None

The metallic custard scent ripped through the 
stegosaurus' nostrils.  Clearly, the monotreme 
journey it would begin as it had ended.

The ponder-tree hung itself in the heavy air, 
it's sap becomming purple, and flowed engimatically 
like a river of broken curves and powdered eggshells.

- A'Tak A'Tdorn