DATE: July 28, 2001 CAST: Basil and Walter Strawberry Plantation A wide expanse of dark brown soil greets your eye, interrupted by the frequent presence of bright red, tempting strawberries--an extremely valuable commodity. Although no humans dwell nearby, the strawberries look well-cared for; there are no weeds, the earth is slightly damp, and the blossoms have been trimmed away. The explanation becomes evident when you notice several ants laboring in the area. They are unusually thin, their expressions vacant, and their motions mechanical. Their work is harshly surveyed by larger insects, each one clutching a barbed lash. Further off in the distance is the shape of an old coke bottle, caked with grime and dust. Closer to the strawberries themselves is another structure made from a bizarre variety of bark, mud, and stone. Walter casts a swift glance over his shoulder, not merely to locate Basil, but to see how Quill is doing. Not that's he concerned about the taskmaster's health, certainly not, but to make sure he's not watching. Apparently the grasshopper is talking to the insects hired to transport the strawberries... he's watching the wagon mostly, since there *has* actually been a time that ants have tried to sneak on board--albeit not *inside* a strawberry. Good. Walter darts behind the shrub, and digs around for the strawberries he and Basil hid earlier... slowly pulling one out. Following suit, is Basil. Still looking a little worn from his three days of hard labor, but none the worse for wear. He'll be fine. He too is hefting a strawberry and puts it into place, ready for shipment. He's feeling a little perspiration as well, but it's the pounding of his heart that has his full attention. If they were to get caught, no telling what the outcome would be. But he's more than ready to go. Walter casts a swift glance over his shoulder, not merely to locate Basil, but to see how Quill is doing. Not that's he concerned about the taskmaster's health, certainly not, but to make sure he's not watching. Apparently the grasshopper is talking to the insects hired to transport the strawberries... he's watching the wagon mostly, since there *has* actually been a time that ants have tried to sneak on board--albeit not *inside* a strawberry. Good. Walter darts behind the shrub, and digs around for the strawberries he and Basil hid earlier... slowly pulling one out. Also watching to see if they are being observed, Basil heads back, and follows Walter to the hiding place. Then patiently waits until he returns with the 'Trojan Strawberries', and plans to help in assistance with the remaining one. Keeping a watchful eye out for anyone viewing their actions once more. Basil maybe a little over-anxious, but he has no intention of getting caught. After doing a quick once-over on the strawberry he just unveiled--everything appears to be in place, down to the slit for entry and minuscule air-hole, reinforced with a tiny hollow reed--Walter moves to where the remaining fruit awaits, preparing to lift it out with Basil's help. Although this idea still strikes him as ludicrous, it just might work. Ludicrous huh? Well, that may be all well and good, but it /is/ the best idea they've had so far. Besides, who's going to look /inside/ berries for runaway ants. Basil arrives and reaches down to assist Walter in carrying the strawberry to the cart, keeping quiet in his efforts to heft it to the loading place. This time there will be no mistakes. Basil actually attempts to have high hopes, but deep down inside, he too has doubts that this plan will work. Walter eyes the second strawberry, making sure it looks passable enough... for a hollowed-out fruit with an airhole, complete with entry-way. Although it almost looks too obvious to him, he's looking at it with foreknowledge of what he and Basil did to the poor thing--namely, they gutted it. Casting another quick look around to make sure no one is watching-- mostly Quill, who is still keeping a hawk's eye on the wagon--he begins to ease open the incision, and starts to insert himself inside the wet, sticky interior of the strawberry. He tries to hold back a grimace... hey, at least if they get hungry, the snacks have already been taken care of. Observing Walter as he makes his way into the bright red piece of fruit, he heaves a heavy sigh as the other ant dissapears from view. Now it's his turn. Basil makes his way into the tight opening, of the next berry over, and with one last quick sweeping glance over the plantation, hopes to never see it again. He then glances at Quill, who never seems to take his attention from the aformentioned wagon, begins to stuff himself into the berry as quickly as possible, also feeling that same sticky, wet sensation Walter did. About half way in, Basil becomes temporarily stuck, as he finds his abdomen a really tight fit going into the slit of the strawberry. 