Juvenalas Penitatas
Lesson 22 - Therapy

Persephone's office was filled with music. The grey-furred Roferian female smiled as she listened to the blond, wolfish boy's tunes; a smile of personal pride as much as anything. Kost was at his most honest with a guitar in his paws. It was, of course, a pirate song he played, and while his singing might have lacked in technical proficiency, it certainly did not lack for passion.
When the song ended, Perse's paws clapped together in genuine approval. “I loved it!”
Kost blushed softly, as he often did when exposed to praise. “I'd like to perform it as part of the music group, but I'm not sure it'd meet with approval.”
“I think the occasional 'bastards' can be let by, especially as it punctuates the emotion of the song.”
“Not what I meant,” Kost countered. “It's a song about doing terrible things for personal gain. Hardly 'Penny approved' material.”
The therapist's grin widened. This was exactly the sort of interaction she'd hoped her little experiment would birth. “I interpreted the song differently. To me, it's a song about a man questioning his life choices, and clearly full of regrets.”
“But he'd do it all over again.”
“True. Why do you think that is?”
Kost stared at the guitar in his paws for a while. Persephone gave him space to be silent. “We are the product of our choices,” he said at last. “If I didn't make the choices I made, I wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't be who I am, either. I... I guess... this is better than the alternative in a lot of ways.”
Perse nodded. “You mean it's better for your friend, Bubbles?”
“A lot better, trust me on that,” he confirmed with a nod. “I'm no fan of the spankings or the early bedtimes or the thousands of other rules I have to follow, but I don't think I've ever seen Bubbles as happy as when we moved into our new house. It... it almost made it all worthwhile.”
The Roferian leaned forward, sensing a vulnerability in the boy's consciousness. “But there is at least one thing you wish you could change, isn't there?” Kost merely nodded in reply. “If you feel up to it, I would appreciate you sharing.”
No answer was immediately forthcoming, but Persephone was patient. If you ever wanted a Penny to open up about their true feelings, they had to trust you; part of that trust was giving them the right to refuse. Her empathic sense read the inner turmoil boiling away behind Kost's eyes as he wondered what to share and what to keep.
At last, he reached a decision. The words came out slowly, softly, and laden with pain. “The first job I did as part of the crew. I was fifteen. We were on some backwater planet, sent in to gut the local government so someone else could stage a coup. That kind of bloody work is more common than you think out in the badlands. It was my first job, like I said, and I was sent to guard one of the flanks of the yard our shuttles had landed in. We came down under fire, and I was scared shitless the whole time as we ran for cover. We got to the north wing and Bjor was putting rounds up into a guard-tower when a door behind me opened. I didn't think. I just... I just turned and fired on full-auto, raked the doorway thinking it was more guards jumping us.”
Persephone saw how the boy's paws trembled when his voice faded. Softly, sombrely, she prompted him onwards. “It wasn't a guard, was it?”
Kost shook his head. “A female, about my age, and a boy maybe eight or nine. The girl had a cub in her paws. They weren't armed. They... they were just trying to get away from us.”
“I can tell that still haunts you.”
Another, sorrowful nod answered her statement. “Bjor told the captain they'd been caught in crossfire between us and the guards. He always had my back like that. It... it took a long time for me to forget. I think that's when this shaking started. And the drinking, and the drugs... I... I told myself it was their own stupid fault. Told myself they deserved it. If they hadn't done something to deserve being shot, they surely would have if they'd lived.”
“Because if that were true, then you wouldn't have to feel guilty over what you did.”
Kost wiped his nose on his sleeve, blinking repeatedly to chase away tears. “It wasn't true though, was it?”
Persephone shuffled a little closer to the boy, perching on the edge of her seat to create a sense of intimacy. “Kost, when we are faced with trauma we often create falsehoods as a means to cope. The fact that this deed hurt you so badly is a good sign, as strange as that might sound. It means you know right from wrong, and that you wish to do right. Hurting others should never come easily to us. It doesn't come easily to you, no matter what you might wish others to believe.”
A fake smile formed in the corner of the boy's muzzle. “You're going to ruin my reputation if you tell other people that.”
“I know how exhausting it is to have to appear strong for other people. You don't have to do that here. I won't think any less of you for wanting a place you can let go and be vulnerable for once.”
“Vulnerability wasn't exactly encouraged in my old life.”
“I know, Kost. But that life is behind you now. Here you will never be punished for opening yourself up.”

