were split up."

He just gaped at her.

Finally, when it became clear that he had no answer for that, she asked the ritual question. "Who are you?"

"I'm incomplete," he shot back. "Half of a whole, looking for a purpose in my life."

She closed her eyes again, watching the galaxies wheel through the darkness. "Who are you?"

"I'm Castor, Kes. You know that. I want to see my twin!"

A lovely barred spiral blundered straight into an elliptical, their centers fighting it out while their stars tugged each other this way and that. Both shapes twisted and churned, a single collision setting off a nuclear chain reaction that brightened like a winking supernova in the midst of the madness. "Who are you?" she repeated.

This time he was the one to sigh. "I'm a kid with a dream, only I don't know exactly what it is. So I drift from one thing to another, throwing everything I have into whatever I do it until I realize it's not what I wanted either and move on."

They were starting to disentangle themselves now, shapes distorted and courses radically altered by the interaction. New stars were already forming in the gravitational ripples of their wake. "What did that teach you?"

"That... the learning was in the looking," he said slowly, reluctantly. "Not the waiting."

She lifted her gaze to his and saw him blink in surprise. "Did you learn something, then?"

His admission was grudging, to say the least. "Maybe there are some things he can't teach me."

"But?" she prompted.

"But I won't let go of him unless I have to. But I can survive on my own. But I don't know what I have unless I know what it's like to not have it; I don't know. Take your pick."

She only looked at him, and he sighed again. "But..."

He clearly cast about, a wistful smile catching his lips when his thoughts drifted farther away than she could follow. "But maybe what I wanted was already inside me, a part of me forever whether I could feel it or not."

"You have learned more than you knew before," she said softly, and his attention snapped back to her.

"Now?" In that one word she could hear how much he dreaded her answer.

"No." She smiled when his eyes lit up. "You can wait."

The light spilled out of his eyes and accentuated his increasingly transparent form. He seemed on the verge of vanishing altogether when out of nowhere his voice asked, "Kes?"

She cocked her head, projecting an air of inquiry louder than any "spoken" word.

"Why do we have to be separate beings?"

She couldn't help laughing. "What makes you think you are?" she demanded, delighted by such a quaint notion.

The light shot a distinctly exasperated feeling in her direction. "He gets three questions. I deserve at least one!"

Her amusement faded into something warmer. "Yes, but I like him."

"Kes."

"Which sees more," she offered, "the river or the stream?"

"The river." He said it warily, as though the answer was so obvious that he thought he must have misunderstood the question.

"Which sees more," she repeated. "A single droplet in an immense river, or a single drop in a tiny stream?"

He hesitated audibly. "The river goes farther," he said at last. "Faster, wider... it covers more ground."

"And a water droplet in the middle of the river? What does it see?"

"Water," he said slowly.

"What does the droplet in the middle of the stream see?"

"The... banks of the stream?"

"And the streambed," she agreed. "And the surface, and the obstacles in its path, the eddies from one side to another... the future, and a little bit of the past. More of the present. Much more, compared to the droplet in the river."

There was a moment of silence. She briefly entertained the idea that he was considering her words, but then he remarked, "There are only two of us, Kes."

She opened her mouth before she recognized the twinkle of teasing in his tone. She blew her bangs out of her eyes with an affectionate sigh. "Go away, Castor."

5. Justify

A treehouse. She would live in a treehouse. He couldn't decide how he felt about that. On the one hand, it was an easy glide for a disembodied mind, down through the branches and among the airy lights of the reservation. On the other, he wasn't good with forests and any landmarks that existed were indistinguishable to his eyes.

Luckily, he didn't depend on physical direction. The person he was seeking was just ahead, and, he thought, a little below his current path. He drifted quietly down, alighting on the balcony and making himself as visible as he could manage from such a distance. It was easier with the shadows of dusk muting the already dim glow beneath the canopy.

