naturalist,â Gale said to Annela.
âYouâre keeping him, I take it.â
âHim and the bushbaby, unless you need the thing.â
âPlease, take the chattering monkey before Bettona quits her post.â Her tone was sober. âYouâre making a mistake.â
âIt wonât be the last.â
âYou canât know that.
âNobody can,â she said, giving in to a sudden urge to wrap her arms around her cousin, to squeeze the heated, cushy mass of her and breathe in that odd spicy scent she wore, a gingery perfume that made Gale think of home. âWhy donât you pack in the politics and come with us? Forget about factions and dead Convenors and sail with Nightjar . Taste the electric molluscs?â
âChange what I am?â
âShould be easy enough.â
âThe boyâs rightâyouâre terrible overt when youâre sermonizing.â
âAll part of my charm,â she said, and then the galago was scampering along the rail, waving a stinking date and hopping into her arms, feather-light, its pulse a rattata under its short grey fur, and she kissed her cousin one last time and let the beast pull on her hair as she went astern to join her first mate and, together, find their way home.
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Copyright © 2016 by A. M. Dellamonica
Art copyright © 2016 by Richard Anderson