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USD 4. Sign in to Purchase Instantly. Explore Now. Buy As Gift. Overview Babies and toddlers will respond joyfully to the flying ships, wobbly jelly, and jumping bullfrogs in these simple, energetic poems. Product Details. Average Review. Write a Review. Related Searches. Anthology: Realistic Fiction from Cicada. Have you ever found love in a Laundromat?

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We believe history matters, so we make sure every issue brings U. We want our readers to understand how the people, places, events, and eras from our past have a lively, vital connection to our present. FACES fosters a deeper understanding and appreciation of our world and its people. The bull turned his head. Arimu froze. He glared straight at her. When could a bull look a human straight in the eye?

He croaked something, as if he spoke to her. Nonsense, Arimu told herself.

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Bulls cant talk! The bull made other noises. These, too, sounded like speech.

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Stop it, she ordered, before she realized she talked to him as she would a human. She had heard stories of bull people. His feet were humanlike and bleeding from cuts. So were his hands. His chest was powerful, to hold up his large head.

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And now she understood the problem with his eyes. They pointed forward like a humans. The blue silk rags had once been embroidered trousers and a jack- et. The many rings on his horns were gold, not brass. Some were jeweled. He was no sacrifice. No one threw gold and gems into a canyon. He was still talking. Finally he spoke in a market language she knew. Help me. How could she explain? She doubted he knew the customs of the Dustlands nomads.

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Someone of her tribe would have mentioned knowing bull-men or cow-women. You understand, he said, and coughed.

A Trunkful of Rhymes from Babybug

I beg you, by the laws that govern all civilized people, to help me. He spat into the dust. You are civilized, are you not? Arimu leaned on her spear. I am civilized by the laws of the Wind People, the children of the Dustlands, she replied. Who are your people? How did you get here? I ran, said the bull-man. He looked at his scraped hands. When I did not run I walked, and when I could not walk I crawled. I was on holiday when I was captured like an animal. An animal! Hunters from the Merchant City cast a sleeping spell on me and put me in a cage. They released me in a canyon maze, far from here, to hunt me, camp- ing in silk tents at night while I starved! I stole a horse, but it finally threw me, and I just kept running away.

Look at me! He lifted his rags. His hands left bloody streaks on them. There were tears in his eyes. I am a Tenth Rank Scholar, he said woefully. I was studying to become a Ninth Rank Scholar. I wanted a little holiday, and now look. I dont even know where I am. He drew away. Where are your people?

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Are they going to hunt me? Arimu smiled crookedly. The Wind People are in the north. I am the only human you will see for miles.

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He still looked nervous. You will rob me. Only I know how to take my rings from my horns. If you cut my horns from my head, a dreadful curse will descend on you.

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At last he caught his breath. Please help me. Arimu sighed. The Wind People do not give knowledge away.