The halls of the moon were bustling with people—usually, but Chitin chose to roam the ones that everyone else avoided. He liked the relative quiet and the dimmed lighting, and he knew he had nothing to fear. In human form, he was too big for most to attack, and he was yet to meet anyone who would stand and face him when he became a wolf.

  Of course, if he became a wolf, it was usually so he could run and hide, vanishing through a grate into the walls of Lunar One to emerge dressed as a workman through a maintenance hatch elsewhere. He was not the only one to frequent the tunnels—or the only one to have claimed a corner in the disused warren that had once housed the refugees of Earth.

  That had been many moons ago, and Chitin curled his lip at the unintended pun. Many, many moons. His people had a home on one of the outer worlds, now, a place with forests to roam in, one for which their claim had been honored. But Chitin did not feel as though he belonged there. He did not feel as though he belonged anywhere…except maybe here, in the dimly lit halls of a half-forgotten legacy.

  It was late, and he had come to the dome to stare out at the stars, to drink in the view of a slowly recovering world.

  One day, he thought, I will go and visit, but every night he searched his view of the Earth’s surface, and every night, he was disappointed to see the places he most wanted to go still glowed.

  Tonight, he looked, again, and saw the same, although he imagined one small corner had grown in healthy darkness, and the thought made him smile.

  At this rate, I will be covered in silver before I can stand beneath those skies and look up at where I am now, he thought, and sadness rippled through him like a stream.

  A small sound caught his ears. If he were in wolf form, his ears would have twitched, and he’d have tilted his head, all the better to catch the sound. As it was, he tilted his head and turned his face just enough that he could catch sight of her from the corner of his eye. He knew that, as soon as she knew he’d seen her, she’d bolt.

  He also knew she was nothing to fear. The she-child had been stalking him for the last five days, and he had stalked her back, just enough to ensure she posed no threat to him.

  “She’s probably come off one of the cargoes,” Nev Shinto had said, when Chitin asked. “Been a few stowaways last few weeks. Probably escaped from an orphanage or traders. I don’t ask, and I don’t tell. You know me.”

  Don’t ask. Don’t tell, that was the port master’s mantra, and Chitin wasn’t going to complain. He benefited from it as much as the next wall walker. He had held up a credit stick with a distinctive red-and-gold star on one side, and watched Nev’s eyes light up.

  “Where does she doss?” he asked—Nev might believe in don’t ask, don’t tell, but he could still be bought; Chitin kept that in mind every time he dealt with the man.

  The sound came again, pulling Chitin out of the memory. This time he could not suppress the growl rumbling from his chest. It was met with a frightened squeak, followed by a hurried scuffle, but not the pittering patter of running footsteps, like before.

  “What do you want?” he said, his voice projecting in a rough bark.

  More sounds of movement, and this time he did turn his head. The she-child had broken cover, and now approached him, wary caution in every line. Her light-brown hair stuck out at odd angles from her head, as though some inexpert hand had wielded clippers to save the trouble of brushing it. In the light refracted from outside the dome, Chitin could see it was touched with striations of fawn and gold.

  As he watched, she palmed the fringe away from her eyes, and came another few steps closer. She reminded him of a kitten, one of those from a cargo ship, all fear and defiance. The sight touched the wolf inside him, and he had to resist the urge to chase.

  From the scent rising off her skin, she was terrified, yet she came toward him, her face stark white, and her small jaw set with determination.

  “What do you want?” he repeated, trying to keep his voice gentle.

  She froze, poised for flight, and Chitin sighed.

  “I’m not going to eat you, you know,” and he lowered himself to the ground, curling his legs beneath him, watching her watch him, keeping an eye, and an ear, on the far corners of the room, and making sure the planet never left his sight.

  To give her credit, she did not run, although she was ready to. When he was settled, he was still as tall as she was, but her terror had diminished to fear, and she came toward him, one slow step at a time. When she paused, three meters away, Chitin tucked his hands under his legs and looked at her.

  In the half-light of the dome, he could see she wasn’t quite as human as she appeared. Her hair had small tufts of black through the tawny yellow-brown, and her eyes were a strange blend of yellow-green tinged by the lightest shade of blue.

  “What are you?” he asked, and she drew herself up to her full three and a half feet of height.

  She reminded him so much of a cat fluffing out its fur, that he had to suppress a smile, so he ducked his head to hide the curve of his lips. Her reply wiped all amusement from his mind.

  “I am a little girl,” she said, and added, “A little human girl.”

