The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life, or so the humans say. When Byra first heard this, she'd discarded the notion. She'd travelled through the triple rings of Peticect-9 and glimpsed the diamond storms along their edges. She'd cast her ship into the rainbow clouds of the Neetan, sampled the star song of Agria-B, stood upon the tallest of the ever-precipice in Keri-Kan-Kena!

Yet all of it paled under a handful of sand.

Earthlings had tried many times to impress her. Yet it was this, this 'beach' that had gilded her soul. She'd been here for hours, digging her soft, scaled claws into the salt-washed soil and lifting up immeasurable beauty. Her escorts, handlers, translators, and whatever else the crowd of humans around her were for, had all grown bored and drifted away. Byra stayed. She stayed because her eyes, keener than a human's, could see the true nature of each handful.

The galaxy is a billion stars, all boiling pots of atomic fire, all swirling with their own patterns, their own songs sung with energy. Before today she thought they were the most beautiful array in all the world. Yet now, here, on this foreign world with foreign people... she found something to eclipse it all.

She dipped her claws in once more and pulled forth another galaxy, marveling at the spectacle of light and color as each grain, each miniscule piece showed a pattern, a swirl, an iridescent gleam of life, death, science, and art. Each handful was new, each grain different, each one a new piece of a greater pattern. It was like holding the perfection of imperfection a thousand times over, every grain astounding in its own right.

Humans, earth, this world... awash with wonder, wonders they ignore with every step. They held astounding beauty at their feet and still they grow bored. She tore her attention away and looked at the crowd around her. humans checking devices, making noises to each other, rubbing their soft, small claws against red, peeling skin. Yet not a single one could see.

How cruel their evolution that they are denied these treasures; how harsh their ignorance, how ravenous their inattention. Byra would shed such sorrow for them when she left.

If she left.

If such incredible things lay so simply in the dirt under their feet, what other treasures could this earth planet hold? Byra had walked this ground for the merest sliver of time, stood in the tiniest dot upon their continents. What could she find in their vast oceans? What could she wonder at in their forests and lakes? If a million jewels can sparkle in her hands, what can shine across the mountains, or the skies?

She stood up, letting the sand trickle and stream from her claws, lifting her head to stare at the earth-bound sky, wondering what wonder might break way her when next the sun rises.