A/N: This is a response to Weetzybat's challenge in the wonderful PostAnimorphs Saga. Go read, go! The challenge was to write a fanfic based on her fanfic, but fear not, because this fanfic will still make sense independent of the PostAnimorphs Saga.

When I wrote this I had slash implications in mind, but they're subtle enough that you can dismiss them if you prefer non-slash. =)

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In case you are too lazy to do what's best for you and go read the wonderful PostAnimorphs Saga, here are some

Key Facts: (although you'd gain a more in-depth insight if you read it.)

Setting – Deserted Earth, 50 years into the future

Trentil – Cold and detached warrior. Smart, skilled, knowledgeable.

Isacor – Prince. Idealistic, artistic, clueless when it comes to figuring people out, including himself. Lacks confidence.

Haieta – Amateur physician. Feminist. Sensitive ego.

Dendar – deceased shorm of Trentil's.

Umm… that should be all.

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Trentil paced restlessly around this Earth forest. How could they sleep? He glanced resentfully at the sleeping forms of Haieta and Isacor. They were stuck on Earth, with no ship and no future, yet they slept as if they had no care in the world.

If he hadn't offered to keep watch, he was sure Isacor would have completely forgotten about such a necessity. It was a wonder that the idealistic Andalite became Prince. Yet he had proven himself to be potent when needed to be, didn't he? It wouldn't have been a good idea to get on the local Andalites' bad side at such a time. If Isacor hadn't come –

Trentil scowled. He had let his guard down once and Isacor had thought he was his friend. He couldn't afford to let his guard down again. The absence of Dendar was making him faint-hearted.

How he resented his place, this mission. How he missed home. And Dendar.

He looked at Isacor's sleeping form and wished he'd wake. Anything's better than driving himself crazy in this desolate place.

The Oberon was cursed. He did not belong with wretched junk like the Oberon and its equally wretched crew. The only person with a shred of common sense was dead and the next person was light years away.

Was this grass even edible? He imagined himself starving to death here, on this pitiful planet, in the company of an amateur female physician and a delusional prince.

Trentil, I'll take over the watch now. Isacor had awaked.

Maybe sleep will help restore his grip on himself by morning. Trentil gave a gesture of acknowledgement with his stalks and closed his eyes, awaiting sleep.

You can hear the water, Isacor suddenly said to him in private thought-speech, perhaps not wanting to wake Haieta. It reminds me that some life forms exist here. Perhaps hundreds of species of flora and small fauna still inhabit this world once teeming with life.

Trentil snorted and refrained from commenting that perhaps Isacor would like to become one of those species. He was incredible! They were Andalite rejects on a hopeless mission with a broken hunk of humiliation for a ship and Isacor wanted to observe nature.

Well… It shows that even on a place like this, nature still thrives. Isacor improvised lamely.

Uhn. Maybe one day you can work on Earth as one of those environmentalists determined to restore it. Or study what's left of Earth.

Isacor was silent, and Trentil was sorry. It was the dead of the night and an Andalite voice in his head was better than the cynical, troubled voices in his mind. He shouldn't be here, he thought once again. He had nothing to do with these people. He should be back home, training with real warriors and exercising his authority upon arisths.

Sometimes it doesn't hurt to dream a little, Isacor commented, his voice struggling between fearful timidity and determination.

Mm.

Do you have anything in mind for tomorrow?

No.

Do you think Yossarian knows what she's doing?

Who knows.

Tomorrow can you try to not argue with Haieta?

No.

Why not? We need to work together as a group and your bickering is no help. Consider it an order. Isacor's voice had turned brisk. 

Because I am bored. I am fed up. With that naïve woman and with this passive nothingness. You might not mind the Oberon but I do. You might not mind being idle but I'd like to think my life more purposeful than that. Trentil had a headache and clenched his eyes shut.

…It will be morning soon.

…Right.

We may not return home for a long time.

Or never at all.

We might as well make the best of it.

Huh.

Look – sunrise.

What's there to see.

The horizon. Dawn. And how familiar it looks.

Mmm…

Kind of makes you forget everything else.

Maybe.

Yeah.

Yeah…

I remember learning about planets and Earth and humans. How humans fought themselves but it was still the Andalites' duty to free them from the Yeerks.

I remember that.

We had to make a speech on why it was an Andalite's duty to fight for the freedom of people such as the humans.

What did you say?

Nothing conventional.

Hah.

Got me in trouble.

So did I. My philosophy wasn't mainstream enough for them. Although not in the same way as you, I should think.

No.

Hm.

Perhaps we can find a bird to acquire and go flying sometime.

'The morphing ability is a weapon and a privilege, not a toy' Trentil mimicked the typical military academy advisor's stern scolding. They both laughed.

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A/N: *Grins* What do you think? Feel free to give any type of feedback! I hope they weren't OOC. Aw but weren't they just cuuuute?

Trentil: *glare* *walks away disgusted*

Myst4: *Squeals in glee*

Trentil: … weetzybat, I'm never doing this again. That was shameful.

Myst4: Aww goodbye then. *opens arms wide* Huuuuuug!!

Trentil: *shudder* weetzybat, give me the delicious gherkins you promised and let us consider this event forgotten.

Weetzybat: Er... *flees*

Trentil: *chases*

Myst4: Uh… So! Who wants Trentil and Isacor jelly beans? Review and one will be delivered to your house in three days! *darkly* Yes, I know where you live…

(Off Stage) 'Arrrgh! That's my fanfic! Don't eat! NooooooOOOooOOOOOOOoooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'