Chomper shakily crept up to the bush hiding Cera’s nest from view, and wound his wrist around one of the stems of the leaves. He pulled it back gentley, trying ever so hard not to rustle the bushes, and opened a space just wide enough for him and Ruby to get a look into the nest. He saw Mr. Threehorn shakily getting to his feet and Cera walking away, looking troubled.
Mr. Threehorn was actually panting, as if the mere effort of getting up was causing him physical pain. It was true: whatever Mr. Thicknose had, Mr. Threehorn had it too. Even Tria, lying on her side near a drooping tree, seemed haggard and lethargic.
“Ruby… have you ever seen this before?” Chomper asked, looking up fearfully. In his mind, he wondered about the other's parents. Were Mama flier and Mama Swimmer affected by whatever it was that got to Mr. Threehorn and Mr. Thicknose? Were Grandma and Grandpa longneck alright? He had so many questions right now.
