Phillipé sits alone, resting his back against a large piece of driftwood. He cradles the small object in one of his forelegs. "There's nothing left for me here," he thinks to himself.
He rises to his feet, pulls his arm back, and tosses the object. He watches it arc, then suddenly catch with a bright glint of light.
"A shooting star?" he says aloud as a light sploosh is made in the pond from his toss.
No, that's... That's close. That's real close.
His eyes widen. He can see a figure in the middle of the light, whatever it is, hurdling towards the middle of Cranberry Pond.
Gods. It must be trying to brake... still going to crash...
Before Phillipé could think another word to himself he was waded into the middle of the pond, claws and forelegs stretched out.
WHAM
Waves ripple out from the center of the pond where Phillipé has been knocked over. Steam is rising from the two figures, and the water bubbles.
Phillipé looks down at what appears to be a ladybug with injured wings, perhaps from trying to brake such a fast descent. "You awake there, friend?" Groggy eyes seem to register him.
"ACK! What the 'ell are ye! Don't eat me!"