It was the time of coming together, Aatchen could feel it beginning.

This was the worst time; this and the time of dissolution. In between was the Knowing and the Not-Knowing, the Doing and the Not-Doing, the Feeding and the Digesting. Both good in their own way, both easier than the waiting.

He coalesced, and looked around.

Not where he was before. But that was as usual. And alone, for now. But the others weren’t far away, they never were. Yes, there they were now. GreyMaw, the eldest, and Enery, Little Loo and Baby, the youngest. The Local Group was Aatchen’s private name for them, after something he’d heard once, just on the point of dissolution. Not that he knew of any other groups, not really. Just rumors, was all. But this group existed, didn’t it? So didn’t that mean that other groups did? Stands to reason!

“Dreaming again?” GreyMaw drifted close and thumped him between the shoulder blades. “Dreaming don’t get us’ns fed, boy – not when it’s done solo-like.”

“Solo-like, yes, solo-like.” That was Enery. Big, slow Enery. Wasn’t capable of an individual thought, no. But strong in other ways. Ways what counted, as GreyMaw would say.

“Just waiting. Came together first, I did. Like always.”

“And stood around dreaming, instead of learning, like always.” GreyMaw thumped him again, solid enough to hurt. “Food, boy. Not much time. Night fogs are the worst.”

“Hungry!” Little Loo was always hungry, it seemed. GreyMaw said it was because she was young, was still growing. Aatchen had been young once. But he didn’t remember being hungry all the time, not like Little Loo was. And Baby wasn’t hungry at all, it seemed, and had to be coaxed to feed.

“Food.” Enery. Alert, observant, vigilant, Enery had seen something. GreyMaw turned, watching, looking where Enery pointed.

“It’s just a dog,” Little Loo complained.

“Late. Not many out at night. Night fogs are the worst,” GreyMaw said yet again. “Less prey.”

It took Little Loo forever to catch on sometimes, Aatchen thought.

“Enery, take!” GreyMaw commanded. Enery crouched then bounded forward, elongating through the fog. He snatched the dog and turned it, biting easily through the dog’s throat, then returned, holding the dog up to keep the fresh blood from dripping. As always he offered it first to GreyMaw, who drank briefly then held Baby up. Eldest first, that was the protocol. Then whoever the eldest designated. In this case Baby and Little Loo first, because they were still growing, then Enery, who had made the kill, then finally Aatchen. Impatiently he waited his turn. Dog, though – not much to feed on there. And after Baby and Little Loo got full, not much left.