"I like open sky," says Kalavar. "Nothing to bump into or knock over, just me and the wind."

"I like flying through trees in the dark. The branches change the texture of the light."

Path tilts his head, a little. (A little for an owl. Owls can move their heads around very thoroughly.) "Sounds like you need bigger, wider-spaced trees."

"Maybe so," she says. "Know where I can find any?"

"Well," says Path, "do you care if they grew that way all by themselves?"

Kalavar laughs. "Not really."

"Then you can find them anywhere you like," says Path serenely, "if they won't get in anyone's way there."

She giggles and snuggles the side of her face against his feathers again.

"But there might already be some somewhere. Jane would be likeliest to know, when she's sorted herself out and caught up on everything that's happened."

"Okay," says Kalavar.

"Once in a while. Nothing much happened to it."

"Did you hear about the angel tank?" Path asks Kalavar.

"Huh?"

"I'll take that as a no. There were some angels who were involved in the afterlife being how it used to be. Now they are in a tank my Isabella made so they can't make trouble. She'll have to check on it soon."

"Oh. Okay," says Kalavar, bobbing her head a little.

"Not the same kind of angels you'll meet at the party. Another kind," Path clarifies.

"That makes sense," she says.

"It seems like only humans are about the same everywhere."

"I wonder why."

"I'm not sure. And not exactly the same, anyway. This is the only place humans have daemons, and it's only one subworld in a sheaf at that."

"But they seem to be more the same," she says thoughtfully. "I hadn't noticed, but it's interesting."

"It's almost as though species - and planet Earth, if not so much others - are templates like kinds of individual people are. And have more or less variation and commonality."

"Yeah," says Kalavar. "Huh. There aren't any other planets that template like that, then?"