now.
“Bear. Here, boy.” He paused for a second, his head anxiously tilted, awaiting the onslaught of bad breath and obnoxious barking.
“Bear? Where are you?” Where ’ s the sunlight for that matter? Roger wondered as he turned his head toward an unusual smell on the other side of the room.
Something was wrong. And as the blurry edges of sleep cleared, he saw that he was in was a green room, and this disturbed him because there were no green rooms in his house.
It was while staring at the wall that he remembered everything. He let his weary arms collapse underneath him, causing him to sink back onto the bed and watch as the door opened and a little green man hobbled into the small apartment.
Roger slowly moved around until he was sitting on the side of the bed. He thought about the book and knew that he needed to ask Firturro a few things. There had been no pictures, images, or descriptions, nor did it mention whether he was in some kind of alternate dimension or on a separate planet altogether. The articles that did describe Obawok society were very basic and omitted anything not absolutely necessary.
He moved into the living room just as Firturro returned from the kitchen with two cups full of hot brown liquid.
“Here, drink this. It ’ ll help you wake up,” Firturro said, smiling.
“What is it?”
“Coffee,” he said, holding the cup out to the unsure Roger. “Go on, take it. I wouldn ’ t give you something we normally eat or drink.” He laughed. Firturro ’ s laugh had a warm, hardy presence to
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Kristi Brooks
it, and for a moment it looked like a wonderful array of colors had embraced Firturro ’ s dwarfish body.
Roger rubbed his hand across his eyes and wrapped his tired hands around the large, oddly designed cup. When he looked up, he sighed with relief that the rainbow glaze was gone.
“What are you drinkin ’ ?” Roger asked, studying Firturro ’ s cup.
Firturro smiled. “It ’ s a lot like your coffee, only it ’ s brewed using special dirt that ’ s collected from the surface. We call it Kalika.”
“Oh,” Roger said, unconsciously scrunching his face into a look of disgust.
Each of them drank their morning brews in comfortable silence. It was so quiet Roger could intermittently hear shuffling footsteps and muffled voices as others passed through the hall. Firturro ’ s violet eyes seemed even more welcoming than they had before. On earth the same eye color would seem too glitzy, but the bright colors didn ’ t seem extravagant on these creatures. Dark green skin, maroon and silver hair, violet eyes; this odd assortment actually made the colors harmonious.
“Will you be able to answer my questions now?” Roger asked.
Firturro ’ s eyes shone in the dimness, and it felt like there were cold fingers moving things around in Roger ’ s brain. The chill spread through his whole body until Roger found himself clutching at his arms.
“Some of them,” Firturro finally answered.
“But not all?”
“No, some things are for you to discover on your own. It ’ s an important tradition of the Mezoglike. We take tradition very seriously here, and sometimes it ’ s the most important detail.”
“Whose tradition?” Roger asked, gripping the coffee cup even tighter.
“The council ’ s. They reinforce the beliefs of the ancients.” Firturro scrunched his small face together.
Roger wasn ’ t sure if Firturro ’ s disapproving expression was because of the council or the ancients, but Roger didn ’ t want to find out right now. Dragging out conflicts and angering Firturro wasn ’ t going to help him get answers.
“What exactly is this Mezoglike ?”
“I told you last night, it ’ s a challenge certain humans are forced to undergo when they make no clear decisions about the impact of fate or freewill in their lives,” Firturro replied.
“No, no, no. I mean, what is the test comprised of? Is it physical, mental, or knowledge based? What am I
“Bear. Here, boy.” He paused for a second, his head anxiously tilted, awaiting the onslaught of bad breath and obnoxious barking.
“Bear? Where are you?” Where ’ s the sunlight for that matter? Roger wondered as he turned his head toward an unusual smell on the other side of the room.
Something was wrong. And as the blurry edges of sleep cleared, he saw that he was in was a green room, and this disturbed him because there were no green rooms in his house.
It was while staring at the wall that he remembered everything. He let his weary arms collapse underneath him, causing him to sink back onto the bed and watch as the door opened and a little green man hobbled into the small apartment.
Roger slowly moved around until he was sitting on the side of the bed. He thought about the book and knew that he needed to ask Firturro a few things. There had been no pictures, images, or descriptions, nor did it mention whether he was in some kind of alternate dimension or on a separate planet altogether. The articles that did describe Obawok society were very basic and omitted anything not absolutely necessary.
He moved into the living room just as Firturro returned from the kitchen with two cups full of hot brown liquid.
“Here, drink this. It ’ ll help you wake up,” Firturro said, smiling.
“What is it?”
“Coffee,” he said, holding the cup out to the unsure Roger. “Go on, take it. I wouldn ’ t give you something we normally eat or drink.” He laughed. Firturro ’ s laugh had a warm, hardy presence to
207
Kristi Brooks
it, and for a moment it looked like a wonderful array of colors had embraced Firturro ’ s dwarfish body.
Roger rubbed his hand across his eyes and wrapped his tired hands around the large, oddly designed cup. When he looked up, he sighed with relief that the rainbow glaze was gone.
“What are you drinkin ’ ?” Roger asked, studying Firturro ’ s cup.
Firturro smiled. “It ’ s a lot like your coffee, only it ’ s brewed using special dirt that ’ s collected from the surface. We call it Kalika.”
“Oh,” Roger said, unconsciously scrunching his face into a look of disgust.
Each of them drank their morning brews in comfortable silence. It was so quiet Roger could intermittently hear shuffling footsteps and muffled voices as others passed through the hall. Firturro ’ s violet eyes seemed even more welcoming than they had before. On earth the same eye color would seem too glitzy, but the bright colors didn ’ t seem extravagant on these creatures. Dark green skin, maroon and silver hair, violet eyes; this odd assortment actually made the colors harmonious.
“Will you be able to answer my questions now?” Roger asked.
Firturro ’ s eyes shone in the dimness, and it felt like there were cold fingers moving things around in Roger ’ s brain. The chill spread through his whole body until Roger found himself clutching at his arms.
“Some of them,” Firturro finally answered.
“But not all?”
“No, some things are for you to discover on your own. It ’ s an important tradition of the Mezoglike. We take tradition very seriously here, and sometimes it ’ s the most important detail.”
“Whose tradition?” Roger asked, gripping the coffee cup even tighter.
“The council ’ s. They reinforce the beliefs of the ancients.” Firturro scrunched his small face together.
Roger wasn ’ t sure if Firturro ’ s disapproving expression was because of the council or the ancients, but Roger didn ’ t want to find out right now. Dragging out conflicts and angering Firturro wasn ’ t going to help him get answers.
“What exactly is this Mezoglike ?”
“I told you last night, it ’ s a challenge certain humans are forced to undergo when they make no clear decisions about the impact of fate or freewill in their lives,” Firturro replied.
“No, no, no. I mean, what is the test comprised of? Is it physical, mental, or knowledge based? What am I
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