Faith’s cloud rode the wind faster than Jay could clamber after her. She zipped up cliffs and over divots. He had to search for shallower paths and leap over trenches in the steepening terrain. Soon Jay lost sight of her, but he continued to trudge up the slopes. Occasionally he glimpsed a pinprick of white against the mountainside, but always lost it when the wind whipped it left and right.
Jay and Faith were awestruck by the new Zephyr: a shiny white sphere set in the sky like a polished moon. “It’s beautiful,” said Faith, the quivering snow pile.
“It’s huge,” said Jay. He could not block it from his vision with both hands at arm’s length. “And growing!”
The biologists in the lab thought my nightly vomiting a symptom of alcohol poisoning. I would have shared the hypothesis, except I regurgitated human eyeballs.
That’s Ajani Goldmane, when he was young. He and his brother are fully grown, but when they were kitties, they belonged in a boyband: Now