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"So ugly," whined Ridnear miserably, sinking his chin between two raised legs. He hugged himself and gave a low, pained sigh. The child narrowed his small eyes as his gaze swept over the sandy plains. Hills and mountains of dull gold rose before him, massive as clouds. But they're not clouds. Because clouds are pretty. He glanced up and quickly lowered his head when he met the sun's burning eye. Flowers would make this place better. he mused, trying to forget about the clouds and the blazing golden eye that watched him. Frysnea has flowers. Ygrifile has flowers. Vernela has flowers... His head sunk deeper. Sanydrania doesn't have flowers. He frowned and furrowed his small brow. A crease slivered across his forehead. Sanydrania doesn't have anything, but sand. He stuck a tiny finger into the dry powder and wiggled it violently until a miniature chasm yawned in the ground. He removed his finger and scowled at the crater. The last time he made a hole, he had attempted to plant a young flower in it that he had received as a gift from his traveling mother. It died before Ridnear could return with his parents to show them what he did. I buried it too. He moaned and fixed the dent he had created in the sand.

"So ugly." Ridnear pushed himself up and struck the clinging sand from his body with hard, swift smacks. He frowned at the patch of sand scales that shrouded his arm. "Get off!" he squeaked angrily, shaking his arm vigorously until all the sand had returned to the dry sea. "Stupid."