By Monoceros

Synopsis: The story of a young, extremely nerdy unicorn fur's breaking free from his parents' inhospitable household alternates with flashbacks illuminating the events leading to his escape from home.

Species: unicorn, zebra, deer, skunk, lynx, possum; raccoon (third-person only)

Website: http://www.monoceros.furtopia.org/
Foreword

This unimaginatively titled narrative, my first attempt at writing a furry story and indeed a story of any kind, came out of a different project that I had started working on. Out of that disorganised mass of prose a particular substory emerged and I decided to work it into a self-contained piece.

There is a good deal autobiographical here and, while I have not merely filed the serial numbers off of particular childhood events, I have worked into the tale something of the atmosphere in which I grew up, of not feeling quite at home even at home and of the unease of living in a household where the love turned grey long before. I'm not entirely comfortable with the autobiographical element; perhaps it's good that I get it out of my system all at once but it gives the story at times a vindictive edge (and, at other times, a self-flattering one.) But now, maybe, I can move on to something better.

Also, more than once while writing this, I've chided myself for presuming to claim any knowledge of or insight into what it is to be furry. I'm hopelessly naif about it#really, what do I know? I hope that more experienced readers will forgive this newbie's putting on airs.

I'm still struggling, moreover, to come up with a plausible way of weaving furry characters into a naturalistic, recognisable setting - as opposed to, say, a fantastic or scientifictional one. I don't think that I quite succeeded here but, hey, you've got to start someplace.


On the Edge of Seventeen - Chapter I


The thunk of the mail slot roused Alec from his Legos. He knew the sound well and immediately ran to the living room. Nearby Alec's mother was busy stirring something on the stove-top. "Mother! the mail's here! Can I get it, Mother?"

"Go ahead, Alec," she replied, not looking up. "I'm busy. Put the mail on the dining table, OK?"

Alec sprinted to the box under the mail slot and found one thing in it, something he'd been waiting for, a thick package wrapped in brown paper with a bit of yellow peeping round the edges. "It's the National Geographic, mother! Can I take it to my room?"

"Yes, Alec," she responded, still not looking up.

Alec darted back to his bedroom and closed the door. Scooping the Legos on his bed to one side he laid the package on his comforter and ripped off the paper. "NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC," the cover said, "April 1980." In the list of articles one leaped out: "TEXAS!" Alec flipped eagerly to the page and began looking at all the pictures.

One of them made Alec stop. He looked at the face in the photo and his heart leaped in recognition. The long face, the wide-set eyes, the proud ears, the shock of hair coming down over the forehead - he'd seen them all before. Alec grabbed the magazine and clattered into the kitchen. "Mother! Mother! look!"

Alec's mother's attention was still on her saucepan. "Alec, I'm busy. Can't you see that? If I don't keep stirring this I'll ruin it."

"But look at this picture, Mother! Doesn't it look just like me?"

His mother sighed and dropped her spoon. "I'm sure it does, Alec. Here, let me see. Why, it - "

"Mother? What's wrong?"

Alec's mother stared at the picture. When finally she looked up at Alec he shrank back. He'd seen that look in her eyes before and he knew what it meant.

"Alec. You interrupted my cooking for this? This doesn't look anything like you."

Alec's ears drooped. "But, Mother, look at his face. Doesn't he look just like me?"

"NO." His mother grabbed the magazine from Alec's hands and slammed it flat on the counter-top. Alec looked at it and at his mother's unsmiling face. "How many times have I told you, Alec, to stop being so foolish? Look at what it says under the picture." She pointed and Alec read. "This is a horse. An ordinary, stupid horse. You're not a horse."

"But...but Mother, why does he - "

"I'm not going to say anything more. I thought you were smarter than this. Go to your room, Alec."

"Mother, can I have my magazine - "

"No. Maybe I'll give it back to you when you start behaving yourself. Now go. And don't interrupt me again when I'm working."

