A noise. Tow’s eyes surveyed his surroundings. Perhaps a twig stepped on in the trees ahead. He stayed where he was—not moving—and waited. Movement came off from the side. A brown, fur-covered animal stood between two trees. The AI transmitted the genome of the creature to Tow: a Whitetail deer. He watched as it approached, coming for water. At ten paces out, the deer stopped and raised its head, and they made eye contact. The deer seemed to assess its options: venture on or run to safety. Come on… I won’t hurt you. As the deer took a hesitant step forward, Tow had a realization—this was his first actual contact moment on planet Earth. His cynical side wanted to say, so what? His better self acknowledged the gift and gave thanks. The deer moved to the edge of the brook and lowered its head to drink. Apparently, a glowing white, six-foot-tall Pashier didn’t register as something it needed to be afraid of. Slowly, Tow raised a hand. From ten feet away, he mentally reached out and petted the animal’s fur. The deer’s two ears twitched in unison as it stared back at Tow. It lowered its head back into the brook, and Tow gently scratched the animal’s neck—right behind the ears—and smiled. The first time he’d actually smiled in many, many, days.
He waited for the animal to finish drinking and scamper off before moving forward, where bright sunlight filtered in through the trees. At the tree line he stopped. Lowering down to his haunches, Tow studied one of the agricultural habitats he’d flown over the night before. A farm, they called it here, that wasn’t so different from the ancient structures known to exist back on Mahli, many hundreds of years ago.
Close by was a split-rail fence. Gray in color, it looked old—bowed in places from the passage of time and extreme temperatures.
Tow weighed his options, wanting to see more—but cognizant of the potential dangers. It was all so fascinating. Here was a sister world that hadn’t been ravaged by ill-intentioned enemies. It was like stepping back in time—back into a world the Pashier hadn’t known for generations.
Keeping low, Tow moved along the fence line. Stepping through a grassy, golden-colored meadow, which reached high above his knees, he approached a tall structure as gray and bowed as the fence surrounding it. Ragged openings pierced the roof. A wide door had been pulled open and Tow peered into the darkened space. There was a strong smell of excrement—not overly unpleasant—and the aroma of dried grasses—hay. Once he dared venture within he realized he was not alone. A loud snort froze Tow right where he stood, as two pointed ears bobbed up and down over a tall wooden wall. His query to the AI told him he’d found a creature called a horse. Tow came around the stall to its opening and took in the giant, four-legged black beast. He then learned that horses were herbivores, so there would be no attempt to eat him. Fascinating.
New sounds, off in the distance, dragged his attention away from the horse and the barn. Savages!
Tow discovered another door, narrower, at the opposite end of the barn and it too was open. From beyond it, the savages’ voices emanated. He looked back the way he’d come—well aware he’d already pushed the boundaries of what was safe—what was prudent. He decided to quickly peek out to see what, or who, was out there before heading back.
Tow veered away from the wide rectangular band of sunlight, streaming in from the outside, and approached the door’s opening along the back wall. He peered, with one eye, around the corner, noting another structure. He guessed it was some kind of domicile. Smaller than the barn, and lower to the ground, it too was made of timber, just like the barn. Rickety—it looked like it could be pushed over in a strong breeze. Tow’s eyes widened when he saw them together—two of Earth’s savages conversing. Strange looking, they also wore odd-shaped garments.
Then another four-legged creature strode into view. Tow was instantly informed it was called a dog. He tilted his head and listened, trying to understand the primitive speech spoken by both savages. It took several minutes to construct a working vocabulary database to draw from. Apparently, theirs was a familial relationship—a mother and son.
Tow’s breath caught in his chest as the searing pain in his leg returned. A new series of spasms produced unintentional gasps and the dog’s ears perked up. The dog was staring directly at him.
Chapter 3
“Cuddy… stop squirming around. These are sharp,” she scolded, holding the scissors in front of his face. “I nearly trimmed off the tip of your ear.”
“Sorry, Momma.”
Repositioning herself, she looked him over—from one side of his head to the other. “Well… it’s not even all around this time.”
“That’s okay, Momma.”
“Got to cut the bangs, so stay put in that chair!”
As Momma hurried off, Cuddy heard the screen door squeal open, then, just as quickly, slam shut against the door jam. He looked at Rufus, lying outside in the dirt, and smiled. Making a kissing noise with his lips, he tried to get the dog’s attention. But Rufus seemed more interested in something out in the barn. Cuddy wanted to play with the dog. He hated getting his hair trimmed. Looking down on the porch decking, he noted the accumulation of loose hair lying by his feet.
The screen door opened again before slamming back shut. When Momma placed a heavy bowl over his head, he smiled. He kinda liked this part. Sort of like wearing a football helmet, though he wasn’t allowed to play football. Not with his injury.
“Don’t move! Not even one little bit… okay, Cuddy?”
Cuddy nodded, rocking the bowl atop his head up and down, smiling with mischief. Momma rolled her eyes at his little prank, just like the last time… and the time before that.
He stared through the thin strands of hair—now pressed flat over his eyes—as Momma started to snip, beginning at his left ear then scissoring across to the front. He watched the strands fall away as she scissored over toward his right ear.
“Are you done, Momma?”
“No. Doing the back now.”
He felt the pressure of her hand atop the bowl—and the snip snip snip of the scissors behind his head. Then, removing the bowl from his head, her hand brushed some loose hair from his shoulders.
“Good for another month! Go play. Stay close… lunch soon.”
“Okay, Momma.” Cuddy scurried to his feet and jumped off the wood-planked porch. Startled, Rufus yipped. With his tail tucked low between his legs, he scooted away. Cuddy, grabbing him, tackled the eighty-five-pound yellow lab and flipped him over onto his back. The wiggling dog twisted his head back, attempting to lick Cuddy’s face.
Momma stood in the cool shadows—obscured behind the grimy mesh of the screen door. She watched the boy play with his idiot dog. A bittersweet scene. Her chest swelled—nary another morsel of love would find any room in her already overfilled heart. It wouldn’t be possible. A part of her felt guilty, as well as unfathomably lucky; fortunate that her boy would never leave her. Boy! She inwardly scoffed at what that word implied. Cuddy was nineteen years old, six foot three, and near ’bouts two hundred pounds. But he would always be seven—have a young child’s mind in a grown man’s body.