“What d’you think’s out there?” Antwohnette sits on a rickety porch propped up on makeshift stilts, staring out across an endless sea of amber grass.

Caliban curls up next to her. “Trouble,” he says.

Antwohnette runs her hand through his black fur. “You think it’s worth it? It has to be better than what we have here.”

Caliban opens one of his silver eyes. “No one can know that.”

“Maybe…” Antwohnette continues to pet the black fox, and watches as the enlarged sun passes beyond the horizon.