Home Sweet Home

By Minna S. Lunney

Chapter Three
Under Siege

"Tower of Omens calling Cats Lair," Lynx-O spoke as his hands flew over the Braille board with remarkable precision.

"Lion-O here," the young Lord responded as a visual feed appeared onscreen at the Tower for Pumyra’s, Snarfer’s, and Ben Gali’s benefit. He was not alone in the Lair’s control room; the remaining ThunderCats stood by vigilantly. "Have you finished your queries?"

"Affirmative."

"Please report, then."

"Our results indicate that the kittens did not travel west of your location." A map of Cats Lair and the surrounding area appeared on both view-screens. A red line extended from the center of the base, then swept out a smallish arc along its rear-left perimeter. "According to our combined knowledge, their possible routes can only fit along this area."

"Thank you, Lynx-O. We’ll worry about it from here. In the meantime, keep an eye out for them, just in case."

"Will do, Lion-O. Tower of Omens out."

The visual screen at Cats Lair faded to black. "Pull up that map again, if you will," Tygra requested, standing from his chair. Lion-O complied. "Now, increase the radius of that arc. I want to see if my reasoning is correct."

"All right." It was done.

"Just as I suspected," the tiger mused. "Assuming that the liberties we’ve taken haven’t confounded things any further, any of those trajectories would eventually place them right over the ocean."

"But that’s hours from here," Cheetara objected. "Do you really think they would have gone that far?"

"If they were determined enough, it’s possible," Panthro responded with a scowl. "But what really bothers me is that our sensors recorded storm activity in approximately that area last night."

"Was it severe?" questioned Lion-O.

"Thunder and lightning, strong winds... the works. Would’ve made a mess of that ocean in no time. And it’s a safe bet that visibility suffered too."

Snarf purred nervously. "What if it brought them down? Would there have been any place out there for them to take shelter?"

Tygra shook his head somberly, plunking back down in his seat. "It’s a large ocean, and remarkably short on islands."

Incredulous, the young leader centered the view of the map over the aquatic section. However, the architect knew what he was talking about; the nearest island to the shore was a good three hundred miles away, and so small that it was hardly worth its place on the chart. "ThunderCats... we may have to face a worst-case scenario."

The cheetah wrung her hands, paling visibly. "All this time I’ve sensed something ominous, but I didn’t want to lose hope. Oh, they just can’t be gone!"

Lion-O realized that he might have spoken prematurely. "No one said anything about abandoning hope, Cheetara. We’ll resume the search immediately, and for as long as we deem appropriate. That is, until we locate their— until the Sword shows us otherwise," he quickly amended. "Panthro, take the—"

"Hailing Cats Lair. Demanding immediate response."

To their astonishment, the viewscreen took on a life of its own, activating and displaying a regal, unusual character with an eerily familiar voice, who stared ahead with a detached and almost disgusted expression. He sat alone in a high-backed chair in the midst of what appeared to be a conference room.

The curious astonishment of his comrades having silenced them, the young leader delegated the reply unto himself, standing firmly before the monitor. "You’ve reached Cats Lair, stranger. Lion-O, Lord of the ThunderCats speaking. And who might you be?"

"I am Forn, Executive of the Third Earth island nation Latcris."

"Latcris? Never heard of it," mulled the panther after he had found his tongue.

"Neither have I," seconded Cheetara. "What’s going on here?"

"During our sojourn on Third Earth, we have mapped virtually all of the planet’s surface," addressed Tygra more diplomatically. "Yet we have never encountered your island or your kind before."

"Not surprising."

"Would you care to explain?" Lion-O grew slightly wary of the stranger’s arrogant nature.

"Oh, I suppose further communication between us requires some form of clarification." Forn drew a silent breath. "Long ago, after this planet made its second dramatic change, all its inhabitants digressed to a simplistic level of existence. Compared to the zenith of advanced Second Earth civilization, it was an utter, deplorable disgrace. Only the ingenious innovations of our ancestors, who at that time were spread across the continents, remained. They refused to abandon the culture and technology that had brought such pleasure and simplicity to their lives. They pleaded with fellow Third Earthlings to help them reintroduce civilization across the face of the planet once more. However, each tribe in turn— the Bulkins, Wollos, and Tabbots, to name a few— rejected their plea. Our ancestors had no choice but to pool their own resources, and thus began the great migration to the previously uninhabited island they christened Latcris.

