“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I peered out the carriage window at the dreary moor. The native spilled onto its back, bright red fluid pouring out of a gash on its forehead. A nervous flutter went through my heart. “Camisole, too.”
I grabbed the hem and ripped it over my head as fast as I could, bearing my small breasts. She gave a curtsy, a smile on her freckled face. It was dark, the stars rising overhead while a fog crept from the surrounding moors, rolling in on the school atop its hill. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My heart beat as I moved through the thick fog. And then we shall have an afternoon of leisure before the boringness of school starts tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I said. Hettie or Ettie was the proper diminutive of my name, not Etta. Seeing my craft has already interfered in her life.”
“Likelihood of success is slim without bonding, which is in violation of the Treaty of Primitive Species, Article 12, Paragraph 7, Section C.”
“Override,” Merita said, staring at the poor native’s face, her strange, yellow tentacles extending from
