A plentiful planet dotted with glistening round fresh-water lakes sprinkled below towering oval plateaus was home to two forms of intelligent life: the mawhs and the ploons. The mawhs were scampering four-legged prey, and the ploons were swooping large-winged predators. The small, but clever, mawhs dug complex underground tunnels in the woodlands. The powerful ploons nested atop the flat plateaus.
The two creatures were very different. Similar in size and shape to chipmunks, the plant-eating mawhs had large floppy ears that helped them hear the flapping of a nearby ploon—times when they needed to scoot to a burrow. The much larger hawk-like, purple-feathered, yellow-headed ploons had gripping claws and piercing eyes of owls—features that made them fierce hunters.
Skilled at storing food, such as seeds, roots and nuts, in small baskets made from leather-like lake weeds, the nimble mawhs prepared well for winters. Whereas the ploons dealt with stretches of cold by spending their days sky-stalking mawhs that strayed too far from places to hide.
A source of pleasure shared by the mawhs and ploons was the beautiful night sky. Throughout all seasons, there was an array of sparkling stars to marvel at overhead. Even more spectacular, both creatures like gazing at a captivating multi-colored circular nebula, both called Sky Eye. The celestial wonder had a glimmering orange aura surrounding what appeared to be a green iris and a pink pupil.
Though a bright youngster who had learned to talk and fly at a rapid pace, Snomy lacked the predator’s zeal usual for young ploons. “I don’t think I’m ready to hunt,” she told her parents with a frown.
“That’s what you’ve been saying for far too long,” grumbled the father while shaking wings. “Your jitters aren’t going away because your mother and I have been softees. The softiness must stop!” he insisted.
The mother took the father’s side. “Your father is right, Snomy. The coddling has to stop. You need to muster some oomph. Ploons can’t survive without oomph.”
The father didn’t hold back. “That you peck at the ground for scraps like a lowly mawh is humiliating!” he pointed out before making a firm demand: “Your mother and I don’t want you to return home until your belly is full of mawh!”
The mother again agreed with the father. “It’s for your own good, Snomy. We’re merely being responsible parents. . . . Just remember not to try to nab a mawh who’s gathering the berries that grow out of mushy mud. Ploons claws get stuck in mushy mud,” she cautioned.
“I understand,” replied Snomy before flexing her three-foot wingspan to prepare for flight. “I won’t let you both down.” she assured before briskly pushing off while flapping fast to gain height.
“I’m worried about her,” fretted the mother as both parents watched their daughter glide over the edge of the ploons’ plateau.
A seven-inch-long young mawh, by the name of Nug, was also struggling to do as he was told. Like all mawhs, Nug spent much of each day busily gathering food. He wasn’t, however, showing the timidness usual for mawhs. Despite many warnings by his parents, he didn’t pause often enough to scan overhead for hungry hunting ploons.
On a clear warm day, while gathering root-veggies, tree-nuts and bush-berries on his own, Nug once again forgot to occasionally look up, causing him not to see the lone ploon circling above.
Busy filling his basket with berries, Nug reminded himself that each time he left the network of mawh tunnels his life was at risk. Be ready to scoot out of sight, he told himself. Unfortunately, the warning wasn’t followed by tipping head back, then looking up while pivoting—a habit his parents had tried to teach him.
He doesn’t seem to see me, Snomy nervously told herself.
While not being seen should be good news for a ploon, that wasn’t the case for Snomy. Realizing she had an unfair advantage made her more anxious. Just scaring that mawh feels all wrong, she thought. Caught up in agonizing, she didn’t notice the mawh below was picking berries from bushes that grew out of the mushy mud her parents told her to avoid.
Nug, meanwhile, remained busy munching and collecting the juicy orange berries.
Wanting to tell her parents she had tried to please them, a timid Snomy dove toward Nug. Her plan was to merely scare off the unsuspecting mawh. After extending claws, she did something ploons never do when about to pounce on prey: She squawked.
