“Yes,” said the guinea pig. “You have felt it. I can tell. You have felt the Flow. Just briefly, I expect.”

“I want to go there,” said Neptune.

“What makes you think it’s a place?” asked the guinea pig. A slight smile began to appear under its lopsided whiskers.

“I don’t know,” admitted Neptune. “But I do. Tell me what to do.”

“You may come closer,” said the guinea pig. “Open my cage.”

Neptune didn’t quite trust himself to do this. What if he just forgot himself and . . . ? He had the feeling that eating such a wise creature might mean he was never again able to experience the Flow, whatever it actually was.

“Come on,” said the guinea pig. “I won’t bite.”

Neptune did as he was told.

The guinea pig shuffled out through the cage door and sniffed the air.

“Of course,” it said, “I can leave whenever I like. But I enjoy living with these people. The little girl is called Molly. She grooms me nicely. But we all know that the best way to be groomed is by another mammal. With teeth. Will you groom me?”

Neptune gulped. He could smell the guinea pig’s blood. He could almost taste its warm flesh. It would be tender and . . .

He remembered what it had been like in the Flow.

His legs worked again. He stood up and walked closer to the guinea pig. The guinea pig closed its eyes. Could Neptune really do this . . . ? He tentatively licked the guinea pig’s head. The fur was softer than he’d thought. He rasped through it once again with his sandpapery pink tongue. The guinea pig let out a little sigh.

By the time Neptune had finished, the guinea pig had a miniature Mohawk and was comfortably damp all over. Neptune had defleaed the guinea pig as well, and removed a few stubborn tangles from the fur at the base of its spine, an area guinea pigs find almost impossible to groom themselves.

“Thank you,” said the guinea pig. “You will feel the Flow again soon. And you will find what you seek. But you must not give up searching when things get difficult.”

“I won’t,” said Neptune.

“Good,” said the guinea pig. “You must now look for the cat they call Malvasia. She doesn’t live far from here. You will need to hurry. I can feel that things are changing in the ether. You may be the only two left.”

“Thank you,” said Neptune.

“Thank you,” said the guinea pig. “That’s by far the best grooming I’ve had for a long time.”

“Thank you for showing me the Flow,” said Neptune.

“You found it all by yourself,” said the guinea pig. “Now go. Speak to Malvasia.”

“Thank you,” said Neptune again as he jumped down off the table. “I hope we meet again.”

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