"Psst," he whispered through the open window. He knew she was inside. "Kit'scheni. You awake?" He paused, listening to the silence. "Here, kit-kit-kit..."

A flurry of motion made the window darken, and a sudden presence took his breath away. "Who?" She recognized him immediately, and he tried not to let his relief show. If she had raised the alarm, things could have gotten very interesting.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "How did you get past the net? Why did you... why are you glowing? What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you," he said boldly. "What are you doing here?"

She stared at him in shock. "I live here," she managed at last. "And why me? Did I do something wrong? Have you come to take me away?"

"Do you want to be taken away?" he countered, holding his form steady with an effort. She hadn't meant it like that. She was as scared as the rest of her people, knowing there would come a day when the reservation's marginal protection would fail them completely.

It was only one of the reasons that he had to offer. He would take her away if she wanted, but not the way they would. He would take her as an equal, not a sub-person.

"I'll fight it with my last breath," she said defiantly. "This is my home, not yours, and if you think for one moment that you have any ability to change that then I'll be more than happy to prove you wrong."

Oh, he really liked her. He liked her a lot. "I'm not here to take you away," he said, when she stopped long enough for him to get a word in. "I told you, I just came to see you. I was worried."

She seemed mystified by that. "About what?" she asked at last.

"You. This isn't exactly the safest little corner of the universe you're living in," he reminded her. "I wanted to see how you are when you're not surrounded by twenty or thirty armed guards."

"Why?" she repeated. "Why me? Do you need to come in? And why are you glowing, again?"

"No thanks," he said easily. "I can keep a better watch out here. And I'd rather not be caught off guard if they drop the net without warning."

"How did you get past it in the first place?" she wanted to know. "How many times do I have to ask what you're doing here before you answer?"

"I'm not," he answered, admiring her rapid-fire style of questioning. "Not here at all, actually, but the net could still catch me if they drop it while I'm corporeal like this."

"Corporeal?" she repeated. She was giving him a blank look, whiskers twitched back in startled confusion. Her tufted ears were flat against her head.

He reached out to stroke her fur on a whim, and to his own surprise, she let him. "Corporeal," he agreed quietly. "Like this."

"But--" She gave his fingers an almost cross-eyed look, careful not to move her head. "Why wouldn't you be? If you're not here, where are you?"

She didn't forget, either. "Sleeping," he told her, letting his hand fall. "About three galaxies away. Here I'm just--" He let his hand pass right through the windowsill. "Just a projection, really."

Now she was really staring, wide eyes and stiff posture that screamed defense! Still she didn't move, making no attempt to back away, let alone sound the alarm. "What are you?" she breathed.

"You knew I was an alien," he reminded her. "Why so surprised now?"

"Knowing you're an alien is one thing," she snapped. "Knowing you're a crazy alien is something else."

"Oh, are you worried about me?" He played it up, but secretly he was delighted. "I'm touched!"

"In the head," she muttered. "You're lucky I didn't sound the alarm when I heard someone speaking Trade at the window."

"So teach me your language." He leaned forward, concentrating just enough to appear as though he was bracing his arm against the windowsill while he peered inside. "Next time I won't have to whisper."

"Next time?" she hissed. He couldn't tell whether she was amused or outraged. "I can't! You must know I'd be exiled for sharing the language!"

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he inquired. The space behind her was annoyingly dim, making it difficult for him to see much of her dwelling. "Write a book?"

"How do I know what you'd do with it?" She made no move to block his view, though he was willing to bet that she didn't know much about their relative physiological abilities. Her people were awfully isolated here. "You could be a Na'i'da spy for all I know!"

Whatever that was. He'd have to learn something about this planet before the coronation. A token meeting of delegates, especially under guard and in the company of sworn enemies, had taught him exactly nothing. Except that the reservations had defenses he didn't want to trifle with, and Kit'scheni was an outspoken rabble rouser who had caught his attention with her unwillingness to submit. To anything.

