Sketches In The Dust

An Old God and a Little Wonderer

It was a fine spring morning when a tiny creature came paddling in Moon's lonely chamber.

She had known it was around. Iggy had taken a particular liking to the little fellow, and had inundated her with reports of its endless roaming. Not that she minded; her life was lonely and tedious, and it provided her with some much needed entertainment. She even found herself rooting for the little guy as he climbed, backflipped, crawled and fought its way through the decadent landscape of the world.

Yet she never expected it to come quite this far into her superstructure. 

These were her musings as it clambered up to a little island a few feet off her own.

Its was an animal not unlike a great stoat, with a few differences. Its tail was thick like a lizard's, its muzzle shorter and more rounded than an ermine's, its ears were longer too. It had thin, glossy white fur that shimmered with moisture.

Its gaze darted to her hands, her legs, her posture. Searching for what, she could not say. It cocked his head, shifted his weight from one leg to the other, scrubbed its face like a raccoon.

Then he raised his head. Its great, cautious black eyes bore straight into her own. 

Its ears twitched back. It nervously scrubbed its face again, pawed at its ear. 

Then it seemed to come to a final decision.

Cautiously it dove forward and inched closer, gliding through the water and hoisted itself on the edge of her platform.

Moon smiled.

"Hello, little creature."

She brought her hand forward for it to examine.

Surprisingly, it did not bend forward to sniff it. Rather, it cocked its head, then gingerly extended its own soft paw so it rested on her palm.

"Are you trying to communicate with me, little creature?"

She saw it shift uncertainly. It gently batted against her palm again.

Feeling a little silly, Moon pointed at herself.

"Moon. I am Moon."

At this, she saw its rounded ears perk up.

"Mun." He touched her wrist. "Mun!" 

She chuckled. His voice was chittery and alien like a birdsong. Yet, he was trying.
He took his paw back, pressing it against his chest.

"Pip. Pipsqueak," he chirped.

"Is it your name?" he cocked his head, a gesture she was starting to interpret as a sign of confusion.

Gently, she nudged a finger against his chest. "Pipsqueak?"

He chirped again, ears wiggling and perking up. She chuckled.

"It is very nice to meet you, little Pipsqueak."