When the Kyyreni boy had returned to his father, Persephone allowed herself a break to relax with a steaming cup of ornazo – a tea-like beverage – and some sweet biscuits imported from Caliban. The tea was technically a narcotic, but it was favoured by Roferians for its ability to dull their empathic sense; as a therapist in a town full of hardened criminals, it was a welcome escape. Even through the mental fog of her drink, there was no mistaking the mind that came knocking. “Come in, Tobias,” she called.
The male who crossed her threshold was in every way her opposite; bone white fur with a dry-blood streak of hair in sharp contrast to her muted, subtle greys; sharp and snarling features as opposed to her softer, more rounded snout; and a mind of hard iron, as open as a dungeon and as welcoming as a landmine. “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.
“Not at all. Ornazo?” she proferred a porcelain teapot to her guest.
He waved it away. “Never touch the stuff. I'm here on official matters, concerning one of my students. Oshi.”
Persephone's eyes unfocused as she rummaged around her internal filing cabinet. “Y-Rep, served seven years of a 12x4-6 sentence?”
“That's her,” Mister Titus confirmed. “She's become a lot more hostile this year, at home and at school. Beating it out of her doesn't seem to be working, so I'm hoping you can fit her in.”
The therapist let out a dry chuckle. “I'm going to need an assistant at this rate! I barely see most of them as it is!”
“Bring it up at the next town hall. I'll back you up over it; we can always roll back the 'special events' budget a little.”
“Oh no, we can't do that! Those days matter a lot to the children, even the ones where their backsides are on the line. You'd be making my job harder, believe me!”
“Duly noted. When do you think you can fit Oshi in?”
“I'll try to juggle things around to get her in this week. I'll call her parents presently.”
Mister Titus accepted the answer with a subtle bow. “Thank you. Karaoke at the bar tonight?”
“I have far too much work to do!” Persephone laughed. “Perhaps next time.”
“I'll hold you to it,” the male Roferian grinned as he headed for the door, leaving Persephone to her tea.

Having made all necessary arrangements to fit another child into her busy schedule, Persephone made sure everything was ready for her next arrival. She opened the door and smiled warmly at the family waiting outside. “Talek? Come on through.”
The green-scaled boy seemed nervous as he approached, but that was hardly unexpected for a first time. “I've been looking forward to meeting you. I'm sorry we couldn't sooner. My name is Persephone, but you can call me 'Perse' if you like.”
“Nice to meet you,” Talek answered as he settled into his chair and Perse took hers opposite.
Doing all she could to seem warm and approachable, she said, “I know you're probably fearing the worst right now – thanks to Mister Titus, many Pennys get awfully frightened when they see me the first time! But, meaning no offence to my colleague, we are as unalike as can be. This is a safe place, and I will never raise a paw to punish you, here or elsewhere. What we discuss stays between us; I may advise your parents and teachers, but I will not share anything without your express consent.”
“Okay,” the boy answered, clearly believing some input was expected from him.
“Excellent. This session is for your benefit, Talek. If our talk touches on a subject you'd rather not discuss, you don't have to. You can choose not to answer any questions I ask. All I will ask for is honesty; if you do speak, speak the truth. Is that alright.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Great. So, how are you feeling?”
“About?”
Persephone shrugged. “Home, school, something that happened recently, whatever you'd like.”
Talek nodded slowly. The Roferian could feel inner doubts bubble up, like a layer of silt on the bottom of a still lake, billowing up into a thick, turbulent smog behind a passing swimmer. “Well... I have been trying to talk to my parents more about some things. But... I know they're keeping something from me.”
“Can you elaborate?” Persephone had her suspicions, but it was unwise to pre-judge. Penitatas were by design kept in the dark about a great many things, though they often caught glimpses of life beyond their intended scope. This wouldn't be the first time she'd had to gently talk a child back towards accepting this.
“Ever since... I guess it started with my mom. My birth-mom, Jalia.”
“I knew her. I believe she moved out of Northrock a short while back.”
Talek confirmed this with a nod. “She tried to escape. I... she tricked me into helping her escape.”
Persephone's expression didn't budge, remaining calm and attentive. “Go on,” she urged with the softest of tones.
“Everyone knew from the start. I guess you know what happened after that?”
“I would appreciate you telling me, but you don't have to if it's something you'd rather not revisit,” she answered.
The boy shrugged, though her empathic sense registered sparks of bitter pain. “I got a Judicial for what I did. It wasn't... it was the worst thing I've ever experienced! But I didn't mean to do it! I... it wasn't fair,” he finished weakly, hanging his head in shame.
