Let us walk the way of the worm men among the most turbulent of times known and unknown when the tales of many were as mystery and flesh. The far torn and opened orifices of earth were well populated then by many a being once suited well to the waters of the heavens, yet perhaps looked on with a certain wavering note they were cast to pass the cycles of the high one and the hurtling one below amid concealing halls of jagged hardened. One such farthing halted nearly and calling forth will set upon the way of these things we mention, his willingness to do and be above all and yet ever farther below gained him infamy and such as were about were to be as they were and set him apart within their own hues. This particular maggot of whom we draw our cast mirrors on in his most blasted epoque was of leaning and fastly altered, spending the passing of the high yellow thing drawing upon his own energetic parcels to gather about himself none. Indeed he was superior at the job.

           Let us join the scene upon the cosway of mystics, whereupon the roof of the Rail Tile building lay reclined the body of this feverish maggot. He chittered and tongued as he lay himself upon that hard and solid, taking time to enjoy the scent of the fresh and making beneath him within the building. None can say the timing of his arrival thereupon but it was clear by the cling of the wafer of his rear partition that it had been many travelings of the body above. He would roll his mirrors about the hollow indent of that outward facing surface to detect the state the cavernous black had found itself in.

          It was half to the right when, finding his feet under him, he detected the noising of a creepy scuttler below. The liquids within his consuming flowed heavily as he observed the imaging of movement upon the street. Leaping down, landing upon the figure below, and quickly arresting his long limbs to keep it from escaping before the deed was done the maggot paused for one vital moment.

          He was quite surprised and tickled to find a Bonejaw, fresh and peeled for the liking, but the Bonejaw clicked, and out from this fellow’s hungered flew “don’t grimb my feather hollow; for I know the way to Kinjorrow!”

         “But,” began He, “it has been a concoction of my uncle’s to grimb a Bone jaw’s feather hollow, he enjoys the brimey flavor of the raw meat.” a telling most created.

          “If you set me free Sir Maggot, I, Lofty Finger, will make sure to bring you to the kingdom of small maggots and fleet footed flesh men!”

          The Maggot then sat and grumbled of his new thought, could such a slimy jumper really bring him to such a place? Well for perhaps a time he had nothing, so why should he not make of the passing to do as he would wish? He would lend his grasping claw to the quivering and odd, lifting to stand with him upon the street. Again the Maggot spoke, “Listen and be aware, I Reimbow Jimnjagg will take you hence, and forth we shall go. It has been of my grays to travel there to the land of fleet footed flesh for some numberings, so on and lasting let us peek!”

          It was the setting of the right ear when they fell out; Reimbow and Lofty Finger had decided to travel along the west Tiger’s brow to leave the fiery pit of Satin-Stones. But they still had to pay the Rock fee to the Golden Jumbuck. Reimbow’s eyebrow quivered as he felt the high stone touch his pale forehead, “not so polite, up there to scorch and dribble, I never liked the High Yellow Thimble.” Lofty Finger cringed, pulling his skin over his eyes, “I suppose I have a use for this yet!” Reimbow would tug upon the Bone jaw’s leftward elbow, “Let me slither amid your hues, this creepy thimble makes my brow tremble in fear of its lofty altitudes!” Lofty Finger trailed his tongue over the seal on his arm, allowing Reimbow to crawl among his scattered grays. “Tis wet and half dark, I will enjoy my time among your thoughts.” Reimbow chortled with a gleam in his eye.

          The road to the path of split was awkward, farther, and much amid the way. The Water Lily was indeed the least direct route and as such they fell upon it as a prey does to its own predator, tearing out the tubes and flowing pumping like that of the scattered elder cam. Reimbow entered amid the parsing nature and fell from the air about him, allowing Lofty to do as he might please.

          After much walking and dancing upon the Water Lily, a strangled cry came amid the withered grass and browning mud. Lofty Finger tossed a horn amid his lips, singing a beautiful mock upon the bowl. A small human leapt out upon the light of the fiery stones of the Water Lily’s shore, “By the Sky and the Tortoise! Who cried such a hollow browed note!?”

         Lofty Finger proudly gleamed, “None but me! Lofty Finger, of the river Scrimmage!”

         The fat child danced about the broad rivers bank, “Oh! Sky and Tortoise! A man of high altitude! May I walk with you down to Kinjorrow!?”

         Reimbow crinkled and flashed, “Take no time! I must not be burdened!” but Lofty Finger heartily agreed, and so it was.

        And on they trod, all the while the Fat Child and Lofty making as screeching flying things would, much was their noisings as one walked and the other bounced merrily, pleased and pleasing past-like. Soon the river became as the fielding, much widened and in need of the passing over surfaces flat and presented. No stop was made for they! Over this they took, the Fat Child making very to bound and pounce through without regard, the bonejaw following closely ever in that rearing flank.

         Soon they came upon the parting of the Water Lily, where Head and High Road meet, and of this fact called out Lofty Finger. “Take Head! High Road leads yon to the green lobes.” Reimbow spoke amid the scattered grays.

         “Tis well my wormy maggot! For on that shore I see the sign of Kinjorrow!” chittered Lofty Finger back, his long nails upon the yellow daisyed way. The fat child bounced ahead to the start of the Head, calling back, “Oh! Sky and Tortoise! What wondrous cloudy greens!”

         Upon joining them, Reimbow peered out of that gloomy space, covering his molded mirrors to better view the scene ahead. To his consternation, they had turned down High Road. “By the crimson pools that I was born in, we’ve taken up the Error of Ages, for this is not Head, but that terrible concoction of the Feathered Flesh!” Lofty Finger dropped his jaw, gaping like a guilty swimmer and shaking his grasping nails.

         “But,” began the Fat Child, “can the great Reimbow Jimnjag not dance on back?”

         Shivering and spitting, Reimbow grabbed the Child and made soundings as that of a wild and vicious, “None turn back when their road has been chosen.” And so on they took that trail, Reimbow always gnashing and gibbering about their misfortune, the fat child weeping over what was to come, and Lofty Finger carrying both with a sad bravery, that if not for what he was under his skin, one could pity him. The path of High road was all filled with that yellow mist and dotted with bright greens, and ahead not thirty paces lay a shore of grimy tan that would make any maggot sick. The deepening blue that spread out from that was not so far clear until the green lobes once, twice, thrice dotted its graying field. With great displeasure the Bonejaw drew out upon these flowing hills, dancing upon the foamy edges for several mile before his wan toes could bear no more and he took a seat upon an old shell crawler, the Fat Child under one arm, and Reimbow in among his feather hollow.