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In a way it’s like a scene out of a Western full of cliches. It happens on a quiet day with the streets more or less empty. A wind rolls in from the south, from the path toward the beach. A large bundle of what looks like twigs and sticks curled up not unlike a tumbleweed rolls along in the wind. An orb that moves quietly as it rolls over the roads in Temba, from the outskirts toward the center.
It moves fast, faster than the winds should have allowed for. Someone catching sight, who might want to follow it, would need to jog to keep up. In fact, following it would only cause the orb to seem like it was rolling away faster. Actually, it is. How strange.
The almost tumbleweed rolls with purpose and ease through the twisting roads and paths of Temba, slowing only briefly once it reaches new paved areas. Again, weird, given it should be able to move easier over something so smooth. Then it’s off again, quicker than ever. Rolling and rolling and racing almost until… until the fountain.
( Here It Rolls Again On Its Own )
It moves fast, faster than the winds should have allowed for. Someone catching sight, who might want to follow it, would need to jog to keep up. In fact, following it would only cause the orb to seem like it was rolling away faster. Actually, it is. How strange.
The almost tumbleweed rolls with purpose and ease through the twisting roads and paths of Temba, slowing only briefly once it reaches new paved areas. Again, weird, given it should be able to move easier over something so smooth. Then it’s off again, quicker than ever. Rolling and rolling and racing almost until… until the fountain.
( Here It Rolls Again On Its Own )