Phildee—five, towheaded, round faced, chubby, dressed in a slightly grubby corduroy oversuit, and precocious—had his attributes, too. Grubby and tousled; branded with a thread of licorice from one corner of his mouth to his chin; involved in the loss of his first milk-tooth, as he was—he nevertheless slipped onto the path on Riya's world, the highest product of Terrestrial evolution. Alice followed a white rabbit down a hole. Phildee followed Reimann down into a hole that, at the same time, followed him, and emerged—where?
Phildee didn't know. He could have performed the calculation necessary to the task almost instantly, but he was five. It was too much trouble.
He looked up, and saw a gray slope of rock vaulting above him. He looked down, and saw it fall away toward a plain on which were scattered pairs of foraging animals. He felt a warm breeze, smelled it, saw it blow dust along the path, and saw Riya:
B is for big brown beast.
L is for looming large, looking lonely.
B? L? Bull? No—bison.
Bison:
bison (bi'sn) n. The buffalo
of the N. Amer. plains.
Phildee shook his head and scowled. No—not bison, either. What, then? He probed.
Riya took a step forward. The sight of a living organism other than a person was completely unfamiliar to her. Nevertheless, anything that small, and undeniably covered—in most areas, at least—with some kind of fur, could not, logically, be anything but a strange kind of calf. But—she stopped, and raised her head—if a calf, then where was the call?
Phildee's probe swept past the laboring mind directly into her telepathic, instinctual centers.