"Coran, look," Romelle pointed to the leaf. "There's a tiny little Earth creature on here."

Coran came in for a look.

"Oh, that's quite something," he said. "It looks like a miniature weblum."

"What is a weblum?"

"A creature like that, but about 10 to the 26 times the size," Coran said. "And about that much more dangerous, too."

Romelle put her finger in front of the caterpillar. It reared up and climbed on.

"It's a cute little weblum," she said.

"Yes, I suppose it's cuter than most," Coran agreed. "The larger ones are big enough to consume the remnants of expired planets."

"That's terrifying!"

"Well, yes, they can be quite dangerous if you're not prepared," said Coran. "But they perform a vital function for the health of the universe."

"How so?"

"Their digestive process releases the leftover quintessence from the planets they've eaten. We had a video with some excellent visuals, but unfortunately we've lost it."

"So where does the quintessence GO?" said Romelle.

"Well, that's the mystery, isn't it?" said Coran. "It goes all sorts of places. Not even science can tell you exactly where."

"Then how does science know that it doesn't just go away?"

"Ah, that's the first and foremost thing about the universe!" said Coran. "Everything you see, and everything you DON'T see, is made of energy. Everything from planets to people. And energy can't be destroyed – all it does is change forms."

"Energy like quintessence," said Romelle.

"Yes, exactly. It never truly goes away. I know that Altea's out there somewhere, in the quintessence of another world, or a hundred other worlds. Or a world that has yet to be born."

"And people, too," said Romelle.

"Yes, people too."

Romelle guided the caterpillar to another finger.

"I would rather have things the way they used to be," she said.

Coran nodded.

"I understand. But you know, once you can't see them, that means they could be anywhere. In the air that we're breathing, maybe. Maybe in that little weblum."

It started to crawl up Romelle's sleeve.

"I do like this little creature," she said.

"It seems to like you, too."

She gave it a final close look. It bent and stretched, with tiny little sections that swelled and relaxed. Little waves of motion swept up its body. It shone with the light of its sun, the color of the leaves. There was a gap in the leaf it had eaten.

"Well, I suppose it should go back home," Romelle said, moving it back to the leaf. "It has leaves to eat right now."

Leaves to eat and cocoons to spin and beautiful things to become.