Excerpt
Sliding down the embarkment, his ten legs not able to lift him, Hsissh reprimanded himself, Next body, no sleeping in a field frequented by lizzar. He knew better, but the rock had been sunny and wonderfully warm. And then one of the clumsy, wave-ignorant oafs had whacked him with its tail. Now this body was beyond reasonable repair and he had to move on. Finding a dry spot, he curled into a ball. Tucking his nose to his tail, he closed his eyes and … hesitated. He blinked. He didn't want to let this form go … Shissh, his blood kin in her last life, had been urging him for years to give up this shell and the pain that was tied to it; to let his memories of Third become a dream.
"What's that?"
His ears perked. It was the vocal utterance of a wave-ignorant Newcomers. Ish, one of The One's more scholarly members, had decoded most of the language and shared it in the waves. Hsissh hadn't thought the Newcomers had spread this far north. He wondered what they'd found.
A sharp pain in his side made his body uncoil with a startled squeak.
"Is it some sort of albino-mutant-ten-legged-weasel?" There was another sharp pain, and Hsissh was flipped over. Helpless in his weakened state, he lay sprawled on his back, all ten limbs and tail wriggling. Poison oozed from his fangs. His bite would be enough to kill them, but his body wasn't responding to his mind's order to roll over. And the pain was disorientating; he couldn't even focus enough to agitate the waves into starting a fire. A shadow moved, and he felt a stinging in his chest. It took too long for his mind to process that one of the Newcomers was jabbing him with a stick.
"It's a werfle," said another Newcomer, using one of the enormous deformed paws on a hind limb to shove Hsissh down the embarkment. "Their bites are poisonous. Don't touch it."
Pain in his stomach elicited a soft squeal from Hsissh's lungs. Ish thought these beings were worthy of study. Obviously, Ish was an idiot. He felt rekindled determination to leave this body—when he was new and healthy again he'd join the faction that was pushing to have the Newcomers wiped off The Planet.
"Huh, looks almost dead," said the one with the stick. He poked Hsissh again, and pain shot from the root of fur on his body. Through blurry eyes he saw three of the Newcomers standing over him. They smelled strange—like alien vegetables and meats partially digested and burned. Their naked bodies, where they showed at their heads and forelimbs were disgusting. They looked smaller than he'd been informed; yet even their shorter forelimbs were longer than his entire body. They could kill him by merely stepping on him.
"My mom says they're really soft and we should make them into coats," said another, prodding Hsissh's side so hard it sent him rolling. When Hsissh came to a stop, he tried to squirm, but pain shot from his tail as one of them stepped on it, and he clawed helplessly at the dirt.
"Too small to be much of a coat, but maybe a muffler?" said the one that had kicked him.
Hsissh closed all ten of his claws and reminded himself he was a wave. He just had to focus …
"Leave him alone!"
The pain in his tail vanished.
