The otters and I have been exploring the water-forest for almost a sixteenth-season^ now. Soil Parent has not yet returned, and Dark Provider is busy, so we swim about and I am dedicating myself to water-forest research. We have investigated our way along, following the curving den-land. We have denned in cliff-nooks where it is rocky and in bushes or scrub when the den-land slopes gently to the water. Dark Provider finds us each Rise and gives us (well me, the otters have normally feasted by then) provision. He stays with us for a degree^ or so and watches us eat, groom and prepare for sleep. It is nice to den under the sun and on soil, but I do miss the warm stone nook in my own den. It is easier to rest in the day in the dark den. I sometimes go solo investigating in the daytime and nap during the night (but the night-Suns can be as bright as Salt-Sun). The otters do not seem in any way interested in day-time activity.

It is before nadir, the three musty animals are hunting and playing with each other. I am collecting and cataloguing scents. With everything perpetually moving, I can see (in clear water) detail farther away than on land. I am including visual observations in my cataloguing. I already have a bigger repository of Salt-World smells than smells of-World. Soon my water-scent knowledge will surpass my land-scent knowledge. The land scentscape is not as I remember it. Maybe I enhanced the smell in my memory, but the notes^ seem duller than I remember. It is a good nose rest while conducting my most intense research trip to date.

Unlike any other scent-scientist, I do my research from above as though I am a bird. I wonder what Pack has missed on land for not being able to approach research outside of our narrow reach. What could I learn if I could fly? Learning to swim was not that hard. Maybe I will meet one of the bees or even a crow. The ones I thought were so monstrous before I lost Pack and found that not just dogs have Pack. Maybe crows are as kind as tail-beasts. Maybe they could teach me. I have adapted so much already. There is always room for more change.

It has been fascinating observing the different tiers of life. There is the water-sky, where we can traverse without any kind of barrier. Here, we swoop and soar. There are those animals and plants that make up the canopy who dart in and out of the forest and are neither of the upper or lower worlds. Then there are those who live beneath the canopy, who I can observe if I am still. I don’t even need to scent-mask, but they do respond to something in my presence. Then there are those that live in caves or buried in the sand at the base of the water-trees and bushes.

Tail-beasts travel at all levels freely. Although they eat fish that live at many levels, they do most of their hunting out over the edge of the forest, where it becomes a vertical wild disappearing down into the cold, dark water. Tail-beasts seem to enjoy looking at the fish in the water-forest. Many of the more patterned fish are provisioned by Dark Provider and his pack. They are in no way frightened by the predators that travel amongst them.

Tail-beasts like to see things. They respond to loud noises, but it seems to be when the water actually shakes not the sounds (which I can hear, even if they are distorted). I find the tail-beasts interesting. No other dog on any world knows as much about them as I do. It is important for me to study them so I could pass it on to Pack when I can. They are certainly alien but there is something kind of... dog about them. Dark Provider and Soil Parent care for me as Pack cares for all. Their emotions are not that different to those of dogs. They did not leave me when I was lost, just like Pack. I am sure if I explained to Pack Guiders^ that tail-beasts are not as frightening as we thought and they just want to live in the big-saltwater and have their otters and fish, we could all have a lovely time. I could go between the land in the day and the big-saltwater at night and teach dogs to swim and give great lessons to pups in creche about the wonders of water-scent.

The chittering of the otters changes from their standard play sounds to an intense, excited, greeting call. I raise my nose from a striped predator-fish moving through a fish-pack harmlessly (after a frightening bout of consuming this very pack only a degree ago). I smell it too. They are coming den, Soil Parent and Pack Guider. At speed. They are both concerned and serious. I feel my stomach turn and leap at the thought of smelling Soil Parent fully again. I have missed her. The otters cannot communicate intelligently, and no other tail-beast is as interested in me. I join the otter-pack as it swarms out over the edge and into the deep-water.

I do not fear this deep-water anymore. I crossed it to my land-spot and returned. There are Soil-Sentinels^ to dodge but I’ve got the knack of that now. I don’t travel into deep-water much, it is harder to research the teeming water with no fixed point to guide my nose. Maybe I will research out here when I know everything about the water-forest.

