If the land had been a desert-place before, now it was flooded with greenery, grassy and wild...despite the fact that I was standing on a point marked ‘shooter’, the other metres marked out in exactly the way I assumed a football pitch would. Yes, in spite of the massive growths protruding from its turf. Tall trees seem to shoot to the sky, and, though I had no wings any longer, I felt particularly intrigued as to where the heads of the canopies led.
In an instant, all normal body-tones I had were gone again, as brown fur cloaked me. Whilst Ellie happily sung shortened arias about my new transformation, I begun to discover the new traits I had been given. A long, thin tail trailed down to my feet; in a second, I had whipped it into my paws, marvelling at the strength and flexibility of such an appendage.
“Won’t you ever be quiet?!” I bellowed at her, more of a moo than any other sort of sound.
It became apparent, then, that we were being watched, studied even.
I slowly pivoted, chewing my furry lips as I turned to await my predators. There stood twelve men clad in football-jersey, all tapping their feet impatiently, as if they were waiting for the end of a sonata. One, the foremost, stepped forward, narrowing his square, little eyes at we two.
“Excuse me,” said he, his voice gravely with its weight of the British accent. “You are in our game. Leave. Now.”
“Who are you to demand that?” laa-ed Ellie.
This infuriated the football player further.
“I am David Beckham and you are intruding.”
“We didn’t mean to!” I hastened, before realising that the squawk of my voice had become so unclear that it was pointless trying to make simply conversation to anyone other than Ellie.
David brandished the ball he was holding, beckoning for the others to do so, too, for it appeared that each member of the team had been given an individual ball as well.
“Run!” I told the starfish, before realising her absence of legs.
In a swift swish, I had picked her up, my infernal companion.