"The settlers realized that their technical superiority made them incompatible with the rest of Third Earth. Additionally, Latcris and her nearby archipelago were self-sustaining landmasses, and could produce between them more than enough food and raw materials to sustain their people, who numbered into the millions even back then. Therefore our ancestors saw no benefit in trade relations with the other peoples of the planet, nor even in alliances, as we have never been an aggressive race. All this, combined with the constant threat of the dark powers that be, drove their most important decision: complete isolation.

"The finest engineers of the day were contracted to design a permeable dome of interference that could effectively shield Latcris and the smaller islands from detection. They did their job well— so well, in fact, that the entire nation is completely indiscernible from the surrounding ocean. Our ancestors alienated themselves from the rest of the planet, much to everyone’s benefit, and that is how we remain to this day."

The ThunderCat leader pondered the speaker’s words for a few moments. "But why? Why go to such extremes to hide yourself from the world?"

"The decisions of my ancestors are not subject to your bothersome curiosity," the Executive snapped irritably. "I have not broken our long-honored precedent of zero contact with the outside to suffer through your lack of understanding."

"Then what do you want?"

"For the first time in several centuries, outsiders have happened upon the shores of Latcris. Our border patrols, which have dutifully guarded our boundaries since our establishment as an independent civilization, discovered them early yesterday morning. They have been identified as your children, Wilykat and Wilykit."

Relief swept through the control room as the five ThunderCats temporarily forgot their guest in the revelation of his good news, exchanging grateful glances. "Thank Jaga!" exclaimed Snarf, rising onto the tip of his tail. "They’re safe!"

"For the most part, strange creature, they are."

Panthro was immediately on the offensive. "What do you mean, ‘for the most part?’ Are they all right or aren’t they?"

Forn demurred slightly. "They arrived exhibiting symptoms of extreme exposure to cold. The boy has recovered splendidly, thanks largely in part to our superior curative methods. Sadly, the girl was dead on arrival. Her body is presently in our morgue."

From his point of vantage in Barim, he witnessed the looks upon the faces in the monitor darken visibly. The female among them buried her face in her hands, and the tall striped warrior stood from his seat to place a comforting arm across her shoulders. The ThunderCat Lord probed his temples with the fingers of his left hand, muttering something under his breath. When next he spoke, his voice suddenly sounded much wearier. "How is Wilykat handling the news?"

"Not to worry, he suffers no mental strain. We have told him that she has been transferred to one of the subsidiary islands for special medical attention."

"What?" Lion-O was incredulous and dismayed. "But... why such a false hope? He has a right to the truth!"

"Heartless brute! That would devastate the lad and you know it!"

"You dare presume to know what’s best for him?" The intimidating gray warrior jumped to his feet for emphasis.

"Do you?"

"We’re his family!" The young leader was outraged.

"I was led to believe that his only biological ties to your group were to his sister."

"If you care for someone enough, you can be a family to him despite those circumstances," Tygra asserted as calmly as he was able, now holding Cheetara in a half-embrace. "Surely someone of your sophistication understands that!"

"Of course I do. That is why I have determined that, since the child is now within our custody, he shall stay in Latcris permanently and be integrated into our family."

A stunned silence fell upon the Cats Lair control room as the adult ThunderCats struggled for words to articulate their burning, appalled hatred for the Latcrisian, whose self-righteousness irked them to degrees once thought impossible to withstand without violent retaliation. "How dare you!" the cheetah finally cried, removing her hands from her face to ball them into trembling fists.

"How dare you!" Forn would give no ground. "You’ve made conditions so unbearable for the children that twice they felt compelled to run from you, one of them dying in her effort, and you act as though I am in the wrong? What they have endured in your custody is simply unthinkable to one of my kind, who adores and nurtures his children, and does not force them to live under tyranny, or partake wantonly in hazardous military exercises. It is my opinion that you ThunderCats set for both Wilykat and his sister a very irresponsible example." His nose wrinkled slightly. "And I don’t know exactly what these snarfs are that you’ve exposed them to, but they sound dangerous."

