The mules had been clip-clopping around the sun-baked hills for generations. They always clip-clopped in the same direction: west towards the setting sun. And they never ventured down to the glittering green sea. But Melu was different. He was always out of step. When the herd clipped, Melu clopped. When the others clopped, Melu clipped. And one day, he decided he wanted to go down to the glittering green sea . . .