Though relieved to see the mawh bolt to safety, Snomy soon realized she coudn’t move her claws. Unable to flap, twist or bite her way loose from the mushy mud, she panicked. “Help,” she called out.
Fearing the ploon would pounce on him if he helped free her, Nug decided trying to dart from the crevice in which he was hiding was too risky. carefully creeping forward, he poked his hideout long enough for Snomy and him to make eye contact.
“I don’t want to harm you. I just want to be freed,” said Snomy, feeling helpless.
I can’t trust a ploon, thought Nug. “If I help you, you’ll eat me,” he told her as he nudged backward.
“No, I promise I won’t. . . . I’ll thank you, then be on my way,” pledged Snomy.
“Why should I trust you?” asked Nug.
“I’m listening,” replied a curious Nug.
Snomy was sincere. “I’m an oddball ploon who refuses to hunt mawh. Though letting you go will be seen by my flock as messing up in a big way, I’ll be relieved.”
While encouraged by what he’d heard, Nug remained fearful. “My name is Nug. . . . You sound honest, but how can I be sure? After all, you flew towards me!”
“I was trying to shoo you away so that I could tell my parents I sort of tired to be a normal ploon. . . . My name is Snomy. . . . I guess you can’t be sure. But please believe I don’t have a speck of the hunting oomph ploons are supposed to have. Besides, I wouldn’t think much of myself if I broke my word,” she shared.
“Please don’t turn out to be a trickster,” pleaded Nug.
“I’m not tricking you!” assured Snomy.
Ever so slowly, Nug crept from the cranny in which he had dashed. After scooping a bunch of leaves with his paws, He crawled to Snomy from behind her. Next, he spread the leaves under her. “I’m going to gently pry you claws loose with stick. . . . As soon as yur claws are free, flap to safety, OK?” instructed Nug as he grabbed two nearby three-foot-long narrow branches.
After easing the tip of the branches under Snomy’s claws, Nug lifted the sticks upward.
Quickly set free, Snomy burst onto solid ground, where she turned to face her rescuer.
Nug’s heart raced as he returned to the sanctuary he’d just left. “You promised!” he complained.
“I’m not breaking my promise! I don’t want to leave without thanking you for trusting and freeing me. I though we might have a chat,” explained Snomy.
Again hearing honesty in Snomy’s voice, Nug took a leap of trust. “You said letting me go would cause your flock to accuse you of messing up. That means trouble awaits you, right?”
“Yes,” answered Snomy.
“Well, would you be interested in a meal you can’t mess up?” asked Nug.
“I’d like to go home with a full belly. So, the answer is a big yes,” replied Snomy.
“Nug at your service. You’re about to enjoy a belly-bulging assortment of tasty treats! Let’s start with some of these delicious mud puddle berries. Just stay where you are while I fling the yummies close enough for you to catch,” said Nug, as he selected a big juicy berry, did a backflip into an open patch of ground, then flung the fruit underhand Snomy’s way.
“After flinging a few more berries, I’m going to toss you some of the scrumptious veggies and nuts that are in my basket. Everything is fresh. It’s all going to make you healthier and stronger,” said Nug before diving into a one-handed handstand from which he skillfully sent a nut toward Snomy’s beak.
Before long, Snomy’s belly was full. “I’m stuffed. . . . Watching you bop about was very entertaining. Any chance we can meet here around dusk for another meal?”
“As long as I’m not the meal,” joked Nug, wanting to be reassured.
Snomy didn’t laugh. “That’s not funny!”
She seems very truthful, thought Nug as he shrugged. “I’ll see you here later today,” he awkwardly replied, realizing he’d just made plans to share a meal with a ploons—something no mawh had ever done.
When Snomy returned home, her mother wasted no time looking for good news. “How full is your belly, Snomy?” she asked.
The mother straightened with pride, then cheerfully shook wings rapid enough to cause her body to shiver. “I knew you could do it! Your father is also going to display a happiness flutter when we tell him. I bet you’re looking forward to heading out for your next meal,” she assumed.