Alec stared at his mother but she turned away from him, back to her saucepan. Alec went back to his room, tears starting in his eyes. Just before closing the door to his room he heard his mother say, "Stupid little beast. He's ruined my custard."

Alec buried his face in his pillows and cried.

#-

"Here, Alec, take a look at this."

Alec looked up from the periodical he was reading as Bill got down from the rickety chair he was standing on to reach a book on the top shelf. "I'd forgotten I had this. It's an old copy of Vogel's *Textbook of Quantitative Analysis*. The older editions are always better anyway." He brought over the thick, dusty volume. "Skoog and West's just the kiddie version of this book. Say, that doesn't look like chemistry you're reading there. What is it?"

Alec held it up. "*National Geographic*, eh?" said Bill. "1980. That's a pretty cover; my father told me you liked pictures of undersea animals."

"I do, but that's not why I'm looking at this." Alec laid the magazine open to the page he had been staring at and pointed to a photograph of a pale-coloured horse. "Bill, let me ask you a stupid question. Does this look like me?"

Bill bent over Alec's shoulder. "Yes, Alec, I think it does!" Bill picked up the magazine and, holding it next to Alec's head, regarded both. "He's a bit longer in the face than you and he's missing that sporty horn but, yeah, I think he's just as dashing." Bill laughed and tapped Alec's horn gently with his index finger, but stopped laughing when Alec bowed his head. "What's the matter, Alec?"

"But he doesn't really look like me, does he? He doesn't have hands or walk on two legs or read Skoog and West. He's...well, he's just an ordinary horse."

"And? You're an extraordinary Alec."

"Neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring, huh?"

"Hey, don't talk like that! Here, let's leave my library. It does get a bit stuffy after a while." Alec picked up the magazine and Bill's copy of Vogel and followed Bill to his cluttered kitchen. "Let me make you some coffee or something. We can talk over a snack." He began filling a carafe with water.

"Bill."

"Yes?" asked Bill while scooping ground coffee from a tin of Folger's.

"What did my father tell you about me on Sunday when he asked if you could take me in?"

"He told me, Alec, that he desperately needed help for his intelligent, teenaged son who loved science and who his mother couldn't bear to live with because he was a unicorn."

"How did you react?"

"I was shocked to learn that you were living with him at all. Your father and I go back a long way, Alec, so of course I and all of your dad's friends knew about you when you were very little. You didn't look like a unicorn then, of course. Then when you were about four years old we stopped seeing anything of you. I think your father told you about the imposture he and Mary ended up perpetrating to hide you."

"Yes he did. All that about being sent off to be raised on the East Coast by some of Mother's family. I was angry when my father told me what he'd done but I couldn't stay mad at him for long. He looked so sad when he told me."

"You can't believe how disgusted he is with himself for his part in the fraud. At the time I thought the business was a bit funny myself and your father didn't seem happy about it but...let's just say that those of us who knew your mother were a little glad that she wasn't raising you. Or so we thought."

"But Bill, you're leaving out what happened when he told you that I, uh, that I was a unicorn."

"I was surprised, of course. Here's your coffee."

"Surprised? Is that it??"

"Yes, Alec, because you see, there's something I told your father to his astonishment and that I've been preparing to tell you. I didn't tell you right away because you were still frightened at suddenly being left in the care of a stranger. Anyway, I know someone else like you."

Alec choked on the coffee that he had just swallowed. "Bill! It's not possible!"

"It is. And she tells me that she's not the only one either."

"Tell me, Bill. Tell me everything."

Part 2

"Father, when am I going to go to school?"

Alec's father turned toward his son looking up at him as he sat eating his lunch at the dining table. Alec's mother was on the living room couch knitting.

"Well, Alec...hm...why do you want to go to school? I sure didn't when I was your age."

"But all the kids as old as me go to school. I read about it. See?" Alec held up a paperback of To Kill a Mockingbird. "Scout's younger than me and she's going to school."

