<Come on, pup, I’ll play with you,> he said.

<But Meg found the toy. She should play too,> Sam protested, the bit of white fur dangling from his mouth.

<She isn’t going to want to play with a bunny tail.>

<Why not?>

Simon pounced on the pup, rolling him over and pretending to grab for the toy. Sam scrambled to get away, and the two of them ran around while Meg cautiously lifted the zucchini leaves to make sure there weren’t any other surprises. Somewhere along the way, Sam dropped the bunny tail and Simon didn’t pick it up, figuring he could find it and bury it later. They ran and played a few minutes more before Simon trotted over to the water pump, shifted his front paws into furry hands, and pumped some water for both of them.

More interested in playing in the water than drinking it, Sam was thoroughly wet when he ran to Meg and jumped on her back, his belly fur soaking her cotton shirt. She squeaked and shrieked, and Sam slid off her back as she scrambled to her feet.

“I’m going home now.” She stomped toward their apartments.

<Is Meg angry with me?> Sam asked.

<Not really. Acting upset about getting wet is part of the Squeaky Dance game,> Simon replied.

He lapped a little more water, which seemed a lot colder than the hot, humid air. Making sure his front paws were back to proper Wolf form, in case he needed to run, he caught up to Meg, timed his move, and swiped his tongue along the back of her knee.

Another satisfying squeak accompanied the prancy steps of the Squeaky Dance before Meg returned to a stride that would put some distance between her and wet Wolves.

<See, pup?> Simon said as he and Sam watched Meg hurry toward her den. <You don’t need another toy in order to play with a human friend.>

CHAPTER 10

Watersday, Messis 11

“I know, I know.” Eve hauled more art supplies out of the carry sacks she’d brought into the sorting room. “I got carried away. But I wasn’t sure what you wanted, and I can return anything that hasn’t been opened or used.”

Meg stared at all the items piled on the table. She’d asked Eve to look for a how-to-draw book and a set of pencils for Hope’s friend Amy Wolfgard. It looked like Eve had done that, but what was she supposed to do with the rest of the supplies?

Eve studied Meg, then returned a couple of items to the carry sacks. “Too much?”

“How did you pay for all this?” Meg asked.

Eve winced. “I used my house money. It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be reimbursed for the supplies you wanted to keep.”

“You have the receipt?” Meg studied the itemized list Eve provided. Did the Others already know about drawing and painting? They knew about telling stories and making music. Since Hope’s friend was interested in drawing, maybe there were Courtyard residents who would be interested in the art supplies. Something to ask Henry.

Meg selected a book of basic drawing instructions and a book about drawing the natural world—animals and landscapes. She added two sketchbooks, a box of colored pencils, graphite pencils, a sharpener, and an eraser.

Eve set a wood box on the table. It had a simple hook lock and a handle. “Figured you would want something to hold the pencils and other supplies. This was the least expensive artist box available.”

Meg put it with the rest of her selections and added it to the tally. “I’ll go to the bank in the Market Square during my midday break and get the money to pay for these items. And I’ll talk to Simon about how to pay you for the rest.”

“You’re paying for these?” Eve sounded surprised—and a little unhappy. “If I’d known that, I would have asked how much you wanted to spend before I started buying things.”

“I hadn’t thought about setting a purchase limit,” Meg replied. “I’m doing this for Hope, so I should pay for it.” She paused to savor the feeling of buying something for a friend, the excitement of spending money this way, the anticipation of Hope’s pleasure when the box of supplies arrived.

Eve returned everything else to the carry sacks and set them to one side. “Okay to leave them here?”

Meg tensed, anticipating the anxiety that came from a change in the room. Then she realized that this was just another kind of delivery, and she coped with deliveries all the time. “That’s fine.”

Eve rummaged in the sacks and put one last item on the table. “Catalog from the art store in the Bird Park Plaza. I’m happy to go to the store for you when I’m out shopping, but this way you could order supplies and ask Harry to pick them up when he makes his deliveries.”

Harry had worked for Everywhere Delivery until the company changed its name to Everywhere Human Delivery. Now he worked for the Courtyard, picking up anything the terra indigene ordered from businesses in Lakeside. There weren’t a lot of things to be picked up, and there weren’t a lot of other deliveries being made. Some of that was simply because the Business Association had ordered and stored everything they could before the Elementals and Elders shook the continent. And some of that was because everyone, humans and Others, was trying to figure out what businesses still existed and had merchandise to sell. You couldn’t phone a company outside of the region where you lived, and not receiving a reply to a letter could mean a sack of mail was sitting in a railway station somewhere and a response would come eventually—or it could mean there was no one left in that town to send a reply.

“I’ll find out what to do with the rest of the supplies,” Meg promised, tucking the receipt under the new geode paperweight she’d purchased from Jenni Crowgard.