“Don’t worry about it,” Leo said. “Happy to help.”

Scree stopped and rubbed Leo’s nose one last time.

He watched the two Orin depart together, hand in hand. Leo thought about Skits with her claw resting on Nine’s leg. Someone for everyone in the universe.

“They make a nice couple,” Boo said, taking a seat next to Leo, having finally sloughed off the last of his furry tormenters. Leo wasn’t sure if he meant the robots or the Orin. Probably both. The little ones who had been tormenting Boo now grabbed blankets and dragged their mats to be closer to the fire, though one of them veered off course and settled next to the Queleti instead, nestling her head on Boo’s leg.

“I really thought they’d be more afraid of you,” Leo said. He remembered the first time he’d seen the Queleti. He’d trembled in his boots.

“They don’t know any better,” Boo said. “Somebody has to teach you to fear another being. It’s not something you’re born with.”

Leo guessed that was true. He could remember disliking the Djarik long before he lost his mother, even though he’d never seen one in person. Even though a Djarik had never taken a thing from him at that point, he still feared them. It seemed instinctual, but deep down he knew it wasn’t. He knew it was a matter of taking sides, and Leo had always been told which side he was on. Sometimes the things you’re taught turn out not to be true at all. Even then it’s still hard to unlearn them.

The little Orin shifted her head, sighed contentedly. Boo reached down and stroked the fur behind her ears.

“You’re right,” Leo admitted. “It’s not so bad here. Minus the lightning, of course. And the dust. And the tremors. The worm wasn’t terrible, at least. A little breading, a little barbecue sauce. You could get used to it, I guess.”

“I don’t eat meat,” Boo reminded him. “But I agree. It’s not bad at all.”

They sat like that for a while, he and Boo, watching the other children whisper to each other over the snap of the wood in the fireplace, watching the older Orin carefully mend his blanket, watching the sky turn dark. And the longer they sat, the more Leo’s heart hurt from remembering a life he’d lived before.

Suddenly a low rumble rippled through the house, enough to cause the stone jars on the shelves to tremble. The little Orin who had drifted to sleep with her head on Boo’s leg bolted upright.

“Another quake?” Leo asked.

“I don’t think so.”

Boo stood up and strode to the door, Leo right behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the elder huddling the young ones together. One of them was making a soft mewling sound. “It’s all right,” Leo said, putting up his hands. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll check it out.”

Leo emerged into the village’s only street, where he was instantly blinded by a bright light beaming down on them.