Chapter One
An owl called, its shuddering hoots repeating
mournfully in the distance. Somewhere nearby, heavy wings
swooped and a young rabbit, captured by sharp talons,
shrieked as he was lifted to his doom. Startled, a raccoon
looked up with bright eyes from the place where he was
foraging. Two deer moved in tandem through a meadow. A thin
cloud slid across the moon.
The pair crept stealthily through the small house.
Night was their time of work, the time when human
conversation had ceased, when thoughts had drifted away and
even breathing and heartbeats had slowed. The outdoors was
awake and stirring but the little house was dark and silent.
They tiptoed, and whispered. Unaware, the woman and
her dog slept soundly, though the dog, on his pillow bed of
cedar shavings at the foot of the woman's four-poster, moved
his legs now and then as if chasing a dream rabbit.
"Are we a kind of dog?" Littlest One asked
suddenly.
"Shhh."
They crept through the bedroom, out into the dark
hall.
"May I talk now?"
"Oh, all right. Very quietly, though."
"I asked if we are a kind of dog."
Littlest One, whose name was sometimes shortened
affectionately to simply Littlest, was working on this night
with Fastidious, the one who had been designated her
teacher. Littlest was very small, new to the work, energetic
and curious. Fastidious was tired, impatient, and had a
headache. She sniffed in exasperation.
"Whatever makes you ask such a thing? The other
learners never ask questions like that."
"That's because they don't take time to think about
things. I'm a thinker. Right now I'm thinking about whether
I am a kind of dog."
"You just tiptoed past one. What did you notice
about him?"
Littlest One thought. "A slight snore, a whiff of
doggy breath, and his upper lip was folded under by mistake,
just above a big tooth. It gave him an odd expression."
"Does he resemble us in the least?"
Littlest pondered. "No. But I believe there are
many kinds of dogs. We saw that book, remember."
"Hurry along," Fastidious said. "There's much to
do, and we have to go down the stairs yet."
Littlest One hurried along. The stairs were
difficult, and she had to concentrate.
"You do remember the book, don't you? Ouch!" She
had stumbled a bit.
"Grasp the carpet fibers. Look how I'm doing it."
"Couldn't we flutter down?"
"We can't waste our flutters. They use up energy."
They both made their way carefully down. "I hear
there are houses that have no stairs," Fastidious murmured
in an irritated tone. "None at all. I sometimes wish that I
had not been assigned this particular house."
Littlest looked around when they reached the bottom
of the stairs. She could see now into the large room with
the very colorful rug. The small-paned windows were outlined
in moonlight on the floor by the rug's edge. "I think this
house is lovely," she said. "I wouldn't want any other
house."
They tiptoed across. Littlest noticed her own
shadow in the moonlight. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I
didn't know we had shadows!"
"Of course we do. All creatures have shadows. They
are a phenomenon created by light."
A phenomenon created by light. What a fine phrase,
Littlest thought. She twirled suddenly on the rug and
watched her shadow dance.
"Why is your shadow darker than mine?" she asked
Fastidious, noticing the difference just then.
"I'm—well, I'm thicker than you. You're barely
formed yet. You're practically transparent."
"Oh." Littlest examined her own self and saw that
it was true. She had not paid much attention before to her
own parts. Now she touched her ears, watching the shadow's
arms move, too; then she swiveled her neck to peer down at
her own tiny behind.
"I do not have a tail," she announced. "I think I
am not a dog. We, I mean. We are not a kind of dog."
"There. You have answered your own question. Come
more quickly, please. You are dawdling."
Reluctantly, Littlest scurried across the design of
the carpet, beyond the moonlit rectangles, and onto the
pine-boarded floor, which was always a little dangerous
because of splinters.
"What if the dog woke? Would he see us? Or smell
us, perhaps? I know he has a very significant nose. And if
he did see us, or smell us, would that be dangerous for us?
"Or the woman? She woke the other night, remember?
Because there was a bat in the house? It swooped and woke
her somehow. She didn't like the bat. She was quite brave, I
remember, and opened a window so the bat flew out into the
night, which was where he had wanted to be all along, doing
his night food-finding.
"But what if our little footsteps and flutterings
had woken her? Would she have seen us?
"Are we visible to her?
"I know we don't fly the way bats do, but we
operate at night. Might we be a type of bat?"
Fastidious turned suddenly with a very annoyed
gesture. "Enough! Hush! Stop that questioning! We have our
work to do. You insisted on coming. You said you'd be quiet.
My nerves are becoming frayed. I want no more questions now.
None whatsoever."
"All right. I promise," Littlest One said
obediently. They continued on, one following the other.
"Are you doing your assigned tasks?"
"Yes. I touched the rug. And I'm touching this
sweater now, the one she left on the chair."
"Gently. Do not under any circumstances press. But
linger and get the feel of it into yourself."
"Yes, I am. You showed me how." Littlest was
running her tiny fingers carefully over the sweater's soft
sleeve. Then she touched a button and let her hand linger on
it. It was startling, what she felt during the lingering.
The entire history of the button came to her, and all it had
been part of: a breezy picnic on a hillside in summer long
ago; a January night, more recently, by the fire; and even,
once, the time that a cup of tea had been spilled on the
sweater. It was all there, still.
They moved quietly around the room, touching
things. Fastidious half fluttered, half climbed to a
tabletop and methodically touched framed photographs.
Littlest watched in the moonlight and saw how the fingers
chose and touched and felt the faces gazing out from the
photographs: a man in uniform; a baby, grinning; an elderly
woman with a stern look.
Forgetting her promise of no questions, Littlest
suddenly asked, "Might we be human?" But Fastidious did not
reply.