The Roferian leaned a little closer. “I am not here to judge you, Talek. You have every right to feel that way. I'd like you to think about that feeling, the unfairness, a little deeper: focus in on it, and try to tell me where it comes from. What's the core of that reaction?”
The boy closed his eyes, allowing Persephone to indulge in a smile. He was doing far more than most did in such an early session – he was trying. Genuinely, honestly trying. “The fact they lied to me,” he said at last. “The fact they led me along and didn't once step in to protect me. I know I shouldn't have done it, but when I met Jalia again she made so much sense. I mean, at the time it made sense... I don't know why I did it.”
Parental issues, hardly a unique motivator. But the circumstances? Those were unique; Persephone made mental and written notes as she quietly, patiently walked through what Talek was willing to share of that fractured relationship.
“There's something else, too. Something she said to me that I've been thinking about again lately. I've been thinking about it since Dale came to visit.” Persephone made a note of the name but chose to leave asking about it until later, so as not to break Talek's natural flow. “She talked a lot about how the world was unfair on purpose, meant so that people like me could never get what we deserved while others got everything. It... really feels true right now.”
Carefully, for she could read how erratic the boy's emotions were becoming, Persephone tried to steer this revelation. “Something specific brought this feeling forward. Something recent?”
“Yeah. Just recently we had a guest stay with us. A kindern, a fifteen year old boy named Dale who was like me. Like I was, anyway; making bad choices. Getting into trouble. They sent him here to scare him straight. He was only here two nights, and then he got to go home...”
“I can't begin to imagine how painful that must have been,” she answered at barely a whisper. It was such a subtle stroke, yet it broke the boy's inner walls and brought forth slow, heartfelt sobs. As much as she would have liked to hold Talek close and comfort him, her role required a certain degree of professional distance. She never swung the paddle, but nor could she offer the shoulder to cry on. “Talek? Let me ask you this: suppose you had your day in court. What would be the ideal result for you? What would you hope for the judge to say?”
The boy earned further respect from his reaction. He didn't immediately jump to 'Innocentatas' or some other outlandish notion, but he twisted and turned the idea around in his head, studying his own thoughts before speaking. “I don't know.” Honesty, the best possible answer.
“There's something you're conflicted about, isn't there?”
“Rilka,” he answered immediately. “If I get sent back home to Newfounding, I lose Rilka. I... I don't want to leave her behind. What I really, really want is for her to be paroled with me, so we can grow up together and leave together... but... that's not going to happen, is it? I think my dad was trying to tell me something like that a while ago. At least... at least if I'm still a Penny, we're still together...”
“You truly love her.” It wasn't a question. She didn't need to be an empath to know it, either. “I dearly wish I could give you an easy answer, Talek, but I don't think there is one. You aren't the first rejuve to fall in love with someone they can't keep, and I doubt you will be the last.”
“What do I do... when it's over?” he blubbed out the words as Persephone offered a tissue.
“I can only tell you what I would do, Talek. I would grieve, yes, but I would also be thankful that I got to share something so wonderful with another soul. Don't cry that it will end, Talek; smile, and give thanks that it happened.”
The boy let out something between a huff and a cough. “It's not that easy!”
“No,” she answered, sadly. “No, it is not. I know it must sound empty for me to say this, but in time you won't feel the pain so much. You never forget them, the loved ones you leave behind, but you only keep the good times.”
“Then... I'd want to have as many good times as I can,” he answered, trying to sound firm despite the shaking in his voice. “I'd want to be a Completas like Isabelle, and stay in Northrock, stay with mom and dad – Shon and Liki. And Rilka. I'd want to stay with them until... I don't know.”
“Until she has to rejuvenate.”
“I mean, we could still be...” Talek's thoughts shifted on their own. The words hovered at the tip of his tongue.
Persephone chose to give them the push. “You would be twelve, and she would be six. By the time she is twelve again, you'll be eighteen. If she doesn't make parole then, you'll be twenty-four before she's eligible again.”
“That's... too much,” the boy hung his little green snout low in surrender. “but... I could rejuvenate, couldn't I? If she made parole?”
As kindly as she could, Persephone shut down his hope. “You might not be so keen on that when you get older. In a sense, adulthood was robbed from you, and I suspect a part of you dearly wants that back.”
“Maybe...” Talek mumbled. He quietly accepted the offer of a fresh tissue. “What... what do I do now?”
