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Breakfast goes west
Tavi had been promised the first moonmelon. Unfortunately, the mountain carrying the orchard had begun to walk away. "That is cheating," he told it. Tavi was a small teal frillip dinosaur with a coral frill. His friend Oru was an older amber hummosaur. Both were entirely made-up kinds of dinosaur, living in Pipple, where flowers sometimes sneezed pink bubbles.
Beyond the meadow ferns, the green, rocky mountain shuffled west. Its summit hole whistled. Six moonmelon trees bobbed on its mossy shoulder, their silver-blue fruit almost ripe for the children's sunset picnic. Oru pointed. "No legs. No face. Terrible table manners." Beneath each heavy thump came a patter of smaller steps.
A moss spring bounced out of the hillside, offering a ride, while the little footsteps tapped a curious rhythm. Tavi could bounce up for a look or answer that rhythm with a dance. The mountain sneezed through its summit hole. One pink flower sneezed back.