  He wanted to refute that claim, but thought better of it. Something in the desperate way she had said it made him see its importance to her. Thinking quickly, he changed the subject.

  “And what is a little human girl doing, following me around?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  This time Chitin didn’t bother to suppress the bark of laughter.

  “And what makes you think you have anything I would want?”

  He had made her angry, he could see, but she raised her chin and glared at him.

  “Because I stole it from your lair, and hid it where you will not be able to find it.”

  That stopped his laughter in its tracks.

  “You what?”

  “I took the notebook and your auto-cam,” she said, holding herself very still, “and I hid them where you cannot fit.”

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  Now, he wasn’t in the mood to laugh at all.

  “Go and get them and give. them. back,” he said, the softness of his voice denoting anger.

  “No.”

  “You have no idea what you are playing with.”

  Again, that defiant tilt of the chin, and this time a small smirk of satisfaction.

  “I am being chased by a very big cat,” she said, “And you are a very big dog.”

  “I’m a what?” Chitin was on his feet before he could remind himself to sit still, but this time the little girl stood her ground.

  “You are a dog. I have seen you.” She hesitated, looking up at him, her eyes as big as saucers.

  “A very big dog,” she added, and then, as though trying to placate him, “With beautiful fur.”

  Chitin felt his cheeks grow warm, and knew he was blushing.

  “Well, I still want my stuff back,” he said, his anger at being mistaken for a dog subsiding.

  “And I want you to make the cat go away.”

  Chitin sighed. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to humor her. He crouched down in front of her, and looked into her eyes. He was very aware of Earth hanging in the darkness outside the dome, of the way the dawn fringed the world in yellow light, but with an effort, he kept his eyes on her face.

  “What does this cat look like?”

  “He looks like you.”

  “But I’m a wolf.”

  She frowned at that. Chitin watched her process ‘wolf’ and give an internal shrug. Wolf, dog, he supposed it was all the same to her—he would still have to deal with the cat to get his stuff back.

  “Well, he’s a cat, but he looks like a person.”

  “Then how do you know he’s a cat?”

  That pulled her up short, and she stared at him. For a moment, he thought she might tell him, but then she said, “I just do,” in the way of all children who don’t want to explain. Her voice dared him to say otherwise.

  “So, what does he look like as a human?”

  “Well, he has scary yellow eyes that sometimes look orange, and skin like mine, a black beard, and reddish-brown hair.”

  “Reddish brown?”

  “Like…like a fox,” she said.

  Reddish-brown hair, black beard, green eyes, and skin the color of ivory touched with gold… Chitin had a very bad feeling he knew what kind of cat this might be.

  “Is he a very big man?” he asked, dreading the answer.

  Again, he was met by a very solemn stare as she considered the question.

  “He’s not as tall as you,” she finally said, “But he is wider.”

  “Wide as in fat, or wide as in muscly?”

  “Muscly,” she said, nodding as though checking an internal picture.

  Keeping his gaze on her face, Chitin decided to test a theory.

  “What does he smell like?”

  “Like a cat,” she said, and then closed her mouth with an almost audible snap.

  Chitin watched as she narrowed her eyes, anger making them seem almost yellow. Oh, crap.

  “And how do you know he’s chasing you?”

  “Because he’s here,” she whispered, and the shadows around the door shifted, the cat moving like liquid lightning as it pounced.

  The girl moved faster. One minute, she was standing in front of Chitin, and the next she had leapt over his head and used his shoulder as a pivot to twist and come down behind him. Chitin didn’t waste time wondering how she had managed that feat. Instead, he gauged the cat’s landing point and moved to meet him five feet before it.

  He flowed under the leap, grabbing the man by his shoulders, turning him in the air, and dropping him hard onto the floor. He heard the pained whuff as the air left the cat’s lungs, then released his grip, placing his foot firmly on the man’s chest.

  “Who are you?” he said, watching as the stranger looked up at him.

  The man’s orange-yellow eyes flicked away from Chitin’s face, seeking out the child.

  “She is under my protection,” Chitin said, not bothering to disguise the growl that followed his warning.

  The man gave a chuffing laugh.

  “Little minx,” he said. “She won’t let me near enough to explain.”

  He moved his arm, and Chitin bounced his weight on the man’s chest. The man stopped moving.

  “My I.D.,” he said, “Is in my pocket.”

  He noticed Chitin’s gaze take in the black cargo pants he was wearing.

  “The second pocket on the outside.”

  “And I’m sure it’ll match whatever story you’ve got to tell me.”

