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voice. “Thomas is doing his best, and we shouldn’t tease him.”
    “Oh, pooh.” Tabitha Scala waved off that sentiment with one long-fingered, be-ringed hand.
    “I thought Richard was coming.”
    “Of course he is,” Tabitha said. “Why else would I be here? But Thomas said Richard warned he might be late, so we’re stuck with Tubby Tom, at least for a bit.” She was dressed in her usual costume of long, flowing caftan and open-toed canvas sandals, with a colourful headscarf tied at her nape and streaming down her back. Multitudinous beaded necklaces twined around her slender neck and dozens of narrow silver bracelets clinked and tinkled on her thin wrists.
    Thomas knocked sharply on the rostrum’s wooden surface. “All right, everyone. If you could please take a seat, we’ll get going.”
    It was a sparse crowd, and three times as many chairs had been set out as were needed. It would have been better, June mused, to have put out too few chairs and bring in more only if necessary.
    RiverForce Environmental Group consisted mostly of undergrads in the Natural Resource program and a few concerned residents such as Tabitha. June had joined a couple of years ago, and it hadn’t taken her long to see that the group suffered from good intentions without a strong guiding focus. The main goal—if the group had such a thing—was to alert residents to the signs of poaching, and to let them know what to do if they discovered such evidence. Most of the members’ time was spent at various trade shows and exhibitions, manning information booths.
    All that was changing now.
    Thomas requested volunteers to make a motion and to second the agenda. Two hands were lackadaisically raised, and he noted the names. Tabitha whispered caustic comments in June’s ear as he reviewed the minutes from the last meeting. People shifted on their chairs restlessly.
    The door flung open, and Richard Fleetham marched into the room.
    “Oh, goody,” sighed Tabitha.
    “Hello, everyone! Sorry I’m late.” Richard walked briskly down the centre aisle and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Where are we?”
    Everyone sat up straighter. The entire room seemed to fill with fresh air and crackling energy.
    A new instructor at the university, Richard Fleetham had become faculty advisor to RiverForce, and was breathing new life into its well-meaning corpse. It wasn’t only his vigorous speech that enlivened the group. Everything about him seemed coiled and ready. He was constantly moving—snapping his fingers, tapping his feet. Even his thick black hair, tightly curled and springy, seemed infused with vitality. He often scrubbed his fingers through it as though combing ideas and thoughts out of his brain. Bushy eyebrows grew forcefully above snapping green eyes, and he sported a luxuriant beard he kept ruthlessly trimmed into a smart goatee.
    “We were beginning to discuss the government’s new hunting regulations.” Thomas stepped deferentially away from the podium.
    “Excellent, excellent.” Richard clapped his hands together delightedly.
    He had a way of using just the right tone and words to inspire his listeners. And while he preached strongly against poaching and other, more controversial issues, he never appeared militant or fanatical. He was always willing to hear the other side of the story, and usually found a way to diffuse any contentious situation. He’d only moved to the community a few months ago, yet was recognized often on the street due to his appearances on local media. RiverForce had received more publicity since Richard had come along than in all the years before.
    “Thanks very much for handling things until I could get here.” Richard patted Thomas again and the younger man preened. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll carry on.”
    With Richard at the helm, the meeting zapped along. Even dry government red tape had redeeming points of interest when he was presenting it. Tabitha actually paid attention and made