Time to run, thought the chomp, and took off in the direction he estimated was the east based on the relative displacement of his position on the navigation device. It was hard to see anything at all - the dim glow from the device was useless in this regard.

The chomp ran hard and the chomp ran fast.

The chomp ran for his life.

But the howls got closer and closer. He just wasn't fast enough.

Is this it? He thought, despair fighting to break the surface of the placid lake of his firm resolve to live, to become the greatest chomp there ever was.

He could hear someone or something panting behind him now. The jiggles on the back of his neck stood on end, and fear threatened to petrify him on the spot.

"Stooooooppppppp!" Someone howled behind him.

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The chomp faltered in his gait. That was a word. No feral creature to his knowledge was capable of forming words. He stopped, and turned around, and his massive chomper dropped wide open.

Another chomp stood in front of him, just a few paces away. He could tell it was a she-chomp, for she had a ribbon stuck to her head. She looked very frail, and very sad, with nary a jiggle on her tummy.

"Why are you so glum, chum?" Was all he could think of saying.

He saw the dim outlines of other chomps emerging from behind the trees now - all frail, all upset.

"We were forced out of our village", she said.

"We've had nothing to eat except the dark chocolate the trees are made of."

That would explain a lot, thought the chomp. Dark chocolate wasn't as sweet and creamy as cake, and hence not very nourishing for a chomp.

"But why?" Asked the chomp.