Into the swell of everything. They seek their paths.

Once again, Gold and Plumpy Pout wander into countless dimensions.

Whilst the mixtures become full. Whilst the circular table of elements hums the scribbles. And whilst Aluna de Harmonica rhymes the constancy of things. They have edged.

In Milk Street. They rustle the coffee beans and tweak the baker's bakes.

At the Enchanting Clifftops. They figure out the tinges and test the sugary coatings.

In the Archways. They nourish the Chocolate Farm and sample its ingredients.
And, in the Lighthouse by the lake. They join the merriment and festivities of everything.

Astoundingly, where their wanders lead them. They hula hoop the waves with the scrolls in their grasp.

Along with Elder Sooty and Lengthy Just Misty Twig. They carry the loads in their backpacks with their shoulders intact.

Will the waves in their paths make them hold on to the scrolls?
Will they figure out the matter that utters the cure?

Or will the havoc of it all take the festive tidings off their grasps?