"Dangerous? Me?!" The caretaker scampered up to the monitor until he was beside Lion-O, and began shaking his fist at the Executive. "Snarf snarf, you wouldn’t know ‘dangerous’ if it crawled up and—"

"Your accusations are preposterous and unfounded," his ward wisely silenced him. "We’ve never wittingly maltreated Kat or Kit. And as for the fighting, that’s part of their duty as ThunderCats. We all strive to maintain peace on Third Earth—"

"‘What, drawn, and talk of peace?’" the Latcrisian mocked him. "Such is simply not possible, my dear Benvolio." He shifted slightly in his chair, drawing satisfaction from his communicants’ bafflement. "Quite frankly, I cannot understand why this discussion persists. I truly believe that I am doing all of you a favor. You can go about your fighting as you please, without a single liability to stand in your way. Besides, Latcris has so much more to offer the boy! A supportive environment, a decent education, anything he’ll ever want for the rest of his life. Under my custodianship, Wilykat will be given every opportunity for success and a meaningful existence in the most glorious civilization Third Earth has ever known. If the lot of you would put aside your selfishness, you’d see for yourselves that I and my family would be better caretakers to him than you could ever hope to be."

"What will it matter if he thrives in a society that pretends it doesn’t exist?" blurted Panthro.

Tygra strode a few feet forward, his speech slow and level. "We may not be perfect. No one is. Yet, in spite of whatever shortcomings we may have, you have no authority to make such a decision. We are his people— the sole survivors of a lost race. If you are as benevolent as you claim, then surely you cannot in good conscience separate Wilykat from us. Have you even informed him of your plans? What is his reaction?"

Forn was rendered speechless for a few telling moments. "My decision is not in dispute. It stands. I am afraid there’s little you can do about it, but I thought you would have liked to know that both your children are in a better place. Farewell, ThunderCats."

"Wait!" cried Lion-O. "I demand to speak to Wilykat right now."

"I’m afraid that is impossible. He is sleeping." His tone implied that he was not about to have the boy awakened, either.

"In the morning, then. Have him contact us."

"There shall be no further communication between your Lair and my Ministry."

Panthro checked a nasty expletive that nearly jumped from his tongue. "We won’t stand for this, Forn. The second we locate your island, we’ll fly over and retrieve both of the kittens— and if you try to retaliate, we’ll make you remember why your ancestors chose to be isolationists!"

"I refuse to listen to petty threats of violence." He began to stand from his chair.

"Hold up," Lion-O pleaded. "You can’t break off contact entirely."

"And why not?"

"You’ve got to give us all time to... adjust," explained the architect, holding out a halting hand toward his young Lord as though to say, Just go along with it for now. "The transition for Wilykat will be a lot less traumatic if he knows he can at least speak to us every now and then."

"In my humble opinion, any form of contact with you barbarians would be traumatic for the lad," grumbled the Latcrisian. "Then again, he might truly suffer some separation anxiety... very well. I shall keep communications between our respective headquarters open— for now."

An instant later, the monitor went dead.

***

Wilykat sat at the edge of the bed, fastening the belt of his proper uniform around his waist. Small shafts of daylight streamed onto his body from slits in the blinds that draped over a nearby window. But for them, there was no light in the spacious guestroom that Forn had so graciously afforded the boy once he had escorted him to his living quarters housed within the Ministry. The decor was exceedingly neutral, almost sterile for want of a personal touch from a full-time occupant. The walls and plush carpet were of a creamy color, while everything else, from the bed to the chest-of-drawers to the closet and bathroom doors, was white. He recalled stories of Thunderian insane asylums, told to him long ago by other youths during gossip sessions filled with excited whispers and hyperbole. Were it not for the smooth walls and stucco ceiling, this room would have fit a cell’s description nicely.

He slipped on his boots, now a little tight from their sound soaking, then straightened out the coverings on his bed. He had not felt sleepy the entire night, only a little overwhelmed... and homesick. Had Forn been serious? How was Kit doing? And where in Third Earth were the other ThunderCats? He worried if some extreme emergency back home prevented them from coming to Latcris. And his insecurities were not content to stop there.

What if they don’t want you back, Wilykat?

Thus he was content simply to kick off the bothersome black slippers and lie on top of the bed for the remainder of the night, allowing his thoughts to gnaw at his psyche.

His gaze eventually drifted to the mirror affixed to the wall atop the chest-of-drawers. He stared hard at this other twin, pale and uncertain, and chalked up the unfavorable countenance to a trick of the glass. What would it be like to have to look at that face for another month... another year... another few years? Wilykat shivered involuntarily for the third time since his arrival in Barim, then averted his eyes, gathering the rumpled clothing he had worn the day before and tossing it into the travel case previously inhabited by his ThunderCat uniform. He made for the door leading out of the room; his hand had barely grazed the handle when he became aware of a strange tapping sound.

