The chomp had avoided the main trails leading into the great cities of the north. The roads were infested with prowling bandit-chomps ready to pounce on an unsuspecting traveller and feast on his supplies. Rumor had it that some bandits were so desperate for any source of nourishment that they would not hesitate to divest a fellow chomp of his jiggles. The chomp shuddered at this thought. Since he was astride Floof, she felt the movement, and sensing his distress, meowed in concern.

"It's all right girl."

They did not hesitate to take one of the big wide roads now. Navigation would be easier this way, and this time, they had a secret weapon up their sleeve. The wind blew from north to south, and Poot ran ahead, fortunately upwind from them - sneaking from bush to bush, the perfect element of surprise, the counter-ambush to any ambush they could potentially encounter.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The chomp checked his gingerbread navigation device - they were only a day's ride away from Daifuku, he noticed. Suddenly, his patoot meowed in alarm.

"What is it Floof?"

He had been so engrossed with navigation that he hadn't been paying attention to the road. What he saw made his jiggles jiggle in terror and disgust. It looked like a bunch of chomps had been thrown into a blender and the resulting chomp milkshake had been poured over the hard-packed earth. A mess of jiggles skidded across the ooze, gently colliding against a rusted spork. The spork was the bandit-chomp's weapon of choice. Apparently, something or someone had attacked a gang of bandit-chomps, and this was the aftermath.

The chomp extracted his candy-lens binoculars, aiming them down the road. There was no sign of Poot or the attacker, but he spied a wordless signpost depicting a flying pie...