'Dang it!' He calls out as he doesn't seem to be making too much effort. 'Shoulda made that opening a little larger..' Meanwhile, Walter tries to get comfortable inside his respective strawberry. And that's no easy task, considering what it's like inside. The strawberry smell is overwhelming, the cushioning is wet, mushy, it's dark, and everything is muffled. Therefore, he doesn't react when Basil experiences some difficulty in packing himself up inside another similarly gutted strawberry. It seems to take considerable ammount of effort, but Basil is finally able to pull himself the rest of the way in. 'Whew!' he breathes a quiet sigh of relief, but then begins to find the sticky sensation to be rather unpleasant. He never was one who liked getting himself all wet and sticky even as a child. Basil was one of those strange kids who *hated* playing in the mud, getting really dirty, or even finger painting. But he is not about to complain if this means is a way of escape from their servitude. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief, and attempts to adjust the best he can to his surroundings. Walter tries to settle down and not move a muscle, much as he'd like to get out of this thing as soon as possible. He's grown to hate the smell of strawberries after the months he spent working with them, and now his senses are tormented by the overpowering smell. But panicking now would be a bad idea; it would arouse too much suspicion if one of the strawberries started jumping around. Wild strawberries aren't *that* wild. It seems to take forever before the other ants start piling the strawberries onto the wagons, including the ones containing Basil and Walter. Walter does his best to remain absolutely still while he's carried, jostled, and unceremoneously deposited on the vehicle. Same goes for Basil, at least as far as keeping still. The smell of strawberries aren't as overwhelming since he hasn't been around them as long, but it will be nice to get out when the opportunity arrives. When that will be, he doesn't know, but hopefully before the strawberries are sold. Then experiencing a bit of hunger, Basil decides to take a small taste of the berry he's encased in. 'Uh!' He calls out. This one is rather bitter, but he's hungry enought to have some of the sticky pulp. Chances are, when he and Walter get out, they're going to be quite the sticky red mess, as far as ants go. He then feels being trasported and dropped onto the vehicle. The swaying motion kind turns his stomach a little, but it settles soon after his berry stops moving. Meanwhile, Quill continues to observe each ant stoically as they place the strawberries on the wagon. His ice blue eyes narrow, as if to tell each ant they had /better/ not think about sneaking on the wagon. Naturally, it doesn't occur to him that any of those slaves might be inside one of the very strawberries they carry. However, his antennae do jerk up at the faint sound that is Basil calling out -- even though it is severely muffled by a pulpy layer. He eyes the wagon suspiciously, and turns to the other insects. "Did you hear that?" The bugs he addresses, another grasshopper and a fly, shrug. "Nope." "I didn't." Quill scratches his head. "Huh. I could've sworn..." Walter just remains still on his side, by now having folded himself up tightly in a futile effort to block out the sensations of being inside this strawberry. His antennae do prick up, however, at the sound of talking. He recognizes the voices, but the words are too muffled to be made out. /I hope he doesn't catch on.../ Uh, Basil did sound out that retort at the tart taste of the berry louder than necessary. 'Egad!' He calls out in his mind. I hope they didn't hear that!' He berates himself, but finds little point in doing anything more. He listens intently as to be able to understand any voices from outside. He holds his breath and remains motionless as possible, wating to see if any action is taken against them. That would be all they needed to get caught. Quill eyes the strawberries skeptically, an expression of perplexity on his unfriendly (as per usual) visage. At last he shrugs. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Strawberries don't talk. That's just silly. Glancing about to make sure the slaves haven't forgotten anything, he gestures for the porters to take the load away. Soon enough the wagon is in motion, jostling the strawberries every so often. Walter shudders as motion sickness soon sets in, and tries to keep the meager contents of his stomach where they should be. Oh, yeah! Finally underway. Basil passes a sigh of relief as soon as he feels he's reasonably out of antennae shot. He becomes really excited at the prospect of getting his freedom back. But then the thought of how they are going to survive in the city begins to encroach on his celebratory mood. 