Looming Fruits
No sooner had the Sha-Una borne me out of that Voonish town than did upon the horizon jiggle the far and barely discernable leaping of my wicked progeny’s terrible minions. Whatever puissance kept them at bay while in that town we lay is ours to succor ourselves within no longer. Even now I see that black jiggling grow as it surges toward us, filled with robiderance and budging hate.
“Onward,” I cried to the Sha-Una, and onward did my ally stride. As I peek from within my pouch I recall with glee the parting words of that Jouncey fellow.
“Forth to the Enthoovian, and let no rumpling set thee aside, for ever are the ways of Weems the ways of Pans and Looming Fruits. Like apples for instance, or those really tasty sort of grapes.”
On reflection it occurs to me that I haven’t the bleariest idea what meaning lies in such a message but that it was given me by such a fine fellow is reason enough for untold glee. Thence do I grin upon the road and pat my loping marsupial upon the haunch. Onward. Onward indeed! And let that leaping menace give chase as it may, for who can match the loping wonder of the Sha-Una at speed.
Thus did we lope into the gloaming, far afoot of the Leapers Wee.