"That's true. But you're forgetting something, Alec. Come on, sit here with me." Alec scrambled onto a chair next to his father's. "Did Scout learn how to read and write at school?"

"N-no, she didn't. Her father and Calpurnia taught her."

"That's right. And the schoolteacher was pretty angry when she found out that Scout knew more than she was supposed to, didn't she?"

"That's true, Father".

"So think about it. You're seven and you already know how to read and write. You're even learning a little math now. Don't you think I can teach you well?"

"No, Father, I like you teaching me."

"But if you go to school you'll find out that no one else your age can do all those things and you'll be miserable. Do you see now?"

"...Yes, Father, I see. I think." Alec's brows knitted and suddenly he said, "But Scout's got friends. She's got a brother and Dill. They play a lot together. Why don't I have anyone to play with?"

Alec's father turned pale. "Well, Alec, uh..." He looked at his wife knitting on the couch; she looked up at him but did not offer any words. "It's the same sort of thing, Alec. You're," he went on, clearing his throat, "you're special. A lot of kids don't like that. They, uh, they could want to be mean to you. We just don't want you to get hurt."

Now Alec's mother spoke up. "Alec, you've got to trust your family. You've got to trust your father and me. We really love you. Other people may seem like they do but they don't always. You'll be safe here with us."

His father rushed in, stepping on his wife's words. "Just wait, Alec. Maybe when you get older you'll get friends who are special like you. Hey, do you want a glass of milk? Let me get you some milk." He went to the refrigerator for the bottle and poured some into a glass, spilling a little on the counter top. "Sorry about that. Here, I've wiped it up. Here you go. You can drink it in your room if you like."

Alec took the glass and left. Just inside his bedroom door, though, he stopped. He could barely hear his mother and father talking. He could get only some of the words.

"...could've died when you said that, Mary..."

"...true, Keith. He can't trust any..."

"...shut up in here. He's got to have a chance..."

"...only thing we can do..."

"...kids his own age!"

"...Keith. Can you think of any kids who won't..."

Alec didn't want to listen any more; he quietly shut the door. They were arguing about him. They argued about him a lot. They weren't loud about it but he could tell. Why did they argue?

Alec went into the bathroom next to his room, switched on the light and turned to the mirror. Regarding his reflection he ran a finger down the length of his muzzle. The face from the *National Geographic* picture stared out at him and he remembered his mother's voice and face when he showed it to her.

Was *this* why?

Bill took a long pull on his coffee. "Well, it was twelve years ago. In the sixties while I was still on staff at UCSD I met a freshman electrical engineering major, David Mohr. I was tutoring the occasional student then and another student had commended me to David. We soon became good friends; he was a bright, level-headed fellow and always interesting to talk to. Anyway he eventually moved to Riverside with his wife Caroline and their baby girl Dorothea. David and I still called each other up to talk regularly and maybe once or twice a year he'd visit me with his family. Caroline was a biologist he'd met at UCSD, dark-haired and always wearing these black horn-rims that made her look like an IBM employee. Their daughter over the years grew up into an excitable, sandy-haired little girl; whenever she and her folks were staying over she'd run around, curious about everything, wanting to look at all my new books and gadgets. She was always careful and put everything back that she picked up so I didn't mind. When I last saw her she was eight and told me with an eight-year-old's certainty that she wanted to be a biologist when she grew up just like her mom.

"Then I didn't see anything of David or his family for more than a year. David and I still talked on the phone but whenever I'd ask if was going to visit he'd put me off, saying that he had his hands full with his daughter. Little did I know...anyway one night, twelve years ago, David calls me up, sounding like he'd had a nervous breakdown, crying that something bizarre was happening to Dorothea and could I help him? I was shocked; David wasn't the panicky sort. Of course I suggested that if something were wrong with his daughter he'd better consult someone local but he said, 'It's not like that, you don't understand, she's not ill, not exactly.' He insisted that I see her in person and could he visit me? Finally, not getting anything better out of him, I assured him that he could drop in any time and I'd do what I could.

