You're pushed forth from your warm, sticky prison right back into the familiar palm of Luna. It's only been several moments, but since you're now drenched in Luna's saliva, the air seems so chilly. Luna's making a face at you, with her tongue partially out. Her tongue retreats back into her mouth and she says, "You taste awful. I don't care how nutritious you are, there are other ways to deal with Zimbogglers." You feel relieved that you're not going to be eaten, but since you don't really know if her other methods to deal with actually involve you surviving or not, you can't really stay too optimistic. Luna lowers you to the floor, and you tumble off her hand. She wipes it on her school uniform, probably to get the saliva off. She looks at you for a moment, smiles, and the raises her converse-clad foot over you.
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