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The Grylin plant-like creature(from what the ships were made of) leaned towards Teril. He stood clear of the range of the long thorned tendrils. He grimaced sourly. They were forever being awkward and seeming to be trying to get him killed in the meeting spots. He was in a glade where Grylins grew, shadowed by the massive bulks of the Yragon, tree-like things which stretched hundreds of metres into the air. Teril killed a buzzing Toplit which strayed too close. He looked at the odd insect-like thing with interest. It had five wings and three legs, and sharp pincers, which were used to burrow through the flesh of other beasts. Teril heard a piercing whistle behind him, the greeting call of the Wrotin, the creature he himself was. He squishled around.
            It was(in his mind) an attractive female(the definition of a female being the creature that gives birth. There were in a few species, third or fourth genders, some of which could be likened to ant or bee neuters and some of which couldn't...). She was of an average height at four foot, and very slimy. Her seven eyes were a bright blue and her "avogret", which contained the equivalent of all our sense organs excluing eyes and taste, and a few extra ones(to detect heat and such) She gurgled out a strange series of grunts and whistles, meaning something like this(they have a very basic language); "You slow. Money(the currency was iron, nickel, cobalt and gadolinium, they had a strange attraction to magnetism) less. Five dozen(there number system was in tens, which, coincidentally, was the number of tendil/tentacley things they had) iron only. Go now." She threw a small pouch to him, which he didn't catch, his attachments being ill-suited to it, though they were capable of throwing. He grunted as she disappeared.