Then, playfully, she began beating Baree with the end of one of these braids.

He shrank under the soft blows, and with that low, birdlike laughter in her throat, Nepeese drew his head into her lap where the scatter of flowers lay.

She talked to him.

Her hand stroked his head.

Then it remained still, so near that he wanted to thrust out his warm red tongue and caress it.