The Hybrid's Moon-Misery
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The Moon-Misers gleam prettily, but they are hunters. Their venom makes their besotted prey walk willingly into their jaws.
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A Family Visit Description
 Moon-Misery | Description |
|---|---|
| 1 | As Clara reaches to take the Hybrid back from you, its gaze is fixed unerringly at the tent ceiling. When her arm blocks its line of sight, it wails with heart-rending grief. |
| 3 | The Hybrid no longer cries like an infant. It is silent, aloof. Occasionally it retreats to one of the dark corners of the tent and stays there for hours, watching. |
| 4 | The ceiling of the tent is in tatters. "It keeps climbing up there and refusing to come down," says Clara, subdued. "Sometimes it sings, and even the birds of Parabola go quiet." |
| 5 | As you examine the Hybrid, it spits a glob of moon-milk at you. You just manage to dodge it, and it splatters harmlessly against the cabin wall. "Careful now," says Dr Vaughan wryly. "You wouldn't want to fall in love." |
| 6 | […] an alien expression. "All day long it crosses back and forth across the ceiling, singing and wailing, […] sometimes they make me feel strange and horrid. Like my bones have fallen out and I can't move an inch. Other times it sends me softly to sleep." |
| 7 | The Hybrid's mandibles are formidable. Its carapace is tough as tortoise-shell. Its claws are mantis-like. Its eyes blaze with alien intelligence. But it seems terrified of […] everyone but you and Clara. Only the two of you can induce it to climb down […] |
| 8 | You note that the cabin is a complete mess. Torn papers, broken furniture, savaged bedding. "We tried to sing it the alphabet, […] Apparently it doesn't like songs other than its own. Or perhaps it just doesn't want to learn? It's difficult to tell." |
| 9 - 10 | The Hybrid clings to the tent's ceiling, its voice raised in a mournful, keening song […] "You mustn't listen too long. It makes you ruinously melancholy. All you can do to shake it off is sleep, but the sleep is wracked by nightmares." |
