Thoat thoughts by Rich
Skippy grazed on the yellow moss for a while. It could fairly be said - in fact, it has been said- that a thoat could not walk and chew moss at the same time. Occasionally, especially after eating bad moss, Skippy found it hard to walk at all, with eight legs to manage. While grazing, however, his mind sometimes generated sensory images that might loosely be called thought.
He knew that the moss contained enough moisture to sustain him for a time, but he also knew that it he would eventually need more. He knew that the herd lay a great distance behind him. He also knew that moving water lay a great distance to his left, roughly in the direction of his second shoulder. He could not have said (if he could say anything) how he knew these things, but he knew that he knew them.
Most important, he knew that kind mistress had gone in the direction he was facing. Her scent was clear and distinctive; it was unlike any other he had ever encountered. She would not be able to travel quickly, for all her unusual jumping ability. She had two people with her, and only one thoat - and "Peanut" was as tired as he was himself. He didn't know what a peanut was; but then, he didn't know what a "Skippy" was either.
He chewed some more moss, waiting to see if he had any more thoughts. When none appeared, he set off after her.