'Oh, let's worry about that later on!' He calls out in his mind. He takes another taste of strawberry, and as he continues to munch, can't help but wonder who long it will take for Quill and the other slavers to catch on that he and Walter are missing. Hopefully long enough to get away. Basil hadn't taken that into account, but it would seem little can be done about that at this point. The smell of strawberry /is/ however beginning to become rather on the potent side, and with the tart flavor, he becomes a little queasy himself, but not likely to the extent Walter is. As for Walter, he's this close to retching. Temporarily residing where the aroma is at its strongest, combined with the motion, removes all thoughts but one from his mind: 'I'm gonna throw up any second!' Okay, maybe two: 'Gotta get outta here!' Miraculously enough, he manages to keep himself from vomitting or trying to exit the 'berry too soon. Other than the queasiness, things seem to be going well... until the clumsy beetle pulling the wagon causes a wheel to smack into a rock, causing the thing to overturn. In a jiffy, all of the strawberries are scattered across the road. Fortunately they're far off from the plantation by now. The sudden jerking and feeling the cart jostle, causes Basil's stomach to whirl 'Ermph!' He feels his stomach lurch a couple of times. Oh, that would be really bad to lose one's lunch at a time like this. But upon hitting the ground, Basil's head smacks into the side of the berry, giving it a harder impact than one might expect. This also has the function of causing Basil to turn somewhat upside down, unable to get himself righted again. Then nothing happens for the longest time. He is unable to decide whether it would be best to climb out, or just stay put incase they are discovered. He attempts the later, managing to get his head out, but not far, only enough to see the ground tilted at a odd angle. Gack! Headache! Walter feels the world spin in a flash of sticky wetness as his strawberry bounds across the ground like a live thing, with all the rest. When it finally comes to a rest, he braces himself against one of the mushy walls and -- well, how do we put this delicately? His stomach just can't take this abuse anymore. So it betrays him, and as a result, there's more than just strawberry juice in his personal space. "Egh..." That's it. Throwing caution to the wind, he pops his head out of the strawberry and gasps for air -- nice, fresh, clean air, largely uncontaminated by strawberry scent. It's fortunate for both him and Basil that the insects hired to transport the strawberries are too busy yelling at each other about whose fault this disaster is, because they don't even notice the runaway ants. Yes, it is fortunate that the other insects are busy arguing over this situation. Basil manages to turn himself around to discover that his berry has been flung into a grassy area. Then he sees poor Walter stick his head out, coughing and gasping for breath. He decides to wait for Walter to catch his breath, and be able to speak again. "Are you alright?" The question could be intended for himself as well as Walter, seeing how both of them aren't looking too well at the moment. It is at this point that Basil discovers he's much too stuck to get out of the berry on his own. "Um..." Is about all he can mutter for the moment, as he trys futiley to escape the strawberry that has him in its clutches. A groan answers Basil. Followed by a weak, "That's the *last* time I choose a strawberry as a mode of transportation." At this, Walter slithers out of the hated strawberry as quickly as possible, panting -- he's quite a mess to behold, all that strawberry slime clinging tenaciously to his exoskeleton. He almost tries to run for it, but, perceiving Basil's predicament, heaves a sigh and moves to help pull Basil out of the stubborn strawberry. "Oh, man. I can hardly move in this stupid thing." He calls out to Walter, and finally manages to get his right arm out from the sticky pulpy mess. This is about all he can maneuver, hoping the other ant will be able to get him the heck out of this place. He rests his head on the side of the berry, still feeling a little vertigo, which passes quickly. "Uh boy. I thought I was going to lose it in there, I mean my stomach." Basil pulls a face at the prospect of what could have happened, not having occured that it /did/ happen to Walter, a moment ago. "Yeah? Well, you're doing better than me, pal," Walter mutters, non too happily. Bracing his foot against the bright red surface of the thing that ensares Basil, he reaches for the other ant's arm, trying to pull him out further. Sweat mingles with the drops of red