I could hear their indistinct, whispered conversation from here, but I didn’t dare move from my prone position, hoping the tall grass would be sufficient to hide me from their view. As I listened, their words gained clarity and volume. But they did not gain meaning. Their language was a bizarre, familiar kind of foreign that made no sense to me: it was definitely Zebrikaans, but it was also definitely not. I can’t make anything of it. All I can make out is the emotions and intonations. I hear monotony from Zabraxas, and frustration from Zakurai.