The door opened for him, and he stepped over the threshold. Everything’s so blank, he thought in dismay. The walls were tastefully colored, of course, in grays and reds and golds. The wooden floors in each room were dark polished hardwood, with simple furniture. Blank. Waiting for him to change it, to mold it into his own.

He didn’t have any idea what he wanted. Just…not this.

His arms were by his side. He lifted them slightly and wiggled his fingers. The muncs bounced about happily at the freedom he’d just bestowed and rushed around the bungalow to explore. There was an outbreak of happy squeaks and groans as they discovered their den, with its shelf beds, next to his bedroom. They liked that.

Dellian stared down at the boxes they’d abandoned and the remote wagonette waiting patiently for his instruction, and scratched his head in perplexity. Now what?

“Hello?”

He turned to see Yirella framed by the open door, her head only just below the lintel. “Hey, you. Come in. Welcome to my home. Saints, that is so weird saying that!”

“I know.” She walked in, looking around, her expression of dismay as deep as his. “Nice,” she teased. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“I can pull up some old files on décor if you’d like. Our ancestors seemed to have a much greater imagination than us, especially when it came to artistic flare. It may give you some ideas.”

“Sounds good. Have you done that already? Looked, I mean?”

“Yeah. These homes all have a good fabricator. They can produce just about any effect you want, and the remotes will fit them for you. I’ve already been trying some stuff out.”

Dellian realized he hadn’t seen her in the line of yearmates walking into the crescent. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days. My bungalow is next door.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“It wasn’t chance.”

“Yeah? Who made that happen?”

“I did.”

“How did you manage that?”

“We’re the brains of the outfit, us girls, remember?”

“I thought this is an equal society?”

“No, Dellian, it isn’t. It is very far from that.”

His good humor faded at how serious she’d suddenly become. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We didn’t choose any of this. It’s not our fault.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. How about you? What did the doctor say?”

“Oh, that? The a-skin has peeled off. So I’m fine.”

“Dellian, you got attacked by a beast. That’s not fine.”

He grinned. “But I fought it and killed it. We won. That’s what matters.”