"Well, he did visit. The next morning I heard the doorbell and opened the door to find David's haggard face staring at me. Caroline was with him, looking scarcely less frightened, and he was holding Dorothea by the hand. 'Bill,' he started, but I felt a tug on my sleeve and glanced down to see Dorothea looking up at me, tears in her eyes. 'Uncle Bill, what's wrong with my dad?' Now I knew: Dorothea beseeched me now with eyes set in a mask of black fur; lighter-coloured fur now covered her face and fringed her ears, and I could see, behind her, a bushy tail ringed in black and brown."

"Somehow I made my voice work and told Dorothea that I didn't know what was wrong with her father but that I'd find out. I left her to play in my living room - she bounded off immediately and began to look through the books on my coffee-table - grabbed David and Caroline and took them into my study.

"'When did this start happening?' I asked.

"'About a year ago,' David told me miserably. It all began to happen at once, he said, the fur and the tail and the big ears and the whiskers. 'She didn't seem to think that anything was the least bit wrong with her. And it's not just Dorothea's appearance. She's starting to stay up nights and get sleepy in the day. Lately she's taken to running her food under the kitchen tap before eating it. And last night,' he went on shakily, 'last night I went into the kitchen at ten p.m. and found Dorothea digging through the trash and asking me why I was throwing good food away. Something just snapped in me then.'

"I didn't know what to do. I told Caroline to look after David while I talked to Dorothea by myself. She was still in the living room, looking through an atlas of North American insects and waving her tail eagerly. 'Look, Uncle Bill, I've seen one of these!' She pointed to a picture of a gulf fritillary. 'Aren't they beautiful? Uncle Bill, can I borrow this book?'

"'Certainly, Dorothea. But return it within three years or I'll slap you with an overdue charge. But I need to talk with you a bit. Do you, uh, do you remember when you first began to grow your fur?'

"'I was almost nine,' she said, and went on from there. I remember she wagged her tail proudly when she talked about how it started to grow out. I asked her what her mother thought of the way she looked and do you know what Dorothea told me? That she'd found the picture of the raccoon from Audubon's field guide to American mammals and showed it to her mother. 'She said that I was more beautiful than he was!' And one time, Dorothea told me with a big smile, 'My mom said that I looked more like her because now I've got black glasses too.' But when I asked her about her father she grew sad. 'He's been acting so funny lately, Uncle Bill. He says he's got more work to do so he comes home late all the times and sometimes he works Saturday too. He's still nice to me but he doesn't play with me or read to me any more like my mom does. And he took me out of school. Uncle Bill, can you find out what's wrong with him? It's not my fault, is it?'

"'No, of course not,' I told her, then straightaway went back to the study and lit into him. I'm not going to lie to you, Alec; this miraculous change in Dorothea gave me a fright and I was even more scared of what could happen to Dorothea when she went out in the world. But what scared me most of all was that her father was beginning to treat her like a stranger or like the crazy uncle in those stories who the family keeps locked up in the attic.

"David wasn't a bad guy, he was really trying to do his best, not like..." Bill grimaced. "Not like some others. But engineers can get brittle in their thinking. They deal with man-made stuff, laid out nicely and making sense. Dorothea's transformation really threw David for a loop. His daughter had leaped the bounds of the neat categories in his engineer's mind and it bewildered him; he couldn't quite see through his bewilderment that Dorothea thought her transformation perfectly natural to her. When I told him that he was a fool for taking her out of school he wailed, 'But she's a raccoon!' 'Yes she is,' I shot back, 'a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed raccoon who's loving every minute of it and who I think could make a great biologist some day. The only thing she doesn't love is that you're acting like an idiot. Kill her growth and her education because you're scared of what people will think and I'll never forgive you.' He turned white at that.

