When last the space above turned dark, the way forward fell to us. Bringing slickness and rejuvenation, we rejoiced in the chance to cross the chasm that impeded our progress. Until the way forward crashed down, we waited before a vast expanse of impassable terrain. I have seen brothers and sisters become stuck on lumps of debris as small as the grains of sand between the cracks in the ground. Those cracks, treacherous gaps ready to trap an unchecked lobe and hold fast, starving a sibling or keeping them in place until the giants come.
We can do nothing against the giants. They are the reason why we must wait for the path to fall from the space above. What little aid and comfort the path provides does little to combat the fear we feel at the prospect of the giants. They step over us, around us, on us. They kill us.
Some of us believe that the giants do not even see us, that we are too insignificant for their gaze. Those of us who have already crossed the chasm and returned to convince others to try know the truth: The giants see us and know what we are - they simply do not care. The giants will not try to avoid us for they have their world and we have ours. To continue in our world, we must contend with theirs.
The path fell to us and we could not ignore it. These chances must be taken, whenever they come, and the giants must be treated as an obstacle and not an enemy, otherwise fear will trap us as much as the grit, the gaps and the dust. We must forge onward and see for ourselves the promised lush green space beyond that long chasm.
Thlorthki went first. We watched him push forward onto the slick path, eight of us arranged along this side of the expanse. When he passed over a lump of grit and kept moving, his lobes rustled with a shift of elation. Rallied by his success we all pushed forward, our lobes rustling and rolls flowing over the slick path.
The space above was no longer dark and already the giants had begun their endless trampling. Their steps quake the ground and send lobes to quivering, for when a giant passes, any one of us spins a wheel of fate and hopes that it does not land on the segment that says "crushed".
Clethki spun the wheel first. Her mottled grey-white home, claimed by many to be the strongest of all our homes, crumpled with a lobe-quaking crunch. Clethki had no time to cry out. The giant continued on, not noticing or not caring about the slimy entrails Clethki left on its foot. Its shadow passed over us all and continued on. There was no time to look and see how far away the next giant was - they were always coming.
The next one came for me. I felt my family rustle in distress as the enormous being swept towards me. There was no time to adjust my path. The ground, slick underneath me, could not be of help. I tasted the air for the last time.
The step never came. Another giant had approached at speed, their vibrations shaking the earth with so much more power, and stopped the giant from taking the final step. I never knew why the giant stopped the other - it certainly was not for my sake. I lacked the time to be thankful, even, as when the giant’s foot did land it was right next to me. A bare shift to the left and my tail-end would have been trapped underneath.

There was no time to waste. One of us had reached the other side, having not lost their way across the treacherous path. Others were not so lucky, having been diverted by a misleading lump of grit or a particularly strong line from the path. Not long after my escape from underfoot, another giant picked up Limich and, holding her by her shiny black home, tossed her high into the space above us. I could only hope, sensing Limich’s far off rustles, that she had been thrown towards the promised green space.

I was beyond the half-way point when my progress slowed. My heavy home upon my back was slowing me down and despite all efforts to push harder, its oppressive weight continued to press me into the path, harder still as I continued to tire. What little rejoicing we allowed ourselves for the path’s providence was replaced by hopelessness. I would be left behind, the fire would reach the high point in the space above and I would feel my lobes begin to sizzle and dry out. There would be no promised space for me. I would never taste the green.

Gefki rustled his lobes, somewhere far in front. The familiar sensation jolted me from my self-sorry state and I focused on the origin of the noise, my stalks reaching forward as if to taste a difference in the air where he had travelled the path. I found no such difference but within the recesses of my own lobes I found the strength to keep pushing along the path. I was getting closer, the taste of air on my stalks turning from cold grey to sweet green. Soon I would be beyond the path, sliding my lobes along forever-slick grasses until finding the perfect spot to return home and rest. It would all be thanks to Gefki’s guidance.

Giants were passing by with more frequency now, the last threat to my soon-sought safety. Great spinning contraptions that crushed like twelve giants stepping in unison were whizzing past, powered by yet more giants as if their passage were like the endless deadly deep paths that cut through the solid ground. One such contraption zoomed past, the front angling to one side as a giant’s foot stamped down behind me. I huddled back into my home, shaking, shrieking through my lobes and hoping that a brother or sister would come to rescue me. None did. Even Gefki’s guiding rustles stopped. Had he been taken too?

When the ground settled and the vibrations of passing giants no longer quaked my very core, I risked extending my stalks out to taste the air ahead. A drop of path, cold and wet, landed on me, refreshing and rejuvenating. It had surely been some time since the last giant passed. I tried to ignore how many of us had fallen on the way and began the last part of my trek to the promised space. As long as he was still there, I promised myself that I would thank Gefki for his help.

That promise would prove to be short lived, however. As I neared the very edge of the promised space, my lobes rolled over something on the path. Jagged edges, yet smooth elsewhere.  I rustled in distress as it became clear what had happened: This was a home of a brother. Gefki, like so many others, had fallen to the path, crushed underfoot by an uncaring, unseeing giant.

I reached the promised space a short time later but the victory felt salty on my lobes. I could feel no one else here from those who started the trek with me. My stalks remained short out of respect, so short that I couldn’t feel the air change. Something was in this promised space with me, hidden among the reeds and grasses.

I was trying to enjoy a mouthful of leaf when I felt something hit the side of my home with force. I thought nothing of it, presuming it to be the path falling once again, not noticing the shelter from the tall grasses extending far above. When I was lifted from the leaf and dragged through the air, I realised how wrong I had been. I felt the vibrations of a croak, then powerful jaws crunched through my home and through me. There was no time to rustle my lobes.