"Am thin but strong by Maggiese standards," Toal said.
I managed to carry three cases and the hisser. Toal retrieved a mesh bag, filled with fruit or vegetables, and picked up the fourth case. She asked, as we walked toward the town, "Is true, in the Explored Galaxy, people do not care how children look?"
"What? Children? Yes, generally. Some believe little boys' ears shouldn't stick out too far, and some consider little girls with golden curls and dimples the most charming, but there isn't much prejudice."
"Is also true," Toal said, "no one must marry someone he dislikes?"
"Sometimes an exchange of x-tops and coupons is involved, but it's usually a free choice."
Toal asked no more questions, but followed along pointing out the ripening crunchies and the blooming goodies. She warned me of toothie tunnels across the path. The striped rodents, she explained, menaced stored food, crops, livestock, and buildings. They were checked, to some extent, by traps, poison, and disease cultures.
A wooden bridge, crushed and splintered in the middle, spanned a ditch. The bridge was actually made of sawed boards and beams, not liquid wood castings. The prints of cloven hoofs and dewclaws spotted the soft ground.
"The Hog!" Toal said. "Passed between me and the wall!"
I dropped the cases and clutched the hisser with both hands.