Kyriake was a mining town on a river somewhere in the mountains. It had come to Faroah's attention some years ago purely by accident, but he couldn't remember what that accident had been, only that there were plenty of shinies there for him to take.
Since his terrifying ordeal with that big meanie-head who'd threatened to kill him if he ever went back to his shop, Faroah had avoided New Alexandria, even though the city was his favourite haunt. Xanth's last statue was there and she had a special fondness for the place. There was usually plenty of fodder for his nest, too, just because it was such a bustling place - and he could always take the offerings left for his pet goddess - but no, that big fat meanie-head had to go and ruin things for him.
"Ooooh, itty." Clutching a sparkling crystal that he'd stolen from a bin of the same that was stored with several others right out in the open, he flexed his rear claws around his perch on the lip of the barrel and tried to bite into the crystal, snickering at it. His tiny foreclaws brushed dirt off it and tilted it this way and that so it caught the warm afternoon light.
Small clods of earth came off in his mouth and he spluttered, dropping the shiny back into the bin so he could paw at his tongue, his tiny jaw gaping as he bleched and icked to get the awful taste out of his mouth. He did this for several moments, long after the dirt had gone completely, his whip-like tail lashing about in aggravation. Finally, his tongue still trying to do cartwheels in and out of his mouth, he lowered his claws tentatively and relaxed slightly. The taste was still there, though, and he desperately wanted to taste something yummy, but he wasn't about to abandon his shiny.
Except, which one was it? He'd dropped it into a bin of crystals that all looked the same and now couldn't find his. He had to have his! It was his, his shiny, his pretty! His, his, his!
Screeching at the top of his tiny lungs, he flung himself into the bin with a muted plop and rumble of crystals jumbling together, and began rummaging through the earth-clad crystals in search of the one he'd dropped. He even went so far as to toss several over his head and out of the bin, uncaring that anyone might come along to investigate the case of the flying crystals. "Ine ine ine!" he cried, a territorial chant that would no doubt continue until he found what he was looking for.
And Faroah, being Faroah, never once considered that any one of the other exceedingly similar crystals might do just as well for his nest as the one he'd dropped. He only wanted his.
Since his terrifying ordeal with that big meanie-head who'd threatened to kill him if he ever went back to his shop, Faroah had avoided New Alexandria, even though the city was his favourite haunt. Xanth's last statue was there and she had a special fondness for the place. There was usually plenty of fodder for his nest, too, just because it was such a bustling place - and he could always take the offerings left for his pet goddess - but no, that big fat meanie-head had to go and ruin things for him.
"Ooooh, itty." Clutching a sparkling crystal that he'd stolen from a bin of the same that was stored with several others right out in the open, he flexed his rear claws around his perch on the lip of the barrel and tried to bite into the crystal, snickering at it. His tiny foreclaws brushed dirt off it and tilted it this way and that so it caught the warm afternoon light.
Small clods of earth came off in his mouth and he spluttered, dropping the shiny back into the bin so he could paw at his tongue, his tiny jaw gaping as he bleched and icked to get the awful taste out of his mouth. He did this for several moments, long after the dirt had gone completely, his whip-like tail lashing about in aggravation. Finally, his tongue still trying to do cartwheels in and out of his mouth, he lowered his claws tentatively and relaxed slightly. The taste was still there, though, and he desperately wanted to taste something yummy, but he wasn't about to abandon his shiny.
Except, which one was it? He'd dropped it into a bin of crystals that all looked the same and now couldn't find his. He had to have his! It was his, his shiny, his pretty! His, his, his!
Screeching at the top of his tiny lungs, he flung himself into the bin with a muted plop and rumble of crystals jumbling together, and began rummaging through the earth-clad crystals in search of the one he'd dropped. He even went so far as to toss several over his head and out of the bin, uncaring that anyone might come along to investigate the case of the flying crystals. "Ine ine ine!" he cried, a territorial chant that would no doubt continue until he found what he was looking for.
And Faroah, being Faroah, never once considered that any one of the other exceedingly similar crystals might do just as well for his nest as the one he'd dropped. He only wanted his.