Dear, oh dear,
thought Smoky
, the amorphous, sentient, black smoke monster, This doesn't appear to be my island at all
.Smoky
swept its headdish thing leftwards and rightwards, billowing nervishly as it took in its surroundings. Where were the friendly plane crashees? The unfriendly natives? The number motifs or bizarrely unindigenous bears? All Smoky
saw was boring, old sand and trees.Something simply wasn't right.
Bless my stars, that constellation doesn't belong there. Am I even in the same hemisphere?