Oshua grinned to himself. Old torbu might catch the gerbit on another day, but Oshua would nothave to watch the little beast's life force, the exact image of its physical form, flee its body--not
today. Another day, maybe, but old torbu did not appear to be starving today--he was just hungry
by nature.
"Yikes!" a deep voice, filled with laughter, rumbled from behind Oshua.
Oshua groaned deep within his throat. Om de Shi'veera, his best friend and cradle-bonded brother,
stood in the doorway as Oshua briskly swung his tall form about, sending his long, golden hair flying
around his shoulders.
Om, the metamorph, grinned at Oshua. His black, curly hair framed around face linked by a short,
thick neck to a barrel-shaped body that sat firmly on two short legs.
"It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen--seeing you scrambling to get away from those
long beaks. Besides, old friend, you were never in any real danger. How's the wing by the way?"
the rotund, little man asked as he helped himself to a sweet pastie from a shiny metal plate
that sat on a high, ornate, marble table in the middle of the room. Sofas and benches that matched
the table were scattered about randomly.
"Um, ummmm!" Om sighed with his eyes shut and an ecstatic expression on his face. "I do enjoy
these orcana seed cakes. Too bad this is the only place the orcana grows. And too bad that no
method of preserving them has been developed. Um, but they are delicious!" Opening his eyes, he
licked the last crumbs from his fingers. "Would you like one, Osh? They really are mouth watering!"
"No thanks. I don't much care for them, and you're addicted to them!" Oshua stated flatly.
"No, I'm not. I just really like them. The Shi'veera don't have addictions," Om responded a little
smugly. "It has to do with our ability to metamorph."
"You're addicted. The first thing you do is head for the pastie dish," Oshua repeated flatly,
ignoring his friend's explanation.
"An addiction controls one's life. Pasties certainly don't control mine!" Om replied emphatically,
hoping Oshua would not notice the mild flush Om felt creeping up from his neck. The pastie he had
just eaten was in fact his third one since entering the room. He had eaten two before he had
spoken to Oshua. Now, to change the subject, he repeated, "How's the wing? And you did look
ridiculous trying to get away from those voracious little creatures!"
Oshua could not help laughing with Om. He had no difficulty, with his vivid imagination, picturing
himself scooting rapidly around in the dust, attempting to escape with all his parts unharmed.
7
next page