He was still a few meters from the herd. His discarded jiggles traced his path from his hiding place in the whipped cream snow to his current position. He had just about enough energy for a single chomp, but not enough to lunge at the cakes.

They were completely still now, and appeared to be on the verge of some decision. They had no eyes, but they appeared to have sensed him somehow. No longer rotating, they began to slide slowly towards him.

The chomp broke a sweat - had the hunter now become the hunted?

No, that wasn't it. One of the cakes slid over a piece of discarded jiggle that had been flung further out, absorbing it. They were feeding on the jiggles!

All he had to was wait patiently till a jiggle-seeking cake slid close enough to him for that critical chomp. He would have to be very still till then, so as not to alarm the cakes.

Finally, a baby cake came close enough. It was small, but it would have to do.

CHOMP!

The chomp's jaws snapped up the cake in an instant. The prunes and raisins were a perfect complement to the softer, spongier textures of the cake. For a moment, the chomp was in dessert heaven. He now had the energy to move around and chomp.

What followed was a massacre. Every subsequent chomp gave him more energy, winding him up like an unstoppable dynamo till the only signs that the herd had ever been there were the stains they had left behind from dancing about and sliding on the field.

But the chomp felt no remorse as he surveyed the aftermath, only triumph. He mounted his creammobile and drove into the sunset in the search for the next big chomp...