"Caroline, thank God, knew better. Biologists, the best of them anyway, know that the history both of their discipline and of life itself is full of pleasant surprises. That saved you as well, maybe; your father is a biologist too and eventually came round to seeing you as an pleasant surprise from Nature and not a family embarrassment. That's not to say that Caroline wasn't frightened too at times and, as she admitted to me later, some part of her professional sense made her want to rush Dorothea to UCSD and have every biologist and doctor in the county study her and try to figure out exactly what was happening to her and why. She resisted the temptation, though; she could never live with herself if she turned her daughter into a zoological specimen.

"David came round too, but it took all of my help and Caroline's, and his daughter's as well. She came to the study because she heard us arguing and when she told her father what she'd told me, that she feared for him, David broke down and asked for Dorothea's forgiveness.

"The storm was over, thank heaven. David, Caroline, and Dorothea stayed around a little bit longer while everyone pulled themselves together, and then left. Dorothea was as ebullient as she ever was and David was actually smiling. They visited again about five months later and I was heartened to see that David was in his accustomed good cheer again and more affectionate towards Dorothea than I'd ever seen him."

Alec could say nothing for a minute. He nursed his cup of coffee, now cold, in his hands. "I can't believe it, Bill," he said finally. "I can't get my mind round it."

"You can't? Alec, don't you realise that at almost the same time that Dorothea's parents saw that their daughter was growing up into a raccoon your parents were watching you grow up into a unicorn?"

Alec said nothing for a few moments then replied quietly, "That didn't occur to me."

"You've got friends you don't know about, Alec. I wished that I'd known to tell your father years ago; it might have spared you so much grief. What happened to you last Sunday might never had to happen at all. But now we all know and we're going to do everything we possibly can to help you through this."

Alec sipped his coffee again, making a face. "It's cold. Bill, where is Dorothea now?"

"She's at M. I. T. now, majoring in biology, like she always wanted to. We talk regularly. It's been tough sledding for her at times but she's kept going with her folks' help. And she's made some other friends over the years too. I hope you get to meet her some day, Alec."

"I hope so too." Alec drained what was left of his coffee and then suddenly paused. "Bill...did she ever return your book?"

Bill looked up, amazed for a second. "You know, Alec, I don't think she ever did. Do you suppose I ought to send her a bill?"

On the Edge of Seventeen - Chapter II

Alec huddled under his covers with a flashlight reading The Lord of the Rings for the fifth time. His mother wasn't happy when she first found him reading the books a couple of years ago; she scolded Alec for reading childish garbage and took the books away from him, but Alec found where she'd hidden the books. Now he was more careful.

His bedside clock ticked towards ten p.m. Sunday tomorrow was going to be Alec's seventeenth birthday. He wasn't looking forward to it much, really; it would mean an elaborate meal that his mother would spend half the day preparing. Why can't they let me stay in my room for once? Alec thought. At least he'd be able to read or play with his C-64.

Light glinted under the edge of his bedroom door; his parents were still up muttering about something Alec couldn't make out. This was unusual for them; his mother was usually rigid about getting to bed by nine so she could get up at five or six and get household chores done before anyone else got up. Many times Alec had lain in bed and winced when the morning's quiet gave way to his mother's clattering about in the kitchen. But now here she was still up at ten at night.

Suddenly his mother's voice rose to a shout.

"Keith, I'm sick of it. I'm not going to do it."

He heard his father's voice, quieter but still distinct. "Mary. Keep your voice down. He's asleep."

"I don't care."

"Mary! I don't believe it. You've never talked like this before about Alec."

"You'd better get used to it, Keith, because I'm going to start talking a lot more about him like this. For sixteen years I've been killing myself for Alec. I've cooked for him, cleaned for him, tried to make sure that he knows how a civilised adult should act. And is he grateful? Does he learn? No. And you know why, Keith? Because he can't. He's a goddamn animal and he's never going to be any different."

"For God's sake, Mary, keep it down. Do you want him to hear you?"

