Three diminutive figures trudged down the gravel road. Well, two trudged and one hopped along nervously.

The hopping one stammered, “A-are you s-sure this is it?” His beady eyes squinted about, and he scratched his bulbous nose relentlessly.

Another even smaller, more stoutly built one called rather loudly for such a still night, “Thayen, what are you blathering about? Speak up or shut up!” He screwed up his lumpy face, furrowing his lumpy brow and bald, mishapen head.

“W-why are you s-so mean, Groder?” Thayen whined. “Kennet, t-tell him to be nice while we search for the gnud.”

“What was that?” Groder yelled, twisting a stubby finger into his tiny, curled ears, a vane attempt at cleaning. Kennet answered neither, keeping his narrow eyes fixed on the road. His long ears, pointed and hairy, twitched this way and that. A slim tongue darted between his pointy teeth. His narrow mouth strained to smile.

“I-is this the p-place? It d-doesn’t look like much.” Kennet only nodded silently.