  “I am not going to hurt her.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Jeez. Call Odyssey, then. They won’t lie.”

  “What do they want her for?” Chitin heard movement behind him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  The child stopped, and then she flung herself at the man on the floor, slapping his face.

  “Bad kitty!” she screamed. “Bad, bad kitty!”

  “Hey!” but to give him credit, all the cat did was give Chitin a look that asked for help, before turning his face away from the blows.

  “You are a bad kitty.”

  Chitin reached down and picked the child up by the scruff of her neck.

  She gave a screech of frustration, and then hung limply from his grasp.

  “You do know what she is, don’t you?” the man asked, and Chitin took his boot off his chest.

  “She’s under my protection is what,” Chitin said. “You can’t take her, unless she agrees to go.”

  The cat got cautiously to his feet, taking care to move clear of Chitin as he did so. Moving slowly, he walked over to one of the abandoned tables and sat.

  “I can explain.”

  The girl twisted in Chitin’s grasp, and the wolf pulled her into his chest, looping a forearm around her waist. She looked up at him, her eyes a gleaming golden green.

  “He is a bad kitty,” she said.

  “Let’s hear what he has to say,” Chitin suggested, and felt her push carefully against his arm. When she found she couldn’t wriggle loose, she looked up at him with frightened eyes.

  “Don’t let him take me away.”

  “Not unless you say you want to go,” Chitin told her.

  “And you’ll come with me?”

  Chitin glanced over at the cat who was watching the exchange with undisguised interest. The man nodded, orange eyes gleaming, ticking something off on an internal list.

  “I’ll come with you,” Chitin assured her.

  “Promise?”

  Chitin hesitated, and felt her try to kick free.

  “I promise,” he said, as her struggles became more desperate. “I promise I will go with you, if you decide to go. I promise. I promise. I promise.”

  When she stopped struggling, he settled himself on the opposite side of the table.

  “So, are you?” he said.

  The man frowned, and pushed back his chair, but he remained seated.

  “I am not bad kitty,” he said.

  His statement was met by silence from the child in Chitin’s arms, and he sighed, addressing the child when he spoke next.

  “All right. I am a weretiger…just like he is a werewolf, but I am not here to hurt you.”

  The girl made a small sound that might have meant curiosity. Chitin waited, ready to move if the tiger tried to snatch the child, or harm them. Looking across the table at them, the cat leant his elbows on its surface and rested his chin in his hands.

  “Rafferty,” he said, and Chitin was out of his seat and heading for the door. “No, not you, her. It all started with Rafferty. We got the smuggling ring.”

  Chitin kept moving, the child not struggling, as he carried her away from the cat.

  “Dammit! I’m trying to save you,” the man protested, getting out of his seat.

  Chitin kept walking, turning through the door, and heading left into the warren of rooms and corridors beyond.

  “I know a place,” the child whispered. “You would fit if you were a dog.”

  “Wolf.” The correction was automatic.

  “Wolf. You are smaller than he is.”

  “Have you seen him as a tiger?”

  She was silent, her lack of reply an answer in itself.

  “All right. Tell me when to change.”

  “Left,” she said, tugging at his jacket as though being in his arms gave her any influence. He turned, anyway.

  “Left.”

  He turned left, and then right, and then, when they found themselves in a long-abandoned room with an empty bedframe, “Down.”

  Chitin got down, and she scrambled out of his arms, kicking the door closed behind them before ducking beneath the small, three-foot-square desk top. He heard a muffled thump and scraping, and then she whispered.

  “Only the wolf will fit.”

  Only the wolf will…fantastic, but Chitin did as she told him, and followed her into a crawl space where even in wolf form he had to shuffle along on his elbows and belly.

  How much further? he wanted to ask, but she kept moving, quick and quiet, for what seemed an age. All he could do was follow, and hope the access shaft opened out soon.

  When it finally did, it was into a cavity he hadn’t guessed existed. His notebook-sized computer and auto-cam were stacked neatly on a slab of plascrete that had been set on two smaller pieces of debris to form a shelf.

  Chitin slid out of the access shaft and dropped a foot to the floor. Once out of the shaft, he stretched his legs and shook the kinks out of his coat, but he did not shift back to human form; the chamber was too small for that. He stretched again, sliding his forelegs out to touch one wall, and arching his back so that his rump almost touched the other. His tail brushed the ceiling.

  The girl lifted a metal grill into place over the shaft, and then went and sat on a small, neatly made bed on the other side of the room.