Something that Tip, despite shared TriNA, couldn’t comprehend.

“My fault, Tip,” she told the night. “I was expecting you to turn into someone you’ve never had to be.”

“I’m not your child! I’m done. Finished. You’re not giving me orders anymore.”

That declaration preceded his stalking over to his pack, slipping it on, and charging out into the night. “Gonna find myself on my own!” were the last words he’d hollered over his shoulder before vanishing into the forest.

Wind gusted out of the night, rustling the leaves, stirring the aquajade. The chime changed as the invertebrates began singing to the storm, or about the storm. One never really knew with invertebrates. Kylee suspected the little creatures were a lot more intelligent than humans had ever given them credit for.

She heard Flute shift, the quetzal rising, stretching, before crossing the room on mincing steps. Kylee made room so that Flute could look out at the night. As good as her augmented vision was, Flute’s was even better. The quetzal’s big head filled the window, his inhalation audible, only to be followed by the jet of air from his vents. It made a slight whistling tremolo, hence her name for him. To his lineage, he was known as Third Orange. Third was his birth rank, and orange referred to his willingness to bond with a human.

Thinking of Tip? Flute’s hide reflected in infrared as he formed the question.

“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “Missing him. Hope he’s okay. Thought I heard him call my name. But it’s probably my imagination.”

Time of rogue. The images formed on Flute’s collar as he expanded it.

Rogue, the period when young quetzals left their home territories, went scouting for new lands. A rite of passage.

“I guess. There are human cultures who made their young men go out. Tip said he was going to go find himself.” She scuffed the floor with her bare foot, arms still crossed defensively. “Guess I never knew how lost he was.”

Flute’s lateral eye turned her direction. He should kill and eat Chaco.

At the symbols running down Flute’s side, Kylee laughed. “Yeah, well, don’t let me rain on your chamois hunt, but you damned well know humans don’t kill and eat their fathers. We can’t synthesize someone else’s knowledge by digesting them. Our DNA doesn’t work like your TriNA. I’ve explained all of this before.”

Still trying to learn.

“Hey, we all are.” She slipped in beside Flute’s big head, peering out at the night. “Funny thing. I should really be missing him. Should be worried sick.”

Chaco and Madison are. They make different sounds and smells.