"Strange," Longtree mused, thinking of their own hairless bodies. "Wonder what they want."
Channeljumper shrugged to indicate he didn't know. "The short-haired one followed me," he said.
Longtree felt the chill blue of fear creep along his spine, but immediate anger at himself changed it conveniently to purple, and he was certain Channeljumper hadn't noticed. When he had controlled himself, he said, "Well, it doesn't matter. I've got to get on with my symphony. That last note—"
"He's here," Channeljumper announced.
"What?"
Channeljumper pointed eagerly, and Longtree's eyes followed the direction to where the alien stood at the top of a nearby dune staring at them. Longtree could feel his skin automatically turning red with caution, blending with the sand while the ever-trusting Channeljumper remained bright orange.
"Good gosh," the alien exclaimed. "Not only do they look like modified grasshoppers, they change color too!"
"What'd he say?" Longtree demanded.
"How should I know?" Channeljumper said. "It's in another language."
"And its voice," Longtree exclaimed, almost disbelieving it. "Low. Lower than even our drums' rumble."