. . .

In late 2007, Bahlum comes to a decision.

“When we hit the atmosphere,” he says, “I think, I will catch fire.”

“Warm!” says Ixchel.

It is almost a moan.

“You’ll catch fire,” says Chan, “and then you’ll regret it. You’ll say ‘I should have moderated my ambitions!’”

“Ah,” says Bahlum, “but that’ll be the friction.”

“I’ll stay cold,” says Yohl.

“You won’t do!” says Chan.

“I will,” says Yohl. “The cold of space permeates me. That’s part of my jaguar magic, much like my ability to talk in space.”

“We all do that,” says Chan.

“But I do it through cold,” says Yohl, “while you do it by assigning blame.”

“That’s so,” concedes the magical jaguar, Chan.

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