We are approaching a narrow opening ahead. It is churning out there. The big-saltwater continues beyond the deep-water. It gets even larger. It is too big to smell and the sounds are alarming.

I don’t think I’m strong enough to control my swimming in that roiling current. The otters do not seem deterred though. This was less than a degree of swimming from where we were investigating! Like a mountain not apparent from within a forest, it seems like it should have been obvious.

We are about to breach the unimaginably large wall of white churning water. Soil Parent and Pack Guider race from the darkness. They quickly overtake us, making their way to the water-forest. Soil Parent seems to notice me, but she does not stop. She and Pack Guider both drop a large amount of urgency. It is overpowering, but as it disperses, I begin to smell subtlety - this is instructions. Soil Parent adds her own instructions a moment later and they are gone.

I float for a few moments, unsure of what to do. The otters disperse when they realise Soil Parent isn’t ready to play with them. Dark Provider arrives, smelling but not bearing provision. He smells panicked. Whatever the instruction was, must be serious. He grabs my forelimb, having no vine, and starts to syphon as fast as I have ever known him to travel. He is following Soil Parent and Pack Guider. I am not sure but I think we are going straight to our den-cave.

As Dark Provider drags me as fast as he can through the cloud of urgency, I can pry my eyes open and see the shadows of 5 littersworth^ of tail-beasts floating over the water-forest. They are heeding the first instructions and waiting for the next ones. I can smell others waiting. I find it eerie, even though I am used to their ways.

Tail-beasts start to pour over the vertical-wild and converge on a tiny opening in the water-cliff. In a way I cannot understand, they squeeze inside. There is no way something so large should fit through such a small entrance. I won’t fit through that crack; I wouldn’t have even on my first day of creche. They follow each other in a constant stream.

Soil Parent and Pack Guider join the line of those entering (which now stretches to the water-forest). Dark Provider approaches them with his side vents flapping and looking strangely grey, he deposits me close to Soil Parent. I try to right myself and stabilise. Soil Parent sneaks a tail-mouth onto my nose, and we share a moment of pure Pack. She was not expecting me to be here. She is glad I am. She sends feeling after feeling churning like the water beyond the pinch-point. I have never had a pack-bond, never shared a pack-image. Even if I had I do not know if tail-beasts are capable of pack-bonds. But I still try to share the images of my land-spot, swimming and the hatched Soil-Sentinels as I am caught up in her excitement and adrenaline^. She starts, flashes her skin white and rolls one big eye towards me, the curving pupil seeing me as a dog never has. She got my image! I try to focus my mind and send her a more coherent image. Pack Guider and she are now the only two waiting to enter. Pack Guider wants her to travel first. Soil Parent sends me ( return ) and ( important ) and disappears through the impossibly small hole. Pack Guider keeps her eyes on her at all times as she follows into the narrow gap.

I am alone, deeper than I thought (I didn’t notice drifting down and down sharing with Soil Parent). I surface and force myself down to hover near the opening for when Soil Parent returns. I want to try and send her an image again. I remember the games we played in creche in preparation for when we would have pack-bonds as adults. I need to pick the strongest moment, focus on all the details, not just how it smelled but how it looked and sounded and felt. I cannot pick one moment. I enjoy reliving each as I jump from idea to idea. I must focus. I will pick the elation of swimming freely and otter-style for the first time. No, the fear of realising the sentinel-hatchlings were coming up from the deeps. But maybe that would frighten her on my behalf. Or maybe she would chuck. Maybe I should show her the plants on my land-spot.

Over the last five breaths I have prepared countless images. Even, though it is what I am waiting for, the first mouth-tails emerging makes me startle. Tail-beasts start to squeeze back out. Some disperse immediately. Others wrap their tails round each other and hang over the darkness for a moment before leaving in small packs, maybe to den, maybe to communicate further. The smell of concern permeates all the water now. I need to take another breath and there is no sign of Soil Parent or Pack Guider. This struggle to sink is the hardest as the degrees of exploration and adrenaline are nearly over. It is the darkest part of the night, where the night-Suns have gone to den but Salt-Sun has not yet emerged. Soil Parent eventually emerges, followed by Pack Guider last.

