“A three?” Five glared its little wooden glare at its neighbor. “You gave a three?”
Three’s two outside dots moved up and down in a meek shrug. Her owner was staring at the ceiling and groaning. “He shouldn’t attack the Allosaurus. It’s the wrong move.”
Six #1 had been her tutor when she arrived, and his dots showed their usual patience. “Just play along. Everyone is happy that way.”
“Everyone except the Allosaurus,” Six #2 slid his dots into a grin.
Three thought about six’s words as the next player rolled, then celebrated his success. Happiness was important, she knew that. ‘Happiness happens when his happenings happen the way he happens to want them to happen.’ D20 told her that once. Big dice and their big sentences: she only sort of understood it.
What about right and wrong? Her player had no hope of defending himself against an angry Allosaurus. If it gored him, he wouldn’t be very happy. If it killed him, he wouldn’t be very much of anything. Rather than just ‘go along to get along,’ shouldn’t she step up and warn him? He bought her; didn’t she owe him something? Was it her place to interfere in his destiny? Or should she do as Six #1 said?
These were very big questions, and she was a very small die. Her player scooped her up and she jumbled around in his hand with her friends, then soared out, rolling to a soft stop on the table.