The scout copter had been hovering in the region for several hours now. It had been flying over the grasslands in a search pattern, covering every bit of ground. Then it seemed to find something and remained there.
Below it was a cool clear puddle of water, reflecting the copter's image in the bright sun. Its spy lens was squarely focussed on this second aerial vehicle, waiting for it to take action.
The hum of the propeller blades droned on throughout the day until night, when the copter finally lost sight of its quarry and departed.
Worlds away, little Token Child starts to unwrap his first present, unaware that his every action is being carefully monitored and adjusted to suit a hidden entity's desires.
The little heads of the turtorts are flat because they spend all day and night sleeping. The sleeping is not what causes the flatness, however. It is rather the quantoomp beasts that sneak up and place broad flat stones on four cats' heads to make a table upon which they have their evening dinner.
The turtorts don't mind however, since they gobble up anything that dares fall off the edge. They can do this even while sleeping, and sometimes if they are especially hungry, some might "accidentally" jump, causing a rather juicy something or other to topple off the edge of the table onto the ground.
Tiny little bubble, don't fly away. Knowledge bound within fragile shell.
Ages lost, mysteries revealed, treasures found, and horrors sealed.
Vacant mind, missing entry.
Tardiness transcendent.
Oops.
Mark of the industry of destruction's opportunity.
Full and a half with twice the purchase!
Kojian No Corp.
POP!
Out in the desolate fields of the urutoo, a lonely sound is heard followed by a whimper. A small wide headed creature looks about, appearing lost and afraid. Its head bears a multitude of horns and it has a clubbed tail.
A chill wind picks up suddenly. A musty smell is carried on the breeze. The littler devil stares into the air, hoping to see someone familiar.
"Wait for me," a hint of a thought comes forth from the ether. The pitiful creature nods in reluctant acceptance and sits and waits.
In the field, alone, trusting.