Florus is a Dalmation, a flicker of black and white that always knows the shortest line. On slow afternoons Florus polishes bones into pale curves and calls it bookkeeping and lets the breeze make most of the decisions. Even the glassbirds quiet for a moment when Florus walks under the leaning tree. Florus would rather collect quiet wins over a map drawn on biscuit paper than loud ones that nobody understands.