often better off if the entire place went up. Depending on the severity of the fire, it could take ages before the smoke and water damage was fixed; it was often quicker to just build a new house from the foundation. People assumed most of the damage was caused by the fire itself. They discounted what happened after firefighters spent half an hour spraying water into their living room at three hundred gallons per minute.
“Like I said,” Macropi continued, “I know I’m lucky. No one was hurt, thank God, and nothing irreplaceable was lost. But I feel so—it’s such a—”
“Violation.”
“Yes.”
“I know,” Lila said. “I had to learn, too. The weirdest thing for me was that over a year later, we still hadn’t replaced everything. You think you’ve got it all back and ten months later you want to make Christmas cookies and realize you don’t have a rolling pin. Or a toilet plunger. Those two things aren’t related, FYI. And what do you buy to fill a junk drawer? They make themselves, they’re practically organic. Which mug should you buy to store all the pens that don’t work? Where do you get an old clamshell to keep spare change and the odd safety pin?”
“That’s it,” Macropi said. “That’s exactly it.” She straightened; one moment she’d looked small and defeated, the next brisk and no-nonsense. “Thank you for listening, m’dear. I do feel better. I don’t want to talk to the cubs about it, their lives have been chaotic enough. And my Honey Bear would just worry about me.”
“Oh my God. Please tell me you just let slip Garsea’s embarrassing childhood nickname.”
“I deny everything. Now don’t you go teasing—”
“Ha! I have not yet begun to tease!” Lila was almost giddy; it was Christmas and her birthday rolled into one. “And I don’t care if you beat me to death with every wooden spoon in the house, I will make use of this incredible tidbit you’ve dropped. Is it too late to order her a vanity plate? H0NEYB5AR? D’you think that’s taken?”
“Oh, no-no-no-no-no. Don’t ask me. In fact, leave me out altogether,” she insisted. But she looked loads happier than she had five minutes ago. So that was all right.
“Tell you what, I’ve got a deal for you. You answer some questions for me and I’ll only use Honey Bear as a greeting for the next five years, and I’ll only buy five hundred ‘HONK 4 HONEY BEAR’ bumper stickers.”
“Oh dear God.”
“Yeah, I drive a hard bargain.”
“I heard you asking Oz if Shifters are religious.”
Lila blinked. “That came out of nowhere, but okay.”
“We’re like Stables in that regard. Some of us are, some aren’t. Some of us try to nurture our spiritual side and some don’t even think they have a spiritual side.”
“Okay.”
“There’s an ancient story among our kind,” Macropi went on, because now she wanted to talk about Shifter religion for some reason. “Like the Adam and Eve story. Here’s how it was told to me.”
* * *
Once there was a man born to loneliness. This man called himself Kama, and he had no memory of his family, of his village, of anything but his travels. His world was the road in front of him, and always he walked alone. If he met a man or woman or child on the world his road, they could not see him, though he dogged their footsteps and shouted and cried. And so he continued, always a solitary creature.
Soon he stopped eating, for what good was it to know the world if he was only ever alone? But even now he could not stop seeking, so he walked and his hunger grew, as did his thirst, because when he decided to stop eating, he stopped filling his waterskin. And his only comfort was the knowledge that he would soon lie down and be dead, and perhaps he could escape his loneliness in death. Death would see him and know him, surely.
And not long after, he came upon the widest river he had ever seen, so broad that he had to squint to see to the far bank. And on that far bank stood a woman, who beheld him and raised a hand in greeting. Her name was Rupa, though he did not yet know that.
The man was shocked. In all his long life, no other creature had acknowledged his existence. He waved back and, though terribly weak from hunger, began to wade into the river, only to see the woman wave back. As her