The kitten paused, pricking his sharp ears. But, just like most mysterious noises, it disappeared the moment he began paying serious attention. Undaunted, he waited patiently for it to return. There it was again— it came from the window. A single small tap: not too loud to raise serious concern, but just loud enough to attract a solitary person in a quiet, barren chamber. And, from experience with secret coding to his sister, he was pretty sure he knew its source. Someone was throwing pebbles at the pane of glass.

His first thought was to run over and lift the blinds, but he halted. It could not be Wilykit; the rocks were being hurled haphazardly, with no apparent pattern. Besides, she would not have had any idea which window was his; and if she was well again and half as eager to see him as he was to see her, she would have chosen a more direct approach, like barreling through the Ministry until she located his room. If not Kit, then who wanted him to approach the window? Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. He strode over and peeked through one of the narrow slats in the blinds. What he witnessed below was as outrageous as anything he had ever seen.

They were spread out across the plane of the town square in row after disorderly row. Suitcases, strange equipment, unfurled bedrolls, makeshift tents— all of a myriad of colors, and hundreds of even more colorful Latcrisians mingling among the mess. Some jabbered together excitedly, clouds of vapor from their mouths betraying the chilly morning temperature. Others slowly made their way and back from a person vending warm beverages, trying with painstaking care not to step on those still asleep on the ground, or, worse yet, spill their steaming drinks upon them. Still others ignored the hullabaloo, alone in their concentration with strange instruments clenched firmly in their hands. They seemed to stare back at him intently, with all the patience in the world. A few seconds later another small rock flew up at the window, and Wilykat could not help but blink and jerk backward as it rebounded harmlessly off the glass. Now he could see the person responsible: a wiry little fellow, with several wiry cohorts to help him scour the ground in search of more projectiles. The kitten could not understand. What were these fools trying to do? He adjusted the blinds ever so slightly, widening the slats a little more.

He noticed another man with what looked like binoculars pressed against his eyes. The man twisted a setting here and there, then all at once a triumphant cry leapt from his throat. He threw down the instrument and reached for another, aiming it along the same line of sight. Moments later, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the object in his hands.

A camera...?

The little camp below erupted into a mob scene as its inhabitants scrambled for their own photographic equipment, trampling the supine persons they had so fastidiously avoided just minutes before. Thousands of bright flashes pervaded Wilykat’s vision as he slammed the blinds completely shut. He still did not understand; they had not been very wide in the first place. Blinking and stunned, he backed away from the window as though it were a gate to hell. It couldn’t have been me they were waiting on. Those pebbles were meant for someone else’s window. A few just hit mine by mistake. No way they could have seen me... Why? Why why why?

He bolted from the room.

The young ThunderCat now stood in an open foyer. Four other bedrooms and three adjoining bathrooms were on this top floor. Forn was blessed with very extensive accommodations in the Ministry. The spiral staircase just ahead of the kitten led down to two other floors with many more rooms, none of which he had had the chance to explore as of yet. Eventually a scent wafted up to his nostrils where none had been previously: food. Good food, at that. Hunger won over trepidation, and he took off down the stairs.

A familiar voice in a friendly tone shouted down to him between floors. "The kitchen is up here, lad!"

How had Forn known? Wilykat headed back up. Somehow he had expected the kitchen to be on the ground floor, like it was at Cats Lair. His caretaker was waiting for him on the landing. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning." He slapped a hand upon the boy’s back as he led him down the hallway. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you."

The Executive grinned, never second-guessing the lie. What impeccable manners this child has, he marveled. I wonder where and how he could have learned them? "You’re more than welcome, son. Now it’s time you had something to eat. I cannot stay for breakfast, as there are some important political matters that need my attention, but I will gladly introduce you to my family."

Somehow, Wilykat had forgotten that Forn would have a family to go with such a large domicile. His nervousness returned in waves. How would they react to him? "Do they know I’m here?"

"They know now. They are most eager to welcome you."

It sure did not appear that way as they entered the expansive kitchen. A tall, lovely woman tended to a multitude of pots and pans, all filled with tantalizing foods that sizzled and boiled; she pushed aside a lock of wavy orange hair now and then as she worked. Seated at a nearby table, set neatly for five, were two boys— one athletic, the other younger and fat— and a willowy girl. The boys’ attention was drawn to the wall to their left, which was actually a huge viewing-screen. They were taken by the images projected upon the flat monitor— some sort of program was on — their identical limey-yellow eyes transfixed and mouths agape, as though being hypnotized. The girl, obviously the eldest of them, paid no heed to the blaring screen, preening herself instead in a handheld mirror.

