Go on ahead, then. But Heather, I want you back home by eight o’clock tonight. I’ll be able to hold Arthur off until then, but that’s your maximum limit.’ Arthur Combs was Heather’s stepfather. This was his first marriage, and he was a little overprotective of his new daughters, as though determined to make up for not having been around for most of their childhoods. ‘All right, Mom,’ Heather said, and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Well, run along, then, you two lovebirds,’ Mrs. Norwellyn said, making shooing motions with her hands. She smiled at them as they got into Heather’s car. Heather grabbed a change of clothes and her schoolbooks, and then they were on their way back to Colin’s dorm, joyful at their time together. Heather turned on her radio and they sang with the music. Heather marvelled at his sense of pitch, marvelled at his ability to harmonize. She herself felt like a sore frog when she tried to sing, but Colin encouraged her. ‘You sound fine. There’s. Thanks, Sherlock."Bookie nodded as he continued to caress the head of the cute little bundle of black and white fur. "It was ... elementary."The crowd gave a collective groan.Another form, dressed in a tartan-pattern housecoat, joined the knot of airmen still nervously watching Bookie and his diminutive companion. "Spot!" the newcomer cried. Harry thought he recognized the man as one of the Officers' Mess cooks. "How did you get out? You naughty thing." 'Spot'?" Harry was surprised yet again, but then nodded in comprehension. "I get it. Calling a striped skunk 'Spot'. Cute." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.The cook relieved Bookie of his burden. "I'll take him back to his cage, if I may, Sir, and see to it he's securely locked up."Captain Whitefeather chose that moment to stride down the road, heading in the direction of the RCAF Regiment barracks. Unlike everyone else, the lanky Mohawk was dressed in his customary CADPAT Temperate Woodland combat uniform with an Airborne.
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