The plane continued to cruise against the pale orange sky with Atilius trapped inside its cockpit.

The only sounds to be heard were the gentle hum of the propeller and the frantic clicking of switches and jostling of the control stick as Atilius made a desperate attempt to gain command of the aircraft. No matter what he did the machine refused to respond. He flicked switched attached to nothing. Tapped his fingers on dials that were mere stickers. Any sense of control a total illusion.

Beyond the far horizon the sun to set behind the mountains. Darkness settled over the land. The evening sky was starless, what little moonlight was to be had was obscured by a band of clouds that rolled in from the east. Little by little, shadow crept inside the cockpit and consumed everything.

Hope dwindled along with the last vestiges of sunlight. Dots of light from vehicles and domiciles shone from the landscape below. Underneath Atilius right hand - flashes of scarlet. A large diode fixed onto the faux-control console blinked a bright red light onto Atilius's face. So bright that he had to shield his eyes from it. What could it mean? Some kind of distress signal? Was someone attempting to communicate with the aircraft?

The hum of the propeller ceased as it came to a stop.

The nose of the plane began to dip downwards, slightly, then all at once. Atilius was in freefall. The hard ground of the land below made a rapid approach. Heart pounding, Atilius braced for for the end. The plane was veering away from the lights of roads and neighborhoods and off towards the darkness of untouched nature. Everything went black.

The last thing that flashed through his mind before chasing was the images of his loved ones. Lexi and Mary-Lou, welcoming him back home. They had waited for him all this time. Atilius felt the warmth of their embrace. Would he never see them again? The thought plauged him. No! there was still hope! So long as there was breath in his lungs and blood in his heart, there was still hope of going home!

Atilius roused seated in the cockpit of the now at rest aircraft. No wherewithal of his surroundings, save that he was no longer in the air. The red light of the lower power diode flashed, ever dutiful. Lifting himself out of the seat, Atilius pulled himself out of the cockpit via a hole in the broken covering.

There was no dirt where planted his feet. Here the ground was soft, like a cloud, or the feathers of a Keetan. Alas; it was neither of those things. Atilius determined that he must have landed in a tree. On Keet, trees sprout from their branches a material with consistency comparable to cotton once found on ancient Earth. Atilius thought of them as cloudleaves. It made for the perfect platform for an emergency landing. He felt around for any damage to his body and found none. Luck was still on Atilius' side, for now at least.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Gleams of ambient moonlight provided enough illumination to assess the damage to the model airplane; Complete destruction. The tail was completely shattered. It's right wing detached on impact. The propellor was gone, nowhere to be found. So ended the first and last grand voyage of Crick's plane.

Atilius contemplated hard on what to do next. Without a way to gauge the true distance travelled from the park, there was nowhere to place his current location. He'd gone far enough for the sun to set. Here it was dark, and he was surrounded by nothing but treetops. The blinking scarlet was his only lifeline. The only way anyone would ever find him out in the middle of nowhere. He determined, however, that this was not enough. But to try and leave from this spot, for the time being, would be unwise.

Resolving to stay put, Atilius tasked himself with finding food and shelter to last until morning light. Shelter was easy enough. The debris of the plane would suffice to shield him from the weather and foliage ripped from the tree to provide enough warmth to stave of the cold.

Hunger was a different issue. Atilius's last meal a now distant memory. The need for food pitted inside of him. At home, it was a simple matter of going across the enclosure and activating the appropriate food dispenser. There was one for meat, for fresh berries and fruits, one for grains. Always fresh water at the ready, more food than any person could ever need. How delicious it all was...

Atilius caught himself drifting off with his thoughts, the growling of his stomach snapping him back to reality. There was no dispenser out here. He set off using the blinking red light of the plane as a homing beacon. Swift and steadfast he moved from cloudleaf to cloudleaf. Scaling up and down branches, searching for anything resembling food. His eyes slow to adjust in the darkness. Dead silence lingered. Not even the wind offered up any song to him. The bark of the trees were coarse and roughed the soft skin of his hands.

Persisting, running only on that human instinct to endure, he continued. There, a short distance away, he spotted under the moonlight what looked to be a grouping of berries. He approached, and salivated as he came upon them. Reaching out to grab the soft and juicy bounty, he was repelled by the sensation. Hard. Dry. He examined them closely.

Eggs?

There were dozens of them. sitting in clusters, the more he looked around, the more clusters he spotted. They were everywhere, surrounding them.

Then came a sound that broke the silence. the undeniable cracking and splintering of the eggshell

held between Atilitius' hands.

Something wicked was springing to life before his very eyes.