FANTASTIC PLANET v2.0 Read Online Free PDF

what?' 'I
don't know.'
    'Me neither,
I've never seen it before. I've never even heard of it: deo-mi-sation. Are you
sure it means... what you said it did?'
    'Absolutely
sure', said Terr. ' The best thing is to go and...'
    Brave tapped
him on the head.
    'Keep quiet!
I'm the leader here.'
    He looked at
his group majestically and said:
    'Here! First
we'll sleep a little to gather some strength. The night is only just setting
and we have plenty of time, but in order not to be caught out we'll post some
look-outs. I need one hand's worth.'
    He rose his hand fingers stretched out.
    'Who's had
enough rest to be a look-out?'
    Several Oms
volunteered, including Terr. Brave counted them, closing his five fingers one
by one and Terr was included in his choice.
    Brave told
the others to sit down and said:
    'Charcoal
will station himself by the lake footpath, one hand of double hands of steps
from the tree. Valiant will stay in the gravel by the stream. Terr, you'll be
at the Red Bush fork. You two, at the other end of the main
path. I'll stay awake in the tree. Go! Whistle if anything happens. When
it's time to leave I'll whistle to call you to the foot of the tree. As for the
rest, get some sleep!'
    The
look-outs climbed down the trunk. Once on the ground, Terr left the others and
made for the Red Bush fork where the path splits in two leading to the main
Traag entrance and to the Bush over a mossy rockery.
    He climbed
on a pile of stones overlooking the fork and crouched in a gap in the rocks.
    Listening to
the breeze's every sigh through the leaves, his eyes wide opened in the
twilight, he stayed still for a long time. But he was young, and soon his guard
duty irritated him.
    He left his
hideout and went up the Red Bush path to widen his field of vision. He reached
a small grassy terrace which made an ideal lookout point. From there he could
see as far as one hundred and fifty steps. (Brave would have said three double
hands of double hands, had he been able to count without getting mixed up).
    After what
seemed like a very long time, he lost patience again and turned around towards
the top of the rockery. His curiosity prompted him to go higher, the excuse
being he would be able to see further.
    He followed
his instinct and heaved himself up amongst the climbing plants.
    With some
effort he set foot on the top of the mound. Once there, half afraid, half
happy, he could sweep over the part of the park forbidden to his group: The Red
Bush territory.
    Looking
hard, he could just about make it out, purple in the starlight and bristling
with sting like leaves. Then, forgetting all his fears and pushed by a vague
but powerful feeling, he hurtled down the other slope, ran through the meadow
and screamed:
    'Oh! The Red
Bush gang! Beware you Oms! Tomorrow the Traags are going to deomise the park!'
    He repeated
his call, turned around to run away and fell sprawling onto the ground, his
head full of the painful echoes from being bludgeoned.
    A big black
Om was leaning over him sniggering, before throwing him over his shoulder like
a feather and running towards the bush.
    Other
silhouettes came to meet them. Questions were coming from all sides.
    'What did he
say?'
    'Is he from
Brave's group?'
    'I couldn't
understand a thing.'
    'What shall
we do with him?'
    'Tell the
Old Lady!'
    Terr was
vaguely aware of being carried from hand to hand. He landed up brutally on a
heap of straw. A spurt of water in his face brought him back to his senses.
    He sat up
shaking his head and found himself amongst unknown faces. In front of him was a
hunched shape. An old black Om lady with lean limbs and white frizzy hair was
sizing him up with little consideration. A flurry of hoarse questions rained
down:
    'What were
you doing in our territory?'
    'I... came
to warn you.'
    'Of what?'
    'Of tomorrow's deomising. The Traags...'
    'Well well!
And who told you to warn us?'
    'Nobody. It was my own personal idea.'
    'A what idea?'
    'Personal. My own idea.'
    'You talk
like a