juice on his forehead as he grits his teeth, glancing every so often at the bugs nearby -- they can't keep arguing forever. Basil's takes Walters hand, and redoubles his efforts to escape. He hears Walter's comment, and can only assume the worst. His stomach lurches again, but resettles afterward. Basil finally begins to feel some movement, but it might take a little more effort, on Walters part, since he can't seem to get his feet in a location to produce the necessary leverage to expell himself. He overhears the bug's argument, and as it seems that it might be coming to a resolution, he makes one final effort to escape, and comes flying out, and heads toward Walter at a rapid pace, hoping his companion will be able to step out of the way in time. Walter, too winded by the whole experience to step lively, experiences collision head-on. He falls backward on the ground, spreading more of that darn fruit juice everywhere. "Ugh." One can only hope the porters don't notice... although they don't seem like the sharpest thorns on the rose to begin with. Clutching his stomach, Walter attempts to drag himself to his feet. "Ouch!" Is the only thing Basil can exclaim, and quite loudly too, as he impacts with Walter. He feels himself cascade wrecklessly to the ground, and rolls over a few times. Having been liberally coated with berry juice himself, coming to a stop becomes quite a challenge. He slips over the grass, but his little ride soon comes to an end, and in doing so, tries to get up, losing his footing, and falling to the ground again in a less than dignified manner. He looks over at Walter, as he clambers to his feet, and manges to do likewise. Basil shakes his head, part mournfully, part humorously, and after claiming his balance, breaths out a frustrated sigh. "Let's get out of here!" Rolling his eyes in the process. Sounds like a plan to him. Walter doesn't even respond to Basil's suggestion, either through word or gesture, and simply stumbles toward the grass. Unfortunately the gunk that liberally covers him obstructs his progress. He slips, falls forward, and disappears into the foliage with a muffled cry. After picking himself up yet *again*, he proceeds, albeit shakily. Basil watches Walter's slip and fall, and increases his pace to discover Walter's whereabouts to help him to his feet. After watching the other escapee get to his feet, and reclaim his bearings, Basil shakes his head a little, and with a strong sarcastic undertone, declares, "I think that the only think that could be worse about this whole sticky mess, is if we can't get it off until after it dries!" He then walks over to Walter, and offers an assisted hand, in keeping the two of them erect, and in a vertical position so they can make some progress in escaping. Behind them, the bugs finally stop arguing and decide to do something constructive... like set the wagon right and pick up all those berries they scattered. One of them calls, "Look, two of the strawberries are totally ruined! They're cut and leaking all over the place. What a mess. All thanks to you--" "How many times must I tell you, if you hadn't been the one *driving*--" thus the arguing recommences. Walter gladly accepts the offered assistance, and attempts to block out the argument going on behind them. "I'm glad they're a bunch of idiots," he mutters. Simply nodding to the affirmative, Basil listens to the argument and giggles a little. Not what he would normally do, but than what about this escape has been normal. "I think we need to get going before they do have a chance to find us, unless you think it would be better to sit tight and wait for them to leave." Basil also considers their options but decides to wait since Walter knows the 'idiots' better than he does. Walter remain silent for a few seconds, as potential scenarios reel through his mind. He frowns. "Well, if we want to get to the city, we shouldn't stray too far from the main road. Who knows where the rest of this will go." He gestures vaguely at the grassy wilderness encompassing the road. He perks up his antennae momentarily, listening to the verbal battle going on behind them. Words like "idiot" and "moron" are generously used. "Sounds like those guys don't suspect a thing. We can probably wait it out." Basil nods to the affirmative, in both the route to travel, and the decision to say put for the moment. He then reaches over to a blade of grass, and tearing part of it off, takes the piece in hand, and wraps it over his left antennae and begins to wipe it off. He holds the torn piece of grass in his hand,and while examining the red residue, makes a wincing expression, tosses it aside and reaches for another one. "If I never see another Strawberry again, it'll still be too soon for me!" He tosses the other piece of grass blade aside, and smiles