When Lark, Conan and Shamira finally caught the cub, she allowed Shamira to carry her back to camp. As they approached Harold, who was waiting for them by the vacation bus door, Shamira turned to Lark. “Are you going to name her?” She nodded to the cub purring in her arms.
Lark rubbed her ear. The purring seemed awfully loud for a tiny little cub. But then again, she had grown up with a dog, not cats.
“It might make it harder when I have to let her go, but yes,” Lark said sadly.
“You won’t have to part with her,” Conan promised.
“You seem awfully sure about that.” Lark raised an eyebrow as they joined the line for a food-laden table next to the bus.
“First, let me explain a bit about the forming of our worlds. The terraforming process of a planet takes time,” Conan started. “When a pl
