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A low spring sun shone brightly on the rolling tundra. Unseasonable heat had brought out a carpet of tiny bright flowers and hairfine grass. The ground was soft and cool underfoot.

Luke looked around bemusedly. He'd never been any place like this before. There were no signs of any habitation: no houses, no smoke, no paths. No way for him to have gotten here. No way to get back.

Along one horizon, he could see what might be mountains made a dim blue by distance. In other directions, the colorful ground seemed to extend forever.

A gentle, comfortable breeze caressed him. There was no hum of insects: no biting flies, neither bees nor wasps to sting. Somewhere birds were singing, though. Maybe one of the cloud shadows chasing across the land was actually a herd of animals. It was too far away for him to be sure, and it wasn't headed this way, anyhow.

He knelt and inspected the groundcover. The tiny flowers gave off a faint sweet odor. When he moved his foot, they seemed to crush beneath it, releasing a stronger scent. When he lifted it again most sprang back undamaged, but others left a colorful stain on his foot. The grass felt soft and smooth like the pelt of an animal, but green and a little cool. It was too dense for him to see the earth beneath.

The vegetation wasn't entirely uniform. Some of the flowers were larger with denser foliage than others, and there were several clumps of dark, reed-like stalks. Dried remains left over from the previous season, perhaps? They looked stiff and brown. Some of the larger clumps seemed to be harboring patches of melting snow. He walked over to one of them. The grass and flowers were springy under his step.

Yup. A testing finger confirmed it. It was snow, alright, slowly melting into the ground. It tasted like the purest, icy spring water. He wouldn't go thirsty, anyhow. Maybe some of the flowers were edible? But he wasn't hungry. No matter. _____________________________________________________________

See the ferocious carnivore wake slowly from its nap. Its sensitive nose detects the delicious scent of prey. Through slit eyes it watches a pale biped dancing carelessly in the distance. Sunlight gleams on a glossy pelt. Shadows and light reveal muscles bunching and relaxing. This beast has gone too long without a meal. Soon will be the time to feast. To taste tender meat. _____________________________________________________________

Luke enjoyed the fresh air, the floral scent, the gentle breeze. No tests, no computers, no people to insult him, no clothes to bind. He tried doing a few hand stands, but kept falling with a soft thump. Rolling in the grass was fun, too. It tickled, and the flowers left behind small smears of odor and color.

Although different colors of flowers were mixed together in some places, in others they were more uniform. Here there were large areas of yellow, but over there some bright red, elsewhere pale blue. He'd always preferred blue, so he wandered toward a particularly vivid patch. _____________________________________________________________

Observe the careless biped approach its destiny. Unconcerned, it lies down in the tempting meadow, but just a little too far. The mighty hunter is strong and fast, but running unnecessarily is much too boring. It will wait. The prey will surely come closer. _____________________________________________________________

Luke spread out on the soft bed of tiny bright blue flowers. The sun felt warm and comforting. A little rest wouldn't hurt. After baking his front for a while, he turned over and rested his face on his arms. The cool plants felt good on his heated front, while the sunlight felt just as good to his back. _____________________________________________________________

Watch the monster start to drool over the prey displaying itself to the hungry observer. First its front: breathing deeply to show its broad chest, its flat abdomen. The gentle curves of a strong leg are outlined against distant cloud. Then it turns to show its other side: strong shoulders, broad back, jutting rump. Waving one foot in the air, a flexing thigh and quivering calf tempt a hungry appetite. _____________________________________________________________

For a while, Luke rested with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he enjoyed playing with the colors. With just the lower eye open, all he could see were blotches of green and blue. With the upper one he could see across the top of a blue-green sea of fuzz.

A few yards away was one of those patches of stalks and snow. He drowsily watched the breeze flex the reeds. Back and forth. Back and forth. The motion was almost hypnotic.