"Children, turn that off for a moment," Forn announced over the din. "It’s time you all met Wilykat."

It was done, and the silence that ensued made the ThunderCat wish that the viewing-screen was still on. The boys stared at him blankly, the girl eyed him with keen interest, and the woman smiled; but it was one of those very empty, misunderstanding smiles that offers no comfort to the one for which it is meant, and only serves to further disconcert. He shifted his eyes to the floor as the patriarch squeezed his tensed shoulder reassuringly. "In front of you is my wife, Merra. Over there is my elder son Cale, my younger son Tybus, and my daughter Satuu," he introduced, proceeding from left to right.

"Welcome to our home, Wilykat," the woman gushed in a dulcet tone, abandoning the cooking food to embrace the boy, whose arms hung limply at his sides. "I hope you’re hungry— though living here, you’ll probably never be again," she joked feebly.

"Culinary pursuits are Merra’s hobby," Forn explained. "So much so that she will not let me hire anyone to cook for us. But she is very good at what she does."

"Are you sure you will not have something before you go?" she addressed her husband. "You’re bound for another long day, to be sure."

"I shall be fine. Give my helping to the lad here," he answered, patting his new ward affectionately upon the back. "I best be going. Goodbye, children!"

"Goodbye, Father."

He pecked Merra on the cheek, smiled once more at the kitten, then turned on his heel and left. Kat stared after him a moment or two, until the woman’s hand alighted on his shoulder. "Have a seat with the others," she invited, pushing him toward the table. "Breakfast should be ready very soon."

He sat down directly across from the others, aware of their scrutinizing glances, and chanced a small, quiet hello.

"Hey," Cale replied affably. "Where are you from?"

"Thundera... but I live in a different part of Third Earth."

"Not anymore. You live with us now," Tybus stated matter-of-factly, turning the viewscreen back on and regarding Wilykat with a cold look before gluing his eyes to the program.

"Never mind him. He’s a brat and he knows it," the elder boy continued, straining to be heard as his brother raised the volume to an intolerable level in retaliation.

"Tybus! Turn that down!" his mother cried.

"How old are you?" Cale asked as the order was grudgingly carried out.

"Almost thirteen."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I’m about the same age as you, then. Satuu’s fourteen, and Tybus is eight."

At the mention of her name, the girl set down her mirror permanently to regard Wilykat. She had a face much like her mother’s: thin and sharp, with the large slanting eyes of her father, except hers were a deep green. Coupled with the indigenous pointed ears of the Latcrisian race, she looked more elfish than anyone else in her family did. The knowing, cryptic smile she gave the young ThunderCat disturbed him.

"Do you like it here in Latcris?"

Why is everyone so blasted concerned about that? "It’s fine," he answered the boy his age as patiently as possible. "But I’m really starting to miss home."

"Once you’ve had a chance to experience things here, you won’t give your home a second thought," Cale assured him with a grin.

"Besides, you can’t go back—"

"Shut up, Tybus!"

Now it was Satuu to the rescue. Still, enough had been spilt into the open. Wilykat shot a shocked, questioning look the siblings’ way. "I know your father thinks I belong here. Is he making that official?" He stared deep into the blank eyes of the middle child, the one to whom he thought he could best relate. "If my people were to come here, would I be allowed to return with them?"

"Breakfast is ready!" Merra’s voice flowed cheerily as she began transferring food to the table in large decorative bowls and platters. "I do not know how much of this you’re familiar with, Wilykat. Try some of everything; I promise you it’s all very good."

The mother’s assistance allowed Cale to dismiss his guest easily, and the kitten had no choice but to relent. He allowed the woman to place very generous amounts of the different concoctions upon his plate, and waited as the others helped themselves. Then, as they began to eat, he hesitatingly lifted his fork and joined them. Everything was very pleasing to the taste, but his fretful thoughts so distracted him that he found little satisfaction in the meal, and shoveled it down as though it might have been something revolting. He drew himself into as tight a posture as possible, shoulders hunched, with his eyes consistently downward. The program blared to his left; the family looked to him from time to time, and yet he would not glance up for a moment. After a while the nervous discomfort melted along with his hunger as his mind drifted here and there... so disillusioned was he that when he clattered his fork upon the empty plate and turned his gaze upwards, he expected Snarf— not Merra— to ask him if he wanted seconds. "No... thank you."