“That's up to you. We can come up with something together, points of discussion I can have with your parents to raise your concerns, or you can speak to them yourself. If all you need me to do is give you space to voice your ideas, then I'm happy to be that for you. I do want to temper your expectations though, Talek; I can't promise major changes to your life. The hardships I help with most are the ones inside your own mind, not the rules by which you have to live. It is common for a penitatas to feel they are punished unfairly, but it is not always the case that others agree with them.”
She was glad Talek seemed to understand her meaning. “It's not up to my parents whether I'm a Penny or not. It's the courts.”
“Yes, and for now, you must be patient and wait for your day in front of the judge. But you can prepare for that day by reflecting on yourself: think about the ways you've tried to improve, and demonstrate you have learned from past mistakes. I don't believe you are a bitter person, and that's good – bitterness corrodes us from the inside. But I do know you are hurting deep down, and perhaps there's something we can do to ease that. Even if all that is would be to give you a little more transparency.”
“What do you mean?” Talek clung to her final words with new eagerness.
“Well, let's loop back to what you said at the start, about things being kept from you. Would it make you feel better to know what some of those things are? Would that make you feel more 'at home' here?”
“I think so, yeah,” the boy answered with an eager nod.
“Alright. Would you be alright with me having a quick word with your parents about that? Asking what they might be able to share with you?”
“Okay.”
“What about your feelings about Rilka, and your future parole?”
There she met pushback. “I think I'd like to talk to them about that. Maybe later.”
“That's perfectly fine. I'll go and fetch your parents now. If you don't want me to talk to them in front of you that's okay.”
He didn't. Talek instead sat outside the therapist's office, kicking the air idly as he waited for whatever was happening to stop happening. It continued to happen for much longer than the boy would have liked it to, but after an eternity the door creaked back open and the smiling Roferian woman waved him back inside.
Shon was first to speak. “Perse tells us you're feeling a little overwhelmed, and that you think knowing more about what's going on might help?” The boy nodded as Persephone steered him to a seat equidistant between herself and his parents. “Alright. Is there something specific that's on your mind?”
“The Watchdog,” he answered immediately.
“Yes, I thought so.” All three adults exchanged glances. “I know it's not the answer you want, but all we can say right now is this: the matter has been escalated to the police, and so it would be improper for us to talk to you about anything involving their investigation. However, hand on heart, I promise the moment it is done we will share everything we know with you. That will require you be patient. Is that alright?”
“Is someone going to get arrested?” the boy asked.
Persephone fielded the answer. “Tampering with a Watchdog is a serious crime, so it is possible they will be sentenced. Whether or not they end up as a penitatas here in Northrock is another matter entirely.”
“And they definitely weren't after me? Wait, they were after me!” he blurted out, catching the subtle anxiety in his parent's faces.
“Talek-” Shon began, but paused as he looked to the two women. Both nodded. “I investigated the matter myself when it was brought to my attention. Honestly, I'm ashamed I didn't catch it sooner, but I tracked down the machine and went over it inch by inch, hardware and code. It was modified with an external device, and unless our security has been breached far worse than we imagined there are only a few people who could have done it. It was an inside job, son. Someone here in Northrock.”
An icy shiver ran down the boy's spine. Liki slipped from her chair and moved over to hold his paw.
Patient as ever, Perse offered her own words of wisdom. “It is important we allow the police to do their work. You have your own part to play, Talek; we need you to carry on as normal. Just... live your life. Serve your time. Trust in the process.”
“But if it could be anyone-” the boy protested, only for Liki to quickly shush him.
“Don't go thinking like that! It'll eat you up inside!”
Shon offered more, “The modifications to the Watchdog were never meant to put you in any danger. The intent seems to have been to get you in trouble, nothing more. Someone wants to see you get a hiding, which itself helps us figure out who it might be.”
“Why can't you tell me?” the boy whimpered, fighting to keep from breaking under the strain.
“Because we honestly don't know,” Shon said.
The Roferian sighed, “Talek, if I may? You are special because of your status – a juvenalas penitatas. The first juvenalas penitatas. If you come to your first parole hearing with a spotless record, it'll be proof to many that this is a better way to deal with criminal kindern. By contrast, if it turns out your record is full of black marks, it could see the JP program set back decades, even killed outright.”
“Why would any of that matter?”
“Because much of our society runs on reputation,” the therapist continued. “If you are associated with success, you are given more opportunities to advance, which leads to greater success, and greater advancements – so on, and so on, allowing one to climb as high as your ambition allows. By contrast, being associated with failure can see your ambitions thwarted, and your life goals left unachieved.”
The boy's snout scrunched in pain. “So I'm being used?”
