...an style="font-size: small; font-family: Times New Roman;">The man and his crowd were preoccupied with his ongoing healing. Khoreia stole the happy beargirl away, like sister leading drunk sister upstairs. Khoreia put her to bed, just as a distant rooster crowed the nearing morning.

Khoreia stood in the small window, not especially awed by another dawn paling over the smoky town. Her thoughts ticking, like that odd machine at the circus they show the crowds: she knew she wanted to keep the beargirl, but the how.

And then – dawn. Behind Khoreia, the snoring did change, deepened, very strangely, very suddenly. The bed creaking and popping, as it might if it were bearing a very large sleeper.