“I’m planning to hunt later today,” assured Snomy, again hiding the truth.
Believing his time with Snomy was a breakthrough, Nug eagerly shared exactly what had happened with his parents and neighbors.
But instead of praise, Nug heard outrage. The adults present squirmed and shuffled while expressing alarm.
“You’re a young fool! What you’ve done mustn’t ever happen again,” declared a gramps.
“We must strongly from upon such a happening!” insisted a granny.
One of the colony leaders stepped closer to Nug, then looked down at him while speaking sternly. “Once the foolish young ploon you met tells other ploons what she did, she’ll be shunned, just like you’ll be if you don’t assure us you understand the horrible mistake you made.”
“Where did you get that silly notion? Letting down our guard as you suggest will only put us in ploons’ bellies!” declared a colony another colony bigshot.
Nug tried a last ditch plea. “I’m just saying it could be a beginning. Is there anyone willing to come with me to meet Snomy?”
The bigshot who had just spoken laid down the law. “Whoever goes to such a meeting will be banned from the colony!”
Nug wasn’t ready to give up. “But what if we don’t need to live fidgety fretful lives? If we can help the ploons to enjoy and store field and forest foods as we do, wouldn’t mawhs be safer and happier? Maybe the travelers who brought everyone here made sure both groups spoke the same language to help mawhs and ploons get along. Why can’t befriending the ploons be what’s always been possible?”
A leader who had been silent was stern. “If the travelers wanted us to get along with ploons, they would have told the ploons not to make a meal of us. It’s that simple! Nug’s far-fetched drivel must stop!” she declared as she looked toward Nug’s mother and father. “I expect your parents to bring an immediate end to their son’s dangerous mischief!”
As Nug and his parents walked away from the gathering, his mother fussed. “I’m done letting things slide. I want to see a lot more twitching, flinching and ducking. It’s time you started acting like a normal mawh!”
With his father between him and his mother, Nug tried to lighten the mood by mimicking mawh twitchy behavior with a spastic dance.
Mindful of the mother’s intense concern, the father stifled a ready-to-burst laugh while head-shaking for Nug to stop.
Unable to get his father to grin—something he usually could count on, Nug hung his head. The adults are too afraid to try to make things better, he told himself.
Despite realizing they were taking a great risk, Snomy and Nug met as they’d planned. After enjoying another mix of veggies, berries and nuts, during which Nug again offered an array of silly acrobatic antics, they plopped on a flat ledge to relax and chat.
“My parents say the travelers who brought our mawh and ploon ancestors to this world taught both groups the same language,” said Nug, always finding the travelers an interesting topic.
She’s interested in what I like to talk about, happily thought Nug. “I told the adults that helping the ploons enjoy and stash plant food would better the lives of ploons and mawhs, but no one believed such a thing was possible. Things didn’t get any better when I said getting along with ploons may be what the travelers wanted.”
A worried Snomy let her wings sag. “Getting to know you, Nug, has ended whatever slim chance there was that I might hunt as my flock does. . . . If my parents heard me say that, they’d want nothing to do with me.”
A flustered Nug shook his head. “The travelers should have given our ancestors more help,” he wished.
“Maybe something caused them to move on before they were done teaching our ancestors. After all, travelers travel, right? . . . It’s an especially beautiful sky tonight,” pondered Snomy as the Sky Eye Nebula appeared in the darkening sky.
“Do ploons believe, as mawhs do, that the travelers lived on High Plateau when they were here?” asked Nug as he turned to view by far the largest mesa.
“I often wonder if there’s a way to get to the top and see if the travelers left something behind,” shared Nug.
“No ploon has flown even halfway up High Plateau. It’s twice as high as the plateaus the ploons live on,” explained Snomy.
“Maybe the travelers left behind something that would encourage mawhs and ploons to get along,” sugggested Nug.