"Maybe I do. I don't care any more. Just the other day he was watching TV and when someone told a joke he whinnied. Whinnied! I could have died. What if someone else were around to hear that?"

"That wasn't a whinny, Mary, that was a nicker."

"Good God. I can't believe you just said that, Keith. Isn't it disgusting that you have to use words like that about your son?"

"No. No, it isn't. It's what he does. It's like making fun of someone for the way he laughs." An edge crept into his father's voice that Alec had never heard before. "But then you don't much like it when someone laughs, do you?"

"Shut up! If you mean that I don't like it when people don't take life seriously then you're right. Like you before I met you. Getting drunk with your buddies every weekend. Think of that."

"Never mind me." He was angry now - Alec's father, whom Alec had never seen angry. "This is about Alec. He's your son and you're calling him an animal."

"Oh, he isn't? He looks like Mr. Ed with a horn sticking out of his forehead and you don't think he's an animal?"

"I...I don't know what he is. It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't. I try to teach him some manners and he forgets it all the next day. I spend all my time preparing him good food and he eats it in five minutes and runs off to his room. He snorts and whinnies - sorry, nickers - and flops down in the grass whenever he thinks I'm not looking. Stupid little brute. No, he's a stupid big brute now."

"Stupid? Mary, he's seventeen and he's reading chemistry and biology textbooks for fun. Does that look stupid to you?"

"It looks like a complete waste of time. What's he going to do with all those books of his? It's not like he's ever going to become anything. It's not like he's ever going to school or get a job. He's going to hang around here stealing sugar cubes out of the kitchen until we're dead."

"Mary...Mary, what do you want to do?"

"I'll tell you what I don't want to do. I don't want to have to get up early to see his horsy face over the breakfast table and smile and give him a piece of cake and pretend that I'm happy he's a year older."

"Mary..." Long moments passed. "Please, Mary, if nothing else, do it tomorrow. Just this one more time. Maybe we can work out something later. But you can't hurt your son like this. Not on his birthday."

"Watch me."

"Well, then what do you want to do?" Alec's father's voice rose. "Take him to a vet and have him shot full of Nembutal so you won't have to deal with him any more?"

"NO!" Alec's mother's voice suddenly broke; his father had finally struck a nerve in her. But the scorn quickly returned to her voice. "God, Keith, how can you accuse me of something like that? I don't know what to do with him! If he hangs around here I'll go insane. But God knows he'll never learn to take care of himself or to show his face outside this house. It makes me sick."

"You should feel sick," Alec's father shot back, knives in his voice. "All those rotten lies you've made me tell everyone about him. And Alec can't take care of himself? You've seen to that."

"Why, you..." Alec's mother's voice turned into a scream. "GET OUT! Go sleep in the garage." Alec heard her footstep receding towards her bedroom. "Don't you dare push any blame on me. 'My son.' I've given up sixteen years of my life on that miserable little monster and gotten nothing back. It's your turn now. You can get up early to wish him happy birthday if you like. It's you he takes after anyway." She slammed the bedroom door loudly behind her.

Alec stared up at the ceiling, shaking. He couldn't stop shaking.

#-

Two days later Bill's front doorbell rang and Alec ran to answer.

"Father! I'm so glad to see you again."

"And I'm glad to see you happy, Alec. Bill isn't boring you, then?"

"No, Father. He's teaching me how to use a compound microscope. I've always wanted to do that. Although it's a little difficult...." Alec twisted his head to show how he had to look through the eyepiece.

"I'm afraid, Alec, that when Olympus built laboratory microscopes they didn't have a unicorn's eyes in mind. But where's Bill? We've got to discuss some things with him, you and I."

Alec's face fell. He could guess what those things were. "He's out back, I think."

Just then Bill came stamping in. "One of these days I'm going to have to rake up the leaves out there. Hello, Keith! You're looking well."

"You too. But we'd better sit down in the living room to talk."

"Keith," asked Bill after they'd settled. "What did you tell Mary yesterday? You did tell her, didn't you?"