When Shon spoke, his voice was harsh as a whetstone on steel. “Yes, Talek, and when we find out who has been using you I will personally make sure they hurt for a long, long time.”
A laden silence fell over the room. Talek leaned into his mother's embrace, finding solace in her warm, welcoming grip. “What do you think about me?” he asked. “My status I mean. Being a 'JP'. Were you in favour of it?”
Persephone was first to answer. “I for one opposed the idea. I believe that your dual-status only serves to give you the worst of both worlds; robbed of your chance to grow up, yet punished as though you had.”
His parents exchanged guilty looks. Shon voiced them. “Liki and I have become increasingly concerned that, as Perse suggested, we've neglected your 'kindern' side. It's far too easy for us to forget you're only seventeen now, and yet we've punished you as we would a full-blown adult. It must sound like I'm making excuses when I say this, but nobody told us otherwise. We were never told to make exceptions – in fact, we were encouraged to give you the full 'hard time' experience on numerous occasions. We should have done better.”
Talek could take no more. He leaped from the chair and raced towards his father, throwing himself at the man who caught him and pulled him close for a tight, supporting hug. For all the pain and misery that his Northrock parents had caused him, they were still a precious source of comfort for Talek, and he needed that now more than ever.
“I think it might be time for Talek to go home,” Persephone said in her soft, comforting tones.

There was nothing left to do but wait. Thankfully, there were plenty of things to help distract him.
The weather was turning, with warmer days becoming the norm. Storms and showers blew in frequently, but gave way just as often to pleasant, temperate sunshine. As daytime drew longer, and the need for thick coats all but vanished, the school schedule shifted in kind. Officially, the only time off the students of N.C.E. received was a short break around New Years – but the classrooms became less occupied as first the non-judicial rejuves, and then even the penitatas began to skip out. Talek and Rilka were soon spending just three days a week at school if that, and the time at home was filled with fun as often as punitive past-times.
Summer came out of nowhere, as if riding in on the shuttle that had brought the most unlikely of guests to their shores. Richter Saccard, once a name on the holo's news network, was suddenly amongst them as an awkward Penny boy of five or six, and with an adorable puppy along with him! Othello was all anyone could talk about after the Roferian came and went – all who had been friends with Richter gained celebrity status during the fleeting visits to school as every child eagerly mobbed around them, desperate to learn of the therapy pup and what it was like to play with him.
The memories of that fleeting visit was fresh on Talek's mind as he lay on his bed, blissfully cool thanks to the room's environmental controls while a freak heatwave baked the town outside. Rilka lay nude beside him, her cream scales glistening with a thin layer of sweat she'd worked up from skipping in the sunshine. On the floor beside him sat Isabelle, with Francine hugged up tight to her older sibling, whether she wanted to be or not. On the bedside table their radio sang to them, its archaic broadcast technology laden with a distinctive hiss and crackle as a summer tune faded away, replaced by a young Karrian's voice.
“Good afternoon, everyone! My name is Patrick, and today Radio Northrock is playing host to a very special guest indeed! Sadly, our guest is likely to be long gone by the time you all hear this, but here and now it is my great pleasure to welcome Richter Saccard to town! Welcome, Richter!”
“Thank you, Patrick” Richter's reply carried far less enthusiasm than the host's.
“So, first and most obvious question: why are you here?”
Richter cleared his throat. “I'm unsure if I can answer that question.”
A third voice, that of Mr Hachi added, “It will be fine so long as you don't go into too many details.”
A pause followed. “Very well. I am serving a penitatas sentence on Earth for my actions against that planet, and the Federation as a whole; but as 'Velius' I had done far more. There were malicious programs still live in the galactic net, while other code-constructs lay dormant, waiting to be triggered. I... volunteered to help disarm and destroy these virtual threats.”
“These are all threats of your own making?” Patrick asked.
Another pause came from Richter. “Most of them are. A few were made by others.”
“I suspect some might ask why you want to help disarm these threats. I don't mean to be rude or to insult you, but in my experience someone capable of the kind of crimes you committed isn't likely to help undo the damage so readily.”
A keen listener would have discerned the pain in Richter's voice when he replied. “Your reaction is one I have faced more times than I care to count. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised no-one ever believes me when I try to explain,” he added, a frustrated verbal tick slipping out at the end.
“Well I'm sure we have many curious listeners. If you don't mind, that is?”