They start drifting rather than actively travelling back to den. I want to show Soil Parent how well I can swim now so I dip and dive and circle round them both. Soil Parent scents a moment of small pleasure but she mostly smells tired and concerned. Pack Guider smells actively displeased. I swim above them looking down at their shadows, following them by scent, so I can breathe without disturbing. I think they are both pleased.

Now she is in her usual spot next to the hot vertical stream in the den, Soil Parent touches my nose and sends me gratitude. The otters made their way back at some point and have gone up to the provisioning spot. I can smell and hear them, but they are far away, in the other world that I share with them. The one where you have to carry your own weight and you can breathe as much as you like, and sounds are sharp and clear. I push my nose firmly into her tail-mouth and send her one of my prepared pack-images, not choosing but letting it flow through me. I send the feeling of snapping fish from the middle of the bubbles and tasting them. She looks at me closely and then sends me pride and a little stern caution. She obviously recognises the bubbles in a way I did not. I am proud that she is impressed. I try to send her another image, but she takes her tail-mouth away, replaces it and sends me her weariness. I feel so overcome. I think I should have a nap, even though the low light from the hole in the roof tells me it is not yet the Rise-hunting degree. She and Pack Guider curl round each other in their nook. I surface and join the otters grooming. I lie down but I am sure I won’t actually sleep.

I have no idea how long I was out, but Dark Provider gently wakes me. He seems recovered from his ordeal earlier. His skin glistens in the beam of the beginnings of sunlight. He urgently but kindly drags me towards the water. I stumble along with him. I slide under and follow him. Soil Parent is waiting. She still seems tired and, on a deep level, concerned but she is also excited. I feel excited too; she is den. She puts her mouth-tails all over me and feels my fur, my layer of fat, my strong limbs. She gives me a moment to float and then she reaches for my nose and a world of communication unfurls.

( Attentive. ) I start to send her images, not sure how much she understands. I send her the hatched Soil-Sentinels and finding my land-spot. She sends awe. She sends me an image of where I was. It has dazzling clarity. She has been on my land-spot, or near it. I send her how it felt to swim free. She is thrilled. We revel in this new level of communication. I send her my observations from the water-forest. She sends back images of things familiar but again with a searing crisp quality. I need to breathe. I use our basic communication to tell her; it seems dull after our sense-sharing. She lets me surface. I gulp and let myself sink back down to her.

When I have returned to her level, I see that in two of her mouth-tails she is holding something. I put my nose against her and again feel the sparkling connection. She sends me a sense-image of her pup-hood, I assume. Pack Guider is there, fuller of tails and looming larger than she would to Soil Parent now. What strikes me is her colour. I have never seen the colour before. This must be how Soil Parent sees. Pack Guider gives Soil Parent a tiny creature, like some kind of water-spider. This is a significant event. Soil Parent is proud and determined. The little water-spider grows, and Soil Parent gives it a container. It steps out of its hard skin and into the container. Images whip by of a series of larger and larger containers. Then there is a large empty container and the image is flooded with sadness. I send her Pack. She returns it but is still sad.

Then, keeping her tail-mouth on my nose, she brings her mouth-tails forward and puts a tiny water-spider down on the rock between us. I move round to investigate it. It is quite fascinating. It begins to groom the rock it is on. The water fills with the scent of cut plants. It is eating. It picks at things I cannot see and puts them where I assume its mouth is. Soil Parent is disappointed. I send her my interest in the smells it is generating. She pushes it towards me. It is for me. Like Pack Guider gave Soil Parent. This water-spider is for me.

I must find it a container. I start to dart about the cave to see if I can find something suitable. How often do they need to change container? I pick up an appropriate looking container a little bigger than this water-spider is now. The water fills with pure delight. Soil Parent is wagging, even her mouth-tails are rocking back and forth. The otters have entered the water at the excitement. They are circling and playing on the surface. Added to my and Soil Parent’s movement, it is swirling the water gently. The water-spider is being rocked. It disappears into its container.

She grabs my tail and pulls me back to her. She makes contact and sends me a slow change in temperature and light. Oh, this is not a fast experience. I have a big and long responsibility. I send her as much Pack as I can, I am her Pack. She is my Soil parent. I will be Soil parent to this little water-spider-pup.