"Yes, I told her. I got tired of pretending that Alec had run away. I'm so goddamn sick of pretending. She was going crazy over it anyway, sending me out to search for him every day. When I reminded her what she'd said about being sick of looking at him every day she screamed at me that I didn't care if he was lying dead in a gutter somewhere. So...I told her that I'd spirited him away."

"How did she take it?"

Alec's father sighed. "She didn't. Now, one moment she's cursing Alec as an ungrateful, unnatural, monstrous son who doesn't give a damn for all her sacrifice and who she's glad she doesn't have to take care of any more. The next moment she's cursing me for taking her son away from her and crying that I'd given him over to strangers who couldn't possibly love him and protect him the way she does. I didn't mention your name, Bill, I couldn't possibly. She'd be calling you up every five minutes demanding to know what you've done to her baby." He sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "I suppose she'll calm down in time."

Bill's eyes widened in alarm. "Keith, you can't do this to yourself. I know Mary. All she cares about is being a mother and you and Alec have wrecked that. She'll take it out on you until the day you die. I know you've got the patience of Job but - "

"I'm not going to leave her, Bill. You've never been married. It's not as simple as you think. Besides, after the part I played in jailing my own son...maybe it's no more punishment than I deserve."

"Don't talk like that, Keith."

"Well, it isn't really important now. Alec's future is what matters." He turned to his son but at first could say nothing. "Alec," he said finally, "I know you've been having the time of your life here with Bill. And I think Bill feels the same way about you. Don't you Bill?"

"I do, Keith," said Bill with a smile. "I've never met anyone more inquisitive, more eager to learn. If you get out into the academic world, Alec, you'll be brilliant. I hope you get the chance."

"And I want to give you that chance, Alec, if it's at all possible. What I'm getting at is...I think we need to find you a better home, a foster-home. You can't stay here forever with Bill."

"But...why not, Father? If he enjoys having me around so much?"

"Alec," said Bill, "Your father's right. I've never been married; I don't know how to raise children, especially...well, especially a child like you. You need to be fostered by someone who does. I could keep you here and we'd have a lot of fun reading books and talking about biology but when I'm gone you'd be back at square one, helpless with nowhere to go."

"Father, you could do it. Please, stay with Bill and me."

"Alec, I know you can't possibly understand why, but it's like I told Bill. I can't leave your mother. And, even if I could, I can't raise you like I think you need to be raised."

Alec's father leaned toward his son and took his hand. "Alec, I'd move heaven and earth for you if I could but, well, I'm only human. You're something more than that. It's - well, it's a bit like how smart you are. I like to think I have some brains, Alec, and I've taught you what I could, but your mind can go places where mine will never go. This," he went on, running a hand through Alec's mane, "being what you are, it's the same kind of thing. I can't go where you've gone, where you're going to go. But maybe I can find someone who can." He turned suddenly to Bill. "Bill, what about your friends, Dorothea's parents? Couldn't they help Alec?"

"Not directly, Keith," Bill said sadly. "David and Caroline moved to Providence to be closer to their daughter. If they were still in Riverside I'd contact them in a second; I think they'd be glad to take Alec in and they'd have their experience with Dorothea to draw on. And since they're friends of mine it'd be easier for Alec. But it's not possible." He frowned.

"We'll find someplace for you to go, Alec," his father resumed. "Bill and I aren't going to abandon you; we'll always be around and we'll make damn sure that whoever we find will be completely trustworthy. I hope in time you'll come to understand why it's necessary."

Alec said nothing. His father, seeing his son's dejection, ruffled his mane again. "Well, Alec, nothing's going to happen to you for now at least. You'll be able to keep reading Bill's books and tinkering in his workroom. Do you want to show me what you and Bill've been doing?"

Alec revived a little. "He's been teaching me about preparing microscope slides."

"Sounds fascinating, Alec. Let's have a look!" Alec, his father, and Bill trooped downstairs.

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