“Why would they leave something so important out of reach?” asked Snomy.
“I guess what I’m saying doesn’t make sense. But the fix you and I are in can’t be what the travelers wanted,” replied a perplexed Nug.
“It’s hard to believe the travelers, who must be smarter than mawhs and ploons, brought us here just to be predators and prey,” said Snomy.
“Talking with you is super,” shared Nug with a smile.
Snomy bowed her head. “I hope you think of me as a friend.”
“I consider you my best friend,” quickly replied Nug.
The closeness Snomy and Nug were enjoying was, however, about to be brought to an abrupt end. Without warning, the whooshing sound of flapping wings was soon followed by the sight of a five-foot-wide wall of feathers. In a flash, the night sky was blocked from Snomy and Nug’s view. Realizing another ploon had arrived, Snomy screeched: “Run, Nug!”
After racing out of sight, Nug found a nearby boulder to dash behind—a hideout that let him view and overhear what followed.
Too shaken to notice the other ploon’s face, Snomy spread her wings and began short, but forceful flaps in an effort to convince the intruder to seek a mawh-meal elsewhere.
Unwilling to back off, the much larger ploon landed in front of Snomy. Then, after both tucked wings by sides, a srprised Snomy she was facing her father.
“Your mother and I were worried about you,” began her father. “I’ve been searching for some time. . . . I caught a glimpse of the mawh that was here. What’s going on?”
No more lies, thought Snomy as she gulped, then took a deep breath. “I’ve befriended a mawh who freed me from a puddle of mushy mud.”
“You did what?” shouted the father.
“Do you understand what you’re telling me?” angrily asked the father before answering his own question. “You’re telling me you no longer wish to live with your own kind!”
“But the wonderful thing that’s happened to me can happen to other ploons!” suggested Snomy.
Th father bellowed his response. “That’s nonsense! The elders will surely see what you’re telling me as a threat to all ploons.”
Snomy tried to reason with him. “If the mawhs easily survive cold winters by storing food, why can’t ploons?” she asked.
The father proudly cocked his head before answering. “The mawhs are ground dwellers who hide in holes. Ploons are sky-soarers who perch on peaks. . . .We don’t stash dry morsels in baskets. We swoop past treetops for raw hunks of meat!” he declared.
“But ploons can learn to replace fierceness with cooperation. We can better ensure our survival. Mawhs live longer than we do because they eat healthier foods,” persisted Snomy.
Before flying off, the fuming father summed up the state of affairs. “Ploons don’t pick and pile. We plunge and pierce! We don’t seek a long life; we seek a proud one! Only come home if you decide to honor what it means to be a ploon.”
Soon after Snomy’s father departed, Nug reappeared, unsure how to be helpful. “I thought you bravely made good sense,” he told Snomy.
Though Snomy and Nug were fearful of being separated from their parents, they didn’t see how they’d ever be wh their parents and communities wanted them to be. So, they made a choice no ploon or mawh had ever made: They decided to set out on their own.
“We’ll fill our own food baskets, then tote them to storage places only we know about,” planned Nug as they hiked through the night to a wooded area behind High Plateau—a location far from the mawhs’ colony and the ploons’ flock.
After choosing a homebase with loose ledge creating many hideout tunnels, Snomy expressed concern. “A ploon able to make a meal of you would be seen as a hero by other ploons. So, don’t stray far from the crevices that extend along nearby ledge, Nug.”
Nug looked upward. “Along with finding a spot with a lot of good hiding places, we’ve got a terrific view of Sky Eye,” he pointed out.
“The adults were glad to get rid of us,” claimed Nug as they laid on their backs to watch the sky darken.
“As far as we know, no one’s coome looking for us,” sadly said Snomy.
“I’ve been thinking more and more that there must be a way to get mawhs and ploons to at least ponder the possibility of getting along with each other,” shared Nug.
“It sounds like you’ve been working on a scheme,” guessed Snomy.