Strange. Their shadows didn't follow them back and forth. Maybe they'd escaped. Like Peter Pan's. "Second star to the left ..." Pirates, lost boys, Indian maidens, the stuff of dreams. _____________________________________________________________

The hunter knows its disguise is fading. It starts to pant, building its oxygen reserves, preparing for the chase. _____________________________________________________________

Now the reed shadows seemed to be dancing on their own. Back and forth, in and out. Like shadows of bamboo on a billowing tent, like stripes on a large chest, like...

Like camoflauge on a monstrous foe. One with slitted eyes and a gaping maw, filled with countless teeth like gleaming white daggers. Drooling.

Luke leapt and ran.

He could hardly move. Each step seemed to be embedded in molasses. Strain as he would, he could only travel in slow motion. He could almost hear the fearsome beast leaping closer through the grass behind him. _________________________________________________________________

Ben yawned widely, his jaw popping. Wow, that did feel good.

Whatever was Luke doing now? Running with his eyes closed? Didn't he know any better? He might trip! Look at those muscles flex. He must be really straining.

Ben stretched, then bounded after. Time to join the romp. Wouldn't Luke be surprised!

Luke's left foot found a clump of taller, tangled flowers. He hit the ground with a thump and a slide. Multicolored goo plastered his front. When the skid stopped, he covered his neck with his hands. Weren't you supposed to do that when attacked by bears? You lost your fingers, but not your neck?

Oops. That was quite a tumble! Luke had really slimed himself, too. But what was he covering his neck for? To keep off the sun, maybe? Did he burn easily? That couldn't happen here, though.

Luke felt the dreaded shadow on his back, cooler than the sunlight, the weight of a fearsome paw pinning him firmly, a panting breath hot against his shoulders.

Then tongues. No, just one. A very large, very soft tongue. On his cheek. In his ear. A furry nose, pressing gently under his arm. The tongue again, tickling his armpit, caressing his shoulder, licking more goo from his fingers. A pleasant odor, very familiar.

"Ben? Ben! There's a horrible, big..." Luke twisted under the paw and stared up at the immense imperial Siberian snow tiger looming over him, silently laughing at him. A large, now disgustingly wet tongue slurped his face.

Alarmed, Luke started to sit up and tried to back away, pushing against slippery flowers with hands and feet.

Ben wasn't about to let that happen. Not when he had a chance for an enjoyable meal. One paw behind a leg, a bump of head to the chest, and Luke was flat on his back. A paw firmly placed on the exposed stomach with just a hint of claw made sure the prey would not try to escape again.

The tiger started with Luke's face. The chin still held some floral juice that he'd missed the first time. Then the forearms, where they'd plowed along the ground. Fingers were fun to suck, tickling the webbing that had collected blue and red.

Luke finally realized what was happening. He recognized a romp he'd dimly imagined on some distant morning, in another place, far away. He grinned and relaxed. What can't be cured must be endured. Riiight. Endurance was definitely the order of the day. He was still gasping for air.

Next the straining chest. A smear of orange was gone too soon from the right side, so Ben exerted a little extra attention on the left, licking off its yellow and green.

Luke squirmed.

Then the white tiger lavished attention on Luke's stomach, tickling his belly button, making him giggle, twitch and gasp some more. Then Ben went lower, where ridges of hipbone had dug up more flowers to savor. The skilled tongue progressed to his thighs and then his knees. Those had to be scrubbed. Knees always seem to get stuff ground into them. A couple of quick swipes took care of the shins: not much juice there.

But then the toes. Ah, the toes, with stems and flowers caught between. Not to mention the pulp that had been pounded into the bottoms of the feet. The white tiger could fit almost an entire foot into his mouth, first the left, then the right. He mouthed them, chewing gently, driving Luke crazy. His soles were particularly sensitive. It didn't help that the feet conspired with one another to escape, one pushing, the other pulling, slipping out of the tiger's mouth, forcing him to go chasing the truant.

Luke was limp from laughing so much. His stomach hurt, too. An anguished afternoon might never have happened.