In the exam room, Moira is murmuring sweet nonsense over the small faces poking through clean wraps, eagerly accepting their respective droppers of milk replacements.

“Oh! They’re eating!” That’s gotta be a good sign,” their new guardian says, joining her at the table.

The vet nods, “Brought them in any later and we might’ve been in for a rough time. They’ll catch up. It’s funny; one of each born so close together as if they’re littermates. You finally gonna have some roommates? You’re so good with animals, it’s weird you don’t have any.”

“I dunno, it’s never been the right time, and I’m not sure it is now either, but I guess I’ll find out.”

“You ever had a pet?”

“I took care of a toad for a bit while she was under the weather. Just until she was ready to go home, I wouldn’t call her a pet.”

She looks up from the nursing bundles and makes a skeptical face, “A Western toad?”

“Nah, she was definitely from around here.”

“Yeah, ok, no I meant… Nevermind. Well, I’ll give you a crash course on what to feed each of these babies. But I want to keep an eye on them overnight. You have work tonight?”

“No, nothing tonight but I have a job in the morning. Should be back around noon? Is it ok to leave them?”

She nods, “That’s fine. I’ll be up all night with the poor gal, and the crew comes in at 6 and they’ll take over while I crash. You should go get some sleep, cuz you’ll have your hands full starting tomorrow.”

“I might know where that gal belongs, if she’s a collie cross—lemme check while I’m out and I’ll let you know.”

“She doesn’t have a chip or a collar but you know some real folksy off-the-grid types, huh?”

“That’s not untrue…”

“Well, never mind rampant disregard for canine registration ordinances and responsible pet ownership, for now. Get some rest and I’ll think about fair compensation for babysitting your duo,” Moira said with a wink but noticing her guest had closed her eyes in thought, added, “You should think about names!”

She hmm’d and straightened to her full height, a full head above the doctor. “Names, huh?” Tilting down to level a sleepy smile with the ear hidden behind a thick braid that barely tamed her red curls, “And honestly Doc, I think you should up your prices. You could charge me anything you wanted and I would pay it gladly.” 

Moira inhaled deeply, her blush nearly hiding the spray of freckles across her cheeks. “I… I will take that into consideration then.” She caught the familiar scent of black tea mixed with that unfamiliar scent that always lingered around her favorite walking mystery. Some kind of incense? An amazing lotion? She’d sampled every natural product at the farmer’s market hoping to figure out what it could be. The eerily graceful willowy clerks of the flower shops must’ve thought she was the weird one as she sniffed her way through all of Florist’s Row one afternoon a few days later when she decided she would definitely for sure that day find out what it is that makes her smell so good.

Her mystery smiled and gave a quick, pleased nod before adjusting the black t-shirt she’d cut into a tank that had ridden up on the hip where her bag rested, and untangling her hair from its strap. Moira reached over with her palm up, offering the elastic band from her wrist, which she happily took and twisted around her hair in a loose loop. She marveled as always at how unusual its horizontal stripes are as if a perfectionist had drawn a tabby with a ruler. Or Medusa's snakes turned into actual hair. Black and white in rows its full length, as if every several months the colors take turns growing in. She’d asked her once how she does it and quickly realized this odd beauty didn’t even know dying your hair was an option. “Are you going to change yours?” she had asked so seriously after receiving this new bit of knowledge, stricken at the notion but trying so hard to hide it while gingerly running a finger along a fiery curl. Moira had been so surprised by the herd of butterflies stampeding through her guts; the strange feelings she’d felt each time they met suddenly made as much sense as strange feelings can.

“Looking forward to noon then.” And Moira was back in the present and also looking forward to the future as her dear puzzle parted into the night.