Under the mossy overhang of toadstools, and tucked in between boulders that nobody thought to explore, the Ovae lived. They bustled about, balancing their tumescent heads on overwhelmed white bodies, always moving in one direction or another to do what must be done. That could be anything. They gathered, and busily explored their area and the newness around them at all times, speaking in their little line language like dots in the air. Their inkspot eyes peer into the world for only a few days before they are lost to it.