Nug had, in fact, been mulling a plan. “I’m guessing your healthy diet has been strengthening your wings. I bet you’re strong enough to carry me in a well-built basket.”
Snomy caught on. “You want us to fly over the colony of mawhs and the flock of ploons. . . . What if a hungry or ornery ploon rips you from the basket?”
A grinning Nug had an answer. “If a rascal ploon ges close to me, I’ll do some beak-bopping with a branch. . . . We both want to show mawhs and ploons there’s a better way to live, right?”
“I trust us to make the basket extra secure. . . . There’s something else I’ve been wanting to tell you,” informed Nug as he stood and faced Snomy.
“What’s that?” asked Snomy.
Nug’s eyes widened. “Watching you gracefully glide from place to place makes me want to do the same. You’d be letting me know what no mawh has ever known: the splendor of flight!” he revealed while turning front paws upward.
“I don’t want to let you down,” said Snomy before coming up with a compromise. “If we make a sturdy basket with a strong strap, I’ll take you for flights over a nearby lake. I’ll also consider carrying an empty basket during a solo flight over the ploons’ plateau!”
“But my beak-bopping could come in handy when ovver the ploon’s plateau,” pleaded Nug.
“Hightailing it on my own will be hard enough,” persisted Snomy.
By noon the next day, Snomy and Nug had an extra-rugged basket built. Satisfied the basket was flight-worthy, Snomy let Nug strap it around her upper legs.
“Ready for mr to hop aboard?” enthusiastically asked Nug.
After flexing legs, Snomy nodded OK.
Once crouching in the basket, Nug tightened a strap around his waist, then gripped the edge of the basket. Suddenly feeling skittish, he tried to request a delay. “Maybe this wasn’t such a. . . ,” he began.
“Here we go,” interrupted Snomy as she aimed head forward, sprung upward and spread wings outward. In a brief few seconds, Snomy’ssmooth, steady strokes had them soaring.
Soon dazzled by how quickly and easily they rose, Nug’s anxiety was overtaken by his amazement. “Wow! It’s what I hoped it would be,” he exclaimed as they continued upward.
“Ready for some fun?” asked Snomy while leveling off 200 feet above the ground.
“Sure!” quickly answered Nug.
Realizing the surprise shower was a fun-loving stunt, Nug leaned over the basket and dunked a paw deep enough to splash Snomy.
Snomy chuckled. “OK, you got even. Would you like to stand atop a midium-size plateau?” she asked.
Nug was gung-ho. “That would be great!” he answered.
Flapping hard to gain altitude, Snomy found she had to circle a bit to overcome the steepness. “This plateau is a little higher than the one the ploons live on, but it’s doable,” she assured Nug.
After they safely landed, Nug was surprised by the lack of a view. “I thought we’d see more, not less, from up here,” he noted.
“Only sky, clouds and High Plateau can be seen without getting close to the edge,” pointed out Snomy.
“Even from up here High Plateau looks super high,” said Nug.
Keeping her word, Snomy set out for the ploons’ plateau the following morning with the empty basket attached to her. To pace herself and stay calm, she maintained slow, sweeping strokes while taking full, relaxing breaths. Nevertheless, the closer she got to her old home, the more anxious she felt.
Once over the plateau, Snomy decided it was best to continue to poke along. Save your energy, she told herself as she glanced down long enough to see soom members of her former flock.
When Snomy reached the midpoint of the mesa, she was pleased with how things were going. Though she saw ploons glaring upward and squawking loudly, she didn’t see anyone take flight. So far, so good, she thought, unaware of the fierce group of ploons rapidly gaining on her.
Eventually glancing back, Snomy saw five head-lurching ploons closing in on her. Though panic-stricken at first, she soon gathered the will and the ability to flap much faster! Her sudden speed dumbfounded those following. Within seconds, she streaked so far ahead of her pursuers that they sheepishly gave up in unison. Eager to share her triumph with Nug, she flew from the sight of those who had been in pursuit.
