“Where should we take this one?”* said one of the hunters to the other in the strange, hissing language of the Anmal.

“Downstairs with the rest of the cattle.”

So, the three hunters dragged the now nearly comatose prisoner, down into the deepest recess of the hideout, where all their captives were taken to be prepared for transport off-world; their moon-white skin glinting from the dim light, sharp teeth too big for their mouths sparkling.

All the while unaware of the four boys huddling wide-eyed in the entrance hall.

*- They didn’t actually say cattle, as Anmo, their home planet, doesn’t have any cows. What they actually said was a word meaning livestock. Cattle is a close approximation.