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The creature turned to her, presenting its own rump, and lifted the decorative kilt to point to an unmistakable orifice. Ofelia looked away. She didn’t really want to see what a creature hole looked like, but she had already registered that it had the predictable puckered appearance.

“Yes,” she said. “It comes out a hole in the back.” They must know that, from their observations of her; she suspected them of watching at times when she had been unaware of it. She hoped they could get off this topic quickly, but the creatures had a way of sticking to something as long as it interested them. They should know this already; it had been impossible, in the early days, to keep them from knowing what happened when she used the toilet. This one had come with Bluecloak, so perhaps it had never seen . . . but it should have known, from talking to the others. She knew they discussed her.

“Utter uhoo,” the creature said. Other you meant the other humans; none of the creatures would attempt the word human. “What about the others?” Ofelia asked. She had become used to the creatures understanding more of her speech than she did of theirs.

It pointed to its mouth, then her mouth . . . its rump and then the sheep droppings.

“Oh—you mean you wonder if the other humans do this too?” What a silly question. Of course they did. She nodded vigorously. “Yes. They do.”

“Nott ksee,” the creature said. Ofelia thought about it. The other humans still lived in the shelters they’d set up down at the shuttle field; they had moved out of the shuttle itself only in the past few days. So perhaps the creatures had never seen them eat or excrete.

Now the creature tapped its nose, and sniffed elaborately. “Nnnott sssane.” Ofelia understood that as “smells crazy,” which made no sense in terms of what they had been talking about. The creature tried again. “Utter uhoo—” then a big sniff, “—nnot saamp.” Sane . . . saamp . . . same. Other yous smell not same? Yes, that could be it.

Ofelia gestured to reinforce her own words. “You think the other humans smell . . . not like me? Not the same?”

“Eeeyess.” It touched her shirt, then its own kilt and belts. “Nnnott saamp klote-ss.”

True enough, the others didn’t wear the same clothes; they wore long-sleeved billowy shirts and long pants, shoes, all in muted colors.

“Saamp utter uhoose purrrt nessstt passs.” The same as other yous—other humans who purrrt—burrrt?—nest-something. Burrrt sounded close to hurt. Ofelia set the basket down to have the use of both hands. Had those luckless colonists hurt the creatures’ nests? Was that why they’d been attacked?

“Burrrt?” She mimed pounding, kicking.

The creature looked around, as if confused. Then it said “Hah-ahttt. Purrrt aaakss hah-ahtt.” Hot. Purrrt makes hot.

“Burn!” Astonishment and horror both hit at once. Where had it learned the word “burn”? Had she used it, in warning of the hot stoves? She couldn’t remember. And the other humans had burned the nests? Burned the babies?

She thought of the mechbots dropping out of the sky to scrape away whatever grew, to make the flat landing place for shuttles . . . if that had been nests, if it had caught fire from the mechbot exhausts, or perhaps they even fired the heaps of grass and roots . . . and nestlings.

She knew her face must be a mask of horror, and the creature stared at her, recognizing her shock.

“Utter uhoo,” it said again, this time with a decisive jerk of the head. “Nnnott saamp. Nnnott . . .” and it rattled off a quick sequence of its own language, in which Ofelia thought she heard click-kaw-keerrr.

However bad they were, these humans had not destroyed the creatures’ nests and children. She had to defend them. But she couldn’t figure out how to unmake that confusion—not confusion, she realized now, but settled antagonism. And why hadn’t Bluecloak told her, when it was teaching her, learning from her, when she had played it the tapes of the other colony’s death?

Had it been a wish to spare her pain, or a deeper mistrust?

“Click-kaw-keerrr,” she said, that being the word which usually settled them. “Gurgle-click-cough?”

The creature touched her head, delicately. “Uhoo kud click-kaw-keerrr.”

She might be a good click-kaw-keerrr, but she still didn’t know all her responsibilities . . . responsibilities to both people, she thought suddenly. She didn’t want this—they weren’t going to listen to her—but she could not leave the humans ignorant of what she’d learned. She needed to find out more first, though, and that meant finding the best source.

“Bluecloak?” she asked the creature. “Where is Bluecloak?”