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tribe. Striding easily along the pool, he was soon face to face with Miacis.
    She was seated in her most regal pose—head held high, her great tail in a question mark, orange pouches slowly pulsating.
    “My, my, it’s rusty Duster hisself,” she said. “The human from the hordes. You owe me one, Duster, ever since I let you use my pool. It belongs to me, and you owe me.”
    Ever since my Master made the pool, Miacis thought. But what’s that to rusty Duster?
    Thinking of Justice made her uneasy. When would the Master return? she wondered. Where had she gone?
    Miacis didn’t know why she bothered with this simpleton Duster. Maybe she was just lonely. Yet she was drawn to him; she could not help herself.
    Duster couldn’t think to tone. His encounter with Miacis at the pool was a series of images. He was many Dusters. She was many Miacises.
    “Know you and be knowing you,” Duster toned dreamily.
    Miacis read his mind. “Duster, what do you know?” she said, and her tone of voice came clearly to him.
    “Be remembering,” he toned.
    “Well, if and when you find out something, do let me in on it, will you, friend? I get that I was some place before this, my home. So was you, because I knew you the moment I first saw you. Can’t figure that one. Wish I could. Oooh, wish this aching tummy would go away!”
    “Be trying thinking deep and just not feel so good either,” toned Duster.
    Pet me! she telepathed.
    “Touching, be feeling better, yes,” Duster toned.
    “So pet me. I’ll admit it settles my stomach, too.”
    Duster petted her head and smoothed his hand along her back fur. Sitting beside him, she was taller than he. She rested her chin on top of his head and he reached with both arms to pet her.
    Her eyes closed. A series of moves took place between them. Miacis slapped at his arm with one of her mitt-sized paws. She had retracted her dangerous dewclaws so as not to poison or stun him. Duster batted at the paw. His eyes, too, fluttered closed; and he might have been sunbathing there, with his head held upward toward the murk above.
    Paw batted hand and hand batted paw. In a surprise move Duster grabbed her ears and yanked them. Miacis whined, trying to pull free. They rolled over, punching and hitting with hands and paws. She bared razor-sharp incisor teeth and clamped them on Duster’s shoulder. She did no damage. He dared put his head in her mouth. She caught his neck in her paws as if to bite his head off. The weight of her knocked him over.
    They frolicked. Miacis rose on her hind legs. Duster crawled down her back, grabbing one of her feet, then the other, to make her fall.
    She fell on all fours and galloped away with him clinging to her. Siv raced after them. His leader was clinging to the beast on his stomach, facing the wrong way!
    On the run, Siv turned and signaled Glass to throw him the deep-daggen. And, racing, he caught it neatly. He overtook Miacis, but he couldn’t outrun her.
    She sensed the weapon glinting in Siv’s hand, veered out of harm’s way and turned back. Duster had his legs wrapped around her neck and held on to her tail for dear life.
    They came back in a trot, with the ever watchful Siv bringing up the rear. Duster slid to the ground. Miacis paced before him and the standing Siv; she was panting with the exertion.
    “My, my!” she sighed, catching her breath, and flopped down beside Duster.
    “Be feeling better,” Duster toned. “Sickening be like nothing.”
    Miacis moaned in reply. They were still while their breathing settled back to normal.
    Lazily, he signaled the smooth-keep to take her place beside the leggens. He next toned to the leggens, and Siv handed the deep-daggen still in his palm to Glass. She put it away in her pack. Then she and Siv took up positions at Duster’s left and right sides.
    All this while Justice, her brothers and Dorian, from their vantage of invisibility, watched the scene at the pool as they would a curious sort of show.
    Abruptly