As his frequency radiated, Dooxrod cooled the fresh beast in his palm and paused its writhing.
Fortified and comforted by this, the worm nestled back into its original grace. Dooxrod had lifted his fingers thus, and was satisfied anew with his clenched fist. Just then, he rose it into the air.

"I have just experienced Flight! Flight my beasts! Flight is riding the winds through wet clouds, but not soaking those clouds in memory and disdain! The winds do not seek sadness or boring stories or video games!"

He opened each finger in his fist to state a new message, all for the beasts to hear.

"One! Heavy heads do not rest as new light!"

"Two! Bitterness rides the winds only through the focus of heavy heads!"

"Three! If bitterness runs thou, flight struggles!"

"Four! When flight struggles, it is because of dark pregnant clouds!"

"Five! Such clouds bring downpour over your electronics!"

When he had finished, the beasts roared and stirred their web of chains. Frothing returned and the worm had begun tunnel in newly soiled ground. Through all the dissent, Dooxrod heard his name uttered many times. Some of these utterances made little sense, and he approved of them that way. At this time he checked his records. Pirthe had never experienced visitors on this scale.