Chapter 9

The beginning of fall marked one year since I had arrived on this backwater planet. Just because I had been here for a year didn’t mean I liked it. Look at it this way:

First of all, I had to pretend to be one of the primitives. While I didn’t eat mice, I began chasing them just to satisfy the humans (I rationalized this as “contributing to the security of the business” – the mill ground grains, which attracted mice, which would eat the grain, etc. – a horde of hungry mice would destroy the product – plus it was another source of exercise).

Second, I hadn’t had a conversation with a living being since Jacob’s death. Sure I’d talk to the cats, the donkey, and the horses, but they couldn’t talk back to me. My tongue was sore from all the times I had to bite it to keep from speaking my mind… which was becoming more and more frequent.

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