Grnect’ch’chet paced outside the Council chamber and checked her notes for the hundredth time and adjusted her uniform tunic.  She tugged at the stiff collar.  Why must I constantly have it enlarged?  Big, even for a female, the last few years her growth was in one direction—out; up, to her consternation, had stopped years ago.  The white fur on her face was thinning, but the band was still full and dark.  The polished granite walls reflected her image back at her, and she took a moment to make sure the uniform was in order.  Yes, she had thickened around the middle, but her shoulders were generous enough to offset.  It was her eyes that bothered her, though; she saw an apprehensive Chet staring back and was the one thing she could never show the council.

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