"I do!" young Tybus shouted, fairly ramming his plate under his mother’s nose.

"Patience, son!" Nevertheless, she obediently loaded it for him.

"Will my sister come to live here too?"

Wilykat blurted the question with a suddenness that surprised the woman more than it should have. "Oh... why, of course. Once she’s recovered," replied Merra distractedly.

"But I thought—"

"Never mind what you thought!" Satuu cut in sharply, elbowing Tybus in the ribs.

Cale laughed a little through his full mouth, and when he spoke he sounded strangely apprehensive. "That’s right, we both have sisters. I’d sure like to meet yours."

"What about everyone else?" continued the Thunderian. "Will I be able to—"

"Goodness! It’s time for the news!" Merra exclaimed. "Set the screen to the news channel, Tybus. Then the three of you had better prepare for school."

The three Latcrisian children stood, leaving everything on the table. "I’ll take you to the park when I get back, if you want," the middle child addressed his guest.

"All right."

They left the room as the news program came on. Another Latcrisian sitting at a desk began ranting away about new, motley developments. Wilykat stood from the table as well, picking up his plate and glass to take to the sink. "Oh, no! You don’t need to do that!" the woman halted him, taking the items from his hands and setting them in the ceramic basin herself.

It was a reflex action, and one that he thought conveyed good manners. "I— I always do," he objected, flustered.

She stared at him blankly for a moment. He could not decide if she was studying him or trying to concentrate on the newscaster’s words. "Well, it will be taken care of for now on. Everything will be taken care of," she finally spoke, turning to gather the remaining dishes. The kitten made a gesture as to assist her, but she brushed him off once more.

Awkwardly, he stood to one side, his hands clasped behind his back. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, nothing at all. Just make yourself comfortable. This is your home now, after all," she replied with a warm smile. It faded when she noticed the strained expression on his face. "It’s not so unpleasant around here, really. This is one of the finest living quarters you can find in Latcris. You could go swimming here if you want, or read some books. We have an extensive library, you know. Can you read, lad?" —he nodded— "That’s lovely. And don’t worry, we’ll soon enroll you in school as well. The administration says that they shall pay for your entire education. As far as you’d like to go." Her grin was sunnier than ever as she began to run water over the dishes she had transferred to the sink.

"Pay... does schooling cost a lot?" The contents of his stomach seemed to churn as the finality of his situation became more and more apparent.

"Oh yes. At least twenty years’ savings, and that’s just for the mediocre schools. But you shall attend our finest institutions with no thought of a debt or bill."

His eyes widened. "But what have I done to deserve it?"

"You needn’t worry yourself over that," she replied a few moments later in a just-be-grateful tone, adding a cleaning agent to the porcelain swamp murky with leftovers and grease.

They were silent thereafter. Merra sloshed the dishes about, cleansing them to mirror-shine perfection, while the young ThunderCat turned his attention to the news program she seemed to be ignoring. There was something about a fire, then a bad traffic accident, and then...

"Two young runaways from a distant continent, a male and female, were intercepted by Border Patrol Station Twelve yesterday." The bland speaker’s face suddenly lit up with the perverse excitement that came with broadcasting that which is completely unheard of. "Reliable sources inform us that the children were running away from their home for the second time when a storm inadvertently sent them in the direction of Latcris. The young boy, identified as Wilykat, is currently in the custody of Executive Forn, where he shall remain indefinitely. His sister, identified as Wilykit—"

A sudden crash diverted his shocked transfixion. He whirled about to see the shards of a former plate scattered around Merra’s feet. "Oh! How clumsy of me!" she cried, as loudly as though the boy had been standing in another room. "Please, would you fetch a dustpan and broom from the closet over there? Yes, that one. Be careful, dear... step around all that... there you go. Thank you."

He carefully swept the broken plate off the floor, just catching the announcer’s final words concerning him. "...remains sketchy, but more will soon follow."

"More?" he blurted, feeling exposed. "Why are they talking about us in the first place? What’s the big deal?" And why doesn’t she seem the least bit surprised? he wondered.

"People from other parts of Third Earth do not show up around here very often," she prattled smoothly, tousling his mane with a damp hand. "But there’s no need to worry. All that attention will dwindle very soon."




On to Chapter Four
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