a weak expression. Walter shudders. "I don't want to see one, smell one, or even *hear* the word again. Can't even remember when I used to like 'em." Making a face, he wanders over toward a short blade of grass and plucks off a bit of dew shimmering there. After applying it to a piece he tears off of the blade, he begins to wipe off his face and antennae. The porters finally wrap up their second argument without coming to blows, and finish piling the strawberries onto the wagon. They then continue their journey, not even suspecting the real nature of those two leaky strawberries, or the fact that there are escaped slaves right under their noses. Perhaps they never will. "Yeah." Basil mutters as he watches the other bugs load up the strawberries, including the ones used for refuge, for escape, and drive away toward the city again. "But ya gotta admit. They did get us out of there." Basil beams and points toward the plantation. He feels more than relieved to be free of that horrible prediciment. "You've gotta admit that. I'm beginning even feel better, despite having this trait of being able to adhere to just about anything within grasp. " "I'm sure I they won't try to extract revenge on me if I neither thank them or apologize for scooping out their innards," Walter says grudgingly of the strawberries. "Except maybe by haunting my dreams." Drawing up his expression in one of disgust, he continues trying to get the rest of the juice off of his person. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we're not in that place anymore, but still." He glances at the road, now empty. "We'd probably better get moving soon. Quill will notice we're gone before long, and then we'll have him on our trail." Basil makes of quick work to get the rest of the berry juice off too, and nods to the afirmative. "Not that I'm going to be craving strawberries again, let me tell you that much." He then wipes off his feet, and makes a gesture to leave. "I'm with you there. It wouldn't be a smart move to stay any longer, since he *will* become wise to our disappearance." Basil then waits to follow Walter out of the grass and onto the road. Then an idea hits him. "Are you familiar with all of Quill's lackeys? It might be a good idea to keep our eyes peeled for them as well." Basil then instictively takes a sweeping glance to the horizon in hoping to see, or not see anyone airborn in the search for two escaped ants. "I'm sure he will be scouring the area for us." Walter suddenly scratches his head, nodding to Basil. "It shouldn't take too long, actually. I'm surprised we haven't heard anything yet." He too begins to scan the heavens, but only for a second, before he breaks into a quick trot -- but he does not venture onto the road, explaining, "Let's just stick to the fringe, so we can hide faster if -- ehh, more like *when* something shows up. He'll be buzzing around like a fat hornet, and it'll be harder to see through the grass." Rubbing his arm, and making a face at some remaining stickiness, he adds, "I know some of their faces. Those geniuses you saw on the road are the usual guys who make deliveries. But Quill... well, he might not come after us himself. It depends on how he's feeling. He could just as easily hire someone else to do it." Keeping to the fringe, and off the road makes logical sense. Basil can just imagine how angry Quill's going to be, but hiring someone else would be his fashion. "So, essentially we need to steer clear of /anyone/ until we get to the city." Basil then shutters somewhat at that last statement, knowing full well what kind of experience that lies in store for both of them. No one would argue that refuge in the city outweighs servitude and slavery, but how much? Basil knew from first hand accounts of what life there can be like, but saving their lives was first priority. They had to find shelter, and the city /was/ their only hope at that time. "Anyone with wings," Walter says, pausing to push an obstructing blade of grass out of the way. "Quill's not as dumb as he looks," he adds, feeling bold enough to unleash an insult or two on their former captives. A thing that would sign the ant's death warrant if Quill ever overheard these sort of remarks. "Not only can the guy count, he knows what kind of bugs to send. No matter what they are, they always have wings." "Yeah, wings. That does make sense." A reply is made, but in a musing tone as Basil feels a little envy at thoes who do have the gift of flight, but brushes that away too. Pointless to dwell on such things. "Have you ever been to the city before. I'm just kinda wondering since we will probably need to seek help or shelter, or some other kind of assistance." A tight lipped frown spreads evenly. "From what I've heard, most bugs there aren't exactly the type to simply give a begging ant whatever they need." Walter's response to Basil's question is pretty succinct: "Nope." Silence. "All I know is, officially, ants aren't kept as slaves there. 