"Teach me by rote," he suggested. "Don't tell me what the words mean. Just give me a phrase that will get your attention without triggering the 'net or die' reaction."

The speculative gleam in her eyes told him that she was about to make a fool of him. Somewhat to his surprise, he realized he didn't care. So when she spat out two phrases in her native tongue he listened idly and repeated them back to her verbatim. "Iths'chi'na. Eneth, schen ik'la."

His accent could have been better, he mused.

Her wide, toothy grin did not entirely hide the evidence of her surprise. "You mimic well," she remarked, wariness barely buried underneath her obvious entertainment.

He drew back a little, mindful of what might now seem a visual intrusion as well as an auditory one. "I probably should have warned you," he offered. "I remember everything. Don't teach me anything that could get you into trouble."

"Now you say this," she scoffed, but she actually seemed to relax some at his words. "I should teach you nothing!"

"But you won't," he countered. Any more than he would stay at home sleeping when there was even a single place in the universe he had yet to see. It wasn't a challenge that he saw in her. It was a kindred spirit.

"Are you so certain?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said easily. "The status quo is boring, Kit'scheni. You'll teach me because it will make something happen, and you like to see things happen. I know because that's why I'm here. I like to see things happen too."

"I do not court disaster," she snapped.

He brightened. "Would you let disaster court you?" he teased. "If he was particularly smooth about it?"

She stared at him stonily.

He looked down at the windowsill, poking it carefully with a steady finger. "I'd prefer they be good things, too," he told the sill. "The things we make happen--I'd rather they were good. But you don't get good things without risking the bad. I've made some bad things happen... I like to think I've made up for them with the good things."

"No bad decision can be erased," she reminded him.

"And no good one can be undone. Even by doing nothing, we make a decision. It's just a matter of whether we take responsibility for it or not."

She didn't answer right away. It was dark enough now that he was casting shadows, and he allowed his form to fade a little so that he might be less conspicuous. Was that even possible? How many people were out tonight, how many would wander through this part of the forest, and how many would look up--or down?

"Eneth is the homeland," she said at last. "The closest equivalent to 'schen' is 'life'. Or perhaps hope, nourishment... that which sustains."

He briefly compared the two sounds to every native word he had heard her utter. "Is that anything like the 'scheni' in your name?" he wondered.

There was a pause. "It is," she conceded, her tone somewhere between annoyed and grudgingly impressed. "Scheni. One who lives the true life, or the real life."

He tried not to roll his eyes. "You made me say something religious, didn't you."

She made a scratchy sound which, after a moment, he decided to interpret as laughter. "Heathen."

She didn't sound fanatically upset about it, he noted. "Come on, tell me," he prodded. "What did I say?"

She yielded unexpectedly, and he could still hear the undertone of mirth in her voice. "'I renounce my alien ways and accept the homeland as the one true source of life.'"

He gave that statement due consideration. "I like it in your language better," he decided.

The scratchy sound came again, and he smiled to himself. He could get used to that. "So how do I say, 'wake up and come to the window'?"

She didn't answer right away. He doubted he had offended her, but he had gotten to the point where the thought that he might have was a little bit troubling. When her answer finally came, it reassured him.

"I do have a door, you know."

6. Epilogue

He saw a flashlight flicker on outside the tent, outlining a menacing shadow on the colored fabric. "Rrrrr," a childish voice whispered, mimicking the quietest monster in the world.

The boy giggled, lunging for the tent flap and tumbling out into the still night air. Someone leapt on him as he hit the grass, blonde hair shining in the flashlight glow and bright blue eyes alight with laughter. "The monster will get you!" Zhane hissed, making grabby motions with his fingers.

Andros shoved him away, stifling an indignant screech so as not to wake the adults and get them in trouble for roughhousing. "Not if he gets you first!" he whispered, going for his friend's flashlight. Zhane wrapped his other hand around it and they tugged the single light back and forth, giggling together as the stars sparkled overhead.