didn't want to commit herself too quickly that was
all.She was innocent as an unopened bud, shy as a
moonbloom, modest as a leaf-wrapped heart
and pure as; a star in the sky, Fropome thought.As
pure, and as remote.He gazed at a bright, new star
in the sky, trying to convince himself she might
return his love.
The star moved.
Fropome watched it.
The star twinkled, moved slowly across the sky,
gradually brightening.Fropome made a wish on it:
Be an omen, be the sign that she loves me
!Perhaps it was a lucky star.He'd never been
superstitious before, but love had strange effects
on the vegetable heart.
If only he could be sure of her, he thought, gazing at
the slowly falling star.He wasn't impatient; he
would gladly wait for ever if he only knew she
cared.It was the uncertainty that tormented him and
left his hopes and fears toing-and-froing in such an
agonizing way.
He looked almost affectionately at the grazers as
they plodded their way around him, looking for a
nice patch of uneaten grass or a yukscrub to
defecate into.
Poor, simple creatures.And yet lucky, in a way;
their life revolved around eating and sleeping, with
no room in their low-browed little heads for
anguish, no space in their furry chests for a
ruptured capillary system.
Ah, what it must be, to have a simple, muscle
heart!
He looked back to the sky.The evening stars
seemed cool and calm, like dispassionate eyes,
watching him.All except the falling star he'd
wished on earlier.
He reflected briefly on the wisdom of wishing on
such a transitory thing as a falling star even one
falling as slowly as this one seemed to be.
Oh, such disturbing, bud-like emotions!Such
sapling gullibility and nervousness!Such cuttingish
confusion and uncertainty!
The star still fell.It became brighter and brighter in
the evening sky, lowering slowly and changing
colour too; from sun-white to moon-yellow to sky-
orange to sunset-red.Fropome could hear its noise
now; a dull roaring, like a strong wind disturbing
short-tempered tree tops.The falling red star was
no longer a single point of light; it had taken on a
shape now, like a big seed pod.
It occurred to Fropome that this might indeed be a
sign.Whatever it was had come from the stars, after
all, and weren't stars the seeds of the Ancestors,
shot so high they left the Earth and rooted in the
celestial spheres of cold fire, all-seeing and all-
knowing?Maybe the old stories were true after all,
and the gods had come to tell him something
momentous.A thrill of excitement rose within
him.His limbs shook and his leaves beaded with
moisture.
The pod was close now.It dipped and seemed to
hesitate in the dark-orange sky.The pod's colour
continued to deepen all the time, and Fropome
realized it was hot; he could feel its warmth even from half a dozen reaches away.
It was an ellipsoid, a little smaller than he was.It
flexed glittering roots from its bottom end, and
glided through the air to land on the meadow with
a sort of tentative deliberation, a couple of reaches
away.
Fropome watched, thoroughly entranced.He didn't
dare move.This might be important.A sign.
Everything was still; him, the grumbling bushes,
the whispering grass, even the grazers looked
puzzled.
The pod moved.Part of its casing fell back inside
itself, producing a hole in the smooth exterior.
And something came out.
It was small and silver, and it walked on what
might have been hind legs, or a pair of over-
developed roots.It crossed to one of the grazers
and started making noises at it.The grazer was so
surprised it fell over.It lay staring up at the strange
silver creature, blinking.Cubs ran, terrified, for
their mothers.Other grazers looked at each other,
or at Fropome, who still wasn't sure what to do.
The silver seedlet moved to another grazer and
made noises at it.Confused, the grazer broke
wind.The seedlet went to the animal's rear end and
started speaking loudly there.
Fropome clapped a couple of vines together to
request respectfully the silver creature's attention,
and made to spread the same two leaf-palms on the
ground before the seedlet, in a gesture of
supplication.
The creature leapt back, detached a bit of its
middle with one of its stubby upper limbs, and
pointed it at Fropome's vines.There was a flash of
light and Fropome felt pain as his leaf-palms
crisped and smoked.Instinctively, he lashed out at
the creature, knocking it to the ground.The
detached bit flew away across the meadow and hit
a grazer cub on the flank.
Fropome was shocked, then angry.He held the
struggling creature down with one undamaged vine
while he inspected his injuries.The leaves would
probably fall off and take days to re-grow.He used
another limb to grasp the silver seedlet and bring it