There was a lump on top of his head.

Why did he have a lump on top of his head? What was that? Was it a sore? “Oh Jesus, I’m going to be in so much trouble when Mom finds out,” he hissed anxiously to himself.

“Hey, relax,” a familiar voice said.

His fur went on end, and he braced himself, looking around. “What? Who are you?”

“I’m up here!”

It must have been a hawk, getting ready to grab him! He looked up.

But there was nothing but cool blue sky.

“Uh … down here.”

He looked down, at the disc. And, to his shock, the lump began to move, bending roughly down the middle.

“That’s me,” it said. “I’m part of you.”

“What? I don’t have a part of me. You must be, like, some sort of insect…”

“Sure. Try to take me off.”

He sat his butt down on the grass and lifted his paw to the back of his head. With deliberation, he unsheathed his claws and swiped at the lump –

“OWWW!” They were both screaming, writhing around on the ground. “What the hell?!” Acorn yowled.

“I told you, dummy,” the lump-thing grumbled. “I’m you!”

“Then why are you being mean to me?” He rubbed his head. A smear of blood clung to his paw, and he started grooming himself. “I wouldn’t be mean to myself.”

“Sure…”

“Is that sarcasm? Mom says sarcasm is mean.”

“What do you care about what Mom thinks?” The lump stood upright on his head. It felt like it was pulling outward from the inside of his skull. “They’re back there fighting. We can hang out here and do something else.”

Acorn frowned. “I don’t wanna do something else. I should be helping her.”

“All you do is help her!”

He didn’t know what to say to that.