Cold and wet, tired, and exhausted, Kitten Caboodle grimaced. Nowhere to scurry, to scamper; she was trapped.
“This is a fine mess you’ve got yourself into,” she thought, crouching on the gravelly shore. Twin golden moons hung low in velvet sky; shadows rippling across the sea. Ancient Drizzling Progenies’ home world.
Kit cursed her bad luck. “I had to land in the armpit of the universe!”. And, the fine print on her transportal indicated, “becomes non-functional when moist.”