From the corner of his eye (ATTN: Yildun)

Yildun began to trail his nose over her face. Koontz quickly understood why he did it. She held very still for him, though it tickled sometimes. At other times, it felt so intimate that she felt a little warm, yet she never tried to stop him. If this was how he familiarized himself with her, then she was fine with it. When he got to her shoulders, it even felt good, like a light massage.

He moved down her flanks to her haunches, rounded her hindquarters, then made his way back up her opposite side. If he had given her derriere a sniff, she wouldn't have thought much of it; they were canines, after all. Yet he stayed modest and polite in his touches and eventually returned to her face, his own turned toward her as if he could really see her now.

His question prompted a small laugh from her. How could he possibly understand something as purely visual as colors? She could tell him that she had pink eyes and rainbow fur. "My eyes are the same color as the sky on winter mornings," Koontz described, "and my fur's the color of snow when it's been around a while and has gotten kind of dirty." She grinned crookedly at her own descriptions, then tilted her head, wondering what Yildun would make of them.