"Strip off the branches and make the logs smooth," the quail said in the voice of a mischievous girl-child. "Didn't your mother and father teach you anything?" Paul stared. It was not the strangest thing he had encountered, but it was still a bit surprising. "Who are you?" She made a little chirping sound of amusement. "A quail! What do I look like?" He nodded his head, conceding the point. "And you know how to build a raft?" "Better than you do, it seems. It's a good thing Calypso herself brought you here, because you didn't even ask permission from the dryads before you chopped down their trees, and they'll all have to find new homes now." --