Excerpt:

John's Point of View

I tuck Ark in myself before heading home. Once out the door, I stop and look around. Something doesn't look right.

Oh. Yeah. It's me. The glow at my feet casts shadows that all slant away from me. This is worse than the reverse shadows I have to deal with every year around the winter solstice. At least those come from beneath.

Not from me.

I whistle as I walk away from Mom's and Dad's house to try and feel normal. I make sure to swing my arms as I walk. And I spend a good twenty steps convincing myself the wheelbarrow propped against one wall is, in fact, an inanimate object before it comes fully into sight.

I'm at the second corner when I think I see something behind me and spin around. Nothing.

It's the light. It's making me jumpy. The sun's gone down and the moon hasn't risen yet; twilight's not a good time anyway, but I'm used to that light. The blue light I'm not.

I can't help but spin again when I think I see movement, though. Still nothing. No one in sight. The doors of all the Human houses are closed, their shades drawn.

“Get a grip, John,” I say out loud. “You're imagining things.”

But I can't convince myself I am. But the next time I think I see something move, I don't spin immediately. Instead, I make my footsteps as soft as possible. This street only has one place to hide on it: the pillar sticking out from between two houses, where there's a major water line going through. Like fire hydrants back home, it can be used to hook fire hoses too, but it's generally used for more common things like sprinklers. In the winter, it's one of several turned on to make the layer of ice the streets are covered with, once they've done the proper preperations so those funny little creatures can go underneath. I got to help go over it all with sandpaper one year.

I walk past the pillar, five steps, ten, fifteen, then turn. I KNOW I saw something.

What I saw is either around the corner, far too far back to see, behind that pillar, or a product of my imagination. And it's time to find out what. Because if it's behind that pillar, it can't go anywhere without me seeing it- and if it wants to kill me, I can defend myself.

I feel my arms to check the knives in my wrist sheathes are there as I approach the pillar. I stay a good three steps away- out of reach of any Human and most other races I've seen- as I carefully circle around it.

There's nothing at eye level, but I hear a distinct squeak, and as I blink at the base of it I jump back a foot. “Oh! You're...” Uh. “I'm sorry, I don't know your species name.” But if Fate ever sees you, she will swoop you up and hug you to her chest and not let you go. Same for Derora, probably. I'd bet anything on it.

“Me? Oh. I'm, uh, I'm sorry, JohnClarenceKing. I was just, uh-”

“Relax,” I say. “Where I come from, it generally doesn't mean anything good if someone follows me secretly.”

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It won't happen again!” His voice is squeaky, but I know he's male. He covers his eyes with his floppy ears. “If you want to leave now without me seeing, you can go ahead. I was very very rude. I'm-”

“I told you to relax,” I say. It must be because I'm the prophet. I go down on my knees so I can see him better. “But... what are you? I know I don't know your species.”

“Me?” He uncovers his eyes. “I'm a Tanuki. And I just wanted to, uh-”

“I'm going to be incredibly rude, but could you stand up? I've never met a Tanuki before,” I say. “I want to be able to recognize and greet your people properly in the future.”

His snout opens a bit, and he sneezes in surprise. “Uh- sure. I guess that's okay.”

He stands up, and I see him in full. He's got a black stripe over his eyes, or I think it's black. His ears are long and floppy like a beagle's, with his body sturdy. He walks on all fours, though he can clearly use his front paws like hands. His tail is thin and curls naturally over his back, though he whips it around and twists it. Most of his fur is brown, I think, patterned dark on his back but lighter and almost striped on his legs and paws and what I can see of his belly. His tail is the same, with a jaunty black flag on the end.

I thought, if I ever saw the species that was related to dogs, they'd be bigger and combined with something besides a raccoon.

“Do you have a name?” I ask him.

He nods furiously, his tail wagging like an eager puppy. “Me? I'm Kenneth. Kenneth the Tanuki. Ken to my friends. It is an honor to meet you, JohnClarenceKing.”

“Well, Ken, I'm John to my friends,” I say. “And I'm not used to being respected. Really, it's all right. What's your species, anyway? Earth-walking? Tunnel-living?”

“Tree-huggers,” he says.

I wrinkle my nose. “Please don't offer me any nuts,” I say. “I get enough of that from the Squiles.”

“Goodness me, no! I would never, not nuts! We far prefer fruits and berries.”

“You and me both, Ken.” I smile at him as his tail hangs low, wagging behind him uncertainly. “You're allowed to look at me, you know. There's nothing that says you can't.”

“We're not supposed to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “The Elders said it. You're not much older than me, they said, and a Human, and new here, and-”

I laugh. “Well, you're not the only one who will sneak around to get a look at me if you have to. I'd far prefer it if you didn't. If you want to get a look at me, or anyone you know does, just walk by. Or come talk to me. I don't bite.”

“Neither do I,” says Ken. “Though sometimes the Elves say I have the teeth for it,” he mutters, sounding bitter.

“What do Elves know?” I ask. And when Ken makes a chittering sound, I smile. “Better. Don't be afraid. I'm not that different than you are, really. Friends?”

“I- I'm not sure I have status to be friends with a prophet, JohnClarenceKing.”

“One nice thing about Humans you should know: we are friends with whoever we want. Whether it's allowed or not. That's gotten a lot of people in trouble over the years, but we don't care.” I wink. “And if I say I want you to be my friend, do you really think they're going to argue?”

He gives a little bouncing howl and his tail perks right up. “You may be right. Then let's be friends, JohnClarenceKing.”

“I told you,” I say. “To my friends, I'm John. Is touching taboo in your culture? Because we shake hands- or paws, in your case- when meeting someone in mine.”

He reaches out his paw, and I reach to take it, and the second we touch a jolt goes up my arm and down my spine like sticking my finger in a socket. I pull away.

But I still look at him, and him back at me. People who grow up here know what that jolt means. And I felt it once before. The first time Akamu and I touched, way back when I was ten years old.

That's the touch that means you're symbiotes. And are never alone again.

“Man, it's good we decided to be friends before that,” I say. And, even with his tail wagging beneath him uncertainly, he perks his ears a bit.