
Chapter 1
WILD barking awakened Benton Collins, and he sprang from his bed without thinking. The top sheet
and blanket entangled his legs, sending him sprawling, heart pounding, on the floor. Whining frantically,
Korfius thrust a wet nose into his face.
Collins pushed the dog away. He lived in graduate student housing, which normally did not allow pets;
however, Korfius was considered a hero, for bringing the help that saved Collins' life. The Algary College
staff and his neighbors politely looked the other way, treating Korfius like a seeing eye dog and not
throwing him up as an example whenever their own better-concealed cats, fish, and birds got evicted.
"Quiet, Korfius," Collins demanded, sitting on the bed and extricating himself from the awkward,
encumbering twist of coverings. He groped for his glasses on the standard issue dresser, clamped a hand
over one wire temple piece, and put them in place cm his nose one-handed. "You'll wear out your
welcome barking at… " Collins glanced at the digital clock at his workstation. " 3:16 a.m.!" He ran a
hand through sleep-tousled, dark brown hair and groaned. "What the hell are you doing up at 3:16 AM?"
Korfius nuzzled Collins, then ran toward the window, planted his forepaws on the sill, and bounced
back. In his excitement, he leaped on Collins' bed, over him, and back to the window again. Collins
watched the gangly legs sail past, the ears flying, the tongue lolling, the short coat an uneven patchwork of
brown and white. Though fourteen years old, the half-grown hound aged in human, not dog, years and
had the exuberance of a six-month-old puppy. Collins had acquired Korfius in Barakhai, a world he had
entered accidentally by chasing a white rat through the hallways of Daubert Laboratories. There, he had
discovered people who spent half or more of their lives as various animals. The few who had come to his
world remained in animal form throughout their visits, and Korfius had chosen to stay because he liked
Collins and preferred being a full-time dog.
Over the last year and a half, Collins had grown as fond of Korfius as the dog had of him, though he
still found their association a bit uneasy. He used leashes and collars only when absolutely necessary and
shared his own food because it seemed vulgar to feed a child Puppy Chow. Dressed only in his sleeping
boxers and glasses, Collins headed toward the window. A cool summer breeze chilled his torso.
Something thumped onto Collins' shoulder. He staggered backward with a savage gasp, smacking the
object with the back of one hand. It felt warm and solid, furry against his skin, and it tumbled to the bed.
A shiver coiled through Collins, and he whirled to look. A white rat braced itself on the disheveled pile of
sheet and blanket, whiskers twitching madly.
Collins stifled a scream, then logic took over. It can't be. Can it?
Korfius bounded onto the bed, sending the rat flying. It scrambled onto Collins' pillow.
"Hey!" Collins said.
The rat cocked its head. "Hey, yourself. What kind of greeting is slapping me across the room?"
It IS Zylas. Glad to see his old friend again, Collins replied in kind, "The normal reaction to being
attacked by a rat. What would you do if something jumped on your shoulder?"
Zylas twisted his head to look over the snowy fur on the back of his neck. "Anything small enough to
alight on my shoulder would have to be an insect, so I guess I'd… I'd eat it."
Still grossed out by one of the Barakhains' main sources of protein, Collins made a noise of revulsion.
"You'd eat it, huh?" He pinned the rat with a searching stare. "So you got off easy." He avoided the image
of dining on raw, unskinned rat meat, not wishing to arouse a more painful memory. When he had first
arrived in Barakhai, he had roasted and eaten a rabbit. Only when the villagers attempted to hang him for
murder and cannibalism did he discover the dual nature of its citizenry. Every human an animal, and