Falise had only nodded, surrendered herself to the moment, trying to suck in every bit of the experience as Flute strolled effortlessly down a forest trail. Chimes sounded in all directions. And here, on the mountainside where the trees weren’t as tall, shafts of golden Capella light shone through breaks in the branches overhead. Scarlet fliers flushed from hiding places behind giant leaves to flutter off into the maze of vines and colorful plants. What Kylee called tree clingers could be seen up in the branches, alien, with three eyes, peering down at her before fleeing into the foliage.

The way Flute moved, he understood where the dangers were, making a hollow whistle with his vents when Kylee needed to step forward and use her long knife to slash a particularly noxious vine that blocked the trail.

But mostly Flute had the lead.

Falise caught more than one glimpse of odd creatures fleeing into the foliage, ducking into holes in the root mat, or shooting out of the quetzal’s path in a panic of flight.

She burped, placing a hand to her stomach. Her full stomach. Didn’t matter that Kylee had sent Flute out to find food. A quetzal? Oh, sure. How was that supposed to work? Falise had surrendered herself to the notion that her hunger would only get worse until they reached Tyson Station. Then Flute appeared out of the predawn gloom with some dead thing hanging from his mouth.

“Crest!” Kylee had cried, used a strike-a-light from her belt pouch to start a fire, and began cutting the creature up with her big knife.

Falise, aghast at the sight of the dead creature dropped so heedlessly onto the stone—let alone that it had been in Flute’s mouth—had sworn she’d not touch a bite. Until the smell of sizzling meat had overcome her revulsion. She’d justified the feast by telling herself it couldn’t have been worse than what came out of the hydroponics aboard Turalon.

And then Kylee had ordered her to ride Flute. That they’d make better time. Might even reach Tyson Station by nightfall if they had a little luck. This was better than dreams.

She watched in amazement, when what seemed to be a tumbled boulder by the side of the trail shape-shifted into a three-eyed beast that extended two suction cups on feelers and shot a long, needle-like spike out from its middle. The thing backed away, uttering moaning and clicking sounds.

“Did you see that! It looked like a rock! It was a rock! I’d swear.”

“Smell that odor?” Kylee called from behind.

“Yeah,” Falise answered. “Vinegar. And wow, strong.”

“That’s what we call a spike. Now, you catching on to just why I wanted you to ride Flute? You’d have walked right up to that thing, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Falise said wearily. “What would have happened?”