zoolipt

“The zoolipt,” she sighed, seeing his neck heat with each breath he took.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

“Could it be the zoolipt?” asked Fssa, reshaping himself into his usual form.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

At the moment she could forgive the zoolipt anything — even its inability to cure her of Itch. “Are you happy now, Ghost?” she murmured.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

Maybe the zoolipt had finally figured out how to take care of whatever was causing the intolerable itching.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

Or perhaps it was just that even zoolipt-healed skin itched with newness.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

“Neither does the zoolipt,” she shot back, “but it nearly got us both killed.”

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

It was her last gamble, her hope that the zoolipt would know that if she hesitated or turned aside now, she and everyone in the room would die as her parents had died, burned to ash and gone by savage fire.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

Screams beat on her, human and crystalline alike; but she held, ignoring the fire consuming her, refusing to smell her own flesh burning, terrified that the zoolipt would not understand.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

Then they would die and the zoolipt would look for a new treat.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988

If she could not, she would incinerate the hall and herself with it — unless the zoolipt stopped her dance.

Dancer's Illusion Maxwell, Ann 1988