'Course, there can't be too many ants over there, period. A colony is the place to be, and I don't know where any colonies are." He waves an arm out at the rebellion of grass. "Maybe out there somewhere... but I'm not going to risk my neck tangling with a mouse, or a snake, or something." "Yeah, and unfortunately, when I was locked into that wagon that brought me out here in the first place, I couldn't see where I was, so getting back to Ant Island is out of the question." Basil's expression turns down deeply at the thought of being separated from home. "We'll just have to make the best of it. It's funny though, when your step sister was telling me about the dangers and trials she and her friends went through, I would /never/ have guessed I would be going throught some of the same things, and in such a short time afterwards." Walter snorts. "Life loves playing cruel tricks like that. Like when it turned out we didn't even need to escape from Lakeside that time after all..." he rubs the bridge of his nose momentarily. "Nah, then again, she's better off on that island place." He goes silent, and pushes through the grass alongside the road with more vigor. Basil notices Walter's increased speed, and makes efforts to keep up. "So, she and her friend really /did't/ need to escape?" Musing for a second, he adds. "That is really sad, but you make a good point, she is better back on Ant Island than either in the city, or trying to survive as a slave somewhere." Basil passes a sigh, and says nothing more as they continue on their route to Bug City. "No," Walter says stiffly. "They didn't. But they're better off." He trails off, pausing to roughly push away another obstructing blade of grass. At length he resumes. "Turns out we misheard a conversation concerning our executions. We thought we were *all* going to get it but good. Turns out they were just going to kill Rosemary, Filbert, and a few other guys. The rest of us were going to be spared if we renounced our 'loyalties', allied ourselves with the revolutionists, and all that junk." "That must have been terrifying, thinking you were going to, well, um..." Basil can't seem to finish the sentence. "You know." Basil then waits for the grass blade to come to a halt, before tackling it himself. "Gotta watch those things, blades, and all. One time I was with a friend, and he didn't wait until it stopped moving after I went around it, and found himself tossed into a mud puddle." With that remark, Basil giggles but stops short, not caring to remember home, since getting back seems to be an impossibility. Walter continues to advance through the grass in much the same manner as possible, only with a more militant stride than ever. "Mm. Dangerous things," is his only comment concerning Basil's story about the treachery of grass. He would probably find it much more amusing if he were in a better humor. Suddenly he stops abruptly, eyes lifting skyward. "Do you hear that?" His antennae twitch at a faint buzzing sound in the background. Basil stiffens his form as he too hears a buzzing sound coming from some direction. "Uh... yeah, I'm afraid I do..." He eyes go wide, and immediately begins to panic, looking up in the same direction as Walter's gaze, and it would seem that he can see a dark shape in the distance, coming toward them at a rapid pace. Basil immediately attempts to heads for cover, not wanting to risk being detected. "Run!" He calls out, in a most panicked declaration. Walter swallows hard, and imitates Basil's attempt to hide -- and in the process knocks into some blades of grass, no doubt causing a rustle. Silently berating himself for a blunder that might bring unsavory results of noticed, he ducks into an area providing thick growth, in an effort to conceal himself. Looking out from between a cluster of grass blades, and the stem of a dandelion, Basil watches Walter rush past and find shelter for himself. 'That was close' he mutters under his breath. Not at anything Walter did, but at finding an out-of-the-way place to hide. Basil then winces at his call of 'run' hoping it didn't give away their postions to whomever may be looking for them. It would seem that in a panicked situation, a lot of goof ups and mindless mistakes happen, but then losing one's senses seems to be standard procedure here. As the dark shape approaches, it very soon begins to resemble a grasshopper -- a rather small one, at that. The insect stalls to a hover, surveying the area. After a few seconds, the form touches down on the road, folding his wings behind him. The grasshopper came from the direction of the plantation, so one can only assume he was sent to hunt down runaway slaves -- though he looks rather young for the task. Blue-green eyes calmly inspect the area, a silent question seeming to form: did he actually see movement, or was his mind playing tricks on him? Walter strains to see the new arrival through the veil of grass without getting spotted himself. Yup... a winged insect. No doubt about it. Although the youthful appearance does present something of a puzzle, this ant is not going to take any chances whatsoever. He remains absolutely still, eyes wide, hoping he didn't actually *see* them. Basil is in a likewise state of concern. Actually /panic/ would be more of a concise defenition, as he has to fight the sensation of running, but in doing so, would definately give away their position. A cooler head prevails. Basil isn't as concerned with the age or appearance of the individual, but then his /size/ on the other hand does cause his quiestioning to engage. 'Why would Quill send such a small 'hopper.' He mused deeply. 'Maybe he can travel faster, and then return for his comrades, to make the chase more successfull.' A hard lump is swallowed, but does not seem calm his nerves. A tight look forms on the grasshopper's visage when no one comes out, calls out, runs, screams in terror, or anything. Just dead silence. Indeed, his eyes must have deceived him. He looks as though he might consider searching the area, but then a change comes over his bearing. A sense of urgency enters his expression, which is followed by action: his wings stir, he lifts up from the ground, and speeds off in the direction he was originally going. Walter hardly breathes as he watches the 'hopper kid, nor does he react when the insect mounts the air again. Only when he is gone does Walter puff out a sigh. His entire frame collapses into a relieved posture. "Dang, that was *too* close." "Gad! No kidding." A mild oath is exclaimed as Basil also slumps down, but not without taking another look to see if any others might be arriving soon. "That was too close." A sigh of relief is expelled, and Basil takes a few steps out to get a better look. Then returns to the hiding place with the mental occurance that others /could/ be coming and it would be best to wait until it is clear. But on the other hand, staying put also puts one at risk. "What-to-do-what-to-do-what-to-do." Races through his weary, panick stricken mind. Walter scans the skies for awhile, eyes widened in anticipation of more grasshoppers or something of that sort flying in the other insect's wake... but nothing. There's only silence. At length he stumbles out of his own hiding place and resumes his stride, which is more hesitant and shaky now. Not even glancing to see if Basil follows. Basil does follow, but in a similar trembling fashion. He again makes no other comment for a time, but as they approach the crest of a hill, he stops and points out to some strange looking object in the distance. It's hard for Basil to describe, but he can't help but wonder if /that/ is their destination of protection from further detection. "Any idea what that is? Basil asks with a great deal of emphasis in his voice. "Never seen anything like it." The object still a good walking distance from their position. Walter lifts a shaking hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the sun as he peers intently at what Basil points out. "It's so big!" he observes, clearly overwhelmed by the magitude of it. "Whatever it is, it can't be bug-made." A loud whistling sound comes from Basil as he eyes the object in front of them. "I would say not!" he resumes walking toward it, but stops and takes another passing glance, and then sends one toward Walter. "Do you think it's safe to head in that direction?" Raising one eyeridge, and dropping it quickly, then adds. "Huh, like we have a choice in the matter?" and plunges onward. "Who do you think /could/ have created such a, a, a *thing!* "Hey, it's better than going the opposite direction," Walter replies, plunging forward. A bit reckless, maybe; perhaps the sudden freedom has gone to his head. "Let's just hope whoever made it isn't at home today." "Yeah, something of that size sure does bring new definition to the word Humongous, eh?" Then Basil nods at Walter's wisdom in going on ahead instead of going back. Better to go with, 'could be dangerous' than 'We've already been there, and no, we don't want that again.' Basil then keeps going forward, but says little since his attention is unavoidably attracted by the huge shape ahead of them. Becoming even more entranced as definition is increased as they come closer. Eventually they do seem to come upon the 'fabled' Bug City, and attention is shifted once more. [END LOG] Next Log The Mitey War Return to: Muted Identity logs.

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