“I... very well. In no particular order, there are several reasons for my actions here. The first, one I'm certain many penitatas can appreciate, is that I simply wish to escape the hardships of my sentence. My life as a penitatas involves daily punishments, even when I am here performing good deeds. Through positive behaviour and working to make amends, I hope to earn some reprieve from that.”
“Then it's not altruism that motivates you?” the accusatory tone was clear for all to hear.
Snappish, Richter shot back, “I find few people ever act for purely altruistic reasons. A person might not ask for money, or some other tangible reward, but 'doing good' to make oneself feel superior to those who do not, or cannot, is no less a selfish choice as mine.” His tone softened as he continued, “I accept that my current hardships are the product of my past actions, and that my present misery is therefore self inflicted. That doesn't mean I enjoy it. I cooperate with my parents and accept my punishments not because I wish to be hurt, or humiliated, or because I enjoy wheeling around barrows full of manure; I do it because resistance brings no possible benefit to me, and can only make my life harder. This is true for all penitatas, is it not?”
“I suppose so,” the host agreed.
“Then it also follows that the only way to truly show remorse is to seek something beyond what is mandated. A penitatas is not 'sorry' if they obey, merely pragmatic; a 'sorry' penitatas actively asks for ways to prove their desire for redemption.”
A thoughtful silence followed. “I certainly didn't expect that kind of introspection from someone who is still new to being a Penny,” Patrick said at last.
“I am possessed of considerable intelligence,” Richter permitted himself to boast. Said intelligence made him add, “though I often lack the wisdom to apply it properly.”
Isabelle prodded her sister. “You could learn a lot from his attitude.” Talek let himself smirk at the spiteful little noise Francine made in reply. He was just enjoying hearing Richter's voice again – never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd have ever considered a monster like Velius worthy of friendship, and yet they were, if not fast friends, certainly amiable to one another by the time he left. That train of thought made him turn and look down at the pale Aspatrian girls beneath him. Isabelle had been a monster once, hadn't she? Now... he blushed at trying to figure out what she was to him. Not a lover, that was Rilka's place, but certainly more than a friend. A friend with benefits, maybe? As for Francine, he certainly felt no kind of attraction to the little kit, and her personality was abrasive at best. But Isabelle clearly wanted her friends to be Francine's friends, and so he was willing to at least try.
He rolled back, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling. Ki'reth had killed someone with his bare teeth. Kost had definitely killed people. Bubbles, if she hadn't, had at least been an accessory. Rilka's crimes he knew well. What about Lusu? Her past was still oblique, something she wanted kept from her friends even as the rest of their circle let their past out piece by piece. What could be so shameful that she'd want it hidden even from murders and rapists?
When did being fast friends with these kinds of people become the norm?
The question shook Talek enough to make him sit upright. Rilka rose with him, concern painted over her pale snout. “What's up?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Just working through stuff in my head. I'm a little thirsty.”
He slipped from the bed and went for the hall, moving slowly as he wasn't entirely certain if he had leave to go downstairs at will. Such things were never a given in a Penny house, even on days when rules felt relaxed. The front door was wide open, letting the heat roll in. He lingered there, peering out into the street for any sign of a parent. The roar of the ocean came over the windbreak, topped with its narrow little saplings that offered next to nothing in terms of protection or scenery. Two male Karrians walked past, both adults who lived together at the far end of the road. Neither so much as glanced his way.
Turning away, Talek headed into the kitchen to find a tray of lemonade waiting. The pale, yellowish liquid was enticing, with ice-cubes gently clinking as they melted. Four glasses rested on the tray. Temptation made his claw grasp the glass handle, but harsh experience made him pull away. No, that road led to a spanking – he helped himself to a glass of water instead, leaving the tray's contents undisturbed. As he tried to make his way back upstairs he saw Liki framed in the doorway, and the ground-in fear every Penny had of being caught somewhere they shouldn't be. “I came down for a drink!” he squeaked.
Liki smiled. “Sorry, dear. I was just about to bring you some lemonade but I got distracted. I think you should come and see why. In fact, go and fetch everyone else then come on out.”
Rilka dared put her clothes back on before complying. The four rejuves stepped out into the sunshine together, squinting at the bright glare that met them, and followed Liki out towards the beach. There, the two males Talek had seen earlier were escorting a little girl towards them. She had a similar blue-green hew to Liki and looked about six. A new arrival. A new neighbour. Her eyes kept darting from Shon and Liki, then to Talek, then back to his parents. From her expression it seemed she knew them all.
Shon met her with a grin, but Talek's stomach tightened when he noted his father's claw balling into a fist. “Hello again, Tulu,” he said.