Outside it was nearly night. A few yards from the ship, the lion was rolling on his back in a patch of yellow flowers and growling to himself.
Holman kept his back to the lion while he assembled his tent. And when he had it finished he went inside and didn't come out until Nancy called him for dinner.
The sky, up through the yellow-green leaves, was clear. The afternoon was warm, with a slight feel of coming rain. Holman locked his hands behind his head and half-closed his eyes. "And living alone by the woods is dangerous," he said.
Nancy laughed. "You've just eaten lunch in it."
Holman closed his eyes. "And how do you know what Shandy is? Maybe he's why this place got a bad name in the first place."
"He's a harmless pet. I'm very fond of him."
"Didn't your father have any ideas about him?"
"Dad couldn't figure Shandy out. He made all kinds of tests. Shandy's the only one of his kind we ever saw. But, see, dad wasn't sure what he was originally. He's a mimic, an over-done chameleon. I don't know. I like him."
Sitting up, Holman said, "Okay." He touched Nancy's shoulder. "Look, we've known each other, what? over a year now."