Sighing to himself the way his great-great-great grandmother taught him, and wincing at the pain of such an endeavour, Shan disloged his left arm from the tree, and set about finding a suitable oxygen snail. barbJohn and barbJohn jr. the 9th, who will now be referred to as the 9th, (except in the case of a constitutional document, wherby he will be called Johanne) were both sniffing at a strange rock, though the 9th was more sound then barbJohn in his form and technique. Shan ripped an especially juicy slug from the tree and placed it behind his left ear. It definitely was not as good as a snail in the eye, but for the moment it was enough to keep him going. Jumping down to the ground he wheezed his way over to where his companions knelt, like hunting dogs over their prey. A hush came over the gathering, and Shan had the overwhelming urge to burst out in “Kumbi-ya”. Suddenly everything started to grow dim, and cold. A faint whisper in the north-east began to grow louder. His eye twitched involuntarily….