Finding Nug pacing when she returned, Snomy quickly put him at ease. “You were right! Our diet has made me not only healthier but also stronger. When chased by some pesky ploons, I easily left them far behind!” she happily shared.
“OK, tomorrow we’ll cruise over the colony,” promised Snomy, still not ready to commit to taking Nug over the ploons’ plateau.
“Let’s celebrate today’s triumph with a feast,” suggested Nug as he jumped high enough to manage a triple twirl before spreading limbs to cartwheel his way to their food bins.
“Yes, let’s rejoice,” agreed Snomy before fluttering feathers with the body-vibrating jiggle usual for cheerful ploons.
With Snomy’s success spurring them, the pair were airborne early the next day.
“We’re almost over the colony,” informed Snomy as she stopped flapping, then glided close enough for those with heads poking out of burrows to see something they’d never seen: a ploon and mawh out for a pleasant midday aerial cruise.
While waving at the mawhs he saw below, Nug merrily shouted. “You could be me!”
“We’re likely being seen as a scary spectacle,” said a grinning Snomy.
“Let’s give the ploons a chance to wave back,” encouraged Nug.
“Thanks to what happened yesterday, they should be ready for another dose of inspiration,” hoped Nug.
Soon spotting Snomy and Nug cruising overhead, the ploons stood stunned. Though Snomy’s appearance had surprised them a day earlier, the flock never expected she’d return carrying a waving mawh.
A few impressed youngsters, who were huddled far from the adults, looked up with beaks hung wide open.
“It’s as if we’re all having an amazing dream,” called out one.
“They aren’t just getting along; they’re also having fun!” added another.
“Snomy hasn’t only shown us she’s the fastest ploon; she’s also shown us she can stay friends with a mawh!” said a third member of the group.
Snomy and Nug began making daily flights over the mawhs’ colony and the ploons’ flock. To their dismay, the leaders in both communities kept telling all not to look up when the pair passed overhead.
“If ignored, the troublemakers will eventually give up,” kept repeating the mawh leaders.
Though not one mawh waved a paw or one ploon flapped a wing to signal friendliness, Snomy and Nug didn’t give up. In the months that followed, even on bad weather days, they flew over both communities to again and again let it be known that there was another way to live.
Then, on a dreary day, during what had been another humdrum flight, Snomy and Nug had their persistence pay off. While passing over a lake as they traveled from the colony to the flock, a vision jolted them from their doldrums. So surprised by what was headed toward them, Snomy looked down at Nug to see if he saw what she saw.
“It’s finally happened!” cried out an astonished Nug as a mawh riding in a basket tied to a ploon’s legs approached.
After leading the way to a landing spot, Snomy was first to speak to the unexpected duo. “Hello!” she gleefully greeted.
“We’re hoping you’ll allow us to join your community,” said the other ploon.
“Follow us. We’ll take you to your new home,” sprightly invited Nug as he leaped to the other mawh with open arms, prompting Snomy to pat the other ploon with a wing.
The small group of ploons who continued to be predators and the tiny number of mawhs who stayed prey remained in the old communities. For them, the nearby flourishing friendships remained something to distrust.
Nug, who had been weakened by old age, began finding routine activities, such as climbing into a flight basket, difficult. Not wanting to replace her friend withanother flight partner, Snomy let younger ploon-mawh pairs take the routine trips over the old communities.
“I miss our flyovers, Snomy. We can’t give up on the few mawh and ploon holdouts,” shared Nug as he hobbled next to Snomy with help from a branch-cane.
“Don’t worry. The youngsters taking our place are spry and reliable,” assured Snomy.
“I still wonder if the travelers left something behind on High Plateau,” he shared just before an ache in his arms sharpened as he sat.
Nug’s wince worried Snomy. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“I, too, wish you could let go of that wish,” said Snomy while shaking her head.
Nug had regret. “Actually, what I just said isn’t true. I can stop wishing. . . . I don’t want us to be at odds, even a little bit,” he told Snomy as he patted her wing.
After a short silence, Snomy surprised Nug. “If failing won’t be a big let down for you, I’ll give High Plateau a try.”
“Asking you to try what hasn’t been done, with a useless passenger no less, doesn’t make sense,” Nug admitted.
Having made up her mind, Snomy closed eyes. “It’s time for snoozing, not waffling,” she declared.
After their afternoon nap, Snomy was ready to try to grant Nug his wish. “We’re not going to regret not trying, Nug,” she told him while stretching wings.
“Are you sure?” asked Nug.
“No, but knowing we can glide to safety if exhaustion sets in has me willing to try,” answered Snomy.
“Then let’s see if we can find something left behind by the travelers,” said Snomy before spreading wings, extending head and getting her usual smooth takeoff underway.
After completing three-quarters of their journey, Snomy still felt in control. “So far, I feel able,” she told Nug.
Seconds later, though, a swirling gust of wind flipped Snomy and Nug upside down. Making matters even worse, the gale sent them careening into the side of the plateau.
While Nug used what strength he had to brace himself inside the basket, Snomy mightily pushed away from the hard vertical ledge with claws spread, sending them into a freefall. In a flash, they became a sprawling, plummeting jumble of fur and feathers.
“Hold on!” shouted Snomy as she frantically twisted and flailed. Then, with wings a blur from her frantic forceful flapping, Snomy amazingly gained control. Thirty feet from crashing into the ground, she swerved parallel with land, enabling her and Nug to catch their breath and keep their hearts from bursting.
“Are you OK?” asked Snomy.
“Yes, you saved us!” said a thankful Nug.
“I’m fine. Are you sure about another try?” asked Nug.
“We’re not giving up yet!” said a determined Snomy.
Changing sides made the remainder of their flight bumpy, but hitch-free. Though breathing harder as the air grew thinner, their resolve didn’t wane. With the top of High Plateau only a minute or so away, Snomy managed sluggish, but steady strokes. Finally able to touch down, they began searching for evidence of the travelers.
After thoroughly combing the plateau and not finding any sign of the travelers, Snomy and Nug leaned against a stretch of ledge. Tired, they looked up and saw the Sky Eye nebula begin to brighten as nightfall quickened.
“I’ve been thinking about the wonderful day we met, Nug,” warmly said Snomy as both fell onto knees.
“It was the most good-fortune day of my life,” ageed Nug as a cold breeze left him shivering.
Snomy wrapped a wing to cloak and warm Nug. Shen then dropped her head next to Nug’s as both continued to gaze at the nebula.
“Sky Eye could be a passageway,” suggested a wheezing Nug. . . . “I now have a new wish,” he made know.
Needing to pause every few words, Nug was hopeful. “I wish I didn’t have to take my next trip without you. . . . You can be sure. . .that once I get wherever it is I’m going. . .I’ll start making plans. . .for our next adventure.”.
With tears falling on feathers, Snomy was heartfelt. “I’ll be waiting to hear you plans. . . . Sky Eye looks like an entranceway from atop High Plateau!” she told Nug.
“True soulmates can’t be separated for long, Snomy,” whimpered Nug.
Feeling Nug’s body fall limp, Snomy pulled him closer to keep him upright. Continuing to look up at Sky Eye, she let tears flow. Then, when the nebula’s pupil-like center briefly blinked from a soft pink to a vibrant blue, she chose to believe the change meant the acceptance of a new arrival. “A joyous reunion lies ahead, dear friend.” she confidently decared.
1. Why did Snomy and Nug believe the ploons could give up being predators and the mawhs could give up being prey?
2. Snomy’s father was said the ploons were supposed to “plunge and pierce!” What made him so sure?
3. Track down and report on a time or two when a nonhuman predator befriended a nonhuman prey.
4. Why are or aren’t humans doomed to be predators?
5. Why do